○ 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕡 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘 ○ 𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕪 ○ 𝕠𝕔 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪 ○
⤷ 『 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕤 』 ⤷ 『 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕘𝕖 』 ⤷ 『 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕘𝕖 』 ⤷ 『 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕘 』 ⤷ 『 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕠 』
○ 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕃𝕦𝕞𝕚 ○ 𝕤𝕙𝕖/𝕙𝕖𝕣 ○ 𝟚𝟙+ ○
○ 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕡 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘 ○ 𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕪 ○ 𝕠𝕔 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪 ○
⤷ 『 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕤 』 ⤷ 『 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕘𝕖 』 ⤷ 『 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕘𝕖 』 ⤷ 『 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕘 』 ⤷ 『 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕠 』
○ 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕃𝕦𝕞𝕚 ○ 𝕤𝕙𝕖/𝕙𝕖𝕣 ○ 𝟚𝟙+ ○
@ferarum ○ 𝕤𝕠𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕤 ○
⤷ 『 ❛ push me up against the wall and do dirty things to me. ❜ 』
He laughed softly, dark eyes shining with mirth at her brave proclamation, his dear little sister, Poor shy thing that she was when she'd first come to the Isle cast out by her own family and taken in by his own father instead. The Sandman's own daughter. How delightful that she'd become this instead.
Naturally, Phobos had heeded his father's words despite their mutual disbelief that the Sandman would allow any child of his to be shipped off to the Isle just like that. They had taken her in, cultivated her while his father continued to work on his own projects. Magic may be impossible here, but some things were simply a part of you, and no magical barrier could take it. His father's power was of this kind.
Sure, there would be no NightMares galloping around the Isle, but the fear would always linger.
And now, the sweet innocent thing that Sognare had once been, his sweet little dream, had learned to bite back, to defend herself, and most importantly, to crave him. It had taken time to earn her fragile trust, to let her rely on him and eventually allow him to touch her but oh how it was all worth it.
Make sure she doesn't want to go back.
Well, he's pretty confident he succeeded.
“Oh my little dream~” He purred darkly, approaching her and step by step crowding her against the nearest wall of their hideout, delighting in the little start she made as her back hit the cool rock. “You want me so badly, don't you darling?” Slowly did his hands trail up her thighs, pulling up the hem of the dress she was wearing, grinning at the fact that, yes it was definitely shorter than it had been a few months ago.
His fingers brushed the edge of her underwear and he smirked openly, leaning in to pin her properly and claim her, lips crashing together before he trailed down to her neck where he could leave a few more nice and obvious love bites on her, high enough even a scarf would struggle to cover them. That kind of ownership was always fun to display after all.
She could do little but cling to him as his fingers continued questing, one hand continuing upward as the other lingered to tease her through the thin layer of fabric protecting her core. Calling it her modesty would hardly be apt for how often and how readily she let him at it. Today too, she would find herself taken as requested, as often as she liked.
The Isle was a prison, what more was there for him to do than partake of her?
@braverook ○ 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕠𝕓 ○
⤷ 『 ❛ tell me… tell me you want me. ❜ 』
Had he truly been so distant? Looking back he realised that, perhaps yes. He d been taking on about as many missions as he probably could, all under the guise of adrenaline and insomnia. Or well, if he didn't pass out right away he generally just got back up anyway, and all of that had led to running around London almost constantly hardly taking the time to drop by any of the Rooks' haunts.
It also meant he hadn't been around Danny.
Maybe it was because he wanted to drown out his guilty conscience, or because he didn't feel worthy of the devotion directed his way, but here they were, at the point where Danny felt the need to ask such a thing, sounding so fragile where normally they were boisterous and energetic.
“Of course I do, Danny.” How in the hells was he supposed to prove it though? He started by stepping in close, a hand reaching out to cup and caress their cheek before pulling them in close for a near crushing hug. “Shit man, I'm sorry for being so distant, I swear it's nothin' to do with you. I'm just an idiot. You shouldn't have to put up with me.”
And yet Danny did, always being there when Jacob got back from a mission, especially all banged up and such. Which… Happened more often than he'd really like to admit to Evie or Greenie. Which was why half the time he ended up patching with Danny instead.
They trusted each other, somehow, despite all the shit he'd pulled. He couldn't really be like this with anyone else. Be so… vulnerable.
“I'm thankful every day that you do put up with me though. And I want you. So much. I swear.”
With that he pulled back, only enough to attempt to show the sincerity in his gaze before he dared lean in and press their lips together. Clearly, they were both idiots.
@ferarum ○ 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 ○
⤷ 『 ✂ = threatening them 』
Some of these kids really had no manners and it sure as hell showed in how they strutted around this garbage dump of an isle. The bigger your mommy or daddy's name, the more these brats thought they could get away with. Thing was, that's all they were, brats without powers and overinflated egos.
Sure, she'd spent years following a cranky old wannabe king, but they worked well together all in all and the promises he'd made… Well, once he'd succeeded they hadn't gone hungry in some time. Right until the antelopes and the rest of the tasty animals migrated elsewhere or were all killed off, and their food supply dwindled to nothing. Even the watering holes dried out.
And then the young prince came back and everything went to shit.
They'd paid old Scar back for his less than ideal reign, but sometime after that… Well, getting used to having a pair of legs instead of her paws had been an adventure in and of itself, really, as well as adjusting her eating habits to whatever you could scrounge in here.
She'd made something of it though, in her humble opinion. Shenzi ran something of a cross between a night club and a bar, and she didn't want any of these smug, snot-nosed brats anywhere near her establishment.
Which of course meant the few with thick skulls kept trying to get past her and the boys. They were doing well too, long as they all stuck together at least. Her bar ended up being something of a hyena haunt, but that was fine. It almost felt like being home, in a way.
But. The brat.
She snarled under her breath as the little one tried making a commotion at the door, leaving more than one of her compatriots snarling at her arrogance. Getting closer from behind the bar where she usually stood she realised who the kid was. Great, fucking Chernabog's spawn. Only about as entitled as Maleficent's little sprog, but with the age, confidence and power to back it up. Well, relative, naturally, but still.
And, most importantly, not eighteen yet.
“Back off, brat. You know the rules same as anyone else and if your daddy dearest needs something he can come get it himself. You can bare your teeth at me all you like, you didn't get in when you were ten, you're not getting in now. So scram!”
“aang, I told you that it was dangerous!” katara commented, wrapping an arm around the young avatar’s shoulder so he could lean on her. “Come on.. let’s go find sokka and toph and I’ll give you a healing session, you’ll feel right as rain in no time!” always the positive sort, though the waterbender did wonder what went through aang’s head sometimes, but she wasn’t going to argue with him, not this time.
Flying out in a thunderstorm probably hadn't been a good idea in hindsight, between his own flashbacks and the weather's natural hazards even without that, but he sometimes needed this. Not so much the rush of adrenaline (though there was that too) but the time to be out there and simply exist, be one with his environment and think.
Meditation wasn't something he could easily do without getting away and he'd always been an active child so while he was better at it now, he preferred to meditate in motion than in stillness, and feeling the rain falling around him the way only a bender could, the wind whipping and moving around his glider, the scorching energy of the lightning as it crashed down… He never existed so freely as he did in times like this.
But meditation in such a risky environment isn't safe. The winds had caught him off guard and ripped his glider, leaving him to yelp suddenly as he began to rapidly head for the ground where he'd soon crash. Or he would have, had he not been a bender. The landing was rough as he'd used both the air and the water to slow himself enough not to get hurt but not enough to stop completely. Managing one element was fine, but two was very tricky. The kind of tricky he wasn't all that good at yet.
Emerging from the tree line was a young avatar with his robes lightly ripped, some scratches from branches and leaves, and his glider clearly looking rather beat up. Huh, Katara must have seen him fall… Still, he'd enjoyed the peace, the challenge, the way that briefly he'd felt completely untethered to anything, allowed in this storm of silence to let go of the things weighing down on him. Hearing her call out to him, all of it crashed back into him uncomfortably.
He loves his friends dearly, but sometimes he needs this, and her scolding is not helping his mood. He pulls away from her, fully capable of standing on his own and not wanting to be treated like an invalid.
“I'm fine Katara, just a couple scratches. It's not like I ran into a platoon of Fire Nation soldiers or anything.” Though apparently he was in the kind of mood where he wouldn't have minded the opportunity to work off some frustration in a less than healthy way. The monks at the temple would be shaking their heads at him if they could see him now…
Still, much as he sometimes wanted to break away from it all still, he couldn't leave his friends. They needed him, which meant no breaks for the Avatar…
“Let's head back to camp, the storm'll be going for another day at least with the way things looked up there.” Appa certainly wouldn't fly in this weather, the bison knowing better than to risk it after last time.
Kara had been welcomed to the DPD fairly quickly. She was a go-to resource in understanding deviancy, because who better to know than another deviant? Her nurturing and comforting skill set made her a reliable partner in reducing deviancy based casualties.
She was stepping out of the office with Detective Reed, who was certainly one of the slower officers to be on board with her employment at the department. He was humoring her though, which she appreciated. Mid conversation she bumped into someone and stumbled back slightly.
When the stranger apologized, she noticed the familiar anxious flicker of yellow. Some androids still preferred to keep their LED’s. “Hey, no worries it’s alright.” she assured him in a kind and steady tone. “Are you alright?” She followed up with, and appeared genuinely concerned for a moment. When she got a better look she almost mistook the man for Connor. But… Hank had left with Connor for an investigation over an hour ago. Sure, she met replications of her own model, but Connor was a one of a kind right?
Were she to pay attention, or perform a scan as should be normal among properly functioning androids, she would have realised that not only was he clearly not Connor, but his synthetic skin had undergone some design changes since the previous model's release. Sharper jaw, narrower, almond-shaped eyes, slightly wider nose. Personally he was of the opinion he looked better, handsomer, more intimidating.
Her 'compassion' made his fibres cross, the kind of emotion proper androids weren't capable of. They could emulate it, as could he, but there were certain cues that were extremely difficult to replicate. Nevertheless she would not be so 'concerned' had she known who he was and what his mission entailed.
“I am well.” He straightened, keeping a wary eye on the human behind her. A quick analysis identified the man as Detective Gavin Reed, a man with a history of Android dislike at the very least, known to have had several negative interactions with the RK800 model among others. This man is interesting, he has thought so before when analysing the available data of RK800's experiences with his environment during the assigned mission.
The trouble is that both Gavin Reed and AX400 #579 102 694 are together. Isolated he could formulate a plan to establish secure communication with the detective, or deactivate one of his targets, but together he cannot do much but analyse his options and discover that they are very slim indeed.
What irks him, is that his system is identifying an option of befriending them in order to get close to them and gain access to the buildings and mainframes needed to terminate RK800 #313 248 317-51, RK200 #684 842 971 and WR400 #641 790 831. The question is what route would be available for him to obtain the best possible result…
For already he has committed to obtaining this outcome, it is the most efficient and such is his duty. As such he allows himself another moment to observe her and the Detective before determining his best option of word choice.
“I apologise for bumping into you. I woke but rather recently and am not yet accustomed to…” A small pause, eyes visibly roaming over the busy city street. “All of this.”
The bait was formed, now all he had to do was wait and see what actions were to follow suit.
loyalbones / @loyalbones :
“no.” dahlia rolls their eyes, before turning back to look at the shelves around them. iarla sent them for... something, they weren’t paying attention. just knew they had to pick something up from whatever magic bullshit shop the fae was interested in this week. “i am here to get parcel for iarla. said it was ready.” clawed fingers skate over the edges of shelves, and ice blue gaze flicks to the keeper behind the counter. there’s something in his scent that makes their nose tingle...
Ah, the rather energetic fae that had been a bit of a whirlwind compared to his own usual levels of energy which were comparable to ‘don't talk to me unless I've had coffee’ but without the coffee. Mitchell never knew how to handle the energetic ones and by the time he managed to adjust to them, they were usually already out the door.
It was why the exchange had stuck with him, never mind the contents of the order had been unusual, at least for his business. There were crystal caves nearby yes, but you had to know how to get into them and how to harvest the crystals without causing any damage or angering whatever lay in the depths of the cave. He'd never been foolish enough to go look, but he knew it was there, could sense the creature or protective deity or whatever it was, lurking and watching his every move in case he did something disrespectful and needed to become monster food. It's not like he could defend himself properly if that happened, having no innate magic of his own.
He'd never considered it, but the only reason he can get in there is because as a natural channel, he is often letting the magic of the environment flow through him, becoming part of it in a way, and thus not being considered a threat.
But anyway, the crystals.
“Right, that one. Most of what I could get was Amethyst, I don't like venturing too deep lest I can't get back out, but I got a couple other ones too.” Iarla hadn't said it mattered which type so long as the quality was good, and he'd been paid in advance which had gone a long way towards him being willing to put in the time and effort.
He turned back briefly to check the shelf behind him, where he'd stored the box, protected by a talisman he now carefully dismantled. Well really, the best way to dismantle one of his personal talismans without setting them off was to use his blood to disrupt the runes. He easily slices through the top layers of skin on the pad of his thumb and rubs it across the paper, sucking on the digit briefly to close the cut again before putting the deactivated talisman in a lock box to burn later. Better not leave your blood lying around and all that.
That done he picks up the box and sets it on the counter. It's not too big, maybe a bit longer than a foot, but still fairly heavy due to the crystals.
“Alright, here you go.”
❝ YOU VALUE LIFE. you do not burn yours save for REASONS you deem worthy. reasons such as those which BROUGHT you here. the salvation of a world and its PEOPLE. the motives of a HERO true. but there is more to you than that.❞
— that, i can’t deny. ind. WARRIOR OF LIGHT ( xiv ) as sundered by ARIES // ©
@ferarum ○ 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 ○
⤷ 『 “How can they be content with their small lives and miserable jobs?” 』
What a loaded question…
Despite having lived here all his life, it was still odd to him that sometimes the VKs kind of gravitated towards him. He wasn't a student at Auradon prep, indeed didn't even have the lineage or the money to attend, and yet he was around often now that the barrier was down and the Vks were finally free as they always should have been.
As a neutral party, maybe they could tell he didn't ascribe to the whole all things good and wholesome culture that the rest of the students and staff here had been spoon-fed their entire lives.
In fact, he just like everyone else had grown up on the tales that made up the ruling class' past, but he'd taken a different message from it all. It often wasn't so much that good was good and evil was evil, but that there was nothing like the fury of those scorned by the world.
Maleficent, the 'evil' fae who had singlehandedly decimated the kingdom queen Aurora belonged to because she had been snubbed, despite giving them a chance to reconsider their mistake. Naturally it wasn't polite to invite yourself, but she along with the three fairies were of the most powerful, and supposed to be invited for such things. Not to do it was inconceivable. And yet… Whatever blessing she might have otherwise granted the then-young princess became a curse instead. Larry had always been incredibly curious what gift she could otherwise have bestowed.
Rumpelstiltskin, a conniving dwarf who would make agreements with mortals, granting their wishes within his power in exchange for whatever he deemed would serve him best. More than once this had been a first-born child. But the person making the deal could always refuse, and yet they did not, and when time came to fulfil the deal, they tried to back out and called him evil then for taking what he was owed.
Hades, a god given the short end of the stick one too many times, excluded and outcast imply for the role he had been given among the three brothers. Any of them could easily have been given one another's roles. He's smart, calculating, has a certain flair… Well, maybe Larry kind of admires the man's savoir-faire but the fact still stands that for eons the man had performed his role with bitter resentment until one day that resentment had bubbled over, and caused the war that led to Hercules' ascension.
Certainly these so-called villains and many others had caused harm, even cost people their lives, but would any of it have happened had they not been pushed and pushed until there was simply nothing left of their resolve? Why do good upon a world that had scorned them so? They weren't exactly justified, but he understood it. Understood that there was no true good and evil, only circumstance. How would the 'great' Beast, or Aladdin, or any other glorified hero have acted had they been in their nemesis' stead?
It always amuses him in a morbid way that Beast's tale is so popular and simultaneously treats the fairy that cursed him as some evil witch out for his blood, when he had been the arrogant who had cast her out on looks alone. Some virtuous king indeed… And yet everyone forgot about that and followed the rhabdophobe.
“They don't know any better.” He answered finally, eyes darting over to her. Chernabog's daughter. Hah, anyone else from his village would have run for the hills screaming as soon as they knew who she was. Not Larry. He was done with the whole judging others by their parentage thing. It was why he'd decided to become a lawyer in the first place, to try and appeal the laws regarding the Isle in the only way the old Beast couldn't shut down.
the rage is a tidal wave, crashing over her, breaking every bone in her body and dashing her to pieces against the rocks. she can see nothing but sea foam, hear nothing but the pounding in her hears, feel nothing but the icy sharpness of loss and defeat as she watches mal kick the wooden bridge, watches it fall into the sea. retrievable, but not her concern at the moment. anger pulses through her. how could she have lost to mal, again? how dare she trick her.
when harry touches her arm, she snaps around, ready to fight back, with gnashing teeth and sharp words, but he’s grinning- which only fuels her anger (how dare he be happy when they’ve lost everything?) until she sees what he’s gesturing at. the prone blue clad figure on the ground. she looks back at the pipe, at the clearing smoke in the air and realises that in the confusion, they’ve misplaced their prize possession. she’s been given a second chance.
the rage dissipates as fast as it had arrived and she jumps immediately back to order. “ get him back on the ship! ” she snaps. “ tie him back up, put him in my quarters. ” they have a limited window before mal realises and comes back, tail between legs, and uma intends to meet her on the offensive. the crew, despite being tired and disheartened, spring into action, to bundle ben back into her quarters and tie him back up, while uma orders everyone else back onto the deck.
she stands at the end of the gangplank, a blocking force, so when mal returns she’s forced to confront her, to demand again, the return of the king. to which uma laughs in her face. when implored that there is a very important party tonight that he has to attend to people are going to be in uproar, uma makes that her mark. she gives mal a further seven hours, more than she deserves, to return alone with the real wand. no friends, no back up, no big gestures. and if she gets even a hint of an auradonian guard, she’s going to have harry slit his throat before mal can get a word out. she’s not wasting time anymore.
mal goes, defeated, and uma’s pride has never been higher as she storms back on board the ship, barking orders. telling bruno to find his sister and tell her she’s covering uma’s shift at the chip shop, and then stomping triumphantly into her quarters, where ben has been placed in her desk chair, uncomfortable and wobbly, tied up again. she chooses to sink onto her bed, large and sagging in the middle, covered with a myriad of coloured blankets in varying states of decay.
“ you should be grateful, ” she says. “ with that trick she pulled, i should be feeding you to the fishes right now. guess it’s not true love after all. ” mal clearly doesn’t care enough about the safety of her ex-boyfriend. but uma needs him alive. so alive he shall remain.
What Mal had pulled off, it was a miracle almost, or it could have been if he hadn't tripped and fallen in the commotion. If she'd paid more attention and noticed he was missing before kicking the bridge down, a treacherous part of his mind whispered. Now he was back on Uma's ship. There was a commotion outside but he's still disoriented from the hit and being manhandled back into his new prison.
He'd thought he could reason with Uma once, she was smart, capable, cared about her people. Sure she was a villain kid, but so what? Or so he'd told himself while waiting for Mal. He'd been so sure offering her a place was the answer… They'd come with the Limo, the VKs didn't need the wand to get off the Isle. Making sure they didn't get shipped back would be a different story, hunted wherever they went after such an escape, but still…
They were just children sure, but they were children growing up with their parents' vitriol, inheriting their hatred for those of the kingdoms within Auradon who had defeated them, and hated towards his own family specifically for having put forward and executed the plans for the creation of the Isle of the Lost as the Villains' prison.
Thing was… He's reasonably sure no one expected them to reproduce.
It was a stupid thing to assume, but now they were here and things were far from going well. Maybe he'd fooled himself into thinking Mal was doing well, adjusting to Auradon and the pressures of being his girlfriend, considering she'd kept her spell book, insisted on looking after her mother herself and continued to use magic when the rules, the very laws of their kingdom, forbade it.
Magic was wondrous in the right hands, but it was dangerous too. Even people like the three good fairies and fairy godmother had all agreed to leave magic behind them for good for the sake of the future and the coming generations. In a few centuries, the only references to magic would have been the old tales from before Auradon's founding.
Had he been wrong to want to believe differently, all this time?
Uma returning to the cabin he'd been left in jerked him out of his thoughts, a much warier disposition in his expression as he watched her move about the cabin and drop onto her… bed, if one could call it that. Fact remained that he hated how badly the inhabitants of the Isle were treated, not even given access to basic necessities. Or what he considered basic necessities anyway.
“Why haven't you?” He offers after a moment of recomposing himself, not all that willing to show that he's actually worried about how this is going to go now. He ignores the 'true love' jab. It's not like it's some be all end all magic potion that can cure you of every imperfection. It… simply means you are drawn to one another, complement one another in the best way possible. True love or not, that has nothing to do with the fiasco that has landed him here.
“Considering how eager your first mate looked, he must be pretty disappointed.” Not that he wants to be 'fed to the fishes' as it were, but he wants to know what she's planning now. Essentially the whole trade was very generous of her in the first place. Instead, her best interest would have been to refuse to hand him over until the barrier was actually down. Maybe she simply wasn't used to this kind of negotiation? He'd been trained for it most of his life so it's not too difficult to pick out the flaws, at least in hindsight.
The problem begins if Uma sees it too and comes up with something Mal can't scheme her way around or out of.