& ʟᴏsᴛ/ʙᴏʏ

ɪ'ᴍ ᴄᴜʀsᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀɴɢʀʏ IɴᴅIᴇ / sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ / OUAT OC Pᴇɴɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ Mᴀɴᴜ

[neverlandborn]

Bɪᴏ

Vᴇʀsᴇs

Rᴜʟᴇs

Hᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs / Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ Sᴛᴜᴅʏ

[neverlandborn]

George: this is a divine punishment. I’m just trying to figure out for what in particular this time

[leaderofthenightriders]

Freya sat beneath the tree outside the house. Late-afternoon light filtered through the leaves, washing everything in gold. Her fingers traced the rough bark behind her, grounding herself in its familiar texture. The diamond at her throat pulsed faintly, a warmth she'd long since stopped noticing except when the quiet left her alone with her thoughts.

Footsteps crunched over the gravel. She didn't look up. She knew the rhythm of her father's walk as well as her own heartbeat. George settled beside her without a word. They sat in silence, and she was grateful he had never treated it like something that needed fixing. What she didn't appreciate was the way he kept glancing at her, as though expecting to find wounds she hadn't mentioned.

“Stop looking at me like you can hear my thoughts.” She glanced over at him. “Only Nyx gets to cheat like that.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

@neverlandborn

[neverlandborn]

Having three kids that could be, lovingly of course, be described as troublemakers made george keenly aware of when one of them was off. An “off” that could be translated into needing some space of could be getting lost in their own heads. It was his job to determine which one it was this time

“That seems unfair” he waved Freya off with one hand while sitting down next to her, letting some space between his daughter just in case she needed it “I did help make you, that should give me some credit to know what you’re up to”

[leaderofthenightriders]

Eve kissed him back. It wasn't forgiveness. But it was a promise. They had found their way through everything else. They would find their way through this too.

When she pulled away, she studied his face one more time. The exhaustion was carved into every line, deeper than she'd seen in years. Whatever had happened in Neverland had taken something from him. She could see it in the shadows behind his eyes.

“We should go,” she said, smoothing the front of his shirt where she'd wrinkled it. “Before the kids burn the house down trying to make dinner.”

[neverlandborn]

George hadn’t had a clear idea of what he was coming home to, but this was possibly the best outcome. Even with their argument just having Eve by his side was the thing that kept him going on most days. The darkest one specially

The kiss left the lingering taste of her against his lips, a smile spreading across his face when she mentioned the trio “have some faith in our kids” but history was not in their children’s side “not a fire but perhaps some other house wrecking disaster”

[kingoftheneverwoods]

“A choice,” Mal repeated, tasting the word like it belonged to someone else. “That would require me to know what my options are.”

She set the can on the ground and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. The leather was warm from her body, worn smooth where her fingers always went.

“What about you?” she asked, turning toward him. “How are you handling the whole ‘waking up from a curse and realizing your entire life is a lie’ thing?”

She leaned back against the brick wall.

“Or do you just smoke your way through it and hope it all sorts itself out?”

[neverlandborn]

“Doesn’t that sound fun” beyond taking the chance to tease her with some pseudo intellectual nonsense, he laid his advice there for her her take “and if you can’t find those choices then make them I guess?”

He probably had it coming when her question took him by surprise, the aforementioned vice still dangling from his hand. It wasn’t so much she was prodding at his smoking habits but making him question his own way of dealing-or lack of

“There are no enough cigarettes for that” was the answer he gave her, taking another drag of smoke just for the sake of jest “And truly, who wants to open that can of fucked up?” George himself only let the thoughts plague his mind when it was absolutely necessary and even those were teeth grinding moments

[kingoftheneverwoods]

Harry’s breath caught. For a moment, he couldn’t process the words, couldn’t make them fit into the world he’d built where this was impossible.

“Ye want me,” he repeated softly.

His hands were still pressed against George’s chest. He could feel the steady rhythm beneath his palms, grounding him while everything else felt like it might slip away.

George’s eyes stayed on his. Green and clear, not looking away, not giving Harry the out he’d always expected. Harry swallowed hard.

“If I’ll have ye,” he said, and the laugh that escaped him was wet and broken at the edges. “As if that’s ever been in question.”

He tightened his grip on George’s shirt. “I’ve wanted this for so long I forgot what it was like not to want it.” His voice came out rough, scraping against something raw. “I convinced myself it was never going to happen. That I was seeing things that weren’t there.”

He pressed his forehead harder against George’s. “And now ye’re standing here telling me ye want this too, and I don’t—” His voice cracked. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with it. I keep waiting for ye to take it back.”

Harry’s hands trembled against George’s chest, and he hated himself for it. Hated the way his body betrayed a fear he’d spent years burying. He had built walls around this particular want, and now George was offering him exactly what he’d denied himself. He was terrified.

Not of George. Never of George.

Of himself. Of the darkness he carried. Of the legacy written into his bones.

“What if I’m not worth it?” The question slipped out before he could catch it, small and raw. “What if I can’t be what ye need?”

His eyes opened, finding George’s. Searching for the lie he was certain must be there somewhere. The hesitation. The doubt.

“Because I’m not—” He stopped, jaw working. “I’m broken in ways I don’t know how to fix.”

[neverlandborn]

Wasn’t it funny how the two of them had spend so long wanting each other? One push of reckless courage was all that stood between the two of them for all of those years.

“I don’t think there’s taking back from here” A sigh conveyed all of his emotions, the weight of Harry’s forehead against his own and the pressure of their bodies against each other spreading a new kind of warm all over him “my heart poured out of my chest and straight into your hands. Do what you want with that”

“Harry” he managed out to whisper the name with that tone he seemed to be only able to speak when it came to the pirate “listen to me”

“Everything I’ve said and everything i could ever feel comes down to this: because you’re you. Nothing less, nothing more. That’s who I need you to be”

[kingoftheneverwoods]

Malcolm flinched when George’s fingers found the swollen joint. The pain was sharp and bright, cutting through the dull ache that had settled over everything else.

“Like hell,” Malcolm said, and meant it. The swelling had already started. He could feel it through the fabric of his trousers, hot and tight, throbbing with every heartbeat. Nibs had put his whole weight behind that swing. The kid was getting stronger. They all were.

Malcolm let his head fall back against the blanket. George's fingers pressed carefully around the joint. Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the crack in the ceiling. He'd counted every fork and split often enough to know them by heart. Sixty-three branches. Like a tree frozen in stone. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding. Small mercies.

Malcolm closed his eyes. His mother's face appeared anyway. The way she looked at him sometimes, as though she were trying to solve a puzzle she already knew the answer to.

“Don't tell Mum,” he said. The words came out quieter than he intended. He cleared his throat. “I don't want her to know. You know what it does to her.”

[neverlandborn]

Brows creased with worry, he did his best to make things quick and as painless as possible- which was very little. He offered hushed apologies to his brother as he wrapped his knee with a piece of cloth. An apt metaphor of his attempts to take care of Malcolm: too late and often useless in the long run

“We need to come out with something” came his reply after a few beats of silence. Even if he had energy to argue, both knew their mother would find out and her reaction would be tenfold over their -small, completely justified- white lie

“And you need to rest” now there was some sternness injected into his tone alongside that protectiveness that always took the wheel when it came to his siblings. Mal getting better was his priority, always “the leg we could hide but the eyebrow…”

[kingoftheneverwoods]

Wendy watched her son's shoulders slump as he dropped back into his chair. The anger had given way to guilt. She didn't like that any better.

“It's not fair,” she agreed softly. “But fair has never had much to do with our family.”

She came around the counter and wrapped her arms around her eldest son, holding him the way she had when he was little. For a moment, he was just her boy again.

“George.” She stroked his hair. She knew him well enough to recognize what this was. George collected his family's burdens as though carrying them himself could somehow make them lighter.

“This isn’t your burden to carry,” she said quietly. “None of it is.”

[neverlandborn]

George let out a frustrated huff, already winding himself up for another rant when her arms wrapped around him. It had been a long time since he had grown tall enough he constantly needed to be cranking his neck down to look at his mother whenever she spoke but when she hugged him it was if he could still fit his head in the crock of her neck. His hand lift up to hold her back in half a hug, a part of him knowing this was what the two of them needed at the moment.

It still had the same effect on his short fuse as well

“And what else am i supposed to do with it?” He bit out once he could trust his voice again “it shouldn’t be yours to carry alone either”

[neverlandborn]

If you see me making a professional!football AU it’s the World cup’s fault

[neverlandborn]

Insp

[mcflymemes]

ORIGINAL CHARACTER QUESTIONS & HEADCANONS * collection #1

how long ago did you create your oc? how did the idea come to you?

how would you describe your oc's core aesthetic?

if your oc had a theme song, what would it be?

what inspires you when writing your oc?

does your oc have a faceclaim? if so, why did you choose them? if they don't have a faceclaim, why not?

does your oc have any particular ties to certain fandoms? how do they fit into the dynamics of these fandoms and their existing characters?

what are some of your favorite ships with your oc?

what do you think makes your oc unique?

what qualities do you and your oc have in common?

what makes you and your oc different?

does your oc have any quirks or habits?

in your opinion, what's the hardest thing to do when creating an oc?

in your opinion, what's the easiest thing to do when creating an oc?

are there any canon characters that inspired your oc?

are there any canon characters you wish would interact with your oc?

what's your opinion on ocs in general?

do you have any hot takes about ocs?

what colors do you associate with your oc?

what do you think your oc smells like?

are there any important npcs in your oc's life? what are they like?

how would other characters describe your oc?

[slythelostboy]

"Go on, I'm listening." The thrill of potential chaos sparked his interest, but Slightly's impatience began to bubble over. He loathed being left in the shadows. "Am I at least in on the plan, right?" The thought of being excluded from the fun was enough to leave him thoroughly deflated.

"Tootles is an arse? I still haven’t gotten over that little stunt he pulled, cheating me out of an ivory-handled dagger I rightfully won. That dirty piece of work… I should’ve jabbed his eyes out with a sharp stick for what he did. He’s been asking for it... for a long time."

[neverlandborn]

“Daft and impatient” George gave a long suffering sigh before he flicked slightly on the forehead. Always rushing into things was the reason that their endeavors tended to end up with Sly in some sort of situation more often than not

“You’ll get it back” probably. And if it was good motivation for the other so be it “but we have to be smarter than him. That’ll ensure it”

[lankyboyfelix]

“Oh, but it definitely will,” he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. George’s stubbornness didn’t faze him in the slightest. With just a little more coaxing and a teasing glimpse of his weakness, he was certain he could turn the tables.

"You know your mother better than anyone, everyone except Pan," he said, the last part lingering bitterly in his mouth. But he pushed on, to appear unfazed. "The moment she finds out her boy is in trouble, do you really think she'll just sit back and do nothing? It's your stubbornness that will lead to your downfall. It won't be me who brings you down, it will be you."

"Come on, George," Felix urged, leaning in a bit closer, his voice steady but persistent. "Just tell me why you abandoned your post. Your mother doesn't have to know a thing about it. It really is that simple."

[neverlandborn]

It was the oldest trick in world: pushing the most obvious of George’s buttons. He wouldn’t save his own neck but he would risk it for his mother. It was a low blow that tended to work.

But if there was something that measured up to his protective instinct was his stubbornness. Any threat just cemented his idea that showing any sign of weakness would be used against him at the first opportunity “she had nothing to do with this. Nobody does”

[leaderofthenightriders]

Eve dropped her hand from his cheek, but she didn't step back. The space between them remained stubbornly small.

She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and closed her eyes. The anger was still there. It would be there for a while; she knew herself well enough to admit that. But it had gone quiet.

“I'm still angry,” she said. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Let's go home.”

She didn't move. Her forehead remained against his shoulder, her fingers still loosely curled in the front of his shirt.

Going home meant the kids. It meant Orion checking the door in the morning and finding George there this time. It meant Nyx and Freya and the particular chaos of a house that was too loud, too full, and exactly right. It also meant she had to pull herself together before they walked through that door. She would not let her children see her like this.

[neverlandborn]

“I’ll be ready when you are” The weight of her against his chest settled in easily. Eve had carved a space for herself there a long time ago. George made a noncommittal noise at the mention of her anger: the years that he had known her gave him enough experience to know this was far from over but at least they could go home now. Together and back with their children. “I’ve missed them too” he let out a sigh while his mind pushed back against whatever explanation he would have to give them too.

Tilting her head up, he thought a kiss was long overdue. Not as a way to brush everything off but as a confirmation of where they would go from there

[kingoftheneverwoods]

Mal turned the empty blue can over in her hands. The metal was cold and light, almost weightless now that it had nothing left inside it. She set it against the wall instead of putting it back in her bag.

“That’s a convenient thing to tell yourself,” she said. “My mother—Regina—she actually loves me.” The words felt strange to say out loud, like pressing on a bruise just to see if it still hurt. “That's the complicated part. It would be easier if she didn't. Then I could just leave and feel righteous about it.” She picked the empty can up again. She didn't know why she kept reaching for it. “But she does, and she still wants me to be someone I'm not sure I am anymore.”

She glanced at him then. He was lighting the new cigarette with the same quiet economy he seemed to bring to everything he did. Not watching her too closely. Not pretending not to watch her either. He occupied the middle in a way most people couldn’t manage. He just stood in an alley and smoked like the conversation could go anywhere or nowhere, and either outcome would suit him fine.

It was disarming in a way she didn’t particularly appreciate.

“I spent eighteen years being Mallory Mills. I got decent grades. I had a bedroom with a window seat. I knew where everything was.” She exhaled.

“And now I'm supposed to claim some kind of dark legacy I don't even remember having. I don't remember what either of them looks like, and I don't know if that's better or worse.”

[neverlandborn]

His cigarette was a great excuse to keep the quiet for a beat longer, allowing his thoughts to gather around rather than just pour out in the same knotted way they flew around his mind. Only he couldn't keep that up unless he smoked his third one before noon

"nobody's entitled to anything from you" he managed out with a puff of smoke at her expectant look "biological relations or not- so that also goes for madame mayor" a little shrug accompanied that last part, just in case it could be used against him in the future. Not from her but in general "Shouldn't that be a choice instead of a chain?"

[kingoftheneverwoods]

I want to.

Harry didn't trust himself to speak. His throat had gone tight.

He'd spent a very long time convincing himself this was never going to happen. That he was reading into things. That whatever George felt, it couldn't possibly be this.

He’d been so certain he was alone in it. Wanting someone was one thing. Believing they could want him back had always been harder.

His hands were still pressed against George's chest. He could feel George's heartbeat beneath his palms, faster than it should have been, and it did something to him, knowing that.

George's body was giving him away just as badly as his own.

“Ye want to,” Harry repeated quietly.

He lifted his head slightly. The space between their foreheads filled with a breath of cold air.

George's green eyes were right there, and Harry realized how tired they looked. Not physically. The kind of tired that came from carrying something heavy for a very long time.

Harry knew that tired. He’d seen it in mirrors.

“Even knowing what it means?” Harry asked. “My father. Yours. All of it?”

He needed to hear it said plainly. Needed George to say it out loud where neither of them could take it back.

Harry was terribly good at convincing himself he'd misunderstood things. He also had a hard time separating reality from fiction. If he found a crack in something, it became difficult not to question the whole thing. To wonder if it was just another elaborate hallucination.

Don’t let me talk myself out of this. Don’t let me find the reason it isn’t real.

[neverlandborn]

"even with all of that" george rested his forehead against harry's with another thump, the tiredness of his shoulders weighing down on his entire body. It wouldn't be a smooth road, george was are of that, but it was something he wanted to take a risk on. Something he would take that little leap of faith for

The quiet between them could only stretch for so long with all the history that hung around them. He couldn't ignore it even if he wanted to

"i want this. I want you" with his eyes wide open, he made sure harry was paying attention to his words. Getting lost inside his head was something the pirate was known to do if left unattended for too long "you get it? you and me. if you'll have me"

[kingoftheneverwoods]

Malcolm kept his eyes on the ceiling.

“Nibs had the stick,” he said finally. “He got my knee.” He shifted carefully against the blanket before adding, “The rest was mostly Curly and Tootles.”

A beat.

“Peter watched.”

That had been the worst part. Peter hadn't even bothered to join in. He'd stood at the edge of the clearing with his arms crossed and that expression on his face. The one that wasn't quite a smile.

Malcolm had stopped looking at Peter's face a long time ago. It was easier that way. Looking at Peter meant seeing the moment his expression changed. That small, cold thing that passed through his eyes whenever they landed on Malcolm. He’d figured out what it was eventually. It had taken him years.

It wasn't hate, exactly. It was something worse.

Grief turned sour. A man looking at a face he couldn't forgive for existing.

His father’s face.

Felix’s face.

He breathed out slowly. His ribs protested the movement.

“Don't,” he said. “Whatever you're thinking about doing.” Malcolm shifted against the blanket and stared at the crack running through the limestone ceiling above him. “It makes it worse.” He swallowed. “You know it makes it worse.”

[neverlandborn]

"worse than this?" he hadn't meant to snap at Malcolm. None of this was his fault, that's what made george angrier (lies-everything about it made him angry. This was just the most recent one )

The first thought that came to him was easy and quick, all about enacting vengeance on them so that at least someone felt the same pain his brother went through constantly.

But that wouldn't do anything in the long run. It would only make it worse for Malcolm, actually. Because it was always twisted around in a way that the youngest of them ended up paying for it.

Letting out a groan, he decided it was better to focus on something positive -like their mother often said- and started to pat around Mal's knee for the injury "That hurt?"