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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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I blame no one but myself

Since I saw @little-lightning-lavellan create THIS I had to do it for Fane. You have a glorious mind, just so you know! I had to do this, and as a result, I splurged. Holy fuck. Strap yourself in folks!

***

You have selected _____ to join your party! Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀)

(yes, I will always use this picture until the day I die. Fight me.)

Fane Lavellan (born 9:17 Dragon) is a Dalish warrior and hunter from Clan Lavellan, but abandoned the clan at the age of 20. He feels no kinship with his own clan or the Dalish as a whole. He is a volatile young man that is prone to bouts of rage, but also indifference, swapping between the two at any given moment. However, he shows an astounding sensibility with keen observational skills and a plethora of worldly knowledge that many would not assume a mere Dalish warrior to have.

Inquisition scouts report that he was along the fringes of the hills surrounding the Conclave several hours before the blast, seemingly observing the gathering of the mages and templars with levels of confusion and intrigue, but was within the village itself when the initial explosion occurred, thus he was brought in as a potential suspect and questioned as to his reasons for being there. Fane stated he was ‘just watching’ and left it at that, so the Inquisition decided to keep him close so they themselves could ‘just watch’. (If playing the Mhairi World State then his reason for being in Haven is as a bodyguard for his sister, and stays with them for her sake alone. He does not leave Clan Lavellan in this world state.)

Fane is a starting companion (appears at the first initial rift with Solas and Varric) and is a romance option for either a female or male elf or human. The initiation of the romance is, however, based on the approval scale. You must be at a certain percentage upon the initiation scene, otherwise, the flag will be unavailable (Dalish Inquisitors start with infinitely lower approval than human, dwarf, or Qunari Inquisitors). If playing the Mhairi World State then romance option is voided, and a background relationship like Dorian and the Iron Bull will be initiated with Solas through banter hints during the game. The background relationship applies for other world states, and for low approval, or if the Inquisitor does not romance Solas.

His primary abilities upon recruitment are centered around two-handed and DPS, but can be respecced after the first seal attempt. Fane’s specialized Ability Tree is akin to the Reaver Ability tree, and unlocks along with other companions’ Ability trees after Haven. However, he has two personalized activated skills named Emotional Baggage and Leashed, But By Choice.

Emotional Baggage is a support, sustained AOE ability that Fane can activate to use the emotional duress of an enemy (i.e. status effects such as panic or weakened.) to augment his, the Inquisitor’s, or other companion’s abilities and basic attacks. This ability eats away at his stamina however and when depleted, Fane is unable to use any of his other abilities for a short period of time, and his basic attacks and general movement is impaired.

Leashed, But By Choice is an ability exclusively tailored to support either Solas or the Inquisitor (if high approval or within the Mhairi World State). When within the appropriate radius of either one, Fane can ‘tether’ himself to Solas or the Inquisitor to bolster their strength by feeding his emotions through the link established. Any debilitating effects upon Solas or the Inquisitor is transferred to him and redistributed back through with fiery purpose. (status effects stack until stamina pool is depleted) If Fane’s stamina pool is completely depleted when the tether is still established, he will begin to take high amounts of spirit damage due to all debuffs circling back to him until he disconnects himself, or Solas or the Inquisitor cease any basic or activated attacks. (If friendly fire is toggled on, Solas or the Inquisitor can direct an attack towards Fane to forcibly remove the link if he is unable to).

Fane’s focused ability is circumstance dependent, meaning it is only activated if Solas has fallen or is at critical health. (If playing the Mhairi World State, it will be available if Mhairi falls or is critically injured, as well.) It is listed with the name Shattered Vow and is along the lines of the base focus ability Berserk. However, Shattered Vow greatly amplifies abilities such as Dragon Rage and Devour, and has no cooldown times on either, but at the cost of extra amounts of health when used. Stamina rate of depletion is exceptionally lowered during the duration of the ability, but upon focus depletion, or if Solas or Mhairi is revived or healed, Fane will immediately collapse and be incapacitated for the rest of the fight. (Revival, potions with Lifeward, or if Healing Grenade is upgraded with Revival will not work to recall Fane.)

Combat Comments

Kills an enemy

(scoffs) Disgusting.

I’m sick of you! *if enemy downed is a mage*

(snarls) Don’t touch me!

Kills an enemy (after Haven)

(tired sigh) Will it ever end?

So much red..

I wasn’t made for this..

Low Health

(growls) Permission granted to heal!

Suledin.. S..Suledin.. Vir enasalin..

I..I have to..keep going..

Low Health (Companions)

(the Inquisitor) Stop attacking! Focus on the Inquisitor! He/She is injured!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) Will pride be your downfall, too?! Someone help the Inquisitor!

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) Help, Mhairi! NOW!!

(Solas) Solas! You damned fool! Fall back!

(Varric) Varric! Archers in the back, warriors on the front! Get it?!

(Cole) Cole! Easy, damn you!

Fallen Companions

(the Inquisitor) - If you fall, we all fall! Get. UP!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) I thought you would never submit?!

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) My, no! (voice cracks) NO! Open your eyes! OPEN THEM!!

(Solas) Solas! (snarls angrily) I swear if you’re not breathing when I get to you, I’ll--I’ll--!

(Solas - if romanced by Fane) No..NO! (choked up) We made a vow, Solas! It can’t shatter again! I need you!

(Iron Bull) I’m large, but you’re larger, you oaf! Get up!

(Cole) Cole, no! You still have so much to see, to observe! Come on!

(Varric) I don’t fancy having Hawke’s hands on my throat, dwarf!

(Cassandra) The Seeker’s down? (snarls) Fuck me!

Location Comments

If within radius of any Elvhen artifact

Fane: I’m..going to stay out here.

Inquisitor: Is everything all right? What’s wrong?

Fane: Nothing. It’s just more practical for someone to stay outside in case of trouble. Go on.

If within radius of any Elvehn artifact and Solas is in the party (primarily after Haven)

Solas: There is an elven artifact nearby.

Fane: (sighs) Of course there is.

Solas: Ir abelas. We shall be quick.

Fane: Go on, then. I’ll be here.

Exalted Plains

The land is burnt to ash here. How typical.

The sky is...grey. (sighs) I want to leave already.

(Within Halin’sulahn)

Fane: Could we have built a life here? Harmonious with them and free? Without a yoke to bind us, a noose to threaten us?

Inquisitor: With humans, you mean?

Fane: Huh? Hum--? (clears throat) Yeah. Yeah..

(when reading one of the plaques depicting the Exalted March)

(growls) The world would be better off without religion. (scoffs) Zealots, all of them.

(Approaching the Dalish camp)

Inquisitor: Huh. Look. It’s the Dalish encampment.

Fane: Traipsing about a battlefield? (scoffs) Idiots. I feel bad for the halla.

Emprise du Lion

(takes a deep breath) Ahh, feel that? That’s cold. (chuckles) Just how I like it.

I need to shed a layer...or five. How can you all stand so much fur? Ugh.

Watch for falling snow from the branches. It’ll crush you as surely as any boulder would.

(near red lyrium)

This stuff needs to know the perpetuity of black. Destroy it already.

My head is pounding. (growls) Can we get moving? Tsk.

(after walking across Judicael’s Crossing)

Fane: I hear them..

Cole: They’re confused, crazed, chained. They want to correct it, but it’s too much..

Fane: ...Let’s go.

Temple of Mythal

(entering the temple)

Guess the elves learned how to cherish some things. Don’t let that be in vain.

(after meeting Abelas - didn’t attack)

Fane: I wonder if they know..

Solas: They do.

Fane: Hmph. That’s...good, I guess.

Companion Comments about Fane

Varric: Tempest? (laughs) He’s a handful, but he’s not so bad once you get past it. Elf can drink, too! The other night, half the soldiers were knocked out cold and he was still wide awake!

Blackwall: Have you ever played Diamondback with Solas and Fane at the same time? Don’t. My coin purse is still recovering from that duo.

Sera: Grumpy? (cackles) I put a rat in his bed roll the other day and I friggin’ swear his hair turned as red as his face after the screech he let out! ...I had to hide out in the kitchens all day, though.

Cole: His eyes hold dueling duality. He wonders when the battle will end.

Cole (if Fane is romanced with the Inquisitor): He doesn’t know which side he wants, but observing you gives him hope. He feels safe with you.

Solas (not romanced with Fane): Fane has been through a lot, Inquisitor, but his words do not wholly define him. Observe him as he observes all of us, and you will see that.

Solas (if romanced with Fane): (chuckles) Ma’isenatha? He is special, Inquisitor. In more ways than you realize. (more quietly) ...He is more important than you realize.

Iron Bull: He gives me a wide berth for some reason, but he’s one hell of a fighter! (hums) Sort of unhinged though. Like he doesn’t know he’s even moving in for the kill. Kind of worrisome, if you ask me.

Dorian: Fane? (chuckles) Have you ever heard him speak when he thinks no one’s listening? That man is a walking poetry book! Caught him reciting one to himself one time and when I asked about it, he turned beet red! I swear the man’s eyes changed colors from that alone!

Leliana (if not playing the Mhairi World State): I don’t know much about him, or rather, I cannot find much about him. For a large man with very unique features, he remains shadowed. ...And he seems to want it that way.

Leliana (if Inquisitor is Dalish): I attempted to contact your clan after Haven to gather information, but...all inquiries were met with refusal or deflection. You yourself mentioned you had never interacted with him, yes? I believe there is more going on than Fane wishes to admit.

Leliana (if playing the Mhairi World State): Your brother is highly observational and subtle for a man so large. He had taken one of my investigations as his own, and brought back amazing amounts of intel that uncovered a ring of mages attempting to repeat the same dragon control from the Grand Cathedral. ...Would you be adverse to me making him an agent?

Trespasser

No matter the romance or world state, Fane becomes unavailable at the end of Inquisition. If romanced, however, he will leave the Inquisitor a letter stating that he’s sorry, but he can’t continue to ignore what is needed for what he wants. If playing the Mhairi World State, he also leaves a letter, but the message is attached with the favor Mhairi had given him when he turned twenty-one; a velvet sash. After various attempts of locating Fane and turning up no leads, he is presumed out of bounds of Thedas or dead.

During Trespasser, upon the final eluvian that ultimately leads to Solas, the Inquisitor will be stopped by a dragon masked warrior, who is also blocking the Viddasala from entering the mirror. Even when questioned, the warrior doesn’t speak and ultimately moves to the side to allow passage, but not before finally saying, in fluent Elvhen: ‘Your wings are clipped, and only stone awaits you.’

When the Inquisitor speaks to Solas, he will explain that Fane is not dead or missing, and is actively within the Crossroads as they speak. Any circumstance will yield questions from the Inquisitor as to Fane’s exact whereabouts, and Solas with state, with a saddened smile, ‘He saw you when you came in, but you did not do the same courtesy. Such is the way the world views his kind.’ If the Inquisitor made an effort to learn the history of the elves, their downfall, and Solas’s own identity, then he will explain exactly what Fane is and who he is to Solas himself. If not, then Solas will say to find Fane themselves to learn the complete truth and will only explain his own side.

In the Epilogue, it is made known that the warrior the Inquisitor passed in the Crossroads was Fane, after Leliana’s agents reports sightings of a large male along the fringes of Tevinter, wearing the same armor, but without the mask attached. It is later revealed that Fane is working as one of the Agents of Fen’harel, but mainly as Solas’s second in command.

Trivia

Fane has an unhealthy obsession with anything sweet. He often gets stomach aches.

He is demisexual, thus why his romance is based upon the approval scale.

Fane is the only companion that cannot have armor crafted for. He will equip himself as levels dictate.

His area within Skyhold is situated in three places: The third floor in the tavern with Cole, leaning on the crates in the rookery, and most frequently, reclining on the couch in the rotunda, reading. Sometimes banter will trigger between him, Solas, Cole, and Leliana. During Haven, Fane can be found along the edges of the training yard or along one of the broken docks.

His idle animation has him scanning the sky with his arms crossed, or clenching and unclenching his fists.

He enjoys the scent and look of Gladiolus.

If not playing the Mhairi World State, Fane is revealed to have no family beyond his deceased mother and missing father, the latter he speaks of with great disgust and loathing, however.

There is a DLC called Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows that doubles as Fane’s personal quest which reveals towards dragons having a greater influence beyond the Old Gods. It hints towards Fane’s identity, as well, but it is not resolved until Trespasser.

Fane can speak and write in fluent Elvhen, but refuses to unless pressed.

Fane’s Reaver ability Dragon’s Rage is a silvery blue color rather than crimson. Upon activation of Shattered Vow, however, the blue is mixed with red.

It is revealed in Trespasser that Fane was able to ‘tether’ with the Inquisitor due to the mark, since it is Solas’s magic.

He is secretly claustrophobic. This is revealed in The Descent DLC, if taken.

He personally tests every strange bottle of liquor the Inquisitor finds in the wilds.

The Mhairi World State is an origin preset for Fane to personalize the player’s experience with him through special dialogue and unique buffs.

Fane’s ‘climax’ romance scene reveals the abuse he underwent as a child from his father. His scars are exposed for the Inquisitor to see, then.

Refers to Solas as ‘my sky’, if in a romantic relationship. If involved with the Inquisitor, he will call them, ‘my wings’.

***

Yeah, I got carried away. I had to stop myself because I think about this a lot since Fane was not originally my canon Inquisitor. Not entirely canon compliant, but you all know me, I recognize canon, but I don’t chain myself to it. XD

#dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #meme #oc meme #i got really carried away about the abilities #i honestly have so much more like actual companion banter #maybe i'll make another one *side eyes*#dragon age inquisition #male lavellan #reject canon return to fanfiction

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twiststreet · 3 years

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As a fan of manga (mostly everything Tezuka), I'm intrigued by your comments about One Piece, but my assumption is it HAS to be at least PRETTY GOOD to be as popular as it is and to have run as long as it has. I'd be interested in more detailed posts about it, as well as how you recommend reading it, if you do. On a somewhat related note, today I started reading all of Batman. Planning to go from 1939 to 1999, when I first picked up the comics.

Whoops I wrote a lot; sorry:

I’m 615 chapters in out of 1000 (and in the middle of the Fish-Man Island saga which I think fans rank as either the worst or second-worst arc)(the other worst one, this bad tournament arc, I’ve already gotten past)... so I guess I have a lot to say, but you know, nothing especially original, just...

There’s a stretch (namely, the Water 7 arc all the way through Marineford) that is a hall of fame stretch. He drops like 5-6 arcs that just land perfect right in row (though it’s hard to imagine it ever reaching the heights of the second arc in that series, Ennies Lobby ever again). But that being said, it’s a little funny to tell anyone “Oh it takes 150 chapters to get really good” (that’s at least 2000+ pages of comics) let alone, that the A+ stuff starts 300 chapters in. A chapter of One Piece only takes a minutes or so to read, if that, but it’s still a big ask. People used to get angry if you told them that Deadwood only gets good after 3-4 hours, so...

But that stretch is ... not “life-affirming” but... it touches a very old part of my brain in a very satisfying way.

I had a whole long post I deleted because I thought it was boring, but... when I was into classical American superhero comics, the thing I’d constantly be nerdiest about is that there was this Great Possibility, to do something truly epic in that space which I didn’t think had been done. There’s been a few novels (Watchmen, the Enigma) but not that many. And American superhero comics don’t really have a Lord of the Rings or a Star Wars or, an example for me as a kid even though I hadn’t read all the books was the Gunslinger books (or sure, The Stand if The Stand had maybe a different ending? I don’t know-- I’m not watching the TV show but I don’t really remember that ending fondly). The epic driven by a creator who is creating his own personal mythology, basically. Most of the genre is tied to pre-existing universes which foreclose that as a possibility and people who work outside those universes tend to just make shit like that Peter Cannon thing or Supreme or whatever that comments back on those universes...

Maybe you could argue the Hickman X-Men thing but for me, everyone after Claremont on X-Men is just inheriting so much from Claremont that... It means very little to me. It’s not a personal mythology. Same with Crisis. The closest to me comics came was Kirby with the 4th World, but... Carmine Infantino shut that down. And the Claremont run itself is ... an interesting discussion, but again, Bob Harras. But back before Watchmen 2, back when I thought comics could be this thing that improve over time (haha), I’d look for that (or for any ambition! any!) and just gave up as time went on. The careerist generation came in; the ambitions shrank even further; etc., to where I’m at now where my attitude generally with comics is “that’s nice; who care; so, is your wife dating anyone right now, what’s her story?”

But then One Piece ... One Piece, of all things, becomes this epic thing! And it’s great! I was right that it would be great!!! I was right! (My favorite thing to be!).

Not at first-- at first the formula is “Wacky Pirates go to an Island, they find out something sad is going on in the Island, a character acting extremely emotional causes the biggest fight possible which goes on for 50 chapters, and then they leave the island and maybe take someone with them.” And that’s a lot of big arcs... until little by little, tiny bit by tiny bit, Oda’s built up this world. And then that world starts to become the story. And that’s still kind of the formula but... but then they’re stakes.

The archetypal shonen cliche story is “a boy wants to be the best in the world at something”, right, but what One Piece does (and I haven’t read as much as other people so I don’t know how common this is, I haven’t read Naruto or Bleach, neither of which I’m too excited to check out, though i think david brothers vouches for Bleach heavy so I’ll probably give that one a shot), what One Piece does is sees how that would necessarily become a political struggle eventually. Because what does it mean to be the best in the world at something when there’s an entire world out there already in operation, and built around you not being the best in the world, built around someone else being that...

And then there’s just this amount of worldbuilding that goes on, that is so slowly fed out over those first 300 episodes that you don’t even notice it... Until suddenly around Water 7, these bigger forces have now noticed our wacky pirates, and are shifting around them and getting upset about them. Culminating in this arc called Marineford that ... again not as good as Ennies Lobby but... I don’t think there’s a comparable arc in American comics to Marineford. The scale of that one... The fact he managed to draw that on a weekly basis!

While still being a goofy kid’s pirate comic. It’s funny. The power sets are all really silly, but in a way that reminds of how kids play more than a Dragonball thing. (He takes like 400-500 chapters to even get to a Dragonball-style levelling up concept, which I thought was pretty patient of him). But within that, I’m enjoying it now in a very Claremont way of... there now not just being these scrappy outcast heroes I’m rooting for, but an entire universe of people around them, with their own agendas, that I have varying levels of investment in.

There’s this saying that the Golden Age of science fiction is 12 years old, the idea being that’s the age where stuff lands with you the hardest because it’s all NEW for you. But the thing is if you’re really immature (lifts hand)... I think part of things is you run out of the Good Stuff. I go back and look at old Chris Claremont X-Mens and if I somehow find one I’ve never read before (and this was the lesson of Dazzler in Hollywood for me), I’m still right there, it still lands with me, there just aren’t that many people who can actually land that plane. Once Scorcese is gone, what gangster movies are people going to be watching? Blow? Savages? Kubrick only made the movies he made. People add a little every year, but the really good stuff is rare.

And so when I’m looking at One Piece and I’m enjoying it the way I’d enjoy a Claremont X-men comic (even if aesthetically it’s a VERY different thing-- sexless and not as weirdo-operatic and less violent and more childish and definitely younger-skewing)... but that I’m getting that same thrill of “oh this comic is a portal to this entire fictional universe this guy made up and that kind of exists now thanks to this (kinda disturbing I guess it turns out) guy” to me is... Not “life affirming” that’s not the right word but... It feels good on my brain to know. Because then being sour and grouchy isn’t just me getting older and the inevitability of age-- then it’s just... People need to make better shit!!! Or I need to do a better job not wasting my time on, you know, an industry that’s not built to deliver what I need as a reader...

I mean, I’ve been saying for more than 10 years, I should just quit American comics and just be one of those guys to switch to manga. And I’m not 100% there because... I mean, because of Copra and because of like an extremely small list of things that aren’t Copra. (I just signed for Kate Beaton’s Patreon). But... I’m 95% there, and it’s been great, and I just feel dumb for not having done it earlier.

One Piece has big problems, too. (There’s a whole “Sanji meets drag queens” thing that’s very much not landing with me right now). I don’t think you can ever top Ennies Lobby because Ennies Lobby is about convincing a suicidal person whose been betrayed their whole life that life’s worth fighting for-- there’s never going to be an emotional engine to the story that’s as good as that one. It’s trying to work its way back to a “normal One Piece story” in this Fish arc and it’s... I want to see it level up again! The core cast is just a little too big (it really didn’t need Bones). I think the shonen model generally creates a sort of “power arms race” where it’s like constantly “oh you learned how to crush mountains with your dick in the last arc? Well, too bad our mountains are made of diamonds now” escalations that ... feel a little like a treadmill as opposed to a story. I feel like it needs to kick into a Second Act, after the big ending of that first Act at Marineford. And just... I don’t know how it can keep topping some of these fights, and think it’d get to be diminishing returns to find out. But...

A “team of buddies versus the world” is already a great thing for a story to be about, and it’s just really satisfying having One Piece having the “the world” part of that equation being so complicated and varied and colorful. It’s like if the Ocean’s 11 gang had to rob an overwhelming-more-powerful global crime syndicate, with multiple competing factions, while still convincing Julia Roberts to love them-- they just robbed Andy Garcia and I watch that movie like once a year.

(And thematically, the comic-- it’s not deep, but it’s basically got an anti-authoritarian streak to it, which I think is important for a kid comic to have. It’s a pirate comic and you can’t really do a pirate comic without being like “fuck the cops” at least a little bit. The pirate thing is interesting because it basically means that there’s always a discussion going on about what it means to be free, though I think sometimes the comic doesn’t really reckon with that-- it sometimes falls back into “well if there was a good monarch though” thinking... but there being good pirates and bad pirates and good government characters and bad ones, I like that... and the very worst characters just being rich assholes... yeah, good lessons in One Piece for the kids!!).

That and I just like how that dude draws. He’s not doing some dreary realism thing-- the layouts are fun without being showy or confusing-- he really improves as the series goes on (though some of the recent stuff I’ve seen hasn’t looked as good, but I’m not sure if I’m seeing low-quality scans or he’s been thrown a loop cause of COVID or what). I’ll always put up with a boring stretch in a comic if someone, like, crosshatches an arm in a way that I find interesting, so that probably distorts how I read One Piece too...

I could go on and on, basically because ... goddamn, what else do I have to talk about, ughhh. But yeah: that’s why I think it’s popular-- it’s the worldbuilding. It’s 100% the worldbuilding. (By which I’d include that it has this massive cast, that i can keep kinda clear in my head, not all of whom want the same things, etc.)(though also geographically-- there are maps and everything)... But recommend it? I don’t know-- I mean... It’s a little kid’s pirate comic. There’s a THOUSAND of them. It’s more modern than a Tezuka thing-- it’s jumping off more from Toriyama than Tezuka, and that’s a different vibe. It’s like not something you can just “recommend”-- it’s a major time sink. I’d recommend Chainsaw Man first to someone with my age and background because even though it has its own flaws, it’s more “age appropriate” and there are only 90 chapters, and it’s got that rad stretch about 20 chapters in so you see the “good part” faster...

#one piece #Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

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jebazzled · 4 years

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So you want to write a want ad.

Surprise! JB coming you today not with unsolicited opinions on apps, but with unsolicited opinions on want ads.

Want ads: love filling them, hate writing them, mixed experiences being part of them. Let's talk about want ads: the responsibilities of writing them, and how to write them in a way that gets people to bite.

WANT ADS: RESPONSIBILITIES

I am a firm believer that when you post a want ad, you have a number of responsibilities to the person who takes your ad:

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads.

Let's go over what I mean with each of these.

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them. When someone writes a character for your want ad, they are often writing a custom character, from scratch, often for a specific plot. This may or may not be a character the writer can reuse elsewhere. They put in a lot of effort for something that you said you wanted, and you owe it to them to come through with the plot you asked for.

This means that you should be proactively plotting with this character, not waiting for the writer to message you asking what you want to do. This means that you should not leave the writer on read. This means that you should be thinking about making this plot enjoyable for both you and the other writer.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them. Again: this person wrote a custom character for you, and is now doing the work of building other plots for this character. You asked for this character, you asked for this plot. Someone may have joined the site for this plot. You owe it to the writer to give them the plot you asked for.

If you do not have the time to regularly contribute to one or more threads at a time with this person, you should not be writing a want ad.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads. It is unfair to expect plot exclusivity from other people unless you have made that expectation clear from the get-go. Often, want ad-takers are new members looking for a want ad & plot as a way to get started on a site. If you are not comfortable with the taker of your want ad plotting extensively with anyone else, you should only request want ads from people you are close to and comfortable with.

If certain common plots make you uncomfortable (e.g. : if your ad is for finals and you are uncomfortable with the requested character having romantic history with other characters onsite) you should say so in the ad.

"What if I don't like the way the character turned out?"

The most common reason I hear for people not actively plotting or threading with characters written for their want ads is because they don't like how the character turned out or don't like writing with the member who took the ad.

These are both stupid reasons you can head off earlier than when a character is accepted.

When someone shows interest in taking your want ad, proactively communicate with them. Being in touch with the writer while they initially write the character means you will be able to better communicate what you are looking for and what you are excited about.

If you do not like the way the character turned out or do not want to write with the member taking the ad, you should let staff know before or while the app is under review. Many sites ask for member input on applications submitted for want ads.

If you are unwilling to communicate with another writer or with staff to resolve an issue surrounding a want ad, you should not be writing a want ad.

I understand and agree that confrontation, whether on a small or large scale, can be frightening and anxiety-inducing. I promise you that the "confrontation" of telling staff a certain member makes you uncomfortable and you don't want to write with them, or telling a writer that you don't think their character is quite right for your request, will have much less fallout than you giving every indication that there is no problem, and then completely ignoring this character and writer. (I know this from experience.)

If you are unwilling to potentially take on this confrontation - and 9 times out of 10 it isn't even that bad - you should only request characters from people who you trust to pull off the character in a way that makes you happy.

If there are only a handful of people you would actually be excited to write this character with: you should not be writing a want ad. If you would only thread with this character if they are written by one of your friends, ask one of your friends to write them. Want ads cast a wide net. If you are not comfortable with a wide net, ask your friends to write the character. And if none of your friends will write the character: you need to find a way to write your character without the wanted one.

(This is a great argument in favor of never making a character rely upon another played character to make sense: you never know when a request will go unfilled, when someone will ghost, or when muse will die.)

WANT ADS THAT PEOPLE WILL WANT

Still want to write a want ad? Alright. Let's get to it.

A good want ad is both specific enough to be intriguing and vague enough to give plenty of room for development. A good want ad sets the requested character up for a compelling plot without isolating them from other stories onsite. A good want ad is exciting to write for.

Let's look at some premises for want ads, and how to make them more compelling.

4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

BETTER:

Parks & Rec-inspired 4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

Why is this better? Giving the group an easily-referenced dynamic helps potential takers get a sense of the personalities at play. They almost certainly won't pull the characters wholesale, just overall types - e.g. a himbo, a dark horse, a straight man (the comedy archetype), a square, a nervous optimist. The vibe is specific but the details are wide open.

Twin brother and sister who held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks. In the first week Sally tried to escape, but in week two she developed a crush on the twin brother. He tried to get the twin sister to let Sally out of the treehouse, so she took Sally to a different treehouse and told Sally that she had a vision about the brother being an elk shapeshifter.

BETTER:

Twin brother and sister with a dark history - they held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks two years ago. Sally has feelings for the brother, who may or may not be a shapeshifter.

Why is this better? The original idea was WAY too specific, with every beat of the plot planned out. Asking someone to take on cowriting a story you've already outlined in your head is an unfair proposition, as it allows them very little room to develop their own character. If you need tight control over every single beat of a plot you should probably just write it as original fiction!

Little brother needed for Mary (played by X) - also is boyfriend to Kathy (played by Y), and best friend to Peggy (played by Z). The big complication? He is framed for the attempted murder of Peter (played by Y), who was Mary's boyfriend.

BETTER:

Little brother needed for Mary - this character has been framed for the attempted murder of her boyfriend as well.

Why is this better?

This less complicated request is better for a number of reasons:

Keeps the two most important parts of the request (the sibling role & the attempted murder)

Allows the writer more control over their character's other relationships

Doesn't lock the writer into a closed-group plot situation

What do I mean by a "closed-group plot situation?" In my experience, plots with this tangled sort of quality often lead to a cliquey dynamic. This itself isn't inherently a bad thing - sites are communities, and any community develops close groups - but it does mean that it can be difficult for a new member to feel included with the clique, or to be able to plot outside of the clique if all their character's connections are with the same handful of members. It also means that if the clique has a falling out, members might have a hard time setting their characters up elsewhere on site.

Older sister needed for Sadie Sourdough. Sister raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. Sadie idolizes her and cares about her a lot but also resents her for getting sick, which meant Sadie had to leave her job abroad.

BETTER:

Sadie Sourdough's older sister, Sandy - Sandy raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. When Sadie left to work abroad, Sandy was proud, but also relieved, as this meant she could pursue her dream of underwater basketweaving - but when she caught the Water Sickness, Sadie had to come take care of her, and now their roles are reversed.

Why is this better? The function of the character is the same, but this ad focuses on the requested character, which both gives a writer more to work with and keeps the plot from being entirely self-serving. Remember, rp is a game for two or more - nothing you do can be all about you!

WANT ADS: FILLING THEM

As long as I have you here: let's talk about filling want ads. Quick and dirty tips!

DON’T only post in the want ad onsite; reach out to the poster individually! Talking to them about what you have in mind and getting a sense for how it compares with what they're looking for will help you determine whether this want ad is for you or if you'd like to go in a different direction, and will save you the effort of writing a whole character just for the plot not to take off.

DO think of other potential plots and points of connection for your character. While you might be writing them for a specific plot, you should have ideas for plots and opportunities outside that plot. You never know when a writing partner will ghost, drop a character, or lose their muse for a plot, and your character should make just as much sense without the person who requested them as they do when you are writing with that person.

DO have fun! This is your character, and you get to decide how to write them. Don't feel like every single thing about your character needs to be determined by the person whose request you're filling. RP writing is improv - you don't get to control everyone else's writing and characters - and if the person whose request you're filling wants to be super controlling of every element of that character, perhaps it is a red flag!

IN CONCLUSION,

Want ads are not something to be taken lightly: you're asking someone to put in a lot of effort for a plot you want! Hopefully this tutorial has given you some food for though in your approach to writing and filling want ads. Happy roleplaying, and best of luck with all your character requests!

#rp guides #want ads #requests #rp requests #resources

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embalmerandphotographer · 4 years

Note

Do you have any hcs on Fiona Gilman and her interactions with the other survivors?

Ghost here! Oh I absolutely do. Fiona is the survivor I play most often after Aesop and I love her! Not just her skill, I also find her backstory very intriguing and have spent a lot of time talking to Greed about it, as is our way.

Okay so... First a warning or two:

1. This contains some spoilers for her deduction lines and birthday letter, so skip this one if you don't want to see that.

2. I'll freely admit that I love to push everything in a horror direction and this does of course also apply to the mega-evolved kiter herself.

Getting that out of the way...

I think it's clear that Fiona knew about and implied to have been drawn to Lakeside Village, where there was a cult religion worshiping a lake deity that was probably Hasur. We know the villagers sacrificed "livestock" to the their god by throwing them into the lake in exchange for their prayers being answered. We know Fiona was drawn to seek out occult mysteries, and that she has a philosophy of following where her gods lead her, taking the actions she believes they call on her to take. We also know the village is now abandoned, and letters later sent to villagers (see the Dancer's recent birthday letter) weren't answered. We also know that Fiona gained some pretty impressive magical powers at some point, ones she didn't have growing up.

So, Fiona went to the village, either believing herself drawn there or because of what she'd heard about the lake cult, or both. I think she, a very attractive and definitely driven if not also somewhat cunning young woman, was able to join the cult and become close to or even join its secretive inner circle, the one in charge of the actual summoning and sacrifices.

And Ms. Fiona Gilman had a very big wish she wanted granted, a deep prayer she had no doubt been holding close most of her life.

I think Fiona wanted to be special. Powerful. Part of the magical world. And she wanted to be follow the call of her gods, to be able to pass through the solid reality of this world into the spiritual one she always wanted but never had access to as a child.

And I think she that she got her wish. And that she sacrificed the entire population of Lakeside Village to the lake and to Hasur to get it. Consider that the villagers were asking for small things, and paying in blood sacrifice and the slaughter of livestock for even that. And who and what Fiona became is very much not the anxious, unhappy, and apparently seeming unexceptional person she was implied to have been before breaking away from her mother.

If you consider the survivor's abilities separate from how they're balanced by the game mechanics, Fiona is one of the most powerful of the survivors, if not the most powerful. Along with Patricia and Eli, she had actual magical abilities before coming to the manor*. And because of my take on her, I think that like Aesop, she'd killed enough people that she could have been (and might still one day be) a hunter instead of a survivor... but that’s a post for another day.

So! That's my HC for her backstory. You also asked about her interactions with the others.

First off, while I obviously think she's a sort of amoral-evil person on a grand scale, I think Fiona is probably perfectly nice and even quite charismatic on an individual basis. Kind of weird still, because she's the priestess of a cult, but charming and easy to get along with in spite of this. And while I do think Fiona is capable of being manipulative to get what she wants, I also think she doesn't think of her actions as evil or intentionally do harm. Even her drowning a whole village of people in a lake could have been framed, for her, as following her god's commands. Maybe she thought that after so many sacrifices, Hastur wouldn't be bound to the lake anymore, and she might even have been right about that.

(Btw this, in my mind, is one of the most dangerous types of person when they're amoral. Someone so very likable is also so much harder to criticize, to question, or even to think ill of.)

So, I think the survivors get along with her fine for the most part. I don't think any of them know about what she did (with maybe one exception), and that they take her at face value as another member of their strange, unwilling team.

Now... She's casually friendly with pretty much all the survivors, with a few exceptions, but that she might not have any very close connections at the manor. I think she has a mean-girls style friendship with Vera, and that’s her closest friend. Also she and Patricia have long, technical conversations about magic from time to time, but Patricia is deeply uninterested in getting cursed more/again and steers clear of whatever it is the Priestess is up to spiritually. Any of the survivors who are attracted to pretty ladies and susceptible to getting crushes probably do have mild to moderate crushes on her (Kevin, Vera, Freddy, Martha, Emily, William, Emma, and certainly others although I haven't thought through it too much). Also, for some reason I headcanon that Luca specifically Just Thinks She's Neat, because she has a fascinating ability that challenges his view of a scientific reality, and because they're both feral and he can vibe with that.

Aesop is completely, almost hilariously immune to her charisma and views her neutrally- a competent coworker with a hang up on one of the hunters that's really not his place to comment on.

On the other hand, I think Emily and Martha don't think much of her intelligence due to her spirituality/gods, and Emma just quietly doesn't get closely involved with Fiona outside of matches because she while she may be unhinged she has good instincts. Poor Andrew is absolutely terrified of her like the good Catholic boy he is. And she does unnerve a few of the other survivors but not in a way that they can quite put their finger on, so they dismiss it.

And then there's Eli. I've understood Eli's backstory to imply that he's from the Roman Empire, so way further back in the timeline than most of the others, who were take from eras closer to the World Wars. And Eli is linked to Fiona, but we don't know how. They have similar eye themes (Fiona's keys/portals have eyes on them and Eli's blindfold/owl are related to sight), but they can't have know each other when they were alive, and we don't hear anything about the lake cult being involved in Eli’s life or his future seeing. Fiona is implied to have served and still be following Hastur, but the same can't be said for Eli as far as I know.

I don't think Eli dislikes Fiona. They might even be friends in a way, or sort of colleagues. Certainly there aren't many other people they can talk to about magic, and they do share some kind of connection from outside the manor. But I think Eli has very mixed feeling about her, partly because he knows that mystical powers come with costs.

And I have a specific, wildly extrapolated headcanon about them. I don't think Eli was part of a cult dedicated to Hastur that existed long before Fiona was ever born. I think his own powers were given to him, in part, to stop things like what Fiona did in Lakeside Village from ever happening. To contain gods of chaos and protect the balance of the world. He might even have had visions of what happened, either with the Lakeside cult or with the manor games or both, and if so he just wasn't able to stop it, being too far away in time until he was pulled into the timeless pocket dimension the manor apparently exists in. (How interesting then for him to become trapped with living proof that what he saw and would have tired to prevent had already come to pass?)

Anyway! Those are my headcanons for Fiona, or what I have time to write down tonight.

Closing thoughts:

-I did also find another little bit of interesting trivia: part of Eli's Chinese name originally translated to Gilman. We also know reincarnation is a theme for him. Who knows what the manor game is about, after all?

-I also think it's EXTREMELY funny that Fiona claims to have not come to the manor after being called by a letter, but instead to have followed "a spirit" or one of her gods to the manor. Because if it's at all true, Ms. Gilman *broke into the manor*, either at the behest of her god (Hastur) or because she was following him. She broke in. Can she get out out? Does she just not want to? I have questions!!! Ms. Gilman what is your deal!!)

*(Servais, honey, I appreciate you, but we don't know if you had real magic or just excellent illusionism skills before the manor; I also think it's safe to say that Mike's juggling wasn't magical until the manor got ahold of him either, and so on with Vera, Aesop, etc.)

#identity v #fiona gilman #identity v headcanon #long post #coffin #sorry this took a few days to answer #hope you enjoy my ramblings about my murderous crystal hippie headcanons for fiona #Anonymous

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

1071.

Do you know anyone who can play the bagpipes? >> Not personally. There’s a busker who plays them at the farmer’s market sometimes, though.

Where would your dream wedding be? >> My actual wedding was held in New Orleans, which was perfect to me.

Are you comfortable with your body? >> Not entirely.

If you saw a ghost, would you be more scared or intrigued? >> Intrigued, I’d assume. It’s possible I’d be afraid, though. I don’t know anything about ghost appearances, so maybe they’re more frightening than I’d imagine.

Where do you go/want to go to college? >> ---

Which is better: soccer or American football? >> ---

When was the last time you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? >> I had a peanut butter sandwich last night, but I don’t remember the last time I had one with jelly on it.

Do you write poetry? >> Not usually.

Do you drink energy drinks? If so, what kind? >> No.

Do you believe in God/some kind of higher power? >> Something like that.

Which is the best color for a t-shirt: black, white or gray? >> Black. Grey is good too.

Is there anyone you just can't get off your mind lately? >> I mean, maybe.

Do you try to be a moral person? >> I mean, my morals are pretty easy to follow. I don’t really have to try that hard to not be a dick.

What's the hottest wing sauce you can handle? >> I don’t know how to judge that. It’s not like I know where every hot sauce I like places on the Scoville scale or anything.

Have you ever used the bathroom on a charter bus? >> Maybe? I don’t know.

Do you think people can be overweight and still attractive? >> -___-

Which do you prefer: old school rap or the stuff on the radio now? >> My preference for rap is all over the place, there’s no specific era that I prefer.

What is your opinion of Lady Gaga? >> I like some of her music.

Do you care about politics at all? >> Not to the extent most people do.

Has a best friend ever turned against you? >> ---

Is AC/DC one of your favorite bands of all time? >> No.

Do you feel a little thrill of excitement whenever Halloween is mentioned? >> No, I feel that way about Christmas.

Are you easily embarrassed? >> No.

Can you get a tan or do you just burn? >> I just get a little darker... since I’m already dark...

When you get a pint of Ben & Jerry's or Haagen-Dazs do you eat the whole thing in one sitting, or does it last a while? >> I don’t eat ice cream. I do eat gelato, but I definitely cannot eat a whole pint in one sitting. That sounds miserable to me.

Have you ever dreamed you could fly? >> No.

Have you ever gotten a text from someone and you have no idea how they got your number, or who they were? >> Yeah, that happened a lot in the first couple of years I had this number. I still have no idea why.

Do you care if people swear around you? >> No.

When you see two people of the same sex kissing, do you judge them? >> This kind of question never ceases to baffle me.

Do you like to light random things on fire just to watch them burn? >> No.

Do you have any medication you have to take every day? >> Not that I have to take every day, like for a disorder or anything. I take the Pill because I want to.

Do you have any illnesses or disorders with acronyms? (ADHD, OCD...) >> Yes.

Would you rather own a purebred dog, a designer dog (Yorkiepoo, Labradoodle, Puggle), or a mutt? >> Whatever caught my eye at the shelter/rescue.

Have you ever had chicken/pork/tofu/shrimp vindaloo? If so, isn't it YUMMY?? >> Probably.

Do you wear more costume jewelry or expensive jewelry? >> I mean, that’s two ends of a spectrum. The jewelry I wear is usually somewhere in the middle.

Are you jealous of people who seem effortlessly cool? >> I’m envious of people who seem comfortable with themselves, but I also know that it’s possible for me to be the same way with some work and time. And by “some” I mean “a pretty dedicated effort”.

When someone you have a crush on walks by, do your knees get weak? >> ---

Does that ever cause you to trip and/or fall? >> ---

Has anyone ever pointed out that your laugh was unusual? >> No.

Are you addicted to anything that's not considered an addictive substance? >> No.

Did you ever get stuck sitting alone or with the teacher on a field trip? >> ---

Do you know anyone who's been abused by a partner or spouse? >> Yes. Unfortunately, “of course” is the first thing that popped into my head, and the second thing was “... holy shit, that’s fucked up”. It should not be that fucking common.

How tough do you think gun control policies should be? >> Tough.

Have you ever donated blood? If not, why not? >> No. Because I’m chronically iron-deficient and therefore ineligible.

Are you proud of yourself? Why or why not? >> Sometimes I am, most of the time I’m not.

Do you ever wish you could be the opposite sex for a day? >> No.

Would you rather read fiction, history, or historical fiction? >> Any of the three, as long as the specific subject matter and writing style was interesting to me.

Have you ever been in a play or a musical? >> I was in a summer-theater production of Annie as a preteen.

What brand of deodorant do you use? >> Dove.

Do you have a laptop? If so, does the charger work well? I wish mine did :( >> Yeah, the charger works fine. I mean, you can just replace those if they stop working well...

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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shireness-says · 5 years

Text

A Drowning Soul Will Clutch at Any Straw

Summary: Though this is far from Killian Jones' first encounter with a mermaid, he's never met any quite like this blonde siren. Together, can they break a cruel curse? Rated T for language. ~13.3K. Also on AO3.

~~~~~

A/N: It’s here - my entry for @cssns 2k19! Thanks to the mods for organizing this again, my beta @snidgetsafan, and ESPECIALLY to @hollyethecurious, who’s created this lovely photoset for the fic. It’s posted on her page as well - definitely go check it out and give her some love.

Tagging my usuals and those who showed interest in the sneak peek: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @snowbellewells, @scientificapricot, @winterbaby89, @mythologicalmango

Enjoy!

~~~~~

It’s agreed upon on every shore of this realm’s oceans: Killian Jones is one hell of a captain.

He’s not just saying that either, as vain as it sounds - he’s proved it, many times over. After all, who else can boast of having not only evaded every nation’s navy for as long as he has, but outrun curses, cut through the most treacherous of waters, and even discovered every secret way in and out of Neverland? No, in this case, as in all others (a pirate he may be, but he still prides himself on being a true gentleman), his word is worth its weight in gold.

Yes, Killian Jones prides himself on being the best captain this realm has ever seen, able to handle everything fate and the sea has thrown his way for well over a century. This storm, however, is testing every moment of his vast experience and all the seafaring instincts he possesses.

It had arisen suddenly and without warning. This isn’t a corner of the world Killian or his crew have ever visited before, a remote island he’s never even seen on any of his maps. Smee had heard a rumor though, in a seedy tavern in a seedy town while the rest of them had been more concerned with finding spirits and female companionship, of a glorious treasure hidden on a secret island. In all his years, Killian has never been one to turn down treasure, and this rumor is no different. Sure, it might not lead anywhere, but at this point, what do any of them have to lose? With the Dark One long since disappeared and the king who killed Liam even longer since overthrown, they’re only in this now for the thrill of it all. Treasure hunting seems just as good a pastime as any.

The rumor had neglected to mention whatever magical enchantments are protecting the island, however - because mark his words, there’s something unusual about this storm, something otherworldly. Killian has been around for a long while, and has seen a lot of things, but a storm spontaneously forming in a matter of minutes from what was a cloudless sky and calm seas is not one of them. He’s been around long enough, too, to recognize magic, and the air here practically reeks with the stuff. Something more is a play here - something sinister. And until they can identify it and defeat it, he and his men are left clinging to drenched ropes as the Jolly tilts precariously from side to side.

“Turn us into the waves, Mr. Smee!” He yells over the crush of noise. “Let’s work with this storm instead of against it!”

“Aye aye, Captain!” The stout man yells back. His red hat is obviously drenched through, but for some unimaginable reason he still insists on wearing the stupid thing. Frivolities aside, he’s a good first mate, able to get the other men to follow orders quickly and efficiently, leaving Killian free to scan the waves for whatever might be causing this. He’s got his suspicions already, based off his long experience in Neverland, and if he can just spot something amongst the waves —

— There. A flash of silver, too bright to be just the light on the waves, and a lilting feminine voice he shouldn’t be able to hear over the storm around them.

“Prepare the nets, Mr. Smee!” He calls. “There’s a merbitch in the water, and I’ve got a mind to go fishing!”

With a target in mind, the men cheer before scurrying to man their stations, guiding the ship into position as Killian directs them to capture their quarry.

He’ll give the scaly cunt this much: she fights back. Hard. For the first time in decades, Killian is genuinely concerned that the Jolly Roger will capsize as the waves rise higher and higher all around them. It’s easy to miss the flash of her tail amongst the squall, but Killian and the crew do their best to keep her in sight, teams of men working with nets to trap and entangle her. And eventually, their efforts succeed.

Killian expects the mermaid to be spitting mad when they haul her aboard - he certainly would be, in her position - but he’s shocked by her… acceptance isn’t quite the word. There’s still too much defiance, too much fire in her eyes to truly call it that. But she doesn’t fight back either, or curse them all to a variety of watery hells even as lightning strikes dangerously close to the ship. Instead, she tilts her chin upwards as Killian approaches, his sword drawn and resting against his shoulder in a contradictory move between threat and casualness, making sure to meet his eyes. All the while, she continues singing, her words melodically wrapping around them both - and almost certainly controlling this storm, like the sirens of legend. She’s dooming them with her very voice.

“Anything to say for yourself, siren?” he sneers. He almost hopes she does - would welcome the chance to rid them of such a predator, even one wearing such a pretty face.

The singing doesn’t stop, though, even as she stares boldly into his face. With her arms still tangled in the net, it’s her only means of defense, and she seems intent on using it. If it wasn’t obvious how she was summoning the storm before, it is now as a bolt of lightning cracks down dangerously close to the ship as her singing crescendos. He may have the weapons, but in this fight for their lives, it’s obvious who’s winning.

It’d be so easy to just gut the fish-woman where she lies, dispatch her like the monster she’s currently behaving as, but something makes him look closer, push past the noise echoing in his ears to really examine the creature in front of him. Her expression is a careful blank mask, only the bold set of her chin betraying any emotion or personality, but her eyes… her eyes are brimming with emotion. Horrifically human. Confoundingly pleading.

End this, they beg. End me.

Killian raises his sword to strike.

———

He shouldn’t have done it - left her alive, that is.

He’d been fully prepared to end her, for the sake of his whole crew, but at the last moment he had knocked her out with the hilt of his sword instead. Something about those eyes… he couldn’t do it. They’d been a little too human, a little too female, and he’s always prided himself on being a gentleman.

(There’s also the fact that after decades, centuries, he’s bloody bored, and he can’t deny that there’s something intriguing about the mermaid who asks for death. She’s a mystery, a pleasant diversion, and he can’t bring himself to kill the first interesting thing to happen to him in ages.)

Regardless of method, the storm had abruptly stopped as soon as the mermaid had been knocked into unconsciousness, black skies giving way again to the rosy colors of a sunset at sea, which had been the goal all along. Killian had just taken a slightly different path to get there. After that, they had located the largest tub they could find and relocated it to the brig, where it had been filled with water behind the iron bars before their unexpected guest was deposited in it and locked up. It’s true that Killian Jones may be a pirate, but he’s not a cruel man, not without severe provocation, and it seems a bit much to beach the siren, so to speak, if she’ll be with them for any amount of time.

For now, she’s still unconscious, and Killian is left playing the waiting game. He’s got a fair few questions for their piscine guest, after all. He can’t help but examine her form in the meantime, driven both by boredom and the desire to be there the very moment she wakes up. There’s something more intimidating about waking up to find the captain present, after all, as if already waiting to dole out judgement and punishment. He could tell himself that his examination is just precautionary, sizing up the enemy, but the truth is that his appreciation is much more aesthetic. The mermaid is, in a word, striking - a little too dangerous to be pretty and a little too real to be otherworldly. She could be the very source of all the tales of sirens’ dangerous beauty. The lantern’s light reflects almost blindingly off her silver-scaled tail in the darkness of the brig, though with this closer proximity he can pick up glints of blue and green amongst the metallic sheen where it hangs lazily over the edge. Her hair is blonde and tousled by the waves, the wet locks drying before his eyes into a mess of curls. A smattering of small braids twines through the strands, though he can’t tell from here whether they’re simply intended for looks or as a small effort towards taming the way it must all billow around her head underwater. Her breasts are covered by some contraption made of seaweed and shells, which strikes Killian as a bit odd; he’s spent a good amount of time with mermaids during his many years in Neverland, and they’ve never been particularly known for their modesty. Her skin, apart from her shimmering tail, is pale - pale in a way that betrays how rarely she must seek out the surface. Again, odd - most mermaids sun themselves on the rocks like lazy cats and pick up quite the tan for their efforts. The paleness of her skin makes her seem more dangerous in a way he can’t quite put his finger on - the remoteness it suggests, perhaps, or the way it displays the scars collected on her torso and arms. Perhaps the business of turning ships into toothpicks is more dangerous than he gave her credit for.

Killian realizes he’s wandered closer than he intended at the same moment that he hears her breathing minutely change, and hurriedly takes a step back. Only moments later, her eyes flutter open, scanning her surroundings with brows furrowing in confusion before settling on where he leans faux-casually against a wall.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” she quips, rolling her eyes - also unlike any other mermaid he’s had the questionable pleasure to meet, who were all vain creatures who revelled in any form of male attention. Sarcasm and cheek were not in their vocabulary - just jealousy, pettiness, and a simpering vanity he’d quickly tired of.

(He notes, too, that this mermaid’s voice is all gravelly, like she hasn’t spoken in a long while. And who knows - way out here in this forgotten corner of the world, that just might be true.)

“Can you blame a man?” he asks, pushing off the wall to saunter closer again. “It’s not often we have such lovely ladies on this ship. Or any ladies, really. And when I’ve got one so alluring in front of me… well. I’m only human, lass.”

She makes a noise that might almost be a laugh, something that might almost be a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth, before sobering again. Killian doesn’t like that nearly as well. “You should have killed me,” she states. Matter-of-fact. Looking right at Killian, as if to best drive her point home.

It doesn’t work.

“Ah, well, you see, about that. I didn’t.” It’s probably - definitely - too lighthearted for the subject at hand. “I am, however, quite intrigued as to why you’d want that in the first place. I’ve been sitting here asking myself, ‘What kind of mermaid creates the storm of the century, almost sinks our ship and kills the entire crew, only to ask for death when she’s caught instead of smiting us all to smithereens?’ Don’t think I didn’t notice that very impressive lightning, love, because it did not escape my notice that you could have doomed every last one of us in a second.”

“The cursed kind,” she fires back. “The kind that doesn’t want to kill anyone in the first place.”

“Seems a little far fetched,” he comments, because it does. Even in a land bursting with magic, it sounds like the plot of a tall tale. A mermaid - a woman? - cursed to do terrible things against her will. How ridiculous.

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“And how did you get cursed, pray tell?”

“The usual way,” she replies, smiling like she knows just how much this crypticness is irritating him. She probably does. Finally, some way she’s like every other mermaid of his experience.

“And for those of us less experienced with curses?” He almost certainly sounds exasperated, and couldn’t care less about it.

“There was a witch. I’m sure you can piece together the rest.”

“Gods, but you are maddening,” Killian mutters under his breath. It must not be that quiet, though, as he can spot the mermaid’s mouth twitching back towards a smile. “So let me get this straight. You were cursed by a witch for some reason - I assume you won’t be so courteous as to tell me why?” She shakes her head on a smirk. “Of course not. So you’re cursed by a witch, and spend the next gods know how long forced to sink any ship that comes into your territory. Is that about right?”

“That’s the gist of it,” she agrees. “I haven’t had legs since Stephen the Second of Misthaven, if that clears matters up at all.”

Killian does the math in his head - once, then again when his first result seems too absurd to be believed. “That’s over six hundred years!”

She shrugs. “I’ll trust you on that. There’s not much way to track time, down below the surface. I’m sure you can imagine, the years all start to blend together eventually.”

He does know - better than she could have guessed. After all, he’s an almost three hundred year old man who just met the only person in existence older than him. It takes a swig from his ever-present flask to really move past that.

“So you’ve been cursed for six centuries,” he reasons out, “and not once have you tried to do anything about it? There’s no way to break your curse? No mortality clause?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” she scoffs. “I know this curse better than anything else in this realm, or any other. I know exactly where the boundaries of my bay are, the markers I can’t cross without swimming face first into invisible walls. The singing is beyond my control. I don’t need food to survive, or air, or daylight. The only way out of this curse is death, and I can’t even manage that.”

It’s horrifying to hear her speak so callously of her search for a way out of her curse by any means, but Killian supposes he can almost understand it. She’s had her free will ripped away for hundreds of years; having lived through that particular nightmare himself as a slave in his youth, he can understand how it would drive a man, or woman, to madness. The longevity of this curse really is striking; Killian doesn’t consider himself an expert on magic by any means, but he does know that generally, curses don’t last past the death of the person who cast it. It suggests other, just as impossible things - namely, that this sorceress is still alive somewhere.

“What about the witch?” he asks. “Did you ever attempt to track her down again?”

“Did you miss the part where I couldn’t leave my territory?” she shoots back in her dry, sarcastic voice. “Doesn’t leave much opportunity for searching for witches, even if I wanted to. She used to come to the island, it felt like to taunt me, but even that stopped ages ago. Decades, perhaps even a century or two.”

She had mentioned her barriers before. Killian feels like a little bit of a numbskull for not retaining it, honestly. “Aye, well, consider this my cordial invitation to assist you in such a quest,” he declares pompously, sketching an elaborate bow towards the barrel. It’s only mostly an attempt to save face - he would have offered anyways. He’s always had a soft spot for damsels in distress, after all.

She doesn’t seem to take him at his word however, snorting and rolling her eyes at the offer. “Be serious, Captain. It’s not nice to tease.”

“I assure you, milady, I’m deadly serious,” he returns.

“It’s a terrible idea. You don’t even know my name, you just think you’ve heard some sob story and want to watch it play out,” she argues.

“Killian Jones,” he replies, introducing himself as a counterargument. “Feared pirate of the seven seas - though many are more familiar with my more colorful moniker. Hook. And you are…?”

“That still doesn’t answer what you expect to get out of this.” He’s not sure if it could be considered a true deflection, but it’s definitely a blatant avoidance of his question - whether to protect herself or leave him in the dark, he’s not sure. Maybe a bit of both. The mermaid certainly seems to enjoy annoying him.

More to the point, it’s a good question she poses, as Killian isn’t quite sure what he actually expects out of this. He’s not usually given towards such generosity - rather against the pirate code, and all that. He’s not operating a charity. The mermaid in front of him though… he couldn’t tell you why, but he keeps coming back to the word interesting. He’s never met anyone quite like her, on legs or fins - an intriguing mix of danger and allure and just a touch of tragedy. Killian has been a bit at loose ends ever since he discovered that his Dark One problem took care of itself, and like it or not, hearing about the problems of cursed mermaids is a welcome diversion, as ridiculous as that feels to admit. The truth is that he wants to help her if only to see all this play out, and maybe try to figure out the woman in front of him a little along the way.

(There’s also the fact that he dislikes witches even more than he mistrusts mermaids, but she definitely doesn’t need to know that.)

That honest reason is a little too personal, however, so Killian quickly spins a different excuse. “A clear path to whatever treasure is hidden on that island would be nice,” he offers, smirking in a way that he hopes will sell his facade of being just a greedy pirate. It’s a good enough excuse, and he’s not so intrigued by their finned guest that he’s already forgotten how he and the crew stumbled into this mess in the first place.

The snort is back. Again. It seems to be his guest’s default reaction - sarcasm and completely rejecting whatever he has to say. It’s a bit off-putting, but he supposes allowances have to be made for those who haven’t had proper human interaction in hundreds of years. “If you’re searching for treasure, you’re going to be disappointed,” she confides. “There’s nothing on that island. Never was. Ages ago, witches used to meet here for coven meetings or some shit - that’s why I’m here, to protect the island from any meddlers - but that dropped off ages ago. It’s just a bunch of rocks up there - no gold, no jewels, no buried treasure. Nothing. So if that’s your reason for offering to help me, it’s not worth your time. Kill me now, or toss me back into the sea, but I can’t give you what you seek.”

That’s not it, though, not really. Yes, treasure and riches beyond all their imaginings would be nice, but his desire to keep this woman on his ship for a little while longer has nothing to do with it. Instead, he settles on bluster. “Like I said, love, I’m a simple man, with simple pleasures, and one of those is having enchanting women aboard my ship.” It must not work, however, as she fixes him with an unimpressed look - or at least, as unimpressed a look as she can manage while in such an undignified position. Still, it’s enough for Killian to quickly cave. “And, maybe, your witch hunt is the most interesting thing I’ve come across in years.”

She fixes him with a searching look for a moment longer, before finally nodding. “Alright, then, you’ve got a deal.”

“That’s what did it?” Killian demands incredulously. “Everything else I’ve said, and it’s boredom that you buy, out of all that?”

“I understand boredom,” she replies simply. “After all this time, it’s an old friend.”

Kindred spirits. He supposes he can believe that.

“In that case, welcome aboard, Miss…?”

“Emma,” she finally smiles, trusting him with her name like it’s her greatest secret. “Emma Swan.”

———

The first order of business is setting the men to work building an even larger tub for their fish-tailed guest. The original had been fine for a prisoner, but her tail doesn’t fit all the way inside, the iridescent flipper at the end obviously hanging over the edge and losing its sheen as it dries out. An invited guest deserves a bit more comfort - or at least to be able to fully submerge her tail. They’d seriously debated just releasing her back into the ocean to swim alongside the Jolly, but there’d been some uncertainty about whether her curse would allow it. After her talk of invisible walls she can’t cross, it seems like that the only reason she’s been able to leave her cove is because they’d hauled her aboard and forcibly carried her away from the bounds of her prescribed territory. He and Emma are both a little concerned about what might happen if she were returned to the water. Magic is so intrinsically involved with all of this; would it transport her right back to where it’s deemed she belongs? The larger tub may still be uncomfortable, but at least they can be sure she’ll stay put.

Somewhat more uncomfortable is the fact that the finished container is installed in the captain’s quarters - Killian’s quarters. Though ruthlessly organized, the Jolly is a small ship, and each inch is precious for storage and housing the crew. Besides the brig, only Killian’s space offered enough room to hold the container Emma would be calling hers for the indeterminable future. Between that and the windowless cell, it hadn’t really been much of a choice. It’ll be more convenient as he and Emma attempt to chart a course anyways - or at least that’s how Killian tries to convince himself.

“It’ll still be close quarters, I’m afraid. Not much privacy,” he apologizes, reaching to scratch behind his ear in an expression of embarrassment that makes him feel like some bashful youth again.

“What, are you the only modest pirate in existence?” Emma asks, mouth twisted into a smirk at his expense. “I’m a big girl, Jones, I’ve been around men before. It’ll be fine. I’ll even cover my eyes while you undress, if it makes you feel better.”

“That’s not —” he tries to protest, before sighing. “Fine. Good. Let’s do this, then.”

He’d carried her before, from the deck down here to the brig while she was unconscious, but it’s a different thing now when Emma’s awake and an ally and someone he has to be careful with. The weight isn’t an issue - he’s carried rum barrels heavier than her, though the pure muscle that makes up her tail is rather heavier than he expected of someone who is otherwise so slight - but with the woman in question awake to wrap her arms around his neck in an attempt to make the maneuver easier, it seems very intimate. One breast presses softly against his chest through her bodice and his shirt, and he’s suddenly very aware of every inch of bare skin his hand is touching along her back. It was easier to ignore such things when she was a nameless enemy - now that he’s seen a little of the woman in his arms, it just feels like an invasion of her privacy and a step in whatever this alliance is that neither of them was ready to take, especially him. The whole thing does nothing to help the blush that’s already established residence across his cheekbones, and he can feel Emma quivering with suppressed laughter in his arms.

“Shut up and watch your head,” he mutters as they begin the trek up the rickety wooden stairs, finally working a full laugh out of Emma. It’s nice to hear, though rough around the edges in the same way her voice was at first. Killian supposes she hasn’t had much reason to laugh in a long while either.

“Aye aye, Captain,” she chuckles as he begins the ascent.

It’s more than a little cramped in his cabin, what with the tub competing for space with all his regular furniture. There’s not even that many pieces - just a table and chairs, the bed, a storage cabinet and a handful of trunks - but the Jolly isn’t a particularly large ship, and the Captain’s cabin is no different; space has always been more a dream than a reality.

“Sorry about the clutter,” he offers bashfully. Embarrassment isn’t a common feeling for Killian; the pirate’s life doesn’t lend itself well to shame. Something about having a lady in his quarters, however - particularly this lady, and particularly knowing she’ll be here for the foreseeable future - brings back that youthful kind of anxiety of wanting everything to be perfect. It almost makes him wonder if he’s been put under some spell, like in the mermaid tales of old, but dismisses it as ridiculous. There’s limits to what he’s willing to believe, especially where this particular mermaid is concerned.

“It’s fine, really,” Emma replies, reclining gracefully in her makeshift tank. “It’s a nice change to be surrounded by such… human things after so long under the sea. The view doesn’t hurt either,” she adds, gesturing widely towards the square paned windows lining one wall, displaying the sea in all her dangerous glory. It’s a favorite view of Killian’s as well, especially now when the sky is just starting to turn all the colors of the sunset, each one reflected between the peaks of the waves. It’s the only thing that really sets the captain’s cabin apart from any others, except for the extra privacy.

“Aye, it’s really something, isn’t it,” he murmurs softly, allowing himself to share a moment of reflection with his guest before snapping himself back to himself. “You said you were from Misthaven? If we’re going to do this, we should set a proper course.”

“Yes, Misthaven. It was just a little village, though, it didn’t even really have a name that I was aware of.”

“If I got out my maps, do you think you could recognize the area, at least?” As Killian asks, he’s already moving.

“I think so. Worth a shot, at least,” Emma agrees.

Grabbing the appropriate map, Killian tosses it on the table top before pushing the whole thing as close as he can to where Emma reclines. As soon as the surface gets close enough, Emma rearranges herself in the tub to prop her arms on the table, splashing a little as she turns in the tub. They’re going to need plenty of towels, Killian realizes suddenly. Oh, what logistical things you don’t consider when you agree to house a mermaid in your quarters.

Quickly, he unrolls the map and weighs it down with a handful of paperweights. “Do you remember anything else? Any starting point?”

“It was on the eastern coast,” Emma replies, tilting her head in thought and squinting into the distance. “There was a little island nearby in the sound, too, but I don’t think anyone lived there.”

They continue like that for the next hour, eventually narrowing it down to three possible sites - all once tiny fishing hamlets, all now sizable towns, and in one case a bustling city. A lot can happen in 600 years, as it turns out.

They’ve got a plan, now, but Killian is left with more questions - namely, the particulars of his companion’s curse.

“I don’t suppose you want to share why you were cursed?” he asks casually, leaning against the cabinet with a smirk.

“Not unless you want to explain how a nice Navy boy became a notorious pirate,” she smirks back.

It immediately throws Killian off whatever game he was playing - probably her intention all along. She shouldn’t know anything about that. “How do you know about that?” he demands, straightening to attention.

“I’ve got hundreds of years’ experience with ships. Of course I can recognize a Royal Naval vessel, even dressed as a pirate ship,” she declares loftily. It only lasts a moment though before she relaxes back into that smirk. “And I saw all the old Naval manuals on your shelf. I figured a pirate who took the ship would most likely just get rid of them, but someone who kept them probably had a sentimental reason to.”

“So a guess,” he concludes.

“Ah, but a good one,” she winks. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Perhaps another day,” Killian smiles tightly. Truthfully, he doesn’t have any intention of telling her; his memories of the Navy are far too tied up with his memories of Liam, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to share them. “And you?”

“Perhaps another day,” she echoes.

They’ve done more than enough sharing for the day.

———

There’s unexpected things you learn when you’re living with a mermaid, as Killian comes to discover.

He learns within the first few days that she’s a voracious reader, whipping through the adventure novels he keeps beneath the window. It alleviates a lot of the guilt he feels about leaving her alone all day while he goes about the business of leading a crew above decks. She’s meticulously careful about it, too, making sure to never drip on the pages. Killian happily leaves her a stack of books in the morning, and usually she’s completed one by the end of the day - oftentimes more, especially if she picks a short volume or books of poetry. It’s one of the things he hadn’t really thought about - how she must not have heard any new stories in centuries. How lonely she must have been in her corner of the sea, he can’t help but think, starved both for companionship and any news of the outside world.

More surprising are her dining habits - or lack thereof, rather. He’d brought her dinner that first night - nothing fancy or unusual, just some fish they’d caught earlier in the day and a few hardtack biscuits to wash it down with - only for Emma to stare at the plated offerings with an odd look on her face. It’s not quite confusion, and stops shy of suspicion, but it’s definitely not enthusiasm either. As Killian really processes what he’s offered her, he flushes. Again. Gods, what is it about this woman that’s turned him back into some blushing youth?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about the fish thing,” he apologizes, moving to whisk the plate away again. “That would be rather macabre, wouldn’t it? Let me get you something else —”

She waves him off, though, pulling the plate back with her other hand. “Jones, it’s fine. You are aware of how many fish subsist on other fish, right? It’s not an issue.”

He furrows his brow in confusion. “What seems to be the problem, then? I don’t mean to pry, but you seem hesitant about this meal.”

“I don’t eat,” she explains simply. “Or at least I don’t need to. I can, but it’s not necessary for my survival.”

“That seems… odd.”

“It does, until you remember the curse. It’s very determined to keep me alive no matter what - not needing food is just another way to keep me from depriving myself of it.” Starve herself to death, she means, but they’re both tactful enough not to say it.

“So when you say you don’t eat…” he trails off in question.

“I mean that I haven’t in a very, very long time. Longer than I can remember. Kelp and seaweed and raw seafood don’t make for a very appetizing meal, as it turns out,” she teases lightly.

“Then allow me to present you with the feast of a lifetime,” Killian declares with a smile and a dramatic flourish. “The finest hardtack on the seven seas. By which I mean it will still break a tooth if you’re not careful. Shall I pour some wine with dinner?”

“By all means,” Emma smiles, gesturing with a regal air from her tub. Somehow, she still manages to look like a queen, even in such a ridiculous setting.

(It’s the best dinner he’s had in a long time, despite the simple menu, and he thinks it just might be due to his new companion.)

There’s a multitude of other little things he learns as the days pass - like the way that she softly snores if she’s not submerged completely underwater, or how she loves to debate any subject he brings up (and articulately, at that, though her sources sometimes need a little updating after centuries of isolation), or the way she rolls her eyes when he spouts off a particularly clever innuendo. Maybe it’s just his own years of loneliness talking, but it’s nice, having her companionship. Someone he doesn’t have to be the captain with, who he can talk to over books or dinner and who makes him smile. It’s something he could get used to over time, if allowed, even if the idea of that - of coming to depend on someone again - is a little bit terrifying.

As well as they get along, the fact is that Emma is still a full-sized mermaid residing in an oversized tub. It’s not a lot of space, and Killian’s impressed that she’s lasted as long as she has. In her proverbial shoes, he would have long since been driven mad by the close confines - probably have been constantly plagued by cramps as well. So he completely understands when she finally caves and asks to be returned to the open ocean, if only for a little exercise.

“Maybe I’ve been a mermaid for too long, but I’m antsy, knowing the ocean is right there and I’m still here in this stupid basin,” she explains. “I know we still don’t know what will happen, now that I’m so far from where I’m supposed to be, but… I need to try it. You can stay right there to try and pull me back if you like, just… Please. I need this.”

“Of course, love.” She needn’t ask twice.

In case some bizarre magic portal does open beneath where Emma enters the water, they do make the decision for Emma to be lowered to the water in a rowboat with Killian instead of just diving off the rail of the Jolly like he’s sure she could do easily. They almost certainly make quite the picture, the mermaid and the one-handed pirate together in the little craft being lowered to the water, but any absurdity is worth the look of excitement on Emma’s face.

As soon as she slips into the water, still grasping his hand and empty wrist (and that doesn’t send little quivers of some feeling quivering through his veins, not at all), it’s easy to hear her audible sigh of relief.

“Feels nice, does it?” he grins down to where Emma’s head is just peeking out of the water. If he thought her tail was beautiful in the dim light of the brig or in the cramped confines of her tub, it’s nothing to the way that the scales glisten here in the open water, their iridescence reflecting in every color of the rainbow as her tail sways gently back and forth beneath the surface, keeping her buoyant.

“I can’t even describe it,” she admits, smiling right back. “It feels wonderful.” She takes a deep breath before exhaling once again. “I’m going to try letting go,” she announces.

“Aye, alright,” Killian agrees. “Slowly? To be safe?”

Emma seems to be barely listening for the anticipation of it all, but still nods as she removes her hand from his left wrist. With a final exhalation and a nod of determination, she slowly releases his hand as well to float of her own accord, still within reach of Killian and the boat but entirely self-supported in the water.

“I think it’s alright,” she smiles brilliantly, quickly dunking herself under the surface so that her hair floats out in all directions, weightless against the flow of the water. “Better than.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Killian smiles back. “Enjoy your swim.”

He’s fully prepared to retrieve his book from the waterproof sack he’d stowed it in for the descent from the deck, but Emma interrupts him before he can reach underneath the seat. “Aren’t you coming in too?” she asks, face screwed up in confusion.

“Not today, lass,” he replies, forcing himself to chuckle in a manner that hopefully reads as lighthearted. There’s a multitude of reasons he won’t get in the water - most of them relating to the lash scars still on his back - but mostly it comes down to the fact that he doesn’t want to. Well, that and the scars and the elaborate straps of his brace.

(The wenches in the port bars never mind too much that their encounters aren’t anything more than a quick, mostly-clothed fuck, so no one has seen all the damage to his body in years - and in the case of his mangled wrist, no one ever has. It’s a lot of vulnerability to show to a person, and he just doesn’t think he can handle that yet.)

Quickly, he busies himself trying to locate the volume as slowly as possible in hopes that it’ll keep Emma from digging any further. It doesn’t work. Not that he’s surprised - he’s fielded more than a few questions from her in the past days. She’s certainly inquisitive, he’ll give her that - though it’s bordering on nosy at times. This is definitely one of those.

“What, don’t you know how to swim?” she asks, the teasing clearly evident in her tone.

“Of course I do,” he replies absently, still focusing on avoiding her gaze and fishing the bag out from where it’s gotten caught beneath the bench. “I’ve known how to swim since I was young. Liam taught me.”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but tries not to tense up so much as to immediately give that away. It’d just been a slip of the tongue; he’d been so determined to not say anything about the physical scars he’d wanted to hide, he’d forgotten to guard against the emotional scars he’d already declared himself not ready to talk about. Maybe he’ll get lucky, maybe she’ll let it pass, maybe —

“Who’s Liam?” the silky voice cuts through. Of course she heard and wants to know more - she’s a clever one, Swan is, absorbing and processing everything around her at all times, including the things he’d rather she not examine.

It’s too late for that, though - the cat is already out of the bag, or whatever the proper oceanic comparison is. Sitting back upright, Killian takes a fortifying breath before replying. Perhaps if he answers her inquiries quickly and in a straightforward manner, it won’t hurt so badly. “Liam was my brother. Captain Liam Jones. He’s gone, now.”

Emma’s brows lower as she processes this, before something seems to click. “He was the one in the Navy.”

Killian nods. “Aye. To be fair, we both were. We were sent to find a medicinal plant, but when we discovered it… well. As it turns out, our king has more nefarious aims than we were aware of, and my brother died because of his faith in the bastard. Scratched himself with one of those damn thorns to prove to me that if was perfectly safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmurs. It almost looks like she wants to reach for him - in comfort, in companionship, in a pure human instinct that can’t be stifled even by a curse - but still doesn’t. It’s probably for the best; she is dripping wet, after all, and he doesn’t have any interest in her soaking him as well.

Killian jerks his head and shoulders into a little half-shrug, like it still doesn’t affect him in every corner of his soul. “What’s done is done,” he finally says. “But, needless to say, I wasn’t exactly eager to continue in the Navy after that, serving that evil son of a bitch. Drastic measures were taken, you might say, and I found myself the captain of a pirate ship. Spent the next several years crippling Navy ships until the king was deposed and replaced with a distant cousin.”

He expects that to be the end of it; he shares a painful memory, they both lapse into awkward silence, and eventually return to their solitary pursuits. Emma surprises him though, taking a deep breath as if to brace herself before making her own revelation.

“There was a man, once,” she tells him. “That’s what led to the curse.”

“You don’t have to —” Killian interrupts, trying to assure her that he doesn’t expect any reciprocity, but Emma shakes her head.

“It’s alright,” she tells him, “it’s only fair. Tit for tat, or something.” Another deep breath, and a smile that seems a little sad. “His name was Neal, he was a sailor, and I was… Gods, I was so in love. That all-consuming kind of love where they’re the light of your days and the center of your world. He was a crewman on a whaling ship, and I’d worry myself sick every time he left on a voyage. I was so convinced that one day, something would happen and he wouldn’t come back.

“But there was a witch in our village, too. Regina. She’d been there for longer than anyone could remember and never seemed to age a day; rumor had it that the apples on the tree in her garden granted her immortality, though I don’t know how true that was. She could do wonderful things, if you were willing to pay. I couldn’t pay, unfortunately, but I’d heard tell that she’d grant favors sometimes, if the cause was good enough. Or she’d find some other price for you to pay with. So I went to Regina and begged for a charm, a spell, something that would keep him safe. I swore up and down that we had true love, and that I couldn’t bear it if anything was to happen to him. And she agreed - with one condition. She’d grant me a little bit of enchanted cord he could wear to keep him from harm, if I granted her a strand of each of our hair so that she could bottle the essence of true love.

“And I agreed. I was so young, you know? And I believed, so much, that what we shared really was true love, the rarest and most precious magic of all. So I gave her a strand of my hair and found a strand of his and she gave me the cord in return.

“She was as good as her word, too; it worked. Not even six months later, his ship wrecked in a storm, leaving only a handful of survivors. Somehow, he was one of them. It was such a small price to pay for his safety, two strands of hair, especially since it worked.”

Killian won’t interrupt, not in the middle of something so important, but he has a terrible feeling about where this is going. It’s all a little too idyllic, a little too good to be true. Sure enough:

“I was so naive back then,” Emma continues with frustration seeping into her tone. “I thought that would be the end of the matter. I thought I was it for Neal, the same way he was for me. But only weeks after he returned, he met someone else. It wasn’t true love at all, and I suddenly hadn’t paid the price demanded. Maybe I had saved his life, but at the cost of my own. Regina turned me into this when she found out, trapped me in that cove, and I’ve been trying to find some way out of her curse ever since. You know the rest.”

“Aye, I do.” It’s an even sorrier tale than he imagined - a young woman, betrayed in love and forced to unimaginable sacrifice because of it. It makes him even more determined to find a way to free her from this, whatever it takes. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It was the right thing to do,” she says, shrugging. Killian thinks they might be alike in that way - two people just trying to rediscover that small bit of good form still left in the deepest corner of their souls, from back before time and circumstances turned them into the weathered creatures they are now. Neither one of them had particularly wanted to share the darkest moments in their long lives, but they’d unintentionally struck an agreement that first day - she’d share if he would - and Emma had stuck to that. Their alliance may have started tentatively, but it’s holding.

He’s more confident that ever that they’ll be able to break this thing.

———

Things shift, ever so slightly, in those days following their afternoon in the water. There’s a new trust between himself and Emma, born of those revelations and fostering a greater familiarity between the two. That’s something Killian hasn’t had in a long time. Sure, he has his crew, but he always has to wear the mask of “Captain” around them; when you’re supposed to be the man in charge, there’s no real room for emotional intimacy. Swan is different though - a guest, really, someone he doesn’t have any authority over and doesn’t need to. It’s refreshing, and offers him something he hasn’t had the opportunity for in years: friendship.

It’s the ease of their interactions that makes this so special, Killian realizes one night as he prepares for bed. Emma is settling down in her basin as well, setting whatever book she’s reading today aside and allowing herself to slide more completely beneath the water’s surface. He’s a little surprised that she’s so ready to go to sleep; she’d been unusually tired this afternoon, to the point that she’d napped in the cabin for several hours earlier. He’s surprised that she could still be tired after that, though he supposes if she’s that tired it would likely persist. Remembering how graceful and peaceful she’d looked that afternoon, one hand delicately draped over the edge of the tub as she emitted a soft whistle with every breath, Killian can’t help but smile - something she doesn’t miss, of course.

“What are you smirking at?” she demands, her own voice teasing.

“I think that seems a little harsh of a description,” he shoots back, sharpening what had actually been a relatively soft smile into a cocky grin. He likes this banter; they’re rather good at it, Killian thinks. “Personally, I think it was more of a dashing smile.”

“Fine then,” she huffs dramatically, even as a smile continues to pull at the corners of her mouth. “What are you ‘smiling dashingly’ about?”

“You, of course.” That part is the truth, even if he knows she won’t take it seriously.

Sure enough, she scoffs in response. “Please.”

“It’s true! What, I can’t smile about having a pretty lass in my cabin?”

“I bet you say that to all the women,” she replies, rolling her eyes.

“Only the ones I like,” he winks back.

It’s just a witty little thing to say, a spur of the moment comment, but it gets him thinking later, once all the lamps are extinguished and Emma has slipped below the water. It’s not possible that he fancies Emma Swan, is it? It shouldn’t be. They’ve known each other for such a short while, and even if he does feel a strong connection to the mermaid in his company, that’s probably just because she’s the closest human bond he’s had in ages. Killian doesn’t think that he’s ready for anything more serious, anyways, not when he still remembers all the pain of his Milah’s death. Emma will want to leave once her curse is broken; he can’t afford to get more attached to someone temporary.

Killian forces the matter from his mind. It can’t be anything deeper; that’s nonsense. If nothing else, it’s a matter for later.

With that, he rolls over to face the wall and drops into sleep.

———

In retrospect, they should have been more concerned about the water.

There hadn’t been any immediate, visible reaction when Emma had dived into the ocean, even if she was beyond her magically-imposed borders. All he could see was the relief as she stretched, executing lazy flips and twirls before surfacing again. After they’d moved past the downer of their mutual revelations, Emma had spent hours just swimming around, just because she could. She was beautiful like that, and free in a way Killian had never seen. The rest of the afternoon passed in a lazy haze with her in the water and he in the rowboat, no sign of danger to come on the horizon.

Even in the days immediately following, there’s no cause for concern. Sure, Emma is a little lethargic, but neither of them thinks anything of it; Killian is sure he’d be a little slow too if he was forced to sit in bed all day, every day for days on end.

Emma gets steadily worse as they get closer to port, however, until she’s a shivering, sweaty mess, as if struck by a fever. Her skin still holds that fish-like coldness, however, and she assures Killian that never once in her centuries of cursed life has she ever gotten sick. This is something else.

It’s easy connecting the dots after that. They’d been so foolish to underestimate her curse - after all, what else could this be? Maybe the curse didn’t have the power to magically transport her back to within the boundaries of her cove, but it turns out that it does have the power to slowly poison her should she enter unsanctioned waters, and that’s horrifically worse. Their mission had always been important - striving for someone’s freedom is the most noble cause, after all - but now it’s deadly crucial that they succeed, before the curse completes its own deadly aim.

“I’m alright,” Emma assures him once the Jolly makes landfall and he’s preparing to search out their witch. It’s a lie, and an obvious one at that; she’s sickly pale and trembling. Even an utter idiot could see that she’s far from fine. At least they know they’re in the right place; time is of the essence, but Emma had recognized the landscape and the curve of the coast beneath all the new population and its structure and monuments. “Go, find Regina. Her cottage was on the highest bluff, you should start looking there.”

When Killian reaches that bluff, however, there’s no cottage left to see. A tall stone fireplace still stands tall amongst the wild grasses and flowers, but that’s all that’s left to see. Nature has almost entirely reclaimed the site. Killian thinks he can spot the edges of bricks poking through the low mound that must cover the remains of the house, but even that seems a stretch.

Asking in the village-turned-city for the witch Regina doesn’t help either. No one has heard of a living person of that name and occupation, but they do all know of a legend, peculiar to this part of the world. In other circumstances, Killian might almost have enjoyed the tale: the story of a witch, alive for centuries, who fell in love with a common thief and ran off with him, taking nothing more than a sack full of the apples that had lengthened her life for so long before destroying the tree and letting her home crumble to rubble behind her. Unfortunately, he also knows that the best stories have their basis in truth, and there are just too many details that point to this fable chronicling what has happened to Regina, from the apples that kept her alive for hundreds of years to the house she supposedly lived in on that same bluff. A handful of old ladies even claim to remember her from their youth. It’s her, and it’s a dead end.

“She’s long gone, Swan,” he reports back to Emma, failing to hide the disappointment and sorrow and concern in his voice.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she murmurs, gazing blankly into the middle distance. Still, she tries to smile a weak smile as she turns to meet Killian’s eyes. “Thank you for trying.” Despite the smile, her voice is resigned. It’s obvious she thinks this is the end.

“I’m not giving up so easily,” Killian fires back. “There must be someone who can undo this.”

“Who?” Emma asks. Her voice is edged with desperation in a way that Killian doesn’t like at all. “Witches can’t alter each other’s curses. Hell, this should have ended when Regina died, but it somehow didn’t. We are out of options.” She slumps back into the water as she finishes, clearly exhausted.

“I won’t believe that,” he insists. “I know a fairy, one whose specialty is True Love. Maybe she can help. Isn’t it worth trying, at least?”

“Fine,” she agrees, “but if it doesn’t work… it’ll be okay, Killian. I’ve lived a long enough life, and if this is how it ends, then so be it.” It’s the first time she’s called him by his first name, and it kills him that it’s in the middle of such a bleak moment.

“I’m not giving up so easily,” he repeats for lack of anything better to say, before moving to order his crew to set a new course.

This has to work.

———

Even if Killian does know every back way into Neverland, all the little cracks between realms and waterways unknown even to Peter Pan himself, he never relishes having to make that trip. He’ll go to his grave believing that cursed island to be Purgatory itself made real in the world. However, the Jolly now makes the journey faster than he thinks it ever has, all for a chance to save Emma before it’s too late.

Talking to Tink is a longshot; she’s technically not even a fairy anymore, having long since lost her wings in an incident she doesn’t like to talk about. Something about trying to help the wrong person find their true love. There’s also the small fact that she’s probably also furious with him after Killian left Neverland for good without taking her with him. In his defense, he had to take advantage of a rare moment when Pan was absent from the island and time was of the essence to escape before he returned. Come to think of it, it will be dangerous for Killian to return to Neverland at all, lest the demon Pan trap and possibly torture or kill him for the transgression, but that’s a risk he’s going to have to take. Tinkerbell knows more about True Love than anyone else he’s aware of, and he’s willing to risk anything, from feminine rage to Pan himself, if it will break Emma’s curse and save her life.

Emma herself has taken a decided turn for the worse, her condition deteriorating with every day and every hour. She’s started slipping in and out of consciousness, her waking moments still dominated by the feverish shaking that first plagued her. On top of everything, she’s constantly parched when she’s awake and aware, and her very skin seems incapable of retaining moisture. A mermaid lives and dies submerged in water, or should; now, it seems to have no effect. He can practically see her shriveling before his eyes as her skin turns rough and tight across her bones, her tail like sandpaper to the touch in places.

Killian has found himself spending a lot of time reading to Emma in her sickness, something that seems to calm both of them. There’s no telling if she hears his voice while she’s unconscious, but their adventure tales are one of the only things that can make her smile even a little bit anymore, so Killian keeps on doing it regardless of her conscious or unconscious state. It calms him a bit, too; he’s frantically worried about Swan nearly every hour of the day, and the reading at least lets him feel like he’s doing something. The depth of his concern had surprised him - after all, he’s only known Emma for a matter of weeks. However, after all the time they’ve spent together, all their talks, the way they were able to reveal things about themselves - hell, he even told her about Milah, the loss of his hand, and all the subsequent years in Neverland after that magical-seeming day in the water - he feels like he knows her, in a way he hasn’t known another human being in a very long time. Time is no hindrance to true emotional closeness and trust, and he knows beyond a doubt: Emma Swan trusts him, the same way he trusts her right back. He never would have thought that would be true after such a rough start, but somehow, it is.

She hasn’t woken at all today, and it scares him half to death. She’s still alive - there’s still a pulse in her wrists and neck. Killian checks periodically, and holds himself back from doing so any more often because of the way she whimpers at even the most gentle touch to her skin. They don’t have much time.

“Captain?” Smee interrupts, poking his head around the doorway and into the cabin. “We need your assistance on deck, we’re about to slip into Neverland.”

“I’ll be there momentarily, Mr. Smee.” As the little man hurries away, Killian leans in to check Emma’s pulse one more time. Still there, and still fighting. “Hang in there, darling, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he murmurs, brushing a lank curl away from her face before heading on deck.

———

Sneaking into Neverland is the easy part; Killian knows how to navigate these waters better than anyone else, and could practically steer them along the hidden currents straight into a hidden bay with his eyes closed. That’s not hard, not anymore, not after hundreds of years. He can handle the wheel with a practiced hand, and the crew knows these routes just as well as he does, moving as one body in a synchronized effort.

No, the hard part is traversing through the dense tropical jungle that covers almost every inch of this accursed island. When Killian had been here and forced to traverse the island regularly, there’d been a set of paths that he made sure to keep cleared. However, even the foliage has a mind of its own in a place so steeped in magic as Neverland, and vines, flowers, and all manner of other flora would quickly overtake even the most established of trails if not regularly traversed and cleared. After an absence of several years, the trails have become nigh on impassable, and Killian is forced to hack his way through the greenery with his sword with every step he takes, doing his best to avoid vicious thorns and especially the variety of intoxicants that grow so prevalently. He knows what each of them induces - vivid hallucinations, unconsciousness, unbearably heightened libido and all manner of other things - and knows he doesn’t have time for any of their inconveniences. Time is of the essence, with Emma’s condition worsening by the minute.

Tinkerbell’s home should be just ahead, if he remembers right, and he’s spent far too much time trekking along this path through the years for him to remember incorrectly. Tink may have lost her wings, but she’s never stopped longing for the freedom she once found in the skies, and her abode reflects that: a series of platforms and reed walls nestled within the branches of the tallest tree for miles around, offering one of the best views of Neverland. It’s only topped by the cliffs of Deadman’s Peak, but Killian won’t go back there for anything - too many memories of Liam collapsing from the Dreamshade’s poison to make even the most beautiful view worse the effort to get up there and the pain, both emotional and physical, it evokes. Tink almost certainly knows he’s here already - Killian is quite familiar with the sightlines the treehouse offers, and there’s a clear view of the harbor where the Jolly has dropped anchor. Hell, she probably even saw him and Smee rowing over, maybe even can spot where the mousy little man waits with the rowboat on the sandy beach. Regardless, he’ll need to be on his guard; he can’t imagine he’ll be treated to a warm welcome from his former ally.

Sure enough, he’s barely stepped into the clearing she so carefully maintains around her tree before there’s the press of cold metal against his throat - a knife point, its wielder seemingly having materialized from the depths of the jungle. “You’ve got an awful lot of nerve coming back here after what you did to me, Hook,” she hisses, venom dripping from every syllable of her words. “Did Pan catch up to you after all? Or are you just back to make nice, because let me tell you, it won’t work. Save your pretty words.”

“Neither,” he croaks in response, doing his best not to move his throat too much. Already, there’s a trickle of blood creeping its way down his neck from where the point of her weapon had pricked him, and he doesn’t relish the thought of that little dagger digging any deeper. “I’m not here for me, or for you. I’m here on behalf of someone else.”

“And why should I believe you?” Tink demands, pressing in closer. “Everyone knows that Captain Hook only cares about his own interests.”

“Because it’s the truth!” He doesn’t have any better answer than that, but somehow, Killian knows it won’t be enough. “Because I’ve told you of my past, and you know I used to be a man of honor. Because I’ve never told you a lie. Because I wouldn’t come back to this hellhole without a damn good reason. Because a woman doesn’t deserve to die because you can’t bring yourself to believe me!” His voice rises with each excuse without his conscious decision until he’s yelling, and it’s only Tinkerbell’s slight step back that keeps him from being stuck like a pig.

“This woman,” she asks, finally sheathing the knife back at her waist, “you love her?”

“Most certainly not,” Killian huffs and crosses his arms into a defensive posture - as if the words of one petite blonde fairy could physically harm him. Fool. “But I do care for her. She deserves to live her life, and a good one at that. Isn’t that enough?”

“Sure it is,” Tink replies easily - though Killian does spot a knowing, almost mischievous twinkle in her eye. Bloody fairy probably didn’t believe a word he said. “Where do I come in, though? You haven’t been particularly… illuminating in this defensiveness.”

“As if I could get a word in edgewise with that damned knife to my throat,” he mutters.

“Like I’m the first one to try that. Now talk, pirate.”

And he does. He tells Tink all about Emma and her curse, True Love gone bad and their failed attempts to find the woman who could reverse the whole thing. He’s barely touched on the illness now causing Emma to waste away before his very eyes before Tink starts shaking her head.

“I can’t do anything for her, Hook,” she tells him, voice dripping with regret. “I’m sorry.”

“Why in the hell not?” Never mind the fact that her tone is honest, sympathetic even, offering no indication that she’s telling anything but the unfortunate truth. “You’re a fairy —”

“ — a former, disgraced fairy —”

“Semantics. This is a curse, brought on by True Love. You’re supposedly an expert in that very phenomenon. And you’re saying that you can’t do anything?”

“Curses aren’t like other magic,” Tink explains. “They’re very specific to the caster, and designed to last. Any meddling that I, or anyone else, would attempt would only make an already bad situation worse. As for True Love… it’s the most powerful magic of all, and any curse infused with it would be doubly strong. I can’t imagine what bottled love gone sour would do, but I can’t imagine anything good. The thing about True Love is that there’s nothing else like it - there’s no substitute and it can’t be replaced. I know you think that I know everything there is about True Love, but I can’t fix this.”

“Well what about fairy dust?” Killian demands, not even attempting to hide the desperation in his voice anymore. There has to be something, anything; he doesn’t want to admit that they’re staring down defeat.

“Fairy dust is… That’s not what it does. It’s a structural thing, a tool; it can enchant objects, or lend extra power to potions or enchantments, but that’s it. It’s useless for the kind of curse breaking that you want.” Despite all the threats that started their interaction, Tink’s voice is gentle as she reiterates her apology. “I’m sorry, Killian. I wish I could help her, but there’s just nothing I can do.”

Killian nods in response, his mind going numb as the reality of those words sinks in. This was already their last wild hope, and all for naught. It’s the end of the line. “Thank you for trying,” he hears himself say distantly. “I’ll, uh… I guess I’ll…”

“Go to her,” Tink finishes. He can’t quite read the odd, soft little smile on the fairy’s face, and frankly, he’s too exhausted to try - both physically and emotionally.

“Gather your things, if you like,” he offers before turning to leave. “We’ll be happy to take you away from here.”

As Tinkerbell bustles off to pack whatever odds and ends she wants to keep, Killian begins to make his way back through the woods along the newly remarked path. There’s half a temptation to move slowly and put off having to convey the full extent of his failure for as long as he can; Killian doesn’t relish the thought of having to crush Swan’s hopes yet again, if she’s even well enough to hear it. It’s a selfish thought, though, and he does his best to push it aside. It’s obvious that Emma doesn’t have much time left, and after all her years alone, if she’s going to die, she deserves someone holding her hand until the very end. With that in mind, Killian forces himself to hurry, rushing through the jungle as quickly as he can without tripping on any vines or stray roots.

As it is, he’s terrified that they’re too late when Starkey, one of his last sailors from the Navy days, meets the rowboat as soon as it’s hauled aboard.

“It’s not looking good, Captain,” he says. “We’ve got the cabin boy down there trying to keep her hydrated, but.. It’s not looking good, Captain.”

“I’ll make that judgement for myself,” he all but snaps. He’ll have to apologize to the man later, but panic and fear has a way of removing the niceties from one’s speech. What’s more important is getting down to his cabin and assessing the situation for himself.

It’s just as bad as he’d been warned, however. Emma looks almost grey in the skin and scales, and as much as young Hawkins is obviously trying to pour fresh water over her skin, it’s obvious that she’s absorbing none of it, every inch of her flesh dry, cracked and flaking. He’s terrified to check for a pulse, half convinced he won’t find anything. He supposes that the boy wouldn’t be trying his best to keep her comfortable if he didn’t still think she had life in her though. Speaking of which:

“Thank you, lad, that will be fine for now,” Killian says quietly, a little afraid to break the quiet that dominates the sickroom his cabin has become. “Close the door on your way out, please.”

“Aye, Captain,” young Hawkins replies, hopping into motion as soon as the cup he’d been using is replaced in the bucket of water next to the tub, but Killian barely hears him, not even processing when the heavy cabin door shuts with a soft thud.

Her breath is just a fluttery little thing now that he can barely feel on the back of his hand held close to her face. Killian is suddenly struck with the sudden urge to hold her close in these last minutes and hours, provide her with some of that deeply human comfort she’s been denied for so long. It’s obvious that the pool of water isn’t helping anyways; she’s dry as a bone, no matter how thoroughly she’s submerged or for how long. Knowing that, it’s easy to cave to the urge.

She’s so much lighter now than she was a mere month ago, the magic and the fever it’s caused eating away at her form. It barely takes any effort to pluck her from the tub and settle both of them on the edge of his bunk, her tail draped limply across his lap. No doubt they’re soaking the bed linens, but that doesn’t matter right now.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he murmurs, running his hand gently down her arm in what he hopes will register as a comforting touch. “I wanted so badly to help you, to help you live the life you deserve, but I failed you, and I only hope one day you can forgive me from wherever you end up. I wanted so much better for you.” His throat is becoming suspiciously tight. When did he become so attached to Swan? “I think that I might have come to love you, given the chance,” he admits, “but I guess we’ll never know. Whatever happens, I just want you to know that I’m here. I’ll be here until the very end. It’s alright, if you’re ready to rest.”

He holds her for a while longer, rocking her body back and forth and stroking her hair. When her pulse is so slow as to be almost indiscernible, Killian blinks back the tears to try and give her a proper goodbye.

“Thank you for everything, my Swan, all the trust you’ve placed in me. I’ll never forget you,” he murmurs. “Godspeed.” And in a final gesture, Killian leans down to place a soft kiss on her lips - a tender sealing of all the things that might have been.

That’s when it happens.

It starts as warmth, a gentle glow that seems like it’s suffusing every pore and fills him with a sense of peace that he never expected to feel in this moment. That warmth increases and expands, however, until it’s no longer contained just within his body and instead washes outwards over the whole room in a bright flash of rainbow light that he pulls away from Emma’s form just in time to see. Under other circumstances, Killian might take the time to investigate, to wonder exactly what just happened —

— but in that same moment, Emma stirs in his arms.

“Swan?” he queries softly, barely daring to hope.

Sure enough, though, her eyes flutter open, clearer than he’s seen in days and fully alert. “Jones?” She croaks. “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” he stammers back, stroking his hand along her cheek in wonder. What had only moments ago been sunken, dry, and grey is soft and warm again, healthily plump in the way that cheeks should be. “I thought you were doomed. I thought it was any moment now, and I —” he blushes, realizing how that kiss might sound now — “well, I moved to kiss you goodbye. But then there was this flood of warmth of light, and you woke up. I don’t know how.”

“You kissed me?” Emma doesn’t sound outraged, like he expected; rather, she just sounds curious. Maybe a little confused too.

“Yes, I kissed you - just a little kiss, mind you, nothing untoward - but then you woke up, and —”

It seems to strike them at the same time - the implications of what those two undeniable facts put together might mean. True Love’s Kiss. Emma’s eyes are blown wide with an emotion he can’t quite name - shock? Fear? Something else entirely? Whatever the case, Killian is certain that he must look much the same, as he knows that his thoughts are racing in a chaotic mess at the revelation. Emma scrambles to sit upright as it sinks in, bracing herself on his shoulders and scooting her bottom underneath her.

That’s when they notice the other revelation.

“Are those…” Killian murmurs in wonder before Emma completes his thought.

“Legs.” She pats frantically - nay, excitedly - at the limbs, beaming up at Killian with her own joy suffusing every bit of her countenance. “My legs. My… naked legs.” That’s another thing they both notice at the same time - her unclothed state. Both flush a furious red, and Killian hurriedly drags a blanket over her lower half.

“That’s better,” he mutters, trying to subdue the bright crimson staining his cheeks like some untried lad with his first paramour. Emma doesn’t even seem to hear him, though.

“I’m free,” she breathes, smiling a brilliant smile like he’s never seen before. It suits her, like a piece he didn’t know was missing in his perception of Emma Swan. “I can go anywhere.”

“Anywhere you want, and I’ll take you there,” Killian vows. Almost as soon as he says it, though, he’s struck with a spike of uncertainty. “That is, if you want me to.”

He almost expects her to say no. He’s a pirate, and he’s acting a bit presumptuously, and he’d understand entirely if she’d rather seek different company or even no company at all.

But Emma surprises him, shyly returning her hands to his chest. “I’d like that,” she declares softly.

With those words, Killian’s heart feels like it’s about to fly right out of his chest in fluttery, hesitant joy and optimism. “Then we’ll do exactly that.”

———

And they do.

There’s things to do, and stops to make, but now, almost a month after Emma’s miraculous cure, they’re finally faced with the open sea and no plans to speak of.

Killian can’t wait.

Things with Emma are… evolving. They’re both fully aware of the power of that kiss, and what exactly it means, but it’s still terrifying to admit that. They’ve both been hurt by love, scarred in physical and emotional ways that they carry with them to this day. This feels different, and Killian will be the first one to admit it - light and hopeful and genuine, all feelings that he’s all but forgotten in the past three hundred years - but he still carries that memory of how deeply love can hurt when it’s ripped away from you. It’s terrifying to commit to that - to hand over such a power to another person again.

Still, they’re evolving. They spend their nights telling stories and searching out different constellations before Emma retires to his bunk and Killian to the cot placed where her ridiculous tub had once sat, now just a bathing vessel again. They’d tried sleeping apart - the crew had gladly cleared out a cabin for Emma and Tinkerbell to share as they ventured back towards a town where Emma could procure new clothes - but had both discovered that they’d come to find a comfort in the other’s presence, even in the short amount of time they’d travelled together on their search for a cure. After that, they’d quickly agreed with barely any discussion to bring the cot in instead. Killian insists Emma take the bunk, even if it’s likely not any more comfortable. It’s the least he can do, especially since he’s trying to rediscover how to be a gentleman again.

(For her - all for her. It’s funny how, even at his most hesitant, Emma makes him want to be the kind of man she deserves again.)

As slowly as their relationship is developing, Killian like learning how to enjoy all the little gestures of blooming affection again. Every brief touch sends butterflies into flight in his stomach, every smile carefully catalogued to see how he can elicit it again. They’d had an almost perfect day when they’d stopped in a small village to restock supplies and procure Swan some clothes of her choice, as Killian was able to grasp her hand and twine their fingers together to lead her through the market. When he’d bought her a flower on a whim, a soft pink Middlemist rose, Emma had blushed prettily before taking it with a small smile and gentle fingers. In that moment, he’d finally started to embrace the hope that the two of them could truly become something together. He’d even given her a kiss on the cheek goodnight.

(Tink had teased them mercilessly after that, even more than she already had, but it had been easy enough to ignore her behind his haze of happiness. Still, it’d been a relief to leave the smug fairy at the port of her choice to try and find a way to earn her wings again. Killian wishes her the best of luck.)

With Tinkerbell gone and no more curse or impending death hanging over their heads, there’s a sense of peace about Killian that he thinks Emma feels too, especially now that they’ve reached open waters once again. Privately, he wonders if she’ll miss her tail one day - not the curse itself, but the ease in the water that her scales had brought. It’s far too soon to broach the topic though, and Killian has a plan anyways - he’s heard before of bracelets from Glowerhaven that can grant the wearer the tail and powers of a mermaid for as long as they wish, and he’ll be happy to buy them both such a bauble if that day ever comes.

Emma waits at the deck’s railing, surveying the waves as sunlight bounces off their peaks and glitters in the clear day. She looks so beautiful like this, so human and happy that Killian can’t help but stop for a moment just to watch. There’s still something of the siren in her, with her lovely blonde curls and long legs in soft breeches and boots calling to him, but he knows that now, that’s only because he’s utterly enchanted in the most mundane, non magical way. True Love - if he’s brave enough to grab it. With that thought bouncing around his head, he finally takes the finally steps forward to stand next to Emma, his hand and hook placed on the rail alongside Emma’s. She casually - a little too casually - twines her pinky finger around his, almost short circuiting his mind, especially with the small smile she offers him after he stares in awe at their entwined fingers a moment too long. That brings him back out of it.

“Do you know where you want to go, love?” he asks. That’s another thing to get used to - learning to mean every letter of those little nicknames he’s tossed around so casually with other women again.

“Everywhere,” she grins back, the note of teasing in her voice belied by the fact that he knows she really does want to explore the entire world and somehow try to make up for 600 years trapped in the same place. Maybe tonight he’ll test his luck and kiss her again - it’s hard not to want to when she says things like that.

“As you wish, love,” he replies, moving to squeeze her entire hand.

They’ve got an awful lot of world to see, and ocean to cover, and the rest of their forever to do it in.

#cssns #captain swan #cs ff #my writing #A Drowning Soul Will Clutch at Any Straw #mermaid!Emma

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pinapplegrl · 5 years

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The Story of the Phillip Bird Paintings

*long post but pay off worth it if you like art and some cooky stories about the creation of said art also follow my art Instagram @kinda.really.art*

Okay so some background I'm an undergrad fine art major emphasis in painting. One semester I got really hooked on painting children's toys, like I painted one a day for like 30 days some examples:

Well, painting that many toys and trying my best not to repeat I quickly run out of toys to paint so I start stretching the idea. Example a children's chair is kinda like a toy and then I find them these BIRD DECOYS. Desperate to paint anything that resembles toys at this point I paint these birds on a children's chair. My friend asks me what the bird's name is and I say Phillip she says and that one and I say Phillip they are all named Phillip.

Then my painting professor walks in to my studio towards then end of class to you know check in on what I'm doing and he sees the birds. "Where did you find these?" And he kinda chuckles. I reply in the closet (we have a closet that has random things for still lifes and such) "Oh, okay" he gives me some feedback on my painting a walks off "Saying those were in the closet?" Intrigued I follow "yeah.....why?" "I just didn't know they were in there, I have more if you need them." "THERE'S MORE?!?! Where?"

Now, at this point I had found 3 and 1/2 bags of these birds and there is 8 birds per bag plus some random ones around the studio so I know of around 32 birds. And these are life size decoys, so they take up some space and he just said there was more...... there is some sort of story here and I could smell it.

I follow him back to his office where there is a box of these birds just under his desk. "Okay, why do we so many of these birds?"

"Well, you see a while ago when I was department chair back when we just passed it around I found these on clearance for like $0.50 a bag and I bought all of them I could find and then I hid them all over the building as a joke with my colleagues and then they just never left I guess."

Now, it all made since you see there are birds in the ceiling of this building, and once you really started looking you found them EVERYWHERE in closets, on top of vending machines, ledges of hard to reach windows, etc.

Now let's fast forward to end of year critiques (basically the whole upper level painting department is there and some other guests are invited and all the students show and talk about their work for the semester) I get good feedback for the most part but the birds, the Phillips are the stars of the show everyone LOVES them.

So, naturally at the beginning of the next semester what do I paint..... that's right more Phillips.

Then I go back to some of the toys to work on some things..... color, warming, cooling, etc. and I end up with these cute creepy pandas. Also on the second panda I moved from paper to canvas.

After the second painting I was encouraged to enlarge my scale. For me this was permission to go crazy. To go big or go home. I went out and got a much larger canvas.

And a bigger canvas meant I finally got to use ALL of the Phillips (okay more like half because that's a lot of birds to paint). I ended up with this huge painting of Phillips.

Now, this is where the story takes a turn, remember those creepy panda paintings. By this point people had start to associate my works with disturbing undertones (which wasn't wrong per say) so everyone started to think and say that this painting was creepy, a statement of survival of the fittest, or representative of class systems, etc.

In reality I just wanted to fit as many Phillips as possible in this painting and I was tried of trying to hang/clip them to the trellis so I took the box and dumbed them on the floor and then slightly arranged them to fit the composition. But people were convinced of a grander idea.....including the professor.

He is convinced that I like painting these birds with some underlining Hitchcock reference inspired cynicism, but in reality I just like the story of some goofy man hiding them all around the building as a prank. Then I got good feedback on the paintings and figured if it ain't broke don't fix it.

So, here I am painting these birds I named Phillip and trying to convince people they are just happy little birds.

UPDATE

So some time has pasted (a whole semester) and guess what? I'm still painting birds. Like a good art student I looked into the references that I was pulling from (even if I didn't know it or agree) I watched Hitchcock's films paying special attention to "The Birds." Now I did see where there could be a connection but I wasn't super interested in playing in that realm. On my first painting of the semester I tried to lighten the mood and move away from the Hitchcock type tones (and was pretty unsuccessful).

At this point I thought I was done but BOY was I wrong. I was told to go farther....whatever that was supposed to mean, I didn't know. I got frustrated with this work, I felt like I didn't have a clue what I was doing and was feeling discouraged. In one of the class periods I was feeling so down about this work I did not care what happened to it, I just painted (thinking it can't get any worst) and it didn't it got better. I gave my myself the permission to mess up, to have fun, and most importantly respond. This painting went through many changes (Philip was pure white at one point and had rainbow lines to describe his form at another). This is the longest I've spent on a painting and it took a journey but Philip really shines in this one.

Now obviously there is a lot going on here and it isn't all me getting upset and throwing paint on a canvas, doing that merely gave me permission to explore and discover inspirations (artist crushes). This led me to my next painting which I went back to a bigger canvas and gave myself permission to just go for it (I even hung Phillips from the ceiling with fishing line.) I don't have much to say here other than I went for it and tried my best not to second guess.

So that is where the Phillip story is at the beginning of this next (and final) semester. You can always check out Philip and other works @kinda.really.art on Instagram.

#birds #Phillip #the birds named Phillip #paintings #undergraduate #college student life #art major #studio life

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neverwatchedonepiece · 5 years

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625: "Tension! Aokiji vs Doflamingo!"

One a scale of one to Kuzan, how bad is Doflamingo’s day going?

Only have time for one episode today but luckily it was a good one. 625 was crammed with intrigue and plot acceleration - not to mention adorable slice of life moments.

I know the next three episodes are filler (the thumbnail at the top corner of each video gave it away). Are they worth watching? I think I spied the Kung Fu Dugongs in the preview to 626. Those little guys were brilliant. xD

Mmmm... Dat Delicious Peril

Must confess I was hyped for this episode. The action continued were 624 left off: Doflamingo astride Smoker with Kuzan at his back.

“I need you to get off my friend.”

The way Doflamingo reacted to the imminent danger was interesting. The slow creep of ice towards him was a warning. He didn’t move. Slasher smile fixed to his face, he glanced about, considered: am I calm enough to retreat and let this slide?

Doflamingo served a large helping of Hell No.

He decided, “Screw it,” and went for the kill. Smoker almost went to the Big Cigar Shop in the sky. Luckily, his awesome friend had his back and froze Doflamingo’s feathery ass.

I knew Doflamingo wasn’t beaten because the cheeky little glint of his frozen shades told me so. He broke out of Kuzan’s ice casing and just stood there, staring at Kuzan, chuckling like a madman. (Also I love how Kuzan’s Devil Fruit lets opponents escape with all their clothing and accessories intact. He’s a good guy, really.)

For a second, I thought there might be a fight. Dramatic music kicked in. Kuzan and Doflamingo stared each other down. Then Doflamingo sauntered straight past Kuzan like it was nothing.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said. “But if I can’t keep Smoker’s mouth shut, I will have to change my approach.”

Straight up threat there. Smoker now knows he can’t go blabbing about what Vergo has done. It’s probably in Smoker’s best interest, to be honest. If Vergo infiltrated the Marines, there might be more of Doflamingo’s agents crawling about the woodwork. Then again, Akainu is now in charge, and I’ll bet he’d love nothing more than to detect and crush any hidden pirates in the Marine ranks.

Doflamingo’s next dig was more interesting.

“But could you tell me one thing? Just what are you now, Kuzan? The things I’ve heard about you aren’t cool. The face of a vagabond is different from one who has a purpose.”

Now I’ve watched Film Z, Doflamingo’s comment “What are you now?” echoes what Kuzan said about himself. At that point, Kuzan wasn’t sure and even asked himself, “Just what am I now?” He sort of answered his own question, referring to himself as “an ally of justice.” Maybe.

I still don’t know the full significance of Doflamingo’s pointed dig at Kuzan, but from the way Kuzan reacted once Doflamingo, Baby 5 and Buffalo flew off and Smoker said, “You’re not connected with the underworld, are you?”.... well, it got me wondering.

Kuzan sent the nosey G5 guys away while he had a quiet word with Smoker.

“I’m still the same person, Smoker.”

“That’s good then.”

I wonder if this means Kuzan *is* operating in the underworld, but that he told Smoker he was “the same person” means Smoker is no longer above dodgy dealings as long as Kuzan is still on the right side.

“At any rate, don’t take your eyes off Doflamingo. He is both a Shichibukai and a king of Dressrosa. He is an extremely dangerous pirate.”

Well, the king status explains why he has a massive house and a ton of servants. But this further complicates matters. Is Doflamingo an actual king, like one of the World Nobles? Or is this something lost in translation, like a kingpin, drug lord type of a banana republic?

“Tell Sakazuki to get the admirals moving. In the worst case scenario, the cogs will be destroyed and this will become the biggest threat that Sakazuki’s new Marines will have to face. I’ve warned you.”

Laying aside the whole aura of menace and the existence of important (metaphorical?) cogs, the fact that Kuzan is still willing to work with Akainu (Sakazuki is his real name, right?) speaks volumes about his character. I’m still not certain if Akainu knows Kuzan is still supporting them or whether this is a voluntary thing on Kuzan’s part and he continues to help from the shadows because he feels he must.

Either way, I like it.

Also laughed a lot when he forgot he was going to ask G5 to keep what had happened a secret. Lol, he’s still absent-minded.

Still, the escalating sense of imminent conflict is great. Glad the plot is building towards something again. I wonder if the Marines know about Doflamingo, Kaidou and SMILE? Maybe Kuzan knows and that’s why he’s secretly warning Akainu to mobilise?

Maybe it’s something completely different.

Either way, I place some of the blame on this guy.

Hi, Caesar!

Aww, look. He’s thrilled to be the cause of it all. xD

On board Sunny, Law explained the trade relationship between Doflamingo and Kaidou. For some reason, he was cool explaining the plan to Foxfire and Momonosuke, who were hanging around listening in for no real reason. Still not sure why Law was cool with the alliance’s secret plan being heard by a pair of randoms from Wano, but I’m sure there is a reason.

I loved that even Foxfire and Momonosuke were shocked at the Alliance going after Kaidou.

Law also explained the plan in greater detail, which is great for us fans.

“To defeat Kaidou,” he said, “we must whittle down his fighting force. Kaidou has been buying many Zoan SMILEs from Doflamingo. There are many risk to SMILEs, but despite that, Kaidou now has over five hundred Devil Fruit users in his crew.”

First off, holy crap. Five hundred Devil Fruit users in his crew? That is a number, it really is.

Secondly, I was wrong about Kaidou wanting to use the SMILEs to boost his own beastly strength. He’s creating stronger crew. That’s definitely better. Much more of a threat if you have strong crew as well as being an absolute unit yourself.

Thirdly, there are risks to SMILEs. I wonder if these risks will give the StrawHearts (my new name for the Alliance) an in with Kaidou’s crew? As in, the ones SMILE didn’t work on will be injured or bitter and willing to betray Kaidou? Hmm...

“But Kaidou won’t be making any more,” Law added, and looked straight at Caesar.

Caesar was like, “Who me? Ehehehehe.” I loved that moment when Chopper was like, “Omg, you create the ingredients for SMILE? That’s really impressive!” and when Law said, “Nah, he just improved Vegapunk’s work,” Chopper was like, “Oh.”

Totally don’t get why no one is impressed by that, to be honest. Science is all about improving and refining others’ work, even things that seem to be completely new. If Caesar adapted and improved SMILE, that’s still a legit achievement, I think. (I can’t believe I’m sticking up for Caesar. xD)

At any rate, Law also revealed there is another SMILE factory on Dressrosa. Their mission: find and destroy. Once that’s done, Kaidou won’t he able to increase his forces. The only caution (and a significant one at that) is that Doflamingo is a total pro and will not sit idly by while the StrawHearts mess up his business.

Luckily, Dressrosa is also where Foxfire and Momonosuke need to go. Apparently, they’re off to rescue a comrade who is imprisoned there. (Maybe that’s why Law was okay for Foxfire and Momo sticking around. It seems like Oda is going to include them in next arc’s plotline too. I think this is the first time this has happened in One Piece. And not only to them, but a villain too!)

This Was Just Great

Once Law was done explaining the plan, clouds gathered overhead. It was slice of life time. I know I love plot and intrigue but I also cherish those little peaceful moments between arcs, when the Strawhats are just hanging out on Sunny, enjoying the freedom of the sea.

There was a hair-raising moment when Sunny was almost crushed by a single giant hailstone (thanks Nami, Usopp, Chopper and Franky for timely avoidance tactics.) Momonosuke was super impressed by the Coup de Burst and Nami offered him a tour of Sunny.

I was like, “Yes! Give him a tour so I can see it too!” xD

Nami spent hours taking little Momonosuke round Sunny. He saw the fish tank, the library, got some lunch from Sanji, was examined by Dr Chopper - complete with hilarous tache - and sort of spoiled it with that moment in the bath with Robin but... meh, it’s Oda’s humour so whatever. :)

The nighttime scene was nice too. Usopp and Chopper dressing up in samurai armour and messing about on deck. Luffy fishing in armour (lol). Foxfire and Zoro sparring because Foxfire thought Zoro was the zombie swordsman from Thriller Bark because he had Shunsui (lol). Foxfire’s fiery sword slashes waking up and almost frying Caesar (double lol).

Brook said some pretty smart things about Doflamingo right at the end, which I am eighty-five percent certain no one will have heard because he was half talking to himself.

“Between losing his place as a Shichibukai and fighting a Yonko. I rather expect him to do neither and come after us.”

Me too, Brook. Me too.

And there was a rabbit turtle thing plus a guy with flowing cape, top hat and scary, shiny monocle. I’m guessing he is the filler bad guy?

Listen to Broooook. He knoooooows.

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fae-fucker · 5 years

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Zenith: Chapter 29-32

I realize leaving y’all hanging for a whole year like that in the snark, where our beloved heroes Andi and Dex had just been shot in their empty little heads, was very cruel of me. You guys must’ve been just DYING to know what happened.

Quick recap: Andi & Co are space pirates. They are captured by Andi’s ex Dex and the father of Andi’s childhood friend, whom she “murdered” by landing a ship bad. He asks her to get his son, who is in a dank dark prison. Andi does the thing with the help of Dex and her ragtag bunch of generic archetypes.

We good?

Let’s go.

Chapter 29

We interrupt the 100% totally real threat of Andi and Dex being shot to death to have another boring-ass moment with Nor. She walks around in an underground lab feeling sorry for herself and thinking about how tragic her backstory is. We’re introduced to a two-headed scientist who could’ve been interesting in the hands of actually talented authors, but who doesn’t appear in the book after this point so she’s wasted. For some reason she’s also referred to as one person when the heads are clearly different individuals? Irl when there are two heads sharing one body the heads are different people with different names. You know, because the person is stored in the brain? Idk why Shinsay did this.

“Slowly, you dolt!” the right head screeched to the left.

The left head huffed in annoyance. “I’m merely trying to give our queen a glimpse of her new toy.”

“It’s a wonder I’ve been able to put up with you all these years,” the right head retorted.

“You haven’t a choice, my dear,” the left said back.

I think this is supposed to be funny, but all I can think if is how everyone’s dialogue sounds exactly the same.

We find out that this is where Nor’s people are developing the titular Zenith (except it’s not named yet, spoilers), and Nor wants to know if they’ve made any progress.

The two-headed scientist, Aclisia, says that the weapon is ready and that they only need a test subject. Did they develop this mind-altering thing without any previous test subjects? I mean I guess it makes sense that they’d need somebody unaffected by previous versions to test out the final product, but like ... Did the previous subjects die? That doesn’t bode well.

Anyway, the test subject they have is one of the guards on Lunamere, where Andi and Dex were in the previous chapters. Nor is displeased that the guard “let them go,” and I want you to remember this line:

“You had one of the Unified System’s most wanted fugitives in my prison. And instead of keeping her there, where she could have been persuaded to join the right side of the galaxy...you lost her. [...]”

File that away for future reference, my pretties.

Anyway, we end the chapter without even finding out what the drug does, because Shinsay love breaking their own pace and suspense because they have to rely on cliffhangers to keep people reading.

Chapter 30

Oh Christ oh God it’s our girl Klaren again. It’s year twenty-four and despite five years passing this woman is still all about how she’s destined to die and everything in her life is crap, which, idk, mood I guess?

Xen Ptera is losing the war and Klaren is sick because of all the poison air or whatever. The king wants her to hide because enemy troops are closing in, and Klaren takes another moment to think about how she wasn’t supposed to fall in love and yadda yadda.

Who’s ready for another Smaasism?

She wished she could go back. She wished she could change that passionate night they had shared, the careless days after and the tonic she’d forgotten to take...

tOnIC

You’d think in advanced space times they’d have more reliable birth control.

Also ... wouldn’t the king expect an heir anyway? Like, we’ve seen that even the title of “general” is inherited in this shitfest of a universe, so wouldn’t he eventually catch on and insist on having a kid? Or if she claimed she couldn’t produce one, surely there would be tech to get around that? Idk. For all the future-sight this bitch had, she sure didn’t have any common sense.

Klaren tells the king to take Nor and fuck off, and Darai says something about how she’s the strongest Yielded and how she must fulfill her duty.

Which apparently includes going into the battlefield, which is conveniently right outside the palace, and mind-control General Cortas into wanting to fuck her so bad he forgot she was his enemy.

Her husband was wrong.

Hope was not dead.

Hope, in the form of the queen’s sacrifice, had only just flickered to life.

This is framed as tragic and beautiful but she is about to mind-rape a man for years soooo get ready for some extremely uncomfortable shit.

Chapter 31

We’re back in Andi’s POV, except it’s still a fucking flashback. This time it’s to when Andi was still Kalee’s Spectre and lived with Valen and the other dingdongs. And then we get actually good writing?

During meals, when Andi and the other Spectres stood guard, she’d watch him curiously. Valen usually sat in the farthest seat from his father, hunched forward as if he were battling some deep, silent pain. Sometimes she’d catch him staring at her with his strange, unblinking hazel eyes, his paint-stained fingers gripping his golden fork like a weapon he didn’t want to use.

Like I’m into this. It’s showing and not telling, mysterious and intriguing without being on the nose, and for once Andi doesn’t have all the cards and knows what Valen is inside and out, so his character doesn’t become obvious. Like, he’s battling some pain, but he’s also reluctant to use a weapon? That could mean anything! In a good way!

This good chunk is also immediately ruined by the following descriptions, which point out that indeed, all the other kids talk about Valen and how WEEEEYOOORDDD he is, and how he’s constantly covered in paint, because that’s what artists look like, I guess. Catch me bodyslamming a freshly painted park bench to prove I know color theory.

We’re also told that Valen never got a personal Spectre for spooooooky reasons. He just doesn’t feel like a proper part of the family, ya know? I wonder that it all could meeeeaaaaaan.

This is all told to us just so we can revisit the part where Valen tries to stop Andi and Kalee from going on a joyride. Kalee insults him for a bit, and then Valen drops some more foreshadowy dialogue about how he hopes this birthday is everything Kalee wants it to be.

Subtle.

Chapter 32

OH MY GOD WE’RE IN LIRA’S POV NOW. YOU’RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE SHINSAY, WE KNOW YOU WOULDN’T MURDER YOUR PRECIOUS CELAENA AND RHYSAND RIPOFFS IN CHAPTER 29 WHEN THERE’S A BILLION MORE CHAPTERS LEFT.

Lira has been literally counting seconds since they left Andi.

Yeah.

She recaps everything that happened three chapters ago, saying they executed their secret plan with the “ultimate amount of finesse” before noting that despite obeying Andi’s direct orders to run, she feels like a traitor.

Your captain is in chains, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. You should be by her side. Instead, you’re running.

All you ever do is run.

I have literally no idea how this is even a little bit relevant considering that they’re waiting for Andi and Dex to return and aren’t moving anywhere. By the way, Andi and Dex are thirty minutes late. Which freaks Lira out because THAT WASN’T IN THE PLAN.

Her scales start freaking out and she’s about to overheat. Holy shit, how are you still alive?

Honestly, this is a pretty accurate depiction of someone with an anxiety disorder, but I think we’re supposed to think Lira is emotional or analytical or loyal or whatever. I doubt Shinsay have the finesse required to write something like this on purpose, so this just reads as incompetence.

Apparently Andi said that if they’re late, the girls are supposed to flee and save themselves, and Lira is starting to get antsy.

Ok so ... just moments ago you were worried about how you’re always running away. So why is your first instinct when your beloved captain is THIRTY MINUTES LATE to book it? Like. Calm the fuck down. Thirty fucking minutes, in space? Can you chill???

Lira whines more about how this is the second time this week that she’s second-in-command and she hates it. Hey why not give that responsibility to Breck, who’s always calming everyone down? Would that make too much sense?

Lira goes to her room to mope and angst about how she likes being alone. It’s riveting. She thinks about how this crew is her SOUL and how much she LOVES them. Which we can see by her sitting alone in her room thinking about how much she loves them, obviously.

She continues to angst about how her dad died of Space Plague, and her mom became a drunk because ... Idk, that’s what moms do in books like these. But lo, she and her brother got taken in by their Cool Aunt, who then wanted them to Do Things when they grew up, and Lira doesn’t want to Do Things, she wants to fly around and Crime.

So she left her home planet because her Cool Aunt wanted her to Do Too Much Stuff, and the weight of her expectations crushed Lira, who must soar the skies like the beautiful bald blue bird she is.

The other girls interrupt this godawful exposition dump by inviting Lira to play some Not!Pokémon. And we get this exchange, which I included in my review, and yes, it’s real:

“Hope is a raging asshole,” Gilly said.

“Explain to me, Gilly,” Breck said with a sigh, “how exactly can an asshole rage?”

Lira choked on a sudden, unexpected laugh. “I swear, the two of you. You were both born with my brother’s sarcastic soul.”

This bloated and repetitive nonsense that apparently passes for character development is interrupted by Alfie, who’s gotten out of the waste bay. We’re reminded that this ship doesn’t have any mechanics, because of course, and Alfie makes a reference about how the ship’s AI’s voice is turning him on.

It appears Lira has gotten a message from Soy to come and get Andi and Dex.

*sigh*

#eff reads: zenith

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minijenn · 5 years

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Keys to the Kingdom Chapter 5

So yeah I know I posted this one all over last night, but I still gotta post it here so yeah. It is a bit of a rehash of what KH3 covers but ehhhh had to get through it to get to the end of it so I guess its not that bad when ya think of it like that :P Either way, there are some parts of it I do really like, as you’ll see. Enjoy!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/183363646704/keys-to-the-kingdom-chapter-4

Chapter 5: Go the Distance

I’ll be there someday, I can go the distance I will find my way if I can be strong I know every mile will be worth my while When I go the distance, I’ll be right where I belong

The temple’s stark, dramatic collapse rattled just about all of Thebes from the ground up, sending perhaps the most violent of tremors yet rippling through the city streets. Just about everyone felt it, from the families bunkering down in their homes in the hopes that the ongoing torrent of destruction wouldn’t find them there, to the stray stragglers running from the rampaging flames to find some sort of shelter or refuge, to even Maleficent and Pete as they kept their search for the mysterious black box going.

With few bystanders around to stop them, the wicked pair had taken to tearing up one of Thebes’ usually scenic gardens, acting on Hades’ tip that the prize they were looking for might be somewhere nearby. The dark fairy stood apace from the messy hole her henchman was hastily digging, just one of several marring the garden’s once pristine stony grounds. However, this work was soon interupted by the hefty earthquake that sent the entire city shuddering, inevitably sending Pete falling flat on his face amidst the dirt he was digging up, much to his frustrated exasperation.

“Hey! What’s the big idea!?” the henchman snapped as he popped his head out of the whole angrily, shaking the dirt off his shoulders. “That there rumble had to’ve been the biggest one yet! Don’cha think we should check it out?”

“No,” Maleficent rejected bluntly, almost boredly even. “Whatever senseless rampage Hades is inflicting upon this singular world is none of our concern. What we’re after will ensure us the power to spread my domain to other worlds on a far grander scale than a mere petty coup such as his.”

“Hmph, so you keep sayin’…” Pete grumbled as he turned back to his ongoing work. “Are you sure this box with the Book of Prophecies is even for reals? I think that dingbat in black was pullin’ your leg.”

“Be quiet and dig, you imbecile,” the dark fairy scowled impatiently. “I must find that Book of Prophecies and make it my own. His was the only clue we have. We cannot afford to dismiss it without a thorough investigation.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Pete continued sullenly. “A shot in the dark ain’t gonna get us any closer to—oh!”

“What is it?” Maleficent quickly turned to her henchman at his sudden change of tune. “Have you found something? Show it to me at once, fool!”

“Yes sir-eey!” Pete exclaimed, proudly holding up a small chest with a skull acting as its lock. “This has gotta be that Pandora’s Box Hades mentioned!”

Whatever interest the dark fairy had show before immediately fell as she looked over the box her henchman was presenting her with. “Leave it,” she said staunchly, turning her nose up at the chest.

“W-what?” Pete asked, crestfallen. “After all that diggin’?”

“That is not the box which I desire,” Maleficent said coldly. “We are finished with this world. Come.”

“Aww…” the henchman sighed, disappointed as he tossed the box back into the hole where he had found it before hurrying after the dark fairy. Maleficent had all but conjured up a dark corridor so they could take their leave, yet before stepping through it, she suddenly stopped shot, much to Pete’s confusion.

“Hold a moment…” she mused, turning back around with a hint of careful scrutiny in her tone. “Do you feel that?”

“Uh… what?” Pete asked blankly. “Ya mean the wind?”

“No, you buffoon,” Maleficent scowled before stepping forward again in deep concentration. “Its darkness. Deep, pure, unconcentrated darkness…”

“What, like the sorta darkness the Heartless are made of?” Pete asked, still not following.

“No… this darkness is… different…” the dark fairy said, still clearly captivated by it. “I can sense it; its far more powerful than that of any mere Heartless. And most interesting of all… is that it seems to be radiating from a source of light, of all things…” She took pause once more, seeming to ponder over this oddity before a small, intrigued grin crossed her features. “Perhaps our time in this world is not quite finished after all…”

Even after the temple’s uproarious fall finally stilled, the dust and smoke stirred up by it still seemed to be everywhere. Though the musky fog concealed the devastation somewhat, it did nothing to change or undo what had been done, something that Sora, Donald, and Goofy all felt just as heavily as the newfound silence surrounding them. The trio didn’t make much of an effort to break that silence as they all sat in apt shock before the ruins of the temple, the painful realization that Hercules was pinned, or more accurately crushed beneath those very ruins hitting them all at the same exact time.

Donald and Goofy were the first to shakily rise to stand, both of them remaining cautious as they approached the fallen temple to check for any signs of the legendary hero amidst the wreckage. “Hercules!” Donald called as loudly as he could. “A-Are you ok?!”

“Hey, Herc! Can ya hear us!?” Goofy shouted, just as concerned. The pair paused for a moment, waiting and watching for any sort of shift in the rubble that would herald a response from the hero. However, as seconds began to pass into minutes without any such sign, the gravity of the situation became all too clear. “G-gwarsh, fellas…” Goofy muttered sadly, removing his hat out of respect for their supposedly fallen friend. “I don’t think he’s-”

“Why?” Donald and Goofy were quick to turn around to face Sora upon hearing this, both of them taken aback by just how intense his tone was. He was still sitting on his knees, his burns still quite apparent across his arms as his hands dug into the grass below him. His expression was tight and agonized and most of all angry, focused on neither of his companions but rather at the ground in front of him as he continued just as harshly. “Why didn’t you just let me help him?!”

“…Aw, Sora…” Goofy began fretfully as both him and Donald turned back to the Keybearer with the intent of comforting him. Comfort that, as upset over the unnecessary loss of such a good friend, Sora completely refused to simply accept.

“If you guys had just let me stay and fight those Heartless, this never would have happened!” he exclaimed hotly, finally glaring up at the two. “I could have bought Herc enough time to get out!”

“And you would have been crushed instead!” Donald argued back rationally before reigning his own anger back a bit. “You were hurt; you’re still hurt! We had to get you out of there before things got any worse!”

“Well, it’s way too late for that since things just got much, much worse!” Sora snapped bitingly.

“Aw, c’mon, fellas,” Goofy attempted to interject upon seeing Donald twitch with incoming anger in response to such a fierce remark. “We shouldn’t be fightin’ at a time like thi-”

“We were just trying to save your life!” the magician cut the captain off as he addressed the Keybearer sternly. “Why do you have to have such a problem with that?!”

“Because I never asked you to!” Sora protested defiantly. “I can do things on my own! I don’t need you guys to always rush to my rescue!”

“Well sometimes you do!” Donald countered. “If you’re not gonna take care of yourself, then someone has to! We told Master Yen Sid we would keep an eye on you, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do, whether you like it or not!”

Sora was more than prepared to keep this argument going, however, before he could get another word in edgewise out, the temple ruins finally began to rumble once more. The trio quickly turned back towards them with a shared gasp of surprise, each of them watching with wide eyes in the hopes that Hercules would somehow emerge from the rubble unscathed. However, what did end up popping out of the structure’s devastated remains was just about the exact opposite of the legendary hero, much to the trio’s immense disappointment.

In sudden, furious succession, a multitude of Heartless, the very same flaming creatures that had been in the temple at the time of its collapse, burst out of its wreckage, clearly more incensed than ever before as they landed down before the trio, ready to attack anything and everything in their path. “T-they’re back?” Goofy asked, aptly alarmed as he prepped his shield for the fight ahead.

“Of course, they’d survive!” Donald huffed, frustrated as he brandished his staff. “Sora! Go find somewhere to take cover! I’ll heal your burns when we’re done; and no arguing with us about it this time!”

Surprisingly enough, this time Sora didn’t argue, though he made no effort to move, even as his companions engaged the Heartless in combat. Instead, he simply stayed where he was, watching the starting battle and growing angrier and angrier the more he realized just how unfair every single part of it all was. It was unfair that they hadn’t had enough time to help Hercules get out of the temple alongside everyone else. It was unfair that these mindless, vicious Heartless had survived when someone as noble and brave as the legendary hero seemingly hadn’t. But what Sora quickly realized that the most unfair thing of all was that he could do about any of it. Not only was it too late to help the hero now, but even if it wasn’t, that didn’t change the fact that he was still heavily injured, still weak and worn from his loss of strength and power as a whole. And to make matters worse was the fact that Donald and Goofy, his own companions and friends, seemed to be the ones most intent on keeping him out of the fight. He understood that their protectiveness came from a place of concern, but when push came to shove in a time such as this, Sora could only find such concern frustrating, suffocating even. They were limiting him, holding him back from working towards the strength he knew he had to regain, and the more he thought about their doubts in him, in everyone’s doubts really, the more upset, the more outraged the Keybearer became.

Donald shouted out another authoritative demand for him to flee the scene of the battle, though Sora hardly heard it as lost in his own furious thoughts as he was. Though his thoughts weren’t the only thing distracting him as a sudden, sharp, bitter chill suddenly surged through his entire body, spiking at his heart in particular. The Keybearer let out a small hiss of pain through his teeth as he placed a gentle hand over his inexplicably-aching chest, only to glance down to find a sight that was much more alarming by far. His entire hand was covered in darkness, a black, inky shade of shadow that seemed to be rising up his arm at an unsettlingly steady pace. In fact, that same darkness seemed to be creeping up the rest of his body as well, painting his clothes and skin in its nightmarish pallor as it made an obvious beeline for both his mind and his heart. Sora recognized this horrific transformation well, though it was a far cry from how it usually felt, especially as his senses, his very mind altogether began to fade under such an immense pall of darkness. In fact, it acted so fast in forcing itself upon him that he had no chance to wonder how or why this was happening; instead, all he could do was panic. “D-Donald! Goofy!” he choked, reaching out a shaking, shadowy hand to the duo still battling the Heartless. “I-I… s-something’s wrong! I’m… I-I can’t-”

The Keybearer cut himself off with a sharp, anguished cry as the darkness tightened its reigns around his heart. Donald and Goofy only barely managed to turn back around to face Sora just in time to watch the shadows fully overtake him. The rampaging Heartless were all but forgotten as the pair rushed forward to their transforming companion, fearful as they ever were whenever this sort of dangerous shift took place, however, as soon as it was complete, they were quick to realize that this new form he had taken on was quite unlike anything they had witnessed before.

Indeed, it was still somewhat familiar: he was still drenched in absolute darkness from head to toe, not a speck of light to be found anywhere save for his eyes. They were like bright, piercing full moons, wide and large as they seemed to stare at nothing and everything all at once. His fingertips had turned into long, spindly, pointed claws and though his mouth seemed to have disappeared entirely, he still let out a series of low, rumbling, rather feral growls as he clamored upright into a hunched, almost animalistic stance. However, what this form apart from the past was the Keyblade that materialized within his clawed grasp, a weapon he had never been able to utilize like this before; there was no doubt it was still the Kingdom Key, though much like Sora himself, it was enshrouded with shadow to the point that only its silhouette was recognizable. Donald and Goofy practically froze up in fear as their darkened young companion looked between the two of them with his glowing, emotionless eyes, seemingly recognizing neither of them, even as they made a shaky attempt at communicating with him.

“S-Sora?” Goofy ventured first, albeit quite apprehensively as both of them kept a safe distance from the Keybearer, knowing just how dangerous and unpredictable he could be like this. “A-are ya still-”

The captain was succinctly cut off as Sora suddenly snapped his glance away from the pair and towards the crowd of Heartless still bouncing around behind them. With fast, erratic movements, he suddenly lunged forward, nearly knocking his companions over in the process as he ran towards the creatures almost on all fours, Keyblade still in hand all the while. And then, with a ferocity that outright terrified both Donald and Goofy as they stood on the sidelines watching, Sora tore into the Heartless without any sort of mercy whatsoever, clawing and keying at them with vicious, deadly attacks. His monstrous growls and hisses were just as apparent as the tendrils of darkness leaking off of him as he cut through the once menacing group of creatures, ignoring their flames in favor of extinguishing their existences altogether. In a way, it certainly did seem that, in however mindless this furious rampage might have been, Sora was enacting some sort of retaliation against these Heartless, both for injuring him before and for surviving the temple’s collapse while Hercules hadn’t. Which was why, with the superior strength the darkness allotted him, it only took him a mere matter of minutes to clear the creatures out, leaving not so much as a single one of them alive in the wake of such a violent outburst.

With the last of the Heartless finally gone, Donald and Goofy were more than prepared to let out a shared sigh of relief, though that sigh was something they held off on the moment they noticed something was extremely off. Namely, the fact that Sora hadn’t returned to normal yet, even though the battle was over. Instead, he remained entrenched in darkness, his former aggression replaced with an apparent sense of aimlessness as he stood hunched over, glancing around idly for something to attack. The duo exchanged a nervous glance as they hesitantly decided to approach him, hoping that they’d be able to bring their young companion back to his right mind, even if they had no idea how.

“S-Sora?” Donald began first, garnishing the wayward Keybearer’s attention. He looked towards his companions with wide curious eyes, thankfully showing no violent intent as he simply stared at them blankly. “C-can… can you hear us?”

Sora simply tilted his head at this as if he was confused, much to the pair’s growing concern. “Uh… maybe he’s just havin’ a hard time understandin’ us?” Goofy guessed with a frown. “Hey, Sora, can ya try giving us a nod if you understand what we’re sayin’ to ya?”

The Keybearer did no such thing as he instead remained stationary, leaning forward slightly though still not making any sort of effort to communicate with his worried companions, not that he very well could even if he wanted to in this form to begin with. “W-what are we gonna do?!” Donald exclaimed, aptly fretful. “He’s never been… l-like this for so long before! What if he stays stuck that? What are we supposed to do then?!”

“Aw, don’t worry, Donald,” Goofy reassured as encouragingly as he could, though upon sparing a brief glance over at Sora again, he couldn’t deny that the very same prospect brought him just as much dread. “This is Sora we’re talkin’ about here! He’s not gonna let a little darkness take over his heart for too long!”

“Y-yeah!” the magician perked up as he forced himself to believe that. After all, the alternative was much too grim to even think about. “C’mon, Sora! You gotta snap out of it!”

“That’s right!” Goofy added just as firmly. The pair worked past their nerves so they could each place a hand on their young companion’s shadow-streaked shoulders. The sudden touch was enough to elicit a distrustful glare, accompanied by a small warning growl out of Sora, but surprisingly, he made no move to attack as he watched the pair carefully as they continued their appeal. “Ya need to come back to us!” the captain said with a bright smile. “We’re a team after all, aren’t we?”

“And you’re the one who keeps this team together!” Donald chimed in confidently, noticing as the dark aura radiating off of the Keybearer was finally starting to diminish somewhat. “We’re sorry about what happened before, but we just don’t wanna lose you! To something like… this, or to anything else!”

“But we’re not worried anymore,” Goofy assured, tightening his grip on the Keybearer’s shoulder supportively. “‘Cause we know just how strong your heart is, Sora! Heck, is somethin’ we’ve known all along, and so have you!”

“Which is why you’re not going to just let the darkness have it!” Donald proclaimed, almost overwhelmed with relief when Sora finally closed his otherwise unblinking yellow eyes. “Right?”

The pair finally paused, waiting to see if their uplifting rhetoric worked. And sure enough, it did as the shadows settled on Sora finally began to lift, as if he had stepped out of the darkness of night and back into the midday sun as his usual colors and vibrancy returned. And with it, came the return of his own consciousness, though it was somewhat slow to return as he let out a small, tired groan as his eyes—thankfully back to their usual deep blue—fluttered open just as he collapsed to his knees before the pair. Donald and Goofy still didn’t remove their hands from his shoulders, even as he looked up at the two of them, his expression weary and disoriented as he tried to catch his lost breath. “D-Donald? Goofy?” he asked, his voice soft and sedated and filled with confusion. “W-wha-”

“Sora!” the duo cheered joyfully, not hesitating to engulf the unprepared Keybearer in an unexpected hug. As a result, the entire trio toppled over into the grass, Donald and Goofy laughing brightly all the while, and though it took a moment, Sora slowly joined in their levity, even if he largely had no idea where it was coming from.

However, unbeknownst to the group amidst their bout of allayed celebration, was the pair of figures standing on one of Thebes’ higher structures above them, a pair that had just observed everything that had happened firsthand. “Well then…” Maleficent smirked, clutching her staff as she kept her gaze focused on the trio below. “It seems as though I truly have underestimated that boy in the past…”

“Boy, I’ll say!” Pete chimed in, absolutely baffled. “What was up with all that darkness coverin’ him anyway? I thought he was supposed’ta be one of them goodie-goods, all full o’ light and whatnot.”

“It would appear that his heart is not as ‘full of light’ as we had previously been led to believe…How… fascinating…” the dark fairy mused, her grin widening as a malevolent new idea came to her. “Perhaps what we’re truely searching for isn’t that far out of our reach after all…”

“Huh?” Pete glanced around in confusion. “But I don’t see any black boxes ‘round here…”

“Forget about the black box for now,” Maleficent said simply.

“Wha-?!” the henchman exclaimed, flabbergasted. “B-but we just spent the past several days lookin’ all over for it! How are we just supposed’ta forget about it like it ain’t nothing’!?”

“Because, you oaf,” the dark fairy said sharply as she summoned a dark corridor for them to take their leave. “If all goes according to plan, then not only will the box fall into our hands, but so too will each and every world in our path.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete inquired, curious. “And how do ya see that?”

Maleficent took pause before entering her dark corridor to take her leave, casting another brief, intentfully glance down at the trio on the ground, or more specifically, the Keybearer among them. “By plunging a noble heart into the depths of darkness and despair…”

And just like that, the duo left, still completely unnoticed by the trio below as they made progress in recuperating from their most recent harrowing experience. Now that they actually had some time to spare, Donald made sure to finally heal Sora’s still persistent burns while both him and Goofy fretted over their young companion, even despite the fact that the Keybearer himself was still somewhat out of it.

“What happened to you?!” Donald fussed, though concern clearly filled his tone as he finished casting cure. “Why didn’t you go back to normal after the Heartless were gone like you usually do when you get like that?!”

“Why didn’t I… what?” Sora asked with a frown as he placed a hand against his somewhat aching head. “What are you talking about? When I get like what?”

Donald and Goofy exchanged a worried glance at this, both of them taking on the same sort of confusion their young companion was showing. “Uh… don’tcha remember any of what just happened, Sora?” the captain asked patiently.

Sora paused, his brow furrowing in deep thought for a moment before he ultimately shook his head. “No, the last thing I can remember is…” he hesitated, partially out of not wanting to admit the truth, though for the sake of figuring out what was going on, he begrudgingly did anyway. “I-is feeling angry and… and hurt. And then, w-when I looked down at my hand it was just covered in-” He cut himself off with a gasp, his eyes widening with the almost sickening realization of what had happened. “D-darkness… Oh no… No, no, no, no, no, please tell me I didn’t-”

“Y-you did…” Donald and Goofy confirmed in grave unison, both of them averting the poignant fear starting to well up in Sora’s eyes as he looked between the two of them desperately.

“B-but on the bright side, ya did get rid of all the Heartless!” Goofy tried to reassure their young companion, especially as he let out a loud groan and buried his face into his hands out of shame.

“But on the bad side, we almost weren’t able to get you to snap out of it…” Donald muttered apprehensively.

“I can’t believe this…” Sora huffed as he rose to stand and pace out of frustration, largely with himself this time more than anyone else. “How do I just not remember any of this!? Usually when this happens, I’m able to at least feel some of what happens, but this time it was like I totally blanked out! What’s going on with me lately?!”

“M-maybe it has somethin’ to do with you losin’ your strength?” Goofy ventured a guess, though it was a rather arbitrary one at best.

“Ugh, why wouldn’t that surprise me?” Sora asked with an annoyed scowl as he crossed his arms. “And so much for trying to regain that strength; how am I supposed to do that if I can’t even control something like this?”

“Aw, c’mon, Sora, you can’t just give up now cause of one tiny thing like this,” the captain encouraged with a small smile.

“That’s right!” Donald readily agreed. “If one thing’s for certain, its that whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out, together!” To emphasize his point, the magician put his hand out, and Goofy readily placed his own on top of it. The pair kept up their reassuring grins as they looked to their upset young companion, who couldn’t really stay that way for long as he finally decided to accept the support they were offering him this time.

“Right,” Sora nodded with a smile of his own as his hand landed down on top of his companions’. “Together.”

However, the trio barely had time to revel in their newfound solidarity before the ruins of the temple began to shift behind them yet again. In light of recent events, all three of them were on high alert as they turned beck to the fallen structure, their weapons in hand to take on whatever might emerge from it.

“What now?” Sora asked, slightly aggravated as he tightened his grip on his Keyblade. “More Heartless?”

“Wait a second…” Goofy said, squinting to see through the last of the settling dust to find a familiar silhouette walking out of it towards them. “That ain’t no Heartless… T-that’s-”

“Hercules!” the trio exclaimed in stunned, yet delighted unison as the legendary hero finally emerged from the wreckage. He looked no worse for wear, a little dirty from the rubble, with a few scars and scratches here and there, but for the most part he was still as strong and sturdy as ever as he came out to meet the excited group with a broad, confident grin.

“Well, getting out of there took a little longer than I thought it would…” Hercules noted with a small chuckle.

“You’re telling us!” Sora exclaimed with a small, incredulous laugh. “You scared us!”

“Eh, it was nothing,” the hero shrugged before pulling off an impressive flex. “That’s what these are for.”

Despite the circumstances, this bout of good humor, coupled with the immense relief they shared at simply seeing Hercules alive and well again was enough to elicit a full, hearty bout of laughter from the trio. However, this bout of levity unsurprisingly didn’t last long as the group’s attention was soon diverted by a dark corridor opening up only just a few feet away.

“Oh, wow! Very nice, full marks,” the familiar freeshooter applauded sardonically as he stepped out of the dark portal. “And I’m not just talking about that smooth escape either.”

No one paid much mind to what the Organization member might have meant by this remark as Sora, Donald, and Goofy all took up offensive stances against him. “Go away!” the magician shouted fiercely, in no mood to deal with any further foes after everything that they’d been through.

“No Organization!” Goofy added just as adamantly, ready to take up his shield at a moment’s notice.

“You’re Xigbar!” Sora exclaimed, far from pleased to see any member of the Organization after his last harrowing encounter with them, much less this particular one.

“And you’ve got a knack for pointing out the obvious, kid,” Xigbar remarked, still smirking coyly as he approached the group. “All this altruism is giving me the warm and fuzzies. So then, does having a heart of light come with an extremely good insurance policy?”

“Ugh, just say what you mean for a change!” the Keybearer scowled, annoyed by how just about every member of the Organization always seemed to speak in riddles or circles.

“Oh, but I did though,” the freeshooter shrugged. “No good will ever come from putting other people first. Anyone who does that usually ends up coming in dead last. It just makes sense when you really think about it.”

“I don’t think it does,” Hercules spoke up, shaking his head in disagreement with such a cynical viewpoint. “I was able to save Meg’s life because I was ready to risk my own. And because of that, we both made it out alive and together in the end.”

“Because you have friends in high places, you mean,” Xigbar countered dismissively. “Tricks like that don’t fly for your average joe.”

“And what do you know anyway?” Sora argued defiantly. “You weren’t even there! If you were, you’d admire Herc’s courage!”

“I don’t admire one guy leaping into danger if it means someone else might have to jump in to save him,” Xigbar rolled his visible eye. “You’re all just lining up to lose out, dooming others to take the fall with ya. Oh, and you can spare me the usual party line. Yeah, hearts are powerful when they’re connected. But if you put too much of that power in one place, some of those hearts might just end up breaking. Unless…” the freeshooter glanced back over his shoulder at the group, or more specifically, at Sora. “You were to somehow find a heart strong enough to hold it all in… But who am I kidding? A heart that strong doesn’t exist…or does it?”

“Who cares?” Sora interjected, thoroughly irritated by this point. “Can’t you just get to the point and get out of here already? It’d save us all a lot of time.”

“Yeesh, so eager to see me go, aren’t you?” Xigbar asked, raising a knowing eyebrow. “I expected at least a little better reception than this. Especially since I came all this way to offer you some pretty sound advice.”

“Like we’d listen to any advice from you!” Donald huffed, aptly incensed.

“Yeah, knowing you, its probably just another trap or something,” Sora agreed, sending the Organization member a suspicious glare.

“Look, I’m just trying to warn you that the game we’re all playing here is about to change, big time,” the freeshooter informed, still grinning all the while. “Still, Sora, that doesn’t mean you should change. Accept the power you’re given. Find the hearts joined to yours.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” Sora asked impatiently, all but ready to finally summon his Keyblade in the hopes that it’d get Xigbar to finally leave. “We already told you; we don’t want or need your advice!”

“Ha! As if!” Xigbar scoffed, turning his back on the group as he began to walk away. “You don’t have any choice but to follow this sweet little trail of bread crumbs. And at the end, you’ll finally realize just what destiny has in store for you. In fact… your reward might be right around the corner. You’re so close!”

And with that, before the Keybearer or any of his companions could so much as ask what the freeshooter meant by such vague remarks, Xigbar walked into the distant fog where he ended up disappearing into a dark corridor just like the one he had arrived in. A bout of confused silence rose up among the group as they silently pondered the freeshooter’s cryptic “advice” to themselves. That is, until Sora voiced his undeniable confusion over what he’d just heard. “Hearts breaking?” he asked, more to himself than any of the others as he frowned almost fretfully. “Whose hearts?”

“Sora, don’t let someone like him bother you,” Hercules reassured steadily. “He’s just trying to get under your skin ‘cause he thinks he can. But we’ll prove him wrong. We’ll show him that our sacrifices haven’t been for nothing.”

Despite Hercules’ encouragement, Sora couldn’t help but still be somewhat concerned by Xigbar’s rather ominous statements. Though he was quick to put that concern aside, replacing it with a confident smile as he nodded in agreement with the hero’s resolve. “You’re right,” he said, deciding to fully believe that fact himself rather than listen to what any member of the Organization had to say.

“Mm hm!” Goofy added enthusiastically. “Besides, we’re already proof enough of that!”

“It’s like we said before,” Donald grinned just as boldly. “We’re a team! When we’re together, we can do anything!”

“Yeah!” Sora exclaimed, sharing their zeal. However, as the others all began to move on ahead with the intent of finishing their search of the city, he still stopped short to ponder over their brief, rather bizarre confrontation with the Organization member. Very few parts of what Xigbar had said seemed to make any actual sense, which wasn’t that surprising given how cryptic and ominous those with the Organization tended to be with their monologues and speeches. Yet there was still one part of it all that left the Keybearer wondering whether this particular speech was just more empty, supposedly intimidating rhetoric or not. “And at the end,” the freeshooter had said with a smile that easily conveyed that he knew something the rest of them didn’t, though exactly what that something was, Sora hadn’t the faintest clue. “You’ll finally realize just what destiny has in store for you. In fact, your reward might be right around the corner. You’re so close!”

“What reward…?” the Keybearer muttered to himself, trying to fathom what implications such a confusing statement was even supposed to carry. If it was any sort of reward the Organization intended on trying to offer to him, then of course, Sora knew he wanted absolutely no parts of it whatsoever. But if it happened to be something else altogether…?

Sora was quick to shake his head clear of such pointless thoughts. It didn’t matter what “reward” Xigbar had spoke of was, especially when that reward, good or bad, might very well not even exist in the first place. As it was, it was probably just another trick, another lie and deception among countless others meant simply to lead him astray off his intended path. Which was why the Keybearer boldly decided to just ignore it all for the time being to rigidly stay on that path, hoping to seek his own kind of reward at the end of it all. Namely his lost strength to be regained, and the hearts of those so unfairly lost, all of which were waiting, no, depending on him.

And despite any mocking villain, soothsaying Organization member, or even the unseen darkness or hidden rage pressing against the doors of his own heart, Sora was determined to not let any of those wandering, waiting hearts down.

The rest of their sweep through Thebes was surprisingly smooth and speedy. Most of the townsfolk in peril had already been escorted out of the diminishing flames to safety, and the group wasted little time in rounding up the rest of the stragglers. Heartless still popped up in their path from time to time, but even their numbers were lower than before, their aggression lessened somewhat. In a way, it almost seemed as though Hades seemed to be shifting his focus away from the city entirely, something that didn’t really surprise any of them. After all, the lord of the dead had sent the message of his immense power quite well in this attack on the town, but it was obvious that wasn’t his end goal like apparent control of the entire cosmos seemed to be. However, the group didn’t get a complete confirmation on this theory until they ended up circling back around to Thebes’ central square, only to be met with a familiar flying steed and its pair of riders almost as soon as they arrived.

Pegasus touched down firmly right before Hercules and the trio, both Meg and Phil sharing allayed grins as they relayed the good news they had to share from their scouting from above. “Nice job, Wonderboy,” Meg congratulated the hero warmly. “We checked the whole town. Looks like everyone’s finally safe.”

“That’s great,” Hercules said, letting out a sigh of relief that Sora, Donald, and Goofy all easily shared in on. “We did what we could to help.”

“I’ll say,” Meg smirked, glancing up to address the entire group playfully. “Looks like you heroes have been busy little bees.”

Sora, Donald, and Goofy all perked up at this, taking the praise proudly, even if Phil was quick to interject to detract it. “Eh, from while we were flyin’ overhead, you three were passable, at best,” the satyr remarked flippantly, though he did break out into a wry grin upon noticing the offended glances the trio sent his way. “Hey, I’m kiddin’! Ya did good. At least none of ya died, so that’s definitely a plus in just about every book there is.”

This quip was more than enough to get a laugh out of the entire group, though it was ultimately a short lived one as Pegasus let out a small, yet serious whicker, diverting everyone’s attention towards Mount Olympus afar in the distance. “Oh, look…” Meg sighed wearily, noticing the fearful sight first. “More trouble…”

Trouble indeed summed the situation up well as everyone looked to the mountain towering high over the city. Usually, Mount Olympus’s impeccably tall peak was awash in soft, fluffy clouds, clouds that obscured the glorious realm of the gods away from mortal eyes. However, now the clouds that swirled around that realm were black and stormy, marred by the occasional bolt of dark thunder to top off the sinister aura filling the very air itself.

“It’s Hades…” Hercules scowled, not even having to think twice about where such darkness was coming from. “No wonder things have been quieter around here lately. He’s going after the home of the gods.”

Upon hearing this, the trio needed only to exchange a brief, determined glance, all three of them knowing that they hadn’t backed down against Hades before and they certainly had no intentions of backing down against him this time. “Then let’s go stop him!” Sora proclaimed, ready to do just that, even despite the apparent danger.

“Right,” Hercules grinned, just as eager to put an end to the lord of the dead’s twisted ambitions once and for all.

Knowing that the group had an important task ahead of them, Meg and Phil were quick to send them their best wishes and brief farewells before Pegasus whisked them off once more. And with that, they set off, hurrying onward towards the outskirts of town towards the path that would lead them back up the towering mountain ahead. They spared no time for breaks or distractions, knowing that time was of the essence in halting Hades’ schemes as they began steadily making their way towards the summit. The Heartless started popping up more frequently with each cliff they scaled, but with heightened vigor and a renewed sense of purpose, the group took them on with stalwart gusto. After all, they were no longer on the defensive, simply trying to keep people safe from the rampaging creatures; now they were on the attack, hurrying to hit Hades where it hurt and nip his plans in the bud before they even had a chance to be fully realized whatsoever. It was reinvigorating for all of them, to say the least, especially considering just how perilous and nearly deadly their time in the Thebes had been. But as they scaled Mount Olympus, they felt more eager, more united, perhaps even a bit stronger; ready to pit their noble team against whatever tricks and traps Hades might try to throw their way.

Of course, what he did actually intend on throwing their way was something much more immense than any of them could have expected.

The group had only made it about halfway up the mountain when the ground began to rumble once more, hardly an unusual phenomenon for any of them by now considering everything that had happened in Thebes. “This sure does feel familiar…” Goofy noted over the distant, unintelligible roars coming from the mountain’s distant peak.

“Yeah, just like before,” Sora agreed. “The only thing missing is Hades showing up to blow us off the mountain.”

“This is getting worse by the minute…” Hercules mused, his manner quite serious as he kept his focus on the mountain’s storm-obscured summit. “I hope I’m wrong, but my family may need me.” Without wasting another second, the hero turned his sights to the sky and let out a loud, calling whistle. Pegasus soared in to respond to it, having already deposited Meg and Phil somewhere safe so he could race to his master’s side if need be. “Sora, I’m gonna go fly ahead,” Hercules said to the Keybearer as his winged steed touched down before him. “You’ve been a big help, but… leave the rest to me. Like I said, my family’s counting on me; I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Family?” Sora inquired curiously, having never heard the hero mention any sort of family members before.

“Yeah,” Hercules grinned as he mounted Pegasus. “Dad’s king of the gods.” And with that and a simple wave of farewell, the hero took off, not realizing just how baffled his simple statement had left the trio in his wake.

“Whaaaat?!” Donald and Goofy exclaimed in unison as they exchanged an awed glance.

“H-his father is a god?” Sora asked just as incredulously. “But… wouldn’t that mean Herc is a god too?!”

“I think it does…” the captain mused thoughtfully. “Ya know, it feels like this is something we should’ve found out a long time ago…”

“No wonder he’s so strong!” the magician exclaimed. “That means he’ll be ok on his own for sure. Won’t he?”

“No,” Sora shook his head. “Organization XIII’s here. God or no god, he’ll need our help dealing with them. And Hades too, for that matter.”

“Good point,” Goofy nodded firmly. “We gotta go!”

“Cause heroes never quit!” Donald emphasized as they all turned to face the peak before them once more.

Though Sora certainly agreed with his companions’ noble sentiments, he didn’t voice that agreement right away as he instead briefly thought back to the indirect advice that Hercules himself had offered him. Advice that the Keybearer was only really starting to understand the further along their journey progressed: “Hm, that’s tough… All I know is… that she was in trouble. Suddenly, I wanted to save her with all my heart…”

“We fight with all our hearts…” Sora echoed the sentiment to himself softly, deciding to fully embrace that thought for himself. While thus far he’d had relatively little success in finding any viable, expedited way of regaining his lost strength, maybe that strength wasn’t something he have expected to come back to him in one fell swoop. Perhaps it was something that needed to be earned, regained over time through hard work and solid determination, both attributes the Keybearer had taken up in order to build up that strength in the first place. Perhaps the way to bring it all back was exactly how the hero had said: by working, fighting with every ounce of resolve and courage his heart had to give. “C’mon!” Sora exclaimed to his companions, letting his newfound verve shine through has he began leading the way up the rest of the mountain. “Let’s go show Hades what happens when he messes with the wrong heroes!”

Not wanting to leave Hercules without any backup for too long, the trio quickened the pace of their upward voyage to the peak. Whatever crowds of Heartless they encountered were either quickly dealt with or ignored altogether as they rushed past them, scaling the perilous mountain pass in the hopes of reaching the realm of the gods sooner rather than later. They could tell they were getting ever closer to their destination as the skies soon turned from bright blue to dark and stormy, rumbling with thunder as a torrential downpour began to spout from the dour clouds above. The rain was easy enough to ignore, however, the other elements brought about from Hades’ Titans were a bit more of a challenge. The primary danger the trio faced the closer they got to the summit were rocks, heavy, crushing boulders tumbling down the cliffsides seemingly without end. It took some careful footwork and precise timing, but sure enough they managed to avert the rock Titan’s projectiles and slip into the momentary safety of the enclosed mountain pass. The pass that led directly to the epicenter of the Titans’ violent attack: the realm of the gods, Olympus itself.

Despite the storm raging on around it, Olympus was, to put it simply, absolutely immaculate. Its large golden gates led the trio to a radiant realm of sacred light, quite unlike any they had ever seen before. In absolute awe, Sora, Donald, and Goofy stepped foot into the divine domain, one that seemed to be entirely composed of sculpted clouds and grandiose golden structures as far as the eye could see. Needless to say it was a far cry from the damaged stony streets of Thebes or even the lush greenery of the mountain it capped of, something the trio unanimously noted as they tried to take it all in.

“Is this… Olympus?” Sora asked, still quite stunned by the drastic change of scenery.

“Gawrsh, it’s amazing…” Goofy said rather quietly to maintain an air of reverence in such a hallowed place. However, if there was any group that cared about no such thing, it was the Heartless that showed up only seconds later. An entire army of shadowy, soldier-like figures materialized just a few feet away from the trio, fully armored and ready for battle. Fortunately, the trio was more than ready to take them on as they summoned their respective weapons, charging headfirst into the fray, this time, without any signs of hesitation. The scuffle was arduous to be sure, as the trio was certainly outnumbered by the horde of bulky Heartless surrounding them. However, the key difference between this skirmish and their initial fights in Thebes was clear: instead of working against each other, this time, the trio worked perfectly in sync, finally falling back into their old rapport they usually carried in battles of the past. And that rapport only continued as they cleared out the first wave of Heartless, though no rest awaited them as several more hordes seemed to be invading Olympus as a whole, diminishing the sanctity and security the realm of the gods should have known. Even so, Sora, Donald, and Goofy were more than equipped to deal with them as they tore their way through the weaker shadows, steadily cutting their way through towards the heart of Olympus in the hopes of meeting up with Hercules again there. And sure enough, that’s exactly what they did.

The trio had just about reached the apex of the divine domain when they spotted their first glimpse of the hero. He was still peached on Pegasus as the duo swept through the air, slicing through any aerial Heartless he came across as he made a beeline for the central citadel, where Hades and his Titans no doubt awaited. Hercules happened to spot the trio himself as he flew high above them, and he offered them a small, confident nod of greeting, having already expected them to follow after him, even despite his advising against it. Still, if there was anyone who could help him take on the threat Hades and his sinister monsters posed, Hercules knew it’d be those three, no doubt.

It seemed as though they were all going to arrive not a moment to soon, either, as Hades himself stood smugly within the sacred rotunda, watching with a triumphant smirk as his Titans conquered the so-called “mighty” gods of the glorious Olympus. The lesser deities had all been restrained by the lord of the dead’s darkened chains, left to watch as even the all-powerful Zeus himself was overpowered by the Titans’ immense elemental powers.

“I swear to you, Hades!” the king of the gods shouted angrily down to his brother from his ever-expanding prison of solid fire and ice. “When I get out of this, I’ll-” Zeus never got a chance to finish his threat as the freezing molten rocks finally covered him completely, effectively sealing him and all his sacred power away.

“Yeah, nah,” Hades’ grin deepened as he conjured up a dark throne, finalizing his newfound domain over the realm of the gods. “I’ll be the one giving orders around here from now on, bolt boy.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, Hades!”

The lord of the dead shot upright in his seat upon hearing such a brazen proclamation, his baffled shock growing tenfold as he spun around to find a familiar hero flying in. Hercules sent Hades a challenging grin as he soared in upon Pegasus swiftly, his radiant sword poised to put an end to the lord of the dead’s dark regime. But as startled and outraged by the hero’s appearance alone, Hades was even more incensed to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re here to stop you!”

All the lord of the dead could do was gape, absolutely appalled as he turned back towards the citadel’s gates only to find Sora, Donald, and Goofy standing before them, their weapons in hand. Things only seemed to go from bad to worse for Hades as Hercules sped in, cutting through the chains binding the other gods with a single swing of his steady sword. The lord of the dead all but ignored the deities’ united cheers of celebrate over their release as his blue flames quickly spiked deadly red as a sign of his fury, fury that he had no qualms about showing as he fiercely demanded his Titans to cut these brazen interlopers down before they ruined his careful plans altogether.

“Get them!” he shouted to his quartet of mythical monsters. And sure enough, the Titans didn’t hesitate to act on this intense command, storming forward with thunderous steps and leaving behind deadly trails of fire, ice, wind, and stone in their wakes. They towered tall over the trio in particular, and though the thought occurred to each of them that they were in over their heads in dealing with such massive monsters, it was quick to be pushed away as soon as the hero leapt off his winged steed to join them.

“You guys ready for this?” Hercules asked as he landed, not hesitating to take up a fighting stance against the rampaging Titans.

“We’re always ready,” Sora assured confidently, brandish his Keyblade for the no doubt daunting battle ahead.

And daunting it was. The Titans didn’t bother holding back their initial blasts, going in for elemental attacks first, as would be expected. The immense gales caused by the wind Titan alone made things difficult for the group, but when coupled with the non-stop icy spikes, fiery blasts, and hurling rocks, they found that even getting anywhere close to the monsters to land so much as a single blow on any of them all but impossible.

“How are we supposed to fight them like this?” Donald huffed in annoyance as he launched another ultimately blocked flame spell over at the ice Titan. “They just keep knocking us back!”

“If only we could just fight each of ‘em one-by-one,” Goofy said, using his shield to deflect a hard-thrown stone. “That’d sure make things a lot easier!”

“Wait a second…” Sora mused with dawning realization as sudden, somewhat risky plan came to mind. “That’s it! Herc, you think you can cause a distraction for us?”

“You can count on me,” the hero grinned, not even having to ask what the Keybearer’s possible plans were. Instead, Hercules boldly ran forward while the trio skirted off out of the Titans’ notice. The hero made good on his word to provide a timely distraction as he vaulted up onto the rock Titan first, moving far faster than the sluggish, bulky creature could before finally taking up a perch upon one of its two flat stone heads.

“Hey, lava-breath!” he taunted to the fire Titan in particular. “Bet ya can’t knock me off!”

As expected, the Titan took the bait as it sent its massive flaming arm swinging directly at the hero. And while Hercules was able to easily avoid it with a simple deft leap off the monster’s head, the rock Titan was not as its fiery counterpart struck it hard. The momentous blow was more than enough to send the rock Titan flying, even despite its impressive weight and sturdy build, not just across the rotunda, but clear off the edge of the citadel altogether. And, with the other monsters distracted as they were with watching their fellow Titan plummet through the clouds, they failed to notice the trio rounding off behind the icy behemoth in particular, ready to carry out their decisive surprise attack.

“Ok, on three,” Sora said discreetly to Donald and Goofy as they positioned themselves behind one of the ice Titan’s rather spindly legs. “One, two-”

“H-hey! Hey! Hey!” Hades shouted from his spot on the sidelines upon noticing the trio setting up to take out another one of his Titans. Or ideally, even more than that. “What do you three numbskulls think you’re doing!?”

“Three!” Sora shouted hastily, and not a moment too soon either. For just as Hades lobbed a series of smaller fireballs over at the trio in a haphazard attempt at stopping them, they leapt out of the attack’s path entirely, instead enacting one all their own. Their weapons each struck the ice Titan’s inner knee at the exact same moment, the sheer impact of their combined blow proving to be more than enough to shatter it entirely. The chilled creature let out a hiss of surprise, unable to catch itself as it began to topple over onto, fortunately enough onto none other than the fire Titan right next to it. The conflicting elementals instantly began acting against each other the moment they slammed into each other, resulting in both of them tumbling over on top of each other, effectively stunned.

“Nice one, you guys,” Hercules congratulated the trio as they regrouped. “Looks like you just killed two birds with one stone. Or I guess I should say two Titans with one stone.”

“Aw, shucks, they’re not so tough by themselves!” Goofy assured brazenly.

“And with three down, that means there’s only one left to go—whoa!” Sora was interupted as the final Titan standing roared into vengeful action, launching all four of them upward with its violent gales. The breezy creature expanded the range of its twirling tornado, casting the group flying in just about every direction possible without any signs of letting any of them land safely. Getting in any attacks against the wind Titan also seemed to be out of the question as the monster kept itself firmly at the eye of its storm as it easily blew off any sort of spell or swing sent its way. And, after it seemed to get tired with toying with its struggling victims, the Titan finally turned them loose, its winds tossing them high before letting gravity take care of the rest. Fortunately, however, their shared freefall didn’t end in disaster as Pegasus soared in just in the nick of time to come to their rescue. The winged steed retrieved Hercules out of the air first, and then deftly flew back in so he could catch Sora, Donald, and Goofy in turn before landing back at the edge of the citadel, a bit shaken up, but still no worse for wear.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed as though the group would receive no reprieve in this battle whatsoever. For just as they began picking themselves up to continue the fight, the three fallen Titans seemed to do the same. The monsters of fire and ice had finally broken away from each other and recovered, lumbering back up to their full, towering heights as they joined the wind Titan once more. And, to make matters worse, even the rock Titan somehow rose up through the clouds again to regroup with its companions as all four monsters came to surround the group, much to Hades’ sadistic amusement as he continued observing the fight from afar.

“Yeah, that’s right,” the lord of the dead challenged with a vindictive grin. “Just keep linin’ em’ up to knock ‘em down. They’ll just keep getting back up. Let’s see if you plucky yutzes can do the same…”

“Gawrsh, I sure hope we can…” Goofy said, more to the others than to Hades. “Especially since we gotta fight all four of ‘em at once again.”

“We’re right back to square one!” Donald added just as fretfully.

“So what?” Sora asked defiantly, refusing to let that worrisome fact phase him. “There’s four of us too!”

“Actually,” Hercules interjected, grinning as he looked up to the solid molten tower before them. “I think I can make it five.” Without even giving any of the Titans a chance to attack, the hero leapt into action, hurrying up the hardened icy mound and breaking into its seemingly impenetrable surface with his bare hands alone. Light instantly poured out of the darkened rocks, signifying the revival of the king of the gods mere seconds before Zeus burst fourth from his prison, his divine might restored once more.

“Aha!” Zeus laughed triumphantly, his usual gusto showing as he turned to his son with a proud grin. “Thank you, my boy. Now… time to watch your old man get to work!”

The trio on the ground watched in apt excited amazement as the king of the gods conjured up two handfuls of his bright, iconic lightning bolts. Alternatively, Hades gasped in shocked dismay as his meticulous plans all began to fall apart in one fell swoop as Zeus chucked his thunderous projectiles at each of the Titans in fast, blinding succession. The monsters, well familiar with Zeus’ incredible power and how outmatched even they were against it, reeled in pain from the brutal strikes and instantly fell back before the king of the gods could obliterate them altogether. Yet despite their frightened attempt at fleeing, Hercules wasn’t about to let them get away so easily; the hero managed to grab ahold of the wind Titan’s tail end as it whirled past him, grasping the very gusts themselves tightly as he swung its massive, tornado-like form around freely. Its suctioning winds were more than enough to pull the other three Titans into the cyclone, trapping each of them and their elemental might within its thrall. And, with a single hefty toss, Hercules sent the wind Titan, as well as the other three mythical monsters contained within it, flying as high as the outer reaches of the cosmos themselves, finally freeing Olympus from their legendary terror once and for all.

With the Titans taken care of, a round of celebratory cheers rose up from the trio, Hercules, Zeus, and the countless other gods who had been forced to watch the intensive brawl from afar, unable to offer their aid to the cause as a result of Hades’ power. As for the lord of the dead himself, to say that he was outraged by such a crushing defeat was an understatement as his flames sparked red the moment he turned towards the noble group who had bested his intricate, practically perfect schemes.

“I can’t believe it!” he shouted sharply. “I put eighteen years into that plan, and you’ve blippin’ ruined it, just like that! I really don’t like any of you… And believe me, that’s me being nice. But I’m more than ready to get not so nice to take care of you CHUMPS!”

“Oh, just give it a rest already,” Sora remarked, completely unintimidated by such hallow threats. “You’ll never beat Herc, no matter how many times you times you try!”

“Yeah, go back to the Underworld where ya belong!” Goofy added vigorously.

“Go have the time of your afterlife!” Donald quipped with a wry smirk.

“Enough already!” Hades snapped fiercely. “I did NOT come this far to be ridiculed by Zeusy high and mighty, his little sunspot, and a trio of clowns! You know what? I’ll just go ahead and destroy you myself!”

Despite the lord of the dead’s literally fiery rage, the trio was more than prepared to brazenly square off against him. Fortunately though, it seemed as though they wouldn’t have to as Hercules calmly intervened just in time. “Hades,” the hero garnished a glare of immense ire from the lord of the dead, one that only seemed to amuse him all the more as he motioned towards Olympus’ nearby glittering gates. “The exits’ that way.”

In all his anger, Hades had half a mind to put up a vicious fight regardless. However, as Zeus simply cleared his throat to carry across the unspoken reminder of his untold might, the lord of the dead begrudgingly decided to back off, knowing that if the Titans were no match this collective group combined, then chances were, neither was he. So instead, Hades simply let out a sour sigh of defeat, his flames returning to their usual blue as he began to sulk towards the gates, though he didn’t make it there as Hercules decided to stop him one more time.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” the hero interjected casually. His intent became immediately clear, however, as Hades glanced back towards him, only to be met with a swift, painful punch in the jaw. “That one’s for trying to wreck Thebes.”

“Augh! You’ll pay for this!” Hades shouted bitterly, darkness swirling around him as he rubbed his sore cheek. “You all will! I have a very, very long memory! I can still dunk your little Nut-Meg in a river of dea-” The lord of the dead was swiftly cut off as Zeus easily sent a single lightning bolt his way, eliciting a loud shriek of literal shock from Hades as he made his rather embarrassing retreat back to the Underworld, finally defeated.

For now, at least.

With Hades and the Titans gone, the radiant peace that Olympus was known for easily returned in full force. The gods and goddesses gladly took up their seats of prominence and power once more, Zeus included as he heralded his son and his trio of plucky mortal friends the noble heroes of the realm. Still, with Thebes likely still recovering from Hades’ onslaught, Hercules knew he couldn’t stay to take part in the jovial celebrations for too long. And so it was that the hero decided to make his return to the mortal realm down below, and just as before, Sora, Donald, and Goofy accompanied him, even as they passed through Olympus’ glorious gates once again. All the same, Hercules did stop short as soon as they did, pausing briefly to cast an almost wistful glance back at the world he knew he had come from, but wasn’t really a part of anymore. Once again, the all-too familiar question filled the hero’s mind, and it was a question that, ironically enough, Sora happened to curiously pose to him a mere moment later.

“Are you sure you wanna leave all this behind?” the Keybearer asked with something of a sympathetic frown.

“Yeah, isn’t Olympus your home?” Goofy inferred thoughtfully.

“Its where your family is, isn’t it?” Donald asked, sharing the concerned sentiment.

Hercules smiled softly at this, appreciating their worries though not fully sharing them as he looked past the gates towards the realm of the gods once more. “I can see my family anytime I want. But… if I stayed… then I’d have to be apart from the person I love most…. And that life would be empty.” The hero’s resolved smile widened a bit as he turned away from the gates and looked down the lengthy set of golden stairs leading up to it. There, waiting at the bottom for her hero’s return, was none other than Meg; she said nothing, but instead simply returned the loving look Hercules sent her way, love that the hero knew, would keep him coming back to her every single time. “I finally know where I belong,” Hercules said, a sense of confident finality in his tone. And then, without a second thought, the hero suddenly began bolting down the stairs, eager to brace the gap between him and Meg once and for all. The couple met in a tender, sweet embrace, one that easily conveyed their feelings for each other more than any words ever could.

Though the trio made sure to give the pair their privacy, they soon joined them at the bottom of the stairs, each of them warmed by such a touching sight. Meg and Hercules both returned their greeting grins as their hug dispelled and the hero turned to the Keybearer with a sense of renewed resolve. “Sora, we never got back to your question. Do you still think there’s any way I can help?”

Though grateful for Hercules’ kind offer, Sora, surprisingly enough, simply shook his head, much to the initial confusion of both of his companions. “Nah, its ok,” he assured with a genuine smile. “I think this is something I’m meant to figure out for myself. I’ll find my strength again the way you found yours: by fighting for something I care about… with all my heart. You know, its funny… I guess you did have the answer I was looking for after all.”

Hercules nodded firmly at this, glad to see that the Keybearer’s usual drive had finally returned in full force. “Well, you’ve definitely got heart, Sora. Just keep at it, and I know you’ll be stronger than ever in no time.”

“Yeah!” Sora exclaimed, playfully showing off his muscles, even if they didn’t really compare to the hero’s at all. “Who knows? I might even end up stronger than you are someday!”

“Oh brother…” Donald rolled his eyes at such a remark while Goofy chuckled in amusement. “There he goes again!”

“Hey, nothing’s impossible!” Sora shrugged, letting out a small, good-natured laugh of his own as he began to lead the way forward.

“You guys heading out again?” Hercules asked with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah, we really should get going,” the Keybearer noted a bit halfheartedly, always sad to leave good friends behind. “Sorry we can’t stay and help clean up the mess Hades caused.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” the hero assured with a shrug. “We have it covered.”

“Now don’t be strangers, you three,” Meg advised with a wry grin. “Come back and see us again soon, k?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the trio returned with an exuberant salute, waving their final farewells to the couple as they took their leave to make the long trek back to the Gummi Ship.

“Ya know, Olympus really is an amazin’ place,” Goofy noted as they began heading back down the mountain again.

“Yeah,” Donald agreed. “Hercules must really have a strong heart to choose to just give it all up like that!”

Upon hearing this, Sora stopped short, unbeknownst to his companions as he cast a small, brief glance at the sacred peak they were leaving behind. “A strong heart…” he mused quietly to himself, daring to ask himself the question of, if he was ever somehow in a position similar to Hercules’, whether or not he’d make the same choice himself. The Keybearer knew well that he’d never really known any sort of excessive power or position before, not that he ever really had much of a desire for those things in the first place. What Sora did know he wanted, what he had always wanted really, was to keep his friends safe, to be with them and stay with them, even though that hardly ever seemed to be the case anymore. But even so, if he ever had to chose between his friends: between Donald, Goofy, the king, Riku, Kairi and something far greater than he could ever hope to imagine, then he figured such a choice would beyond clear, to the point that he didn’t even have to think twine, even hypothetically speaking.

His friends would always, always come first, no matter who… or what tried to come between.