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darkfire359 · 7 months

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What could have been: sympathizing with Ed in season 2

I've talked before about how much I love Ed and all his complexity. I've written more fanfic about him and Izzy than any other characters, in my entire history of fandom. And unlike many people, I wasn't unprepared for the dark direction his arc took in season 2; I wanted him to commit MORE atrocities, and I happily made comparisons between him and another one of my favorite characters, Hannibal Lector.

But one of the key things I wanted after he committed atrocities was for him to feel bad about it. And I thought we'd see that! After all, S1 Ed was so tormented about killing his dad (who was abusive and violent towards) him that he never killed (directly) again! He was so broken up about trying to kill Stede in s1e6 that he ended up crying in a bathtub. Just like he cried in the window sill after committing all the kraken horrors in s1e10. It seemed like this was a guy scared of his own inner darkness, convinced he was a monster, who would go around saying things like "I'm not a good person" and "You were always going to realize who I am."

And so even when s2 went darker than anyone expected—when he cut off more of Izzy's toes, and shot him in the leg, and made crewmen fight to the death for experiencing love, and sailed the entire ship into a storm to murder-suicide his crew—I was still ready to accept all that moral ambiguity and give him a hug afterwards. Because of course, I figured that after Ed was brought out of that dark place and those suicidal urges, he would feel horrible remorse. How could he not?

I was looking forward to seeing him break down crying, convinced he was an irredeemable, unforgivable monster. (Which of course, would make it all the more touching when people inevitably did forgive him, and when he did redeem himself). Maybe Ed would even go too far with trying to atone, like in Mercy, one of my favorite post-s1 fics. Probably, I figured, Ed's quest for redemption would be one of the main themes in the second half of season 2.

So it was strange to watch e4, when Ed looked nothing but annoyed at everyone for chaining him up and banishing him, and then he went to hang out with his old friends like he'd done nothing wrong. When after the crew unanimously voted him out, Stede brought him back to the ship literally that same evening, and Ed saw no problem with that. Okay... maybe he's still processing?

Then e5 came, and that episode was about Ed's redemption. Yay! Except... Ed didn't seem to care? Other people made him wear the bag and the bell. He asked how long it'd take people to get over it, guessing "like a day." He gave an influencer-esque non-apology to the crew. He said "I took a man's leg" rather than calling Izzy by name. He literally doesn't remember the circumstances of pushing Lucius off the boat. He does ultimately give a real apology to Fang—for tormenting him years ago, rather than anything from his actual kraken era. I love e5 for the Izzy+Stede dynamic, but watching Ed be an unrepentant asshole here is painful. There is nothing about this that convinces me Ed wouldn't slide right back to being evil if Stede were to leave again.

And the thing is, it didn't have to be like this! We could have gotten Ed breaking down crying with guilt like in s1e6, and it would have made him much more sympathetic—not to mention the fact that Ed really is just an adorable cryer. Alternatively, we could have had some real deep diving about why Ed never apologizes (is he afraid of seeming weak?) or why he's so uncaring about others' pain (has he seen too many friends die over the years, to the point of going numb?)

By episode 6, it seems like most characters have moved on. Stede says something about Ed turning poison into positivity, which feels completely unearned. He pays for the party—but he'd previously tried to make the crew throw their cut of the loot into the ocean. He makes some attempts to best Ned and protect Stede, but Stede ends up saving the crew instead—from a pirate who only showed up in the first place because Ed was intentionally trying to piss him off. Ed is sad that Stede kills someone, and this would be a great time to again make Ed sympathetic! To have him talk about how he doesn't want that for Stede, because his own violence has weighed on him so deeply. But nope.

E6 does see Ed actually apologize to Izzy—and he's terrible at it. He's just like, "Sorry about your leg," makes no eye contact, and flees immediately afterwards. We do see some hints that this shitty apology isn't really indicative of Ed's true feelings, given how he has those flashbacks to the scenes of hurting Izzy seemingly haunting him; but it's very brief. It would be a great time to address Ed's horrific tendency towards conflict-aversion and avoiding awkward conversations in relationships—the same tendency that made s1 Ed never inform Izzy that the plan to kill Stede and the Revenge crew had changed. This would be another great opportunity to help us sympathize with Ed again—to have us see how it's not that he doesn't want to communicate these things, it's that these conversations are terribly stressful and anxiety-inducing for him. But nah, why would OFMD need to include those things for Ed?

E7 happens, and still nothing. If anything, there was a great opportunity for Ed to at least show himself to be a kind person to Stede—maybe nobly stepping in to save the day, even though he's annoyed that Stede's getting all this attention now. You know, like Stede did for him back in s1e5, when the situation was reversed. But nope, Ed runs off to be a fisherman, not having learned any of the earlier season's lessons about whims. He only stops being a fisherman because he's bad at it.

I was still hoping for something big in e8–some huge selfless, gesture that Ed would do to cover for all of his inability to do the little gestures. Ed is good at grand gestures! Swimming back to the ship after he left, then taking the Act of Grace in s1 was HUGE. Very selfless, very sweet! He could have done something like that for Izzy, Lucius, and the traumatized crew. Some kind of heroic gesture to help others more than himself. But nope. In some sense, Izzy dying is one of the greatest indications of Ed's wasted potential, because we narratively had a great opportunity for Ed to be able to save someone... but he didn't.

(Admittedly, Ed is not a complete dick here—he helps Izzy when he's limping, he says some genuinely apologetic stuff when Izzy's dying, and he finally gives Izzy his attention and care. But then after the funeral, he's still like "Well, that's that.")

It's so frustrating. It's not that I don't want to like Ed, or that I don't want to sympathize with him. I really, REALLY do! I don't even need Ed to successfully do anything to earn forgiveness! I'd take Ed trying and failing. I'd take him wanting to try, but being so convinced of his monstrousness that he never makes the attempt. But give me something. Anything other than the unexamined apathy that he has so much of the time.

The thing is, s2 lost the ability for Ed's mistreatment of people to be just another "of course he's violent, he's a pirate" quirk. They were pretty explicit about how abusive Ed was (Jim's comment in e1, the joke in e4 people assumed Ed had hit Stede) and how much he traumatized people (Lucius and the whole crew very clearly have PTSD in episodes 4 and 5). This is serious stuff, which he did to other main characters, which is going to make a lot of viewers look at him pretty harshly.

And that's manageable—Hannibal Lector managed to be most textbook-abusive asshole in the world, committing atrocities and generally being unrepentant left and right, and viewers STILL found him lovable and sympathetic. You can do that! But you need to:

a. make it clear that anyone with the relevant information calls them out for being awful, even multiple episodes later

b. make it clear that they care deeply and genuinely about their wronged loved ones

c. make them willing to actually make REAL sacrifices

I watched so many people start to dislike or outright hate Ed in season 2. It made me really sad. But I couldn't blame them for feeling that way. For all that Ed is supposedly one of the two protagonists in OFMD—a character whose mistakes should be the most understandable, whose mental state should be the most resonant—the show seemed to entirely drop the ball on writing him as such.

#edward teach #ofmd critical #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #arguably the writers' mistake with Izzy is easier to fix in fanfiction #just undo the last 10 minutes #but now I feel like Ed fics after s2 have to fix huge chunks of his characterization #I also think it'd be more reasonable to make Ed not give a shit about the crew if the show just like... admitted that directly?#but we've got Stede making comments about Ed turning poison into positivity #we've got Izzy saying the crew loves Ed and is his family #and while it's not OOC for either of them to just be delusional and overprojecting their own love for Ed #it's weirdly unexamined #same thing with Ed's “I don't kill people thing” after he murders British officers left and right in s2e8 #was Ed's whole talk with Stede in s1e6 just a lie?#obviously Ed was stretching definitions / using it as a coping mechanism but I thought he was at least telling the truth as he saw it

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geraskierfanficprompts · 2 months

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Prompt 6

After the mountain, Geralt finds his bard and apologizes, but saying "I'm sorry" just isn't enough. His bard deserves better! He needs to to do more to prove how much his bard means to him! So he'll take him to the coast, just like he asked. But it'll be a surprise :)

Jaskier is just sure Geralt still hates him.

I mean, he won't even tell him where they're going! Why else would he be so quiet all of a sudden?

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 month

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GhostGaz Week - 2nd chances // road trip

This one is more of a dialogue based character study than anything else, I think. I felt unhinged writing it even though very little happens.

@ghostgazweek

CW: use of cigarettes, littering, discussions of gender and sexuality, past dating experiences, brief reference to simon riley's terrible awful service experiences

Gaz doesn’t hate land transport, but he’d much rather be on a helicopter than in this silent car with Ghost right now. He’s viciously bored. If it was Price, he’d know how to carry a conversation. But fresh off his third milk run with Ghost, he’s floundering. He checks the clock and groans. There’s another hour before they hit the tarmac and head home.

Desperation for something to talk about makes him blurt, “You ever been in love?”

Ghost doesn’t give much indication that he’s heard, eyes never leaving the road, hand relaxed on the top of the steering wheel. Sometimes Gaz wishes he was a photographer. The Ghost in the driver’s seat would make a great campaign poster. He’s bulky with all his gear. Solid. The picture of a man. This is the guy protecting the innocent by risking himself. A skull faced badass.

“Take the wheel,” Ghost says.

Used to the routine by now, Gaz leans over the arm rest to hold the car steady while Ghost pulls pulls a cigarette from a pack and lights it. But where he usually only lifts his balaclava over the bridge of his nose, he reaches up to take the whole thing off. It’s the work of a moment for him to light the cigarette and open the window. Gaz finds himself looking between the empty road and Ghost’s scarred jaw and the shape of his nose.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Gaz says, settling back into his seat. He tries not to stare, but it’s hard. Without the mask, Ghost is still the picture of a man. Just... different.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Huh?”

Ghost tilts his head to make brief eye contact, then looks back at the road. “Why’d you ask if I’ve ever been in love?”

Oh. “Just… curious, I guess,” Gaz flounders. “I feel like we should know each other better by now.”

The silence is near painful as Ghost takes a drag from his cigarette, and then another. Gaz can’t decide what’s worse - if he’s being ignored or if Ghost is actively offended. He’s about to apologize when he gets an answer.

“Been in love a few times. Puppy love 'fore I joined up, told myself I woulda proposed to ‘er if things were different, but probably not. Was all over the place.” He takes another drag, exhales as he talks. “Had a crush on another private in basic, gave it a go when we graduated. Dated in secret for about a year before I broke things off. Hurt a bit but tha’s a part of it all, yeah?”

“Why’d you break up?”

“Didn’t like being his secret,” Ghost says around another puff of smoke. “He didn’t like my daddy issues.”

Gaz feels his eyebrows crawl up beneath is cap. “Didn’t know you liked men.”

That makes Ghost - Simon? - laugh. “Yeah, well, now we know each other better, I guess.”

Gaz's ears burn a bit. Into the silence, he offers, “Me too. I mean… I’m… not strictly heterosexual…?”

“You askin’ me?” the man snorts a laugh. “’ve seen your beauty serums, Gaz. I know you ain’t straight. Best egg in the carton.”

Gaz scrunches his nose, he can't help it. “What does that even mean?”

Ghost grins that grin. The one that makes Price shoot his whiskey. “You ever have dreams where you’re a girl?”

“What?” Gaz blanches. Five years ago, he’d have answered, doesn’t everybody? But he’s learned his lesson since then. “No.”

Ghost’s grin doesn’t falter. “I do.”

“Bullshit,” Gaz says, because what? What even is this conversation?

“Third love of my life made me go to therapy,” Ghost continues, like he didn’t just rock Gaz’s world on its axis. “Learned a lot. Admittedly before the Ghost thing. Broke up because the therapy was working. And then all the Ghost shit happened.”

“Of course.” What else is there to say?

“Flirted with someone a couple times in the last six months, but either I’ve been too subtle or they’re not interested.”

Gaz gropes around for an appropriate response because I've only ever seen you stare silently at people feels a bit rude. “Maybe it’s the mask? You’re hard to read.”

“Maybe so,” is the answer he gets. “What about you? Ever been in love, Garrick?”

The question shouldn’t startle him, but it does. He stumbles over his answer. “I dunno. Maybe. Had crushes when I was kid. Dated in sixth form, but I don’t know if that counts.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I was a kid, yeah? Everything feels intense when you’re young,” Gaz shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s love.”

Ghost is quiet for a moment, nodding to himself. Finally he says, “M’ therapist says that just because it’s a kid that feels it don't make the feelings less valid. If anything, feelings are more intense for kids. Puppy love is still love.”

The realization that Ghost is a romantic snaps into place. He sits with that for a beat before saying, “Well, she cheated on me with my mate, so that ended. Took a long time for me to get over that one.”

“That’s shite,” Ghost mumbles. “You datin’ now?”

“Not much time for a civilian relationship,” Gaz admits with a shrug. “And I’m not… out on base. I’m not not, just… I don’t really care to have people in my business.”

“Fair,” Ghost answers. He flicks his cigarette out the window. “Well, if you ever do think about dating on base, keep me in mind.”

Gaz might pull something in his neck, he snaps to look at Ghost so fast. “Huh?”

Ghost just laughs.

#GhostGazWeek #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #gaz appreciation nation #manic pixie dream ghost #ghostgaz #none of these stories this week have been linked to each other #i just headcannon simon and kyle as queer in so many ways #and simon has the tism rizz that means intentional flirting is very difficult for him #he's been flirting with kyle since they met #except the “flirting” is standing in the same room no talking no eye contact just vibes #“hold the wheel while i grab a smoke” is practically a proposition to him #he took off his mask because in his head they're already in a polycule with price and roach #obviously being in a polycule and “dating” are not the same in his head but they're related #price does not know about this polycule yet but he will #roach was the one who defined the terms queerplatonic and polycule to simon #obviously simon would like for things to be less platonic

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ssaseaprince · 11 months

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God, I hate people genderbending gay ships. We so rarely get queer representation, and most of the time, the fandoms have to come up with the main queer ships because 95% of shows don't have any. So we invent our own representation and create our own material based on them, and then people come in and turn it straight. If you want to interact with straight media, go write about the billions of straight relationships represented in media, don't turn our few, personally created, gay ships into straight ones. It's just so gross fr

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nrtrnwnd · 2 years

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i can’t accentuate enough how much billy and steve are like billy and stu. there’s so many similarities in their lives. just look at the mfs names lol

exclude the murders on scream’s part and monsters on stranger things’ and it’s pretty much almost the same thing. you get two teenage boys in the 80s (90s) stupidly in love, who would kill and maybe even die for each other. steve (like stu) lives in a huge high-end house, alone almost all the time since his parents are always away and billys have an abusive dad, also their mom left and it was kinda shady

so my conclusion is: billy and stu definitely had some influence on billy and steve’s portrayal, both in canon and fanon

thanks for coming to my ted talk

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tathrin · 11 months

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Kiss #44 out of lust? If you want! Not sure how spicy you want to make it if you do, it’s up to you

Ooh okay, I'm excited to give it a try! (Let me know what you think of the results, please, folks?) Prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox lmao).

"Thank you, Master Legolas," one of the Gondorian counselors said, rising with a thin smile that somehow failed to reach his phlegmy eyes. Legolas was not sure of his name; too many of them looked too much alike, with their pale and wrinkled faces and their dull, lank hair and their duller eyes, all wrapped in heavy robes despite the summer warmth.

Legolas paused, confused by the interruption; why was he being thanked? He had not finished…

"However," the counselor continued unctuously, "I must wonder…and with all due respect to your efforts on behalf of our great city and indeed all of Middle-earth, of course…" He pressed a hand to his chest and gave a shallow bow. Legolas responded in kind instinctively, but the man hardly seemed to care; he went on, still with that thin smile, without pausing for a response. "Well, I must wonder, what would a Wood-elf know of such things?"

"My fellow counselor makes a salient point," said another, rising to his feet beside the first. They exchanged thin and cheerless smiles. "We are indeed grateful for your assistance thus far, Master Legolas, but this is one case in which I fear that an elvish perspective will be of little aid. Let us turn our attention to the aqueduct designs proposed by Beringrond…"

Legolas opened his mouth to explain that he was not speaking of the ways things were done by the trees of his forest, but rather those employed within his father's underground hall, which had a great deal more in common with this stone city and which had furthermore been largely built according to dwarven engineering, not elvish—but the other men were already talking among themselves, their backs turned and their ears closed to him for all that he was still standing there.

He sat down abruptly, the stone bench suddenly very hard and cool beneath him.

Aragorn caught his eye from the far side of the room and grimaced expressively, a silent apology. Legolas understood that his friend was too new a king to wish to risk offending his counselors for so polite a snub. Arwen was more direct in her response, sending directly to his mind her apologies and irritation, along with a firm assurance that the men who thought they would be able to bully her husband and his friends lightly would learn otherwise soon enough.

Legolas was not nearly as skilled in gohanath as Galadriel's granddaughter, and he could not reply in kind without a calmer heart and more time to muster his concentration, so he merely nodded his appreciation and acceptance of her mental words. He even mustered a smile in response, so that she and Aragorn would both know that he nursed no grudge nor held any blame for them over the actions of these arrogant men.

Arwen's answering smile was thin, and the expression in her eyes when she turned to look at the counselors again glittered with grim warning. Legolas had a feeling that this discussion of the city's infrastructure was not going to end the way they expected.

That did not necessarily make him feel better about being snubbed, but it was comforting to know that one's friends were offended on one's behalf.

Gimli was considerably more than merely offended. Legolas could almost feel the bench beneath him vibrating with the outrage that thrummed in the dwarf's veins. He pressed a hand to Gimli's knee and squeezed, hoping both to convey how heartening it was to see such rage kindled on his behalf and to convince the dwarf to keep said rage bottled-up for now; better to let Aragorn and Arwen tear down the arrogance of their council politely rather than for he or Gimli—interlopers here, both of them, for all that they had come to help—shout about it.

Gimli tensed, then slumped in resignation. He nodded glumly, but his eyes still smoldered as he glared at the pompous men swanning around before them in their heavy robes and tawdry jewels. Legolas smiled, and patted his knee again before withdrawing his hand and resuming a polite, attentive posture.

He could do nothing about the flush of shame that darkened his ears, of course, but none of the men were paying him any attention anyway so he doubted they would make much note of it.

The discussion of the proposed aqueducts droned on and on, circling in a pointlessly repetitive fashion that would never have occurred in Eryn Lasgalen. Legolas wondered if all men were like this, or if it was a trait specific to those of Gondor; he fortunately had to deal with very little of this sort of thing in Ithilien, for Faramir oversaw all cooperation between his people and the elves who dwelt in those slowly re-awakening lands, and Faramir was a sensible and gallant soul. If such discussions happened in Ithilien, Faramir made sure that they were sorted out before any elves got involved.

Legolas made a mental note to ask Gimli later how such matters were handled in Rohan. He had a hard time picturing the Horse Lords squandering their hours on needless discourse like this, but he had been wrong about men before. They could be such strange creatures, with such very odd ways of looking at and approaching all aspects of the world. Legolas did not think that even if he lived among them for a thousand years he would ever truly understand their minds.

The ones who stood before him now were surely not the best representatives of their peoples, anyway. It was all Legolas could do to keep himself still while they prattled on and on and on, and a sweet summer breeze wafted through the tall windows that lined the conference room. He longed to be out there in the open air doing something, not sitting here in this stuffy room listening to even stuffier men swell themselves up on the empty words of their own self-importance.

When Gimli motioned for him to lower his head so that he might whisper in Legolas's ear, he leaned over eagerly to hear whatever distraction the dwarf might be about to offer—but instead of speaking, Gimli planted a kiss on the tip of Legolas's ear. He gasped, and quickly pressed his lips together to stifle the sound, and none too soon; for Gimli's teeth followed his lips, closing gently around Legolas's ear and biting down just hard enough for a swift, sharp ache to run through him like a trickle of lightning.

Legolas shuddered, and glanced sideways at Gimli with eyes gone wide with shock and horror, but he did not pull away from the grip of those blunt teeth upon his ear, either.

Gimli smiled and released him, but Legolas still did not move; just hung there half-bent, breathing hard, as Gimli spoke at last. "There is something I have wondered," he said, his voice so quiet that his breath barely stirred the hair around Legolas's ear, "for some time now, Legolas."

Legolas's eyes darted around the room. "Yes?" he breathed.

"I have noticed," Gimli said, "the extraordinary sensitivity of elvish ears." So saying he stuck out his tongue and slid it up inside the point of Legolas's ear, as though exploring every curve and crease of the skin within by touch alone.

Legolas pressed his lips together tightly and managed to suppress all but the faintest gasp of a moan. His eyes had gone closed, and he was not sure precisely when; only that he did not dare open them, for fear that what little control he had would evaporate at the sight of his dwarf.

His hands were on Gimli's knees now, his long arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright; his fingers dug in hard, clinging to that solid dwarvish flesh as though Gimli's legs alone held him up above the edge of an endless cliff.

Gimli grinned—Legolas could feel it in the way his beard moved as it brushed his flushed and tingling ear—and murmured, "Sensitive indeed! So sensitive, in fact, that I have long now been wondering…"

He paused, and Legolas swallowed against a throat gone suddenly as dry as the plains of Gorgoroth.

"Is it possible, do you think," Gimli said, "to move an elf to spill his pleasure by a touch upon his ears alone?"

Legolas moaned aloud, he could not help himself. He sank into Gimli's lap, going as loose and limp as molten gold—and then quickly thrusting himself back upright on their bench, his eyes snapping open again in horror as he remembered where they were, what they were doing.

As ignored as he had been before, the eyes of the whole council room were on them now. Legolas could feel the hot flush sinking down his ears and spreading sideways across his cheeks. "Oh," he said, swaying to his feet. "I—forgive me, the—I was only—the air is very close in here, I—I did not mean—"

"I think our Wood-elf needs some fresh air," Gimli said over his stammering. He climbed off the bench and dropped down beside Legolas, then took one of his hands and patted it soothingly between both of his. "If you will excuse us both, your highnesses, I will see to it that he is properly attended to."

Legolas trembled, and bit the inside of his lip to restrain the noises that wanted to slip free of his mouth in response to Gimli's promise of attending to him.

"Of course," said Aragorn. His eyes were bright with confusion and concern alike, and Legolas forced himself to smile reassuringly at his friend. Aragorn raised his eyebrows, a silent question.

Legolas replied with a gesture so vague that even he wasn't sure what he was trying to say, and he saw Aragorn's gaze drop to Gimli's face instead. Gimli nodded confidently and Aragorn gave a little shrug, as though resigning himself to trusting the elf and dwarf to look after one another instead of prying further.

Legolas was so relieved he almost melted off his feet again.

"Thank you," he murmured, ducking his head to avoid the stares of the councilors.

"Do feel better soon, Legolas," Arwen chirped, and Legolas felt his blush deepen.

"Er," he said. "Thank you, your highness."

He sketched the swiftest, shortest bow of his life and fled the room.

Gimli followed him, chuckling to himself, and Legolas shot him a surly glare the moment the door closed behind them.

"What in the name of your precious Mahal was that about?" he demanded.

Gimli raised his eyebrows, a hirsute picture of innocence. "Whatever do you mean?" he said. "I thought I made my intentions…" He grinned, and there was no trace of innocence left on his bearded face now. "Quite plain." He caught Legolas's hand again and pressed a kiss to the sharp knuckles, then pulled Legolas along after him down the hallway. "Quite plain, indeed."

Legolas shivered and did not withdraw his hand.

"Yes," he said, widening his stride to catch-up so they were walking now side-by-side. He was a little annoyed to hear his voice come out in such a low rasp. "But why there? Why now? Why," he implored, "in front of the entire High Council of Gondor?"

"I did not like how they spoke to you," Gimli growled, his grip on Legolas's fingers tightening.

"I did not much care for it myself," Legolas agreed archly, "but I do not see where the one thing follows the other!"

"I did not want to cause trouble for Aragorn by speaking-out against them as I wished to," Gimli explained, "so I resolved to take you away from them and show you the proper appreciation that a treasure like you deserves." His eyes twinkled up at Legolas like polished agates. "For as long as it takes until you are suitably assured of my high regard for every last inch of you, my dear. Starting with those two long points, if you please."

Legolas's knees wobbled under him. "Gimli…"

"You are lucky," Gimli rumbled, "that I cannot easily reach your pretty ears without breaking stride, or I would have you singing your pleasure right here in the middle of the hallway."

Legolas choked on his own breath. Only Gimli's hand in his kept him moving, pulling him forward when his feet would have faltered and left him standing there stupefied on the floor. Two clerks nodded to them politely as they passed and Legolas could feel his ears burning afresh.

"Gimli!" he hissed. "What if they'd heard you!"

"If I could reach your ears," Gimli grumbled, "they certainly would have heard you."

Legolas whimpered. He saw Gimli's beard twitch over a smug smile in response, and flushed darker. It was hardly his fault that dwarves kept all their most sensitive parts well-covered—save their beards, of course, but it would have been exceptionally rude to fondle a dwarf's beard in the sight of strangers. Legolas was far too polite to do such a thing to his friend (the occasional subtle tug or tweak or twist of its long, rich strands when no one else was looking was something else altogether) and now as thanks for his forbearance, he was being tormented!

"Gimli," he hissed again. "Stop it!"

Gimli only chuckled and pulled him along, now walking a little faster.

"Once I get you into that bed and down within arm's reach," Gimli told him, "I do not intend to stop until neither of us can remember a word of Westron, least of all you, Legolas." He shook his head fiercely, sending his braids bouncing. "Not for anything short of the return of another Dark Lord will I stop—and even then, I would be hard-pressed to find a reason to let you out of that bed while you're still in any state to draw a bow, so we might as well stay put and let someone else deal with it this time."

Legolas was finding it extremely difficult to remember how to breathe, and not because of the speed with which they were currently clattering down the stairs. "Gimli…"

"The sounds I am going to coax out of your bare mouth, Legolas…" Gimli seemed to be speaking as much to himself now as to anyone else, but that did nothing to blunt their effect upon Legolas, who nearly slipped a step—clumsiness that was quite unsuited to an elf!

This whole thing was intolerable. Never before had the exchange of their banter been so unbalanced, not at least so that Legolas could recall—although, admittedly, his recollection abilities were likely not at their best right now, distracted as he was by the images that Gimli's words were sending tumbling through his mind like intoxicating starbursts.

The thought of that skilled and silvertogued mouth applying itself so fervently and extensively to his sensitive ears had his breath catching in his lungs, his blood throbbing in his veins like liquid mithril. He was all but quivering with need, undone by desire for his dwarf.

Their rooms had never seemed so far from the king's chambers before!

"Gimli," he breathed, "you are a menace."

Gimli chucked but did not disagree. "And you are not?" he retorted. "Legolas, the sight of your ears flushing like that in the council room…Mahal, it was all I could do not to have you right there on the bench in front of all those half-bearded fools."

"What?" Legolas squawked. "Gimli!"

"I speak no jest!" Gimli insisted. "Stars above and gems below, Legolas, you know what seeing those ears of yours go dark with pleasure does to me." His broad chest heaved in a sigh like a mountain settling and Legolas's heart skipped a beat in response.

"It was hardly pleasure I was blushing from in there," he protested.

"I know, I know," said Gimli, grimacing, "but I could not see your face from behind you to make note of whatever distress their rudeness caused, my dear; only the tips of your ears, dark and red and so cursedly far away from my hands. How I wanted to touch you, to watch that flush spread down your cheeks and your hair flow loose around my fingers and hear your voice rise in incoherent song under my hands…"

Legolas swallowed and put a hand out to brace himself against the wall. The white stone felt cool under his palm, cool and much more steady on its foundations than was he. Gimli's masterful and lyrical wordsmithing had always been able to move him, but these words fell like an avalanche upon Legolas's heart.

"Gimli," he said and shivered, "Gimli, you…"

"Do you have any idea," Gimli continued as though he had not heard, "what a torment it was to sit there beside you with your blushing ears just over my head, unable to cradle and caress them in the sight of all those foolish, stoneless men? To see that tempting flush, and not dare to touch it? To touch you? Ah, Legolas, I could not bear it. I could not!"

"You did not bear it long, I'll note," Legolas murmured, and Gimli laughed breathlessly.

"No," he agreed, "I admit I did not. But how could anyone have expected me to? A dwarf can endure much, yes; but that!" He shook his head fiercely. "That was too much, Legolas. Even great Mahal himself would have crumbled before such a trial! Stones below, Legolas," Gimli breathed, "the sight of you…"

Legolas shivered again, trembling under the weight of Gimli's adoration—and then he remembered that it had not been men alone who had been in that council chamber.

Perhaps it was time to balance some of those scales from earlier.

He glanced down at the dwarf and said, as calmly and as casually as he could manage with his heart thundering against his ribs and his ears burning so hot it was amazing they had not yet scorched his hair, "Ah, Gimli, you will recall that you mentioned the acute sensitivity of elvish ears before?" Legolas looked up again quickly, before Gimli could see the impish smile he could feel tugging at his lips.

"Yes?" Gimli said. His impatient tone seemed to add, Is that not exactly what we are on our way to explore further?

"Well," Legolas said, as he at last lifted the latch to open the door to their shared rooms, "there is no denying that they are, indeed, quite sensitive to the touch; but you seem to have forgotten that they are very keen of hearing, also."

"Yes?" Gimli said again. "What of it?"

Legolas smiled. "Queen Arwen," he said, "you'll remember, has the keen ears of the elves."

For a moment Gimli just frowned up at him, as though confused as to why Legolas was bringing up Arwen, of all people, when they were about to climb into bed together—and then his eyes widened and his ruddy cheeks went pale.

"Oh," he said in a strangled voice. "Oh, no. Then—you mean—?"

"That she heard every word you spoke to me in the council chamber?" Legolas said. He grinned and stooped to press a kiss to Gimli's forehead before twirling back around and bounding inside. "Yes!" he laughed. "Yes, she most certainly did!"

Gimli moaned and closed his eyes. "I can never show my face in this city again," he declared.

"Then bring your face in here to the bedroom, and the rest of you with it," Legolas suggested. "For you have quite a lot of work to do in here 'ere you will have need to face Arwen or anyone else in Minas Tirith again, my most beloved dwarf!"

"Impudent elf!" Gimli yelled and followed.

The slamming of the door behind him shivered in Legolas's bones like an avalanche and he lay back upon the bed, grinning with anticipation as his dwarf climbed up beside him.

Elven ears, it transpired, were every bit as sensitive as Gimli had hoped, and more.

#not me getting distracted by elf biology nope (whatever the ear-blushing concept is adorable fight me)#(and if their blush starts in their ears then obviously it would spread down the ears and across the face from the sides rather #rather than centering in the cheeks right? and how could a dwarf with his normal face-blushing help but find that adorable?)#(look at least i didn't talk about what elf ejaculate tastes like in this one okay it could be worse)#this is what happens when you ask an asexual to write something sexy: they use it as an excuse to world build XD #i can't help it world building is apparently my version of sex lmao #hopefully it's also sexy too...? if not i'm sorry anon i tried #gimleaf #legolas #gimli #my writing #lotr fanfiction #my stuff #lotr #elvish ears #send a kiss meme

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iheartmoons · 1 year

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alright so i’ve gotten enough hype from it already 😭😭 if you want to join a server about the black sisters (including the ships nobleflower, quillkiller, and tedromeda) then please dm me/reply to this post with your discord user <3

#only rule is MAYBE an age limit #i want to say around mid twenties is as old as i want to go #and maybe 15 is as young as i want to go #just because having grown ass people on a server with minors CAN get intense #but also we obviously might talk about *grown up* stuff obviously so i don’t want any younglings 😭😭#so i would like to keep things very light on there since it’ll also just be a nice place to chat xx #the marauders #fanfiction #ao3 #nobleflower #quillkiller #tedromeda #narcissa black #bellatrix black #alice fortescue #rita skeeter #andromeda black #ted tonks

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dmclemblems · 2 years

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I think your understand of Claude has been warped by DimiClaude fan fics. Claude doesn't like Rhea in Houses and wants her out of power and says as much at the beginning of Verdant Wind and you even gain support points with him if you ask him if he hopes Rhea is dead versus if he hopes Rhea is alive. Claude doesn't stop wanting Rhea deposed because he spent an extra year in the Academy.

lmfao bruh i have never once read a dimiclaude fic that involved rhea or even mentions rhea/how either of them feel about rhea, how are you gonna tell me my perception of him is warped by something i've never even read? don't go blaming people's enjoyed ships as a scapegoat just because you don't like someone's discussion about a character. that ship and my opinion of hopes claude/his feelings on absolutely anything have nothing to do with each other.

do you do that to everyone? assume you know what they read and what kind of fandom stuff they engage with? assume that people read fanfics and that somehow it makes them forget canon? 'cause it's pretty haughty.

have you read like, any of my posts/asks? i've pretty explicitly discussed that he doesn't like rhea or her in power. that's very different from personally murdering someone. i also never said his year at the academy had anything to do with his feelings toward rhea.

i don't even read that many fanfics so that's quite a bold faulty assumption. not sure what you thought assuming what i read was going to accomplish, and for that matter, i'm not sure what you thought insulting every dmcl writer out there was going to accomplish by implying they all write "warped" versions of him. what the fuck does dimitri have to do with claude's feelings about rhea?

surprise, nothing.

#literally like does anyone even PUT rhea in dmcl fanfics???#how is this person gonna tell me what i read and don't read like ???#it's pretty evident you A) don't know anything about me and B) have not even read discussions on my blog #fr y'all this is actually the kind of thing i've been talking about too regarding claude fans #how if you don't like him in hopes you automatically ''don't understand him'' and have a ''warped'' perception of him #looks like now ppl are taking to blaming ppl's personal favorite ships #like damn that is REACHING #what the literal f bomberoo does dmcl have to do with RHEA #do YOU read dmcl fics to know if rhea is there or not? bc if not then why are you assuming #firstly that they even exist which to my knowledge they do not and second that i read THAT much fanfiction #and third that fan portrayals within the dmcl fandom are ''warped'' and somehow have to do with rhea #it's really shitty to imply to someone that something they enjoy they enjoy /wrong/ over something #that you THINK exists or you THINK that someone does. but oh bc I don't agree with you you have to find something #totally irrelevant to the actual topic to blame that you know i enjoy #and imply that writers in the dmcl fandom write claude wrong and that somehow it's affected how i see him #i have no idea how claude's feelings toward rhea would even change or why they would change in a dmcl fic #literally how are you gonna assume you know what i read for one thing... but then purposely using #something i obviously enjoy as an excuse to say i don't understand claude is super rude #also really shitty to insult the intelligence of writers of a particular ship #please don't reply to this or send any more asks about this #DCE Ask

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allylikethecat · 12 days

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“ATKH Fictional!Matty meanwhile only has his trauma to keep him warm at night” HELPPPPP 😭😭😭😭😭 my (your) child deserves everything in this world

Lol ATKH Fictional!Matty is just a sad little nugget (who's about to get a lot sadder...) but I do agree he does deserve everything good in this world! He's trying so hard to be good and to do the right thing and not cause any waves and deal with both the emotional and physical pain he is pretty much always in and WOW is that hard sometimes. He is my most precious favorite child (sorry other Fictional!Matties) and thus he gets to suffer the most (even though Infection Verse Fictional!Matty does give him a run for his money!) I'm so excited for the next few chapters and I hope you continue to enjoy All the King's Horses! I know I am having SO MUCH FUN working on it 🥹 Thank you so much for reading and for sending me this ask!! I hope you are having a wonderful Monday and that you have a fantastic week!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #keep it kind #fanfiction #matty fic #gatty #fanfic #all the king's horses #equestrian au #atkh #sometimes i wish i had written this fic from fictional!Matty's pov because WOW he is even more sad and tragic than ive found a way #to share because like obviously he's not ready to share the really bad stuff with fictional!george yet #and like also doesn't know how to talk about it even if he was ready #but also i kinda love that this entire fic is from fictional!george's pov?#maybe when im done i'll do like a bonus bit that just talks about all the sad headcanons that i dont fully explore lol

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hanzajesthanza · 1 year

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you are reading witcher fanfiction on ao3, i am reading witcher fanfiction on the sapkowski zone using the wayback machine and copious amounts of google translate. we are not the same

#/j obviously #but i actually am surprised because #although there is a wide range of 'aw i smiled that was cute' 'huh okay idk about this' 'what the fuck did i just read'#like there is with most fanfiction #these fanfictions are actually about the books. in one of these fanfictions fucking pogwizd connor bronik and nimue showed up #and i was like 'holy fuck they know about my favorite characters?'#'oh well obviously. obviously they do because we read the same series and are talking about the same thing'#how sad (but also funny) is it that reading a fanfiction which is about the same thing i am interested in i am like - 'oh my god?'#it's an odd feeling to see a pre-games pre-netflix fandom but it's certainly interesting and resonates #but also makes me grateful for the present #it makes me grateful for my friends and people i have talked to about the series. idk it is a nice reminder that it's a privilege #to be able to talk to others on the internet and that the amount of what one can post or say has greatly increased #txt #the witcher books #if you want to join http://web.archive.org/web/19991012204925/http://sapkowski.fantasy.art.pl:80/fanfict/index.html.po

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carewyncromwell · 10 months

Photo

“Will we ever find our Neverland? Will we ever be at peace again?”

~“Neverland” by Crywolf

x~x~x~x

previous part here! // full tag here! // original concept suggested by @ag907

x~x~x~x

Carewyn bolted off of the stool she’d been sitting on with such force she knocked it over. Her eyes flooded with tears that blinded her, and yet this time, these tears gleamed like a beautiful rainbow, because there was no sorrow within. Only joy.

“JACOB -- JACOB!”

She ran to him. Her joy was so strong that she actually ended up coming right up off the ground, flying up to him so as to better reach him. Jack pulled out of Blaise and the other pirate’s hold, his hands likewise clutching at the air, until they reached each other. Carewyn threw her arms around her brother’s neck -- Jack clung to her even as his legs gave way and he collapsed onto his knees. He didn’t even care that his hat had fallen off. Instead he cradled the back of Carewyn’s head in his hand and held her tight.

“Wyn -- my Wyn -- ”

“Jacob, you’re here! You’re here, Jacob!”

“Yes!” choked Jack. “Yes, Wyn...I’m here -- you’re -- you’re here...you’re...you’re so big, Wyn! How long has it been...my little Wyn...my little sister...”

Jack’s hand in her hair was trembling.

“...Carewyn...” he whispered.

He cried even harder as he started to laugh.

“Your name is Carewyn,” he said weakly. “Not Wyn, not Winnie, it’s Carewyn.”

Carewyn beamed through her tears. “Yes, Jacob...”

“Mum called you Winnie,” Jack mumbled, almost awed by the recollection. “And I’m...I’m Jacob. I’m not Jack, I’m Jacob...”

“Yes, Jacob!” Carewyn assented fervently.

Jack -- no, Jacob -- was sobbing openly now. He kissed the top of Carewyn’s head, pulling away just enough to look over her face through his teary eyes.

“Oh, Wyn, look at you,” he breathed. “You’re so grown up! Oh, Wyn -- can you ever forgive me? I almost forgot you, Wyn -- forgot Mum...Wyn, I’m so sorry...”

“Me too, Jacob,” Carewyn mumbled as Jacob brought her right up beside his chest again, bringing his hand through her hair. “Me too -- ”

She squeezed him tighter still as he rocked her back and forth like a child. Her eyes were flowing with tears, but she’d never smiled bigger in her life. She even kept floating up off the ground in her brother’s arms.

“It’s just like Mum said,” she said through her tears. “Neverland is where dreams come true -- I dreamed and I dreamed, and...you’re here, Jacob, you’re really here!”

Jacob and Carewyn sat on the floor together, unable to let go of each other or stop crying in pure joy. For that moment, they didn’t see or think of anything else around them -- not until a low, dark Bass voice cut in.

“Indeed he is...as are you.”

Jacob and Carewyn both looked up. Hook stood over them, adjusting his hook offhandedly as he smiled coldly down at them.

“It is truly nice to have Winnie back where she belongs,” he murmured, his eyes boring into Jacob, “isn’t it, Jack?”

Jacob stared at Hook. In the span of the next ten seconds, his face had lost all of its color, his eyes once again brightening with an awareness he’d been lacking. Unlike when he remembered Carewyn’s full name or his mother, however, this revelation was a horror he could barely put into words.

“No -- no, no -- ”

He whirled on Carewyn. “Wyn -- Wyn, you’re supposed to be with Amari -- !”

Carewyn blinked, baffled. “Jacob?”

“You’re supposed to be with him -- he was supposed to keep you safe!” Jacob said, his voice torn by anger, anxiety and absolute terror. “You shouldn’t be here -- you have to get out of here now -- !”

Charles shot a pointed look at Blaise. In an instant, Blaise had swept forward and roughly grabbed Jacob around the waist, hoisting him up off the ground and away from Carewyn.

“No!” cried Carewyn. “No, don’t take him! Jacob! JACOB!”

The little girl desperately tried to hang onto her brother’s hands. It proved difficult, though, when Hook seized the back of her nightgown with his hook and seized her around the waist too with his other hand -- it made it impossible for her to fly and get free, no matter how much she kicked and squirmed -- and Jacob was torn out of her reach.

Jacob writhed in Blaise’s grip, even as the First Mate yanked him toward the open cabin door.

“Run, Wyn!” he bellowed. “Run back to Amari, Wyn! Forget about me! Forget me and run! Fly away -- !”

It was only seemingly with the burst of adrenaline that came with anger that Blaise managed to accrue enough strength to wrestle Jacob out the door and slam it shut behind him.

“You must forgive your brother,” Hook said in a cool voice that bordered on disdain. “I thought he’d be more appreciative that I reunited you with him, after so long...”

Carewyn’s eyes were overflowing with tears as she looked up at Hook.

“Let him go! Please, bring him back!”

“Now, Winnie,” Hook said, and he seemed oddly pleased to see Carewyn so upset, “of course I will. I would be happy to reunite you, once Jack’s discipline has expired.”

“Discipline?” repeated Carewyn. The word gave her serious misgivings.

“Naturally,” said Hook. “He was the one who tried to keep you from me. Are you not curious about how your brother knew you’d been with Orion Amari, without me telling him so? Why he never once sought you out, if he knew you were in Neverland?”

Carewyn stared up at the pirate captain. His blue eyes -- identical to hers -- gleamed with something darker even as his smile spread.

“Where shall I begin this tale...?” Hook murmured absently, as he crossed the room to look out the window. “Ah yes -- perhaps when your thoughtless brother left my ship and went off to the mainland by himself one day and didn’t return until after nightfall. I was very displeased, when I found him missing -- even more so when he lied that he had gone exploring and gotten lost. Had to break his leg, to ensure he wouldn’t try to go running off again...”

Carewyn felt like her heart had been squeezed.

“You monster -- how could you -- ?!”

“It was a bit cumbersome, when trying to deal with the centaur brat at Marooner’s Rock,” Hook cut her off cleanly, disregarding her righteous fury altogether. “Fortunately Orion Amari still played into my hand, and my hook, trying to save his two new Lost Kids. But in the cave, I heard you sing that melody which of course is mine and mine alone, and my suspicions were aroused. I had thought at first that the last child of the three my crew saw on the clouds was simply one more wee pup of this ginger-haired family that Amari had stumbled upon in the Other World -- but if, in fact, she knew my song, there was only one possible reason why. And sure enough, some interesting rumors started fluttering about the island -- of the Lost Kids’ new mother, with the eyes of a pirate.”

Carewyn felt Hook’s eyes on her through the glass of the cabin window.

“I knew you were one of mine,” said Hook, “but I was not completely certain that you were the Winnie I sought, or some other new pirate entirely. All my suspicions as to your identity were confirmed, however, when my helmsman Ashe brought you to me.”

His eyes flitted over to the brown-eyed teenager still standing by the door -- he’d had his eyes locked on the closed cabin door, but he looked up, startled, when he was addressed. Carewyn turned to look at the Pirate Without Pirate Eyes -- his face was almost as pale as Jacob’s had been, but his jaw was clenched: almost as if looking Carewyn in the face and seeing her tear-stained cheeks was difficult for him.

“He said he’d taken you for your eyes and for your resemblance to Jack’s accounts of you,” Hook said, his eyes boring into Ashe’s reflection in his cabin window. “And yes, for certain, those are fair reasons. But my helmsman was unaware of just how much I knew.”

Ashe tore his eyes away from Carewyn’s at last, unable to keep looking into those eyes so like Jacob’s. His brown eyes were rippling with turbulent emotion before he shut them tight.

“By the time Ashe brought you to me, I was already more than aware that Jack had stolen away to see Orion Amari that night and cajoled him into stealing you away. Who else would have the ability to bring you here, to this paradise of youth? Who else has a home I know not the location of? Why else would Amari have kept his Lost Kids’ new ‘mother’ so hidden? Why else would Jack’s moods be so turbulent -- longing to see you, and yet also being determined to keep you away from me?”

Hook turned away from the window at last to face Carewyn, his hand adjusting his hook.

“In surrendering you -- the precious treasure I sought for so long -- to my mortal enemy,” he said very softly, “in allowing my mortal enemy to deceive and manipulate you for his own ends -- to keep you from your only remaining family...Jack has been disloyal to his captain and orders. That is why he is now being punished.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes flashed with righteous anger. “Don’t talk about my brother like that! Or Orion! He’s a good person, and you’re -- you’re just a cruel, wicked old man!”

SHUCK.

Hook brought his hook down hard into the wood of the wall right beside Carewyn’s head. She flinched, immediately going silent, but her eyes bore into his with loathing.

“‘A good person,’” recurred Hook. His eyes were so empty and emotionless, they were akin to some ice-cold doll. “I suppose that’s why he takes children away from their families? Lures them away like some Pied Piper, promising them bon-bons and fanciful dreams? Have you never wondered why all of his ‘Children’ have no mother? Why they needed you to fill that role for them?”

Carewyn’s face lost some of its color.

“Not all of them lost their mothers the way you did, Winnie, my dear,” said Hook very quietly. “They lost them through the more wicked efforts of Neverland -- that wicked forgetfulness that Orion Amari has so willingly embraced.”

The memory of Orion’s words in Pixie Hollow returned to Carewyn’s mind.

“We all forget, Carewyn.”

“That’s part of what Neverland is. It wants you to forget your pain – leave behind your greatest sorrows, from that Other World. It wants you to be happy, and at peace…be young and free, forever.”

“...Forget him, and be happy.”

“He wants them to forget -- wants you to forget. He wants you to forget you ever had a family -- a home, a life before Neverland. All he wants you to know is that you’re one of his. For if you remember anything else...well, then you wouldn’t be his anymore. With your memories gone, you would have nowhere else to stay but with him.”

Carewyn felt her eyes welling up with tears and she clenched her jaw, trying to look brave.

“You’re a liar,” she choked.

Despite her words, she was full of a dread and foreboding she could hardly describe. Hook seemed to know it too, and he cleanly yanked his hook from the wall.

“If you want your proof, just look at the two boys that came with you, Winnie,” he said lightly. “Charlie and Bill, I believe you called them? Brothers, you said they were -- born of the same mother, back in the world you were from. Do you think their mother was where they learned that shepherd rhyme, the one Bill taught you? Did you know their mother, little Winnie? How much of her do you remember now? Do you even know if she’s dead or alive? How much of their family do you think Charlie and Bill even remember?”

“Stop it!”

Clearly all of this had struck a nerve. Carewyn wrapped her arms tightly around herself and withdrew, trying desperately to keep herself from completely breaking down.

Hook, however, merely used her shrinking posture to lord over her like a quiet, dark shadow. It made Carewyn feel tiny -- smaller than she ever had before -- shrinking in the face of such oppressive, silent darkness.

“They...wouldn’t forget,” Carewyn whispered. “They love their mother. They wouldn’t forget her...”

They couldn’t forget their mother...Carewyn’s heart felt like it was being ripped in half, just imagining it. She loved her own mother so much -- to make her dearest friends forget their family --

“Not out of their own will, perhaps,” said Hook softly. “But they weren’t given much of a choice, were they? Orion Amari simply...took them. Took them away from that world where they remember who they were, with no intention of sending them back...”

“Orion did not just ‘take them!’” Carewyn said fiercely.

“No,” Hook said pitilessly. “No, I suppose he only really wanted you. That was what he and Jack had arranged, wasn’t it? Amari was supposed to bring you to Neverland -- keep you away from me. Your two friends...were just a lovely little perk.”

Cold flooded Carewyn’s entire body like an ocean wave.

Was...was that true? That Orion had only brought Bill and Charlie along because of her? It was likely that they wouldn’t have let her go alone, if Orion had invited just her. But Orion had said he’d bring them back home --

Wait. No, he hadn’t. Bill had left his parents a note, to tell them where they’d gone...then Charlie had said they could be back home in time for supper. And Orion...Orion had just shrugged. He’d never said he’d take them home...

“…Forever is an awfully long time,” Carewyn’s own words came back to her, followed by Orion’s response --

“And yet it can feel like nothing at all.”

He knew. He’d known they’d lose track of time, hadn’t he? Even though Bill and Charlie had only intended to stay overnight and be back the next morning...even though it was clear that they’d been gone far longer than just one day...Orion hadn’t said anything.

“You belong here, Carewyn. With us. The Lost Kids.”

Orion had never intended to bring Carewyn home. And because Bill and Charlie had come with Carewyn...he never intended to bring them home either.

Now many people, children or otherwise, would’ve been overwhelmed with anger, resentment, maybe even hatred toward Orion in this moment. Ashe had certainly expected such a reaction. Instead, however, Carewyn only seemed to shrink further -- losing the last spark of resistance she’d had as her blue eyes flooded with fresh tears.

“...It’s my fault...”

The words fell from her lips without her even realizing it. They made Ashe straighten up sharply, startled. Hook, however, only seemed to gain a darker tone to his eyes.

“It is,” he said as softly as a demon might whisper in someone’s ear.

He bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, but it only served to make him look more like a predator, as that malevolent look darkened further in his forget-me-not eyes.

“Orion Amari only wanted you,” he whispered. “Your brother only told him to find you. If it weren’t for you, Bill and Charlie would still be safe at home, with their mother. They wouldn’t be Lost -- doomed to forget everything and everyone they ever loved...motherless and lonely, running from the likes of me. They’d be living their lives safe at home with their family. If that family even still exists.”

Overcome with emotion, Carewyn covered her face in both hands. She tried incredibly hard not to break down into sobs, but tears leaked out of her eyes despite herself as she crumpled in on herself, her shoulders quaking. His eyes still dark with that cold, snake-like blackness, Hook very slowly brought his arms around the small girl and actually embraced her.

“There, there, Winnie,” he murmured. “I know it hurts. Betrayal always hurts...”

His silver hook ended up right beside her neck as he brought his china-white hand through her ginger hair.

“But you see now why I cannot allow you to return to the likes of Orion Amari. He only ever played with your emotions from the start -- took advantage of your kind heart, to get what he wanted...”

Ashe couldn’t help but keep a very close eye on the hook resting against the crying child’s helpless neck.

“You are one of mine, Winnie,” Hook said with a serpent’s attempt at kindness. “My blood and my flesh. It’s only natural that I would do all matter of things, to ensure you remain safely here, with me. If Amari or his Lost Kids ever took you from me again...I would have all the motive in the world to hurt them, if only to protect you from them...”

Carewyn looked up, horror in her teary eyes.

“No!” she said. “No, I won’t let you -- !”

“It’s all up to you, Winnie,” said Hook. “I will not forget your existence here. And I will not rest until you are mine. I will do anything I have to in order to make sure you and Jack remain here, on my ship...”

His blue eyes sparkled with more of that dark, satisfied glint.

“...Ah yes...and that’s the other rub, isn’t it? Now that you know Jack is here with me...could you live with yourself if you did leave? Could you forget that your brother is here with me -- alive and alone, on my ship -- sailing under my flag and following my orders? Could you bear it if your precious Amari hurt your brother while fighting my crew -- maimed him, as he did me?”

Carewyn flinched as the pirate captain tapped his cold hook against her neck.

Ashe’s lips knit together as his black eyes narrowed. He’d known Hook was a wicked man -- he was a pirate, so that was par the course. And Ashe knew that Jack would ultimately be happier in his sister’s company than being separated from her forever...it was the reason he’d even revealed Carewyn’s existence in the first place. He’d wanted Jack to be reunited with his sister. Then he would have everything he wanted and needed in Neverland, and...he would stay. He’d forget the Other World and his life there and happily stay...

But even so...Captain Hook truly was a heartless bastard.

Carewyn was shaking visibly now -- not just from her sobs, but through legitimate fear. As she shook, though, she went deathly quiet -- and eventually, all of the shaking seemed to have blasted some fresh adrenaline through her.

“I -- I’ll stay,” she burst out. “But -- but you have to do something for me, first!”

Hook cocked his eyebrows.

“You said your word is your bond,” Carewyn said with as much courage as she could muster. “Well, so is mine. ...I’ll give you what you want...but you have to give me what I want, first.”

Hook looked almost intrigued. “And what is that, little Winnie?”

“You have to let me go back to Orion,” Carewyn said very firmly. “You have to not follow me, or have me followed, on my way back to his hideout. Give me one night to send Bill and Charlie home. Then I’ll come back here to stay. ...I give you my word.”

Ashe’s brows furrowed. It was astounding enough that Jack’s sister was brave enough to try to make a deal with Captain Hook himself -- but she made no deal to advance herself: only to protect her friends and return them to their family. Even Orion Amari...even with how much she had to have resented him for how he’d tricked her and her friends...even he had somehow earned her protection, in this moment.

Ashe didn’t think he’d ever encountered anyone quite so selfless in all his life. Certainly not aboard the Jolly Roger. And clearly, neither had Hook -- and that was why he slowly rose to his feet in something like triumph, his eyes narrowing and his lips spread into a cold smile as he extended his only hand to her.

"...Very well. I will allow you to return to Orion Amari, one last time. You may tell your friends the truth of his deception -- perhaps even challenge him of the validity of it, if you so wish. And then, by nightfall, you will return, and never leave again.”

“You promise you won’t follow me?” Carewyn challenged him.

“I do.”

“And you won’t have me followed either?”

“I will make no attempt to seek out Amari’s hideout through your return.”

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly, even as her jaw clenched slightly and she gave her best attempt at a stoic nod. Her face was as white as a sheet as she took his hand and shook it to seal the deal.

"We have an accord,” said Hook.

Gently releasing her hand, the pirate captain headed back to the table where Blaise’s tea service was still set up.

“When you return, Winnie, I should like very much if you sang for me again,” he said without looking at her. “Perhaps for your brother and the rest of the crew, as well. All of us do so enjoy singing, to pass the time.”

Carewyn couldn’t look at him either -- her eyes instead flitted to the far corner.

“...Yes, sir.”

Her eyes landed on Ashe. He too was looking at her out the side of his eye, looking more uncomfortable than ever.

“Good,” said Hook. “Your brother has baldly refused to sing for me once, since he arrived, even when all of us crew members have chosen to sing together. It has greatly displeased me...”

He picked up the empty blue cup in the set, cradling it lightly.

“I’m sure you think I’m very cruel, Winnie,” he said airily. “But truly, once you return home to stay, I think you will see I can be kind. Especially when someone has given me proper motivation to do so.”

Hook glanced over his shoulder at Carewyn, still cradling that blue-patterned cup. The bottom of it was a faded gray -- stains likely left by that “black licorice” drink he’d poured into it so many times before.

“You see this tea set?” he indicated the one he was holding, as well as the red, yellow, and green-patterned ones. “I forget where I first purchased it -- but an image I do retain is of four children, each one holding one of these four cups...”

Something misty trailed over his eyes.

“...My children, I think...” he murmured.

That mistiness passed quickly.

“...The child that held this one was very quiet -- soft as a springtime breeze and frail. Her eyes were like mine, her face heart-shaped, and her hair, long and blond. And she was gentle -- intelligent and patient, calm and serene...”

Carewyn could see a restrained, but loving smile on the inside of her eyelids -- her mother’s smile. The shift in her expression made Hook tilt his head a bit, examining it.

“She’s familiar to you, isn’t she?” he asked. “That child that was mine?”

Carewyn nodded without looking up. Hook’s forget-me-not eyes narrowed that bit more.

“You are Lane’s,” he murmured. Had he lost sight of that fact temporarily, in all this? “She was mine...and so too are you.”

His pale, doll-like face was very unreadable as he gently slid the tea cup into Carewyn’s hands, making the little girl look up in surprise.

“I realize my kind of brew isn’t to your taste,” said Hook with a very small smile, “but I hope you will keep this -- as a memento of your mother, who I likewise wish was with us.”

Carewyn looked from Hook to down at the teacup and back. Her squirming stomach that made her distrust and dislike the man who had broken Jacob’s leg and was threatening the safety of everyone else on the island was painfully at odds with her heart, aching with longing and grief for her mother.

“...Thank you,” Carewyn said at last, very reluctantly.

Pleased by her lack of resistance, Hook shot a cool look at Ashe.

“Take her ashore, helmsman, and then return promptly. Winnie knows the way back to us, after she’s dealt with her affairs.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed a bit. “...Yes, sir.”

He averted his eyes when Carewyn looked at him, instead heading over to the door and holding it open for her.

“After you,” he said brusquely.

Glancing at the pirate out the side of her eye, Carewyn swallowed, before -- securing the blue teacup safely beside her heart in both hands -- she forced herself to plow out of the door, right out onto the deck.

The other pirates with eyes like hers -- Pearl, Claire, and Blaise -- all quickly looked up at her at the helm. They watched her follow Ashe across the deck and then onto the gangplank toward shore -- Blaise even went to go confront Charles, when he likewise came out onto the helm -- but both Carewyn and Ashe stubbornly kept their eyes averted, trying to pretend they weren’t there. Carewyn desperately looked around for some sign of Jacob, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“He’s down in the brig,” Ashe reminded her under his breath. “He’ll likely remain there until you return.”

Carewyn looked up at Ashe, startled. The Pirate Without Pirate Eyes had very stiff shoulders and his voice was oddly hard, but his face betrayed some shame despite his best efforts.

Carewyn considered him carefully.

“...You’re not part of our family, are you?” she asked after a moment.

Ashe scoffed. “Of course not -- I don’t look a thing like you.”

Carewyn frowned deeply, clearly confused. Ashe stole a look over his shoulder at her and then scoffed again.

“Hn -- if you’re thinking Hook coerced me to join, then you’re wrong,” he said dryly. “I wasn’t forced to become a pirate -- I chose to. I had nothing to live for and even less to die for, so I came here. I joined Hook’s crew of my own free will -- and I stay for the same reason.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes grew a little smaller.

“Yeah, yeah, judge me all you like,” Ashe said coolly, “your brother’s more than rambled on about how much of a saint you are and how sweet and brave and kind you are and all that. But I like being a pirate. I like not having to answer to anyone -- to not having to impress anyone, or look out for anyone except myself. Your brother does too, whenever he forgets to feel sorry for himself. He’s been able to be happy here -- at least until he remembers how much he misses you...”

Despite the bluntness and defensiveness of Ashe’s posture, something a little more pained and almost jealous rippled over his features saying this.

“He’s miserable...thinking of being apart from you,” he said more lowly. “Whatever stupid thought he had in giving you over to Amari -- whatever idiotic idea made him hurt himself and you, by keeping the truth from you and staying away from you...he can’t let go of his past and be happy, so long as he’s separated from you.”

He stole another look over his shoulder at her. Upon finding that she was looking right at him, though, he quickly looked away again in a vain attempt to obscure his emotions again.

“You’ll both be much better off together here than apart,” Ashe said brusquely. “Sure, maybe Hook’s a villain, and yeah, maybe you’ll have to toughen up and accept that life’s not fair and Neverland isn’t all sunshine and rainbows...but well, you’ll survive it. Your brother has. I have. And even if things aren’t perfect...well, we’re both Lost too, even if we’re not kids anymore. ...We’ve just been Lost together.”

Carewyn didn’t answer. Ashe wanted to look over his shoulder at her, but he could feel her eyes on his back and so stubbornly kept his focus ahead as they reached the section of the woods where he’d first found Carewyn, not far from Pixie Hollow.

“Here you are, then,” Ashe said dismissively. “Hook will expect you tomorrow, before nightfall.”

Carewyn bowed her head solemnly. “Yes.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Avoiding her eye, Ashe stuffed his hand in his pocket and turned on his heel to leave.

“Well...see you around.”

Ashe was startled by Carewyn taking his hand. When he looked at her, he found a very pale, but oddly brave look on her face.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out rather strained.

Ashe blinked. He then almost immediately tried to brush it off.

“For what, walking you to shore? I was just following orders...”

But Carewyn shook her head. “No. I mean for...well, what you said earlier. I don’t agree with you, at all,” she added, meaning to clarify. “I don’t want to be a pirate...and I don’t think Jacob does either, not really. Especially not under someone like Hook.”

Her blue eyes softened.

“...But you said...you were Lost too. And that...well, when Jacob was here, in Neverland...you two were Lost together. And even if I know Jacob didn’t tell me the truth because he wanted to protect me...I think you only told Hook because you were trying to be a good friend...not because you wanted Jacob hurt or locked up.”

Ashe was horrified by this idea. “Well, obviously! I mean, sure, I knew Hook would be mad, and yes, he has taken his anger out on Jack before, but -- well, you were going to be part of his crew, which he wanted, so I thought...”

He brushed off the end of the sentence, not seeing the need to go on about whatever fake outcome he’d conjured up in his own head. Carewyn didn’t seem to mind, though.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you -- and I’m sure Jacob isn’t either, even if he might act mad at first. I just...well, like I said...thank you. For being there for Jacob. I’m really glad he had you, the way I had Bill and Charlie.”

Ashe stared at Carewyn for a moment, perfectly bewildered. He felt his face flushing and, very quickly, he looked away, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment.

“Well...uh...I...”

His sharp-lidded brown eyes betrayed something a bit more fragile as he glanced at her. She offered him a weak, but still rather brave smile, and gave his hand a squeeze as she released it. She then turned on her heel toward the woods, taking a deep breath before slowly starting to walk away.

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Ashe asked, before he could stop himself.

Carewyn turned back around to look at him, startled. Ashe wanted to hit himself -- where had that come from? Had Jack astral-projected himself out of the brig and momentarily possessed him or something?

Carewyn, however, gave him a kind smile and nodded.

“...Mm-hmm. I know the way back, from here.”

Ashe knew she wasn’t just thinking of her way back to the Lost Kids’ hideout either, from the way her eyes dimmed, glancing past him toward the horizon. Even despite the darkening of her expression, though, she kept that slightly strained smile on as she turned and disappeared into the trees. Her hands were clasped over her heart, holding the blue-patterned teacup that her mother had used so long ago.

Despite her hesitation at accepting Hook’s “gift,” she cradled it in her hands with the utmost care.

Oh, Mum, she thought, as all of the hard-fought courage she’d been desperately clinging to slowly fell from her face. You warned me about how dangerous Captain Hook was...and you were right, Mum, you were right. But...

The thought of Bill and Charlie made Carewyn’s heart hurt.

I can’t let him hurt them, Mum -- and I can’t let them forget their mother like I almost forgot you and Jacob, Mum...

If she did, she knew she’d never be able to forgive herself...

x~x~x~x

Carewyn arrived back at Hangman’s Tree very, very late that night. Only Orion saw her come in, from his spot sitting up in the “cubby” spot inside one of the tree’s branches.

Despite seeing her, though, he did not move or make any attempt to make his presence known. Instead he watched her put down some pretty-looking blue and white Lost Thing beside her little cot, before tucking herself in, curling up in a ball, and going right to sleep.

Orion silently watched Carewyn sleep from afar off and on for a while. At one point, he even floated down toward ground level so as to get a better look at her, as if making sure she wasn’t injured. Her hair was neat and there were no scrapes or blood, but her face...there was disquiet, in how she slept. And her lips...

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

The warm, kind, well-loved-teddy-bear wrinkles at the corners of Carewyn’s lips -- so evocative of resilience to Orion, when he’d first seen her -- were a shade darker now.

Was her sorrow about forgetting her brother to blame for that? Was...what he’d said about Neverland, about how both he and it wanted her to forget...to blame for it? Was he...?

This thought was so unpleasant that Orion immediately pushed it away, wanting to scare it away like some meddlesome bird trying to steal his lunch.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her -- that was part of why he wanted her to come to Neverland in the first place. The Other World was full of pain, and Carewyn had clearly known a lot of it, despite still being a child. But here, pain was easily forgotten. Grief and suffering and loneliness...they were all easily forgotten here. He didn’t need to apologize for making her cry. She’d forget she was sad in the first place, by the next morning -- Neverland was good at making people forget pain and sorrow. And if any bit of her sadness remained, he could make it up to her. He could take her somewhere else fun, or bring her a nice gift, or fly with her that bit higher into the sky. Then they could be just as they were...happy and free, like they were with the fairies...

Orion merely brought a hand up and gently patted the top of her ginger head -- just as his Shadow had, when he’d first come to collect it at the Weasley family home. Then, without saying a word, he withdrew to his own cot and likewise went to sleep.

Even if those darker lines remained...she could at least forget what had darkened them in the first place. Then she’d stay, and be free. Then she’d smile again.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #my art #peter pan au #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell #charles cromwell #duncan ashe #orion amari #bill weasley #charlie weasley #fanfiction #ohhh orion you really don't know what you're in for :<#also yes charles is a gaslighting SOB I mean come on HIM talking about ANYONE else manipulating anyone for their own gain is ridiculous #yes he's obviously projecting everything he's doing to carewyn onto orion #but sadly orion's choice to lure carewyn to neverland is easy to demonize #because yeah even if he did it with the thought that she could be happy in neverland and he likes her as a person and wanted her to stay #he still was deceptive and roped both bill and charlie into the whole thing when he *knows* they have a family who would miss them #doesn't mean charles and orion are the same by any means #but you can see how captain charles hook would take advantage of the black-gray morality here

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