Well well, a codfish on a hook

curiouslittlemermaid:

Ariel craned her neck to watch his silly antics. She hadn’t had a good laugh in awhile. Down where it’s wetter, everything was princess do’s and don’ts. She didn’t get nearly enough time for fun. She would have thanked him for that, but she thought it might sound stupid to a boy like him. Clamping her lips shut, she felt him move closer to sit down on the rock. She was about to return her gaze to the sea when she saw his finger jam up his nose. After having a double-take at his expression, she burst out laughing. She had to cover her mouth to keep from sounding like an over joyous seal. Trying to hold it back caused her face to turn red.

“Ahhhhh!” She hunched over herself, hugging her stomach with both arms. “You- you look ridiculous! Ahahaha!”

When her laughter finally died down, she wiped away tears from her eyes. She hadn’t seen anything like that before. Even merboys were proper- at least most of them were. She hadn’t ever seen one cross their eyes like that. What an ugly display! It was funny!

“Ew, ahahaha! Gosh, how old are you? Like seven!?”

Peter was practically flying. He was elated right to the point where he could have shot up into the clouds. Her hysterical reaction only encouraged him to further wrack his thoughts for anything even more outrageous. When her giggles ceased, and his own too, for he’d been snorting along, very pleased with himself, his sopping wet hair falling in his eyes. Perhaps there was water in his ear too, because one side felt funny and her laughter and the rush of the sea every time it bounded off the rock sounded far away in his left ear.

“You look like a tomato when you laugh,” he retorted back, though he was still laughing a little. Her red hair though, combined with her red face from her hysterical laughter, did end up with an overall scarlet coloured mermaid. “But tomatoes are tasty,” he amended, although it wasn’t particularly related. Did mermaids have tomatoes?

Scrunching up his nose at the question, Peter shrugged, not thinking very hard about it. “I’m as old as a boy. And not any older.” Peter had no idea when he’d stopped growing. And there had been the times here on earth that had made him grow older but then he’d gone back to Neverland and his features round and playful again. “How old are you? Six?” He tried to imitate her tone in the question, smirking.

james-hook:

“I think you and I both know I could never quite throw you overboard,” Hook answered offhandedly, knowing that he would never hit the water if Hook had the chance throw him overboard. He smirked with Peter’s face on the smell of the cheese. “Someone as clever as you would make someone like me look like a fool,” again, Hook avoided adding.

The fact that Peter had skipped his question didn’t help keep Hook in good spirits about the intruder, but the last thing he needed was his pirating crew of misfits running in blazing guns, and risking lives and Hook’s state of being. He heard them below as Cookson clearly resumed his duty below, which was to feed the crew.

He wondered if they would find out what was going on up here through the cook. 

It was true, but the captain admitting it was a lot less fun than him trying it. He caught his smirk instead and, not wanting to be outdone, popped the cheese in his mouth. Peter shrugged, “I’ve tasted better.” The putrid strength of the explosion on his taste buds made it more difficult to keep a straight face. He was undecided as to whether he liked it or not, but there was rarely a chance to have cheese in Neverland unless he brought it back from earth himself, stolen from some grocer somewhere, so he took another chunk. “Too right I would!” He agreed heartily as he darted back from the desk, the cheese in his hand. Peter was always light on his feet, always ready to get away.

“I was fishing,” he said abruptly. “I thought I might” - here Peter broke into a grin, as if just remembering - “Borrow something to bait them with? Cheese, your hat, or I could use a new hook too!” He waved his hand at him, curved in the shape of a pretend hook. 

speed-machine:

“Uhh…not exactly. Sometimes people get here by accident, but I don’t think anyone’s ever taken a plane to get here from outside. I mean…I’ve seen some people with spaceships,” Turbo shrugged, but he really didn’t have anything to say on the matter. As much as he loved engines and building he new next to nothing about planes or flying crafts. He’d thought about stealing a space ship from asteroids years ago, but they were long gone now. “Sometimes you see planes fly by in the background, but I don’t think anyone is actually flying those things,” he added. Some older games he’d known had little things flying around, but in his experience he’d never run into a plane pilot or anything like that.

Turbo looked over at Peter’s feet and hands and shook his head. “Well, it’s not gonna start if you keep doin’ that. Lemme show you,” he said, taking the time to explain the different pedals and the gear shift. It had been a while since he’d had to explain driving to anyone. It came as naturally as breathing to him, so the thought of having to explain it took him a second or two to completely register. “Just try different combos of those things. You’ll get it,” he nodded, starting the car for the boy just for good measure.

Peter’s eyes boggled at that word. Spaceships? “Ships for space?” He reworded himself, sounding like an idiot but too full of incredulity to care. If he only thought about it, Peter had commandeered a flying ship. But his own mind was too full of grand, chugging hunks of metal flying into the sky. He couldn’t believe Turbo didn’t seem all that interested in it. “Someone must be flying them,” he muttered, more to himself than Turbo under his breath. “Otherwise they’d crash, wouldn’t they?”

Listening very vaguely, Peter only really caught the last sentence; it was the only one that felt of any importance to him. His hesitation hadn’t cost him any self confidence. Taking a random chance, Peter went forth to press the pedals ferociously, his arm taking a few twists to get used to the movement of the gears. Suddenly, the car jerked forward and although he whacked his head on the back of the seat, his skull jarring on the helmet, Peter grinned in delight - it was one of the most briefly powerful things he’d ever experience, the lurch of the engine. It wasn’t going to stay brief. After a few more experimental touches, the car gave a satisfyingly loud starting vroom and Peter found himself hurling onto the track.

hiddenblondie:

Rapunzel laughed and nodded but her face fell when his averted her question. “I get it… you have a reputation to uphold and all that. Can’t let people know too much or the mystery goes away.”

The golden princess lifted her bowl and drank her soup instead of using a soup. Behind them the lights were snuffed and the giant wooden light fixture in the middle was pulled so the makeshift stage was the only thing lit.

“Oh I think it’s starting-“

Whatever questions she may have wanted to ask were silenced by the sound of cheering and the exuberant introduction to Fang’s puppet theater. The first thing shown was a wooden raindrop painted gold on a stick which fell down to the bottom of the stage and from there a magic flower was pulled up.

It told the story of the flower, how it helped her mother and how it had been protected by Gothel. How she had snuck into the castle and stolen Rapunzel in the dead of night.

The tower, Flynn’s chase down the forest and how they met. Rapunzel watched her story presented with an impersonal air to her. Like it really wasn’t her story but some kind of fairytale that was better left for books and bedtime stories.

Opening his mouth to protest, the Doctor found that perhaps it was partly true. What was he without his secrets, without pretending he was full of magic and mystery? Just a man who would never grow up. “I could tell you a few stories-” he started, eager not to have upset her.

But he was broke off too by the sound of cheering which he automatically joined without having a clue what he was clapping and whooping for. He squinted onto the stage, his lips tugging up in amusement. What in space-

The Peter Doctor leaned forward in his seat. Everyone else seemed to know what was going to happen, reacting a few seconds before him. He almost forgot about his companion. When they reached the part of her leaving the tower, he glanced over at her. This was her? A lost princess. “I have to admit, that this is better than my stories. You probably don’t need to hear mine if you’ve done this,” he said over an especially loud cheer as this Flynn Rider was bullied by a rather grumpy looking horse puppet. He grimaced, feeling a little jealous in his childish way. He was most probably never going to be a lost princess, he thought to himself wryly.

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

Jane was still at a bit of a loss for how to receive Peter’s talk of fairy friends and imaginary lands.  That is, she could hardly help but assume such things were imaginary until and unless she saw them with her own eyes.  She was a scientist, or wanted to be, and that meant reason and observation and experimentation - not accepting every account of unicorns fairies that chanced her way.

Of course, the only mention of fairies that Jane could recall occurring recently was today’s jaunt off to the lake with Peter.  ”Er, I suppose you could call this my holiday,” Jane acknowledge frankly, chuckling.  ”Daddy and I came to Africa on a sort of holiday - ” of course it had been really to research gorillas but somehow she doubted Peter would be interested in the details ” - and ended up staying.”

“Africa? This is Africa?” Peter picked up on it immediately, swinging around to look at her and then his surroundings, everything seeming in a completely different light. He’d seen Africa on maps and he’d heard of the crazy creatures and impenetrable places there. They clearly didn’t know what they were talking about, because Africa wasn’t a wilderness. It was beautiful. Peter had been here, to places around here before but he hadn’t known it was Africa. It made it sound so much more exotic. This coming from the boy who lived on a tropical island.

Peter smiled. ‘Ended up staying’ sounded pretty familiar. He’d ran away to Neverland without thinking and ended up staying. “Is it nicer here than where you used to stay?” He thought it must be - surely there couldn’t be a much better place on Earth for adventures than in this jungle. He pushed aside the undergrowth as if got thicker. “It’s through this bit here. I think. Everything does look different on the ground.” He squinted pasting moss covered creepers and trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the small clearing. Light, there’d be light. Peter’s thinking wasn’t conscious - it was instinct that drove him on and told him what to look for.

curiouslittlemermaid:

hahanevergrowingup:

The seaweed ended up tangled in Peter’s hair - he left it, not minding its rubbery tentacles tickling his neck. “I’m not afraid of seaweed at all! I wear it as a crown!” He struck a pose, hands on hips and a lofty smirk on his face. This mermaid was even more fun than the ones back in Neverland. They might have thrown a fit if he’d thrown seaweed at him. They probably would have complained about their hair.

Peter was most definitely drenched now. “You have a big tail, that’s unfair!” He whined, though he wasn’t one to sit and sulk. Tasting the fresh sea salt on his lips, he knew that there was no point in trying to splash her. Shaking his hair like dog, he scraped up a bundle of purplish seaweed and bounded over to her in one jump, dumping it right on her head.

She grinned from ear to ear at his showoff-y display. He was a ridiculous sight to behold. Slimy strands of seaweed hung from his head, shoulders, and bent arms. He looked more like a sea monster. Except, he wasn’t all that intimidating. Clapping her hands, she called up to the boy. “All hail the seaweed king!” Her joyful proclamation was quickly replaced by a string of light giggles. 

Her laughter was cut short when she felt something heavy and drooping plopped right on to her head. She could smell the salty plants and didn’t have to guess what was there. 

“Ewww, Peter! That’s…okay this is gross!” Ariel laughed and peeled the seaweed off. She flung it back into the ocean and pulled her tail up on the rock. She held it close to her chest as if it were a pair of legs.

Despite Peter’s faults - his love of being the centre of attention and his carelessness and recklessness - he did love to make people smile. Her grin was simultaneously infectious and fueling. He continued on like that for a few seconds, lifting his hands in the air, miming great triumph. If one had similar imagination to him, a person could just about see the seaweed form a crown on his head, he was so convinced in himself.

Her tail didn’t intrigue him, as beautiful as its reflecting scales were. He was used to it. Peter laughed and rolled over in the air to sit next to her, settling beside her a little cautiously (in case of any further splashing or seaweed attacks). Then again, he was half soaked through already, water dripping down his back; the seaweed was still in his hair too. It was starting too feel too cold and clammy against him so he dragged it off. “I am gross,” he emphasised proudly by sticking a finger up each nostril and crossing his eyes. It was a rather spontaneous act of delightful boyishness.

themanwiththesatchel:

“The top of the tallest church steeple,” Flynn said, then held up a finger and added, “The next town over.” Which would be approximately north of where they were. “Doesn’t matter how you get there. You just have to get there first.”

He uncrossed his arms and stretched, even rolling his head on his neck. “Ready?”

While this Flynn man clearly knew the place better than he did, Peter could fly up and quickly identify where the next town was. He looked so confident, the boy almost found it laughable. Any way at all? Did he think he could run faster than Peter could fly? “The top of the steeple? We have to reach the top of it?” Peter’s smile was triumphant as if he’d already won.

He didn’t need anything to prepare himself. Only pausing to blow his fringe out of his eyes, he tried to stare Flynn down, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “Ready when you are.”

james-hook:

There was an odd sound outside of his cabin and Hook tensed. He knew that it was not the crew below, but something else.

“Capt … capt,” Coookson was stuttering, and Hook’s hand became poised to snatch his sword if the threat came within.

Upon seeing Peter Pan, Hook’s initial thought was, ‘so much for a peaceful vacation from our earthy burdens’.

“Pan,” Hook answered, smirking inside at Peter’s observation about cheese. It was nice to have the luxury of traveling bck and forth thanks to Cornwell’s discovery of fairy dust’s special properties. Seeing the galley cook staring stupefied between Hook and Pan, Hook gestured with his hook to go back to his duties.

It Peter Pan was here to pester any of the staff on the ship, there was only one person in particular.

The Captain.

“What do you want?” Hook asked, his voice was chiseled with annoyance.

Although the satisfaction of the cook’s surprise kept Peter buoyant for a few moments, it faded just as quickly as it had appeared. In his eternal childhood, he was constantly searching and craving attention, in all the most dramatic ways. So Hook’s annoyance did make him grin, it was hardly enough. Peter edged closer to the table, his arms hanging by his side and his expression completely unafraid. His funny accent that he’d put on dropped and he leant forward, quick as you like, and snatched a rounded chunk of pale cheese.

“Aren’t you going to throw me off the ship?” He pouted slightly and nibbled off a bit of the cheese, making a face at its pungent smell. He ignored the captain’s own question. Gone were the days of quick tempers, it appeared. Then again, Hook had always been a cunning figure; perhaps he was playing a trick. He couldn’t outwit (the amazing) Peter Pan, but he’d certainly tried.

adellaenchanted:

In the same that she knew Peter Pan, and in even the shorter time that she declared him her number one enemy (not rival, she had no rivals), Adella didn’t think that he’d make her laugh as easily as he’d done. At the poor expensive of the man and an unhappy donkey, the two shared in heavy bouts of giggling. Of course, neither one felt the smallest scrap of guilt for what he’d done!

She scuttled after him, in however best a way you could use to describe how she flew after Peter. While they did, she blew out the candles in all of the open windows, rattled the cast iron signs for shops, plucked the hats off of unsuspecting men and women, and asked Peter if he could top all of that.

It was one thing to be mischevious in Neverland when there was only the morose Captain Hook to pester and monkeys sleeping to disturb. Here on Earth in the bustling cities and towns, there were a thousand more targets. Peter had to stand back and admire Adella’s ease of bothering, as it was. Usually people said boring things like ‘Won’t they get upset?’ and ‘Won’t people mind?’ Peter hardly ever looked at anyone with admiration, in fact, it happened just about never. Like her shadow, he danced about her gracefully and while she still lacked that in her movements, she made up for it in the havoc she left behind. Peter made faces in windows, wiggling his fingers in a cheeky wave to the rather gobsmacked and angry people.

“I can top anything, I’ll have you know.” Gathering up the hats that Adella had just tipped off, Peter had to dodge the hands snatching at his collar. He stacked them one on top of each other. With a sharp glance, he picked out all the children in the crowd. Each one gave him a confused, rather toothy grin as he plopped various feathered, velvety and silky hats. He reserved two for himself: one simple black top hat and a curved, fashionable maroon lady’s hat. He grabbed Adella’s hand to pull her along quicker. “Do you want a hat too?”

speed-machine:

Turbo blinked, perhaps a bit stupidly, as Peter explained. Fairies…he’d seen some of them in other games, but last time he checked they didn’t grant the power to fly. Maybe the rules were different in this game? That wouldn’t have been all that strange. Rules changed all the time, especially from game to game and apparently universe to universe.  “Pixie dust and happy thoughts…” It sounded like a fairytale. Maybe it was. “Huh…I’ve never heard of that before, but I guess I haven’t heard of a lot of stuff,” he shrugged, but he was still quite interested. Flight…high above everyone else.

A grin etched itself on Turbo’s face as Peter agreed with him. He shook his head good-naturedly at his enthusiasm that never seemed to let up and always seemed to bounce from thing to thing with ease. Turbo had to let it sink in that the boy was looking at him for approval, and he nodded his head quickly. “Go for it, kiddo. I wanna see this.”

Peter, like every strange world or place he stumbled into, had no idea about any games. He rambled on like no tomorrow and would have done so until the sheep came home if he was given a topic, regardless of whether they knew what he was talking about. “Most people haven’t heard of it,” he conceded smugly. He didn’t know a lot of stuff either. “Can’t anyone fly here? Isn’t there planes?” He might be able to fly with nothing but buoyant thoughts but the monstrously awe inspiring plane contraptions still fascinated Peter.

Letting out a hoot, Peter finally allowed himself to tumble into the car. He righted himself, wriggling into the seat and placing his hands firmly on the steering wheel. After staring hard ahead of him for a few moments, he realised he lacked something. “It won’t start,” he mumbled. He might have watched Turbo drive but being so caught up in the excitement of a car, he had no idea how to turn the engine on.

undyingmother:

Gothem forced a smile. He felt awkward and disappointed, as he was looking for… well, females that weren’t children. He hoped that no one would think of him as a child predator. Despite his urge to leave this conversation immediately, he remained polite. “Father Gothem. I have a child, I’m a father.”he said, wanting to clear up to anyone who might be watching that he was not pursuing a little girl. “Nice to meet you.”

Petra was completely unaware of the man’s intentions - she tended to disregard everyone’s expectations and focused on her own, being the one that mattered. It wasn’t deliberate malevolence…just her nature. “Father Gothem?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Most fathers don’t call themselves father,” she said. “I’m Petra,” she announced, despite not being asked. “It could be nice to meet you, but I don’t know yet.”

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

“Oh,” said Jane, nearly tripping over a tree root in her confusion.  She scowled at it as she passed, as if it had tried to do so on purpose.  But tree roots didn’t have a mind of their own, any more than fairies were real.  While Jane might have felt the tiniest bit of doubt in her certainty, she had been raised forever to think logically and so that was bound to win out.

Peter did have an awfully vivid imagination.  And magic did exist - she knew that now.  She’d seen a friend turn into a mermaid, she’d heard another friend swear that she had been raised by three fairies…but somehow it stretched the imagination to think of the creatures Peter described, raising a child.  It was all very confusing.  ”And you know all of this,” she drawled, looking incongruously unsure, “because you’ve…met one?”

“She’s my best friend,” Peter said automatically then reconsidered for a moment. He had other friends…like Wendy, even though she’d gone away to grow up. And Helga was his friend. “She’s one of my best friends,” he amended, so as not to offend anyone, even if none of them were present. After all, he’d be terribly insulted if they had not chosen him as one of his best friends. He’d better ask them next time he had the chance…

“You’re going to meet one soon too! Probably. Unless he, or she, decided that he didn’t like the jungle at all for a holiday. Have you ever been on holiday?” Peter thought holidays sounded quite interesting, but not the ones his mother wanted, with dour country walks with sheep. Thank goodness he’d never had to go on any dour country walks with dull, chomping sheep. As much as he liked sheep, they were hardly good for adventures.

((I’m so sorry I haven’t been on and I missed Genderbent DWRP week mostly but I’ll reply to everything tomorrow! I’ve been at a camp with horrendous 3G signal. :/ ))

curiouslittlemermaid:

Ariel was thrown into a fit of giggles as the slimy green plant hit her face. Peeling it off, she drew her arm back and chucked it right back at him. “You’re not afraid of sea weed, are ya sea-snake!?” She was grinning from ear to ear with their silly fun. When was the last time she enjoyed herself like this with another? It was always lessons upon lessons back home. Even Flounder would shrink away from a bubble ball. Peter Pan was just the sort of friend she needed right now.

The laughing mermaid drew herself up on to the rock and whipped her fin into the air, sending a wave of water heading straight for him. Hoping she hit her target, she shielded her face from any oncoming seaweed with her arms. Her giggles were light and carefree. This was the life!

The seaweed ended up tangled in Peter’s hair - he left it, not minding its rubbery tentacles tickling his neck. “I’m not afraid of seaweed at all! I wear it as a crown!” He struck a pose, hands on hips and a lofty smirk on his face. This mermaid was even more fun than the ones back in Neverland. They might have thrown a fit if he’d thrown seaweed at him. They probably would have complained about their hair.

Peter was most definitely drenched now. “You have a big tail, that’s unfair!” He whined, though he wasn’t one to sit and sulk. Tasting the fresh sea salt on his lips, he knew that there was no point in trying to splash her. Shaking his hair like dog, he scraped up a bundle of purplish seaweed and bounded over to her in one jump, dumping it right on her head.

thewendydarlingbird:

“Well, of course. I expected as though I’ve been telling stories to the boys you would listen sometime. I just wondered when. I didn’t doubt you coming, I just wondered when you’d finally show yourself.” Wendy grinned at him.

Wendy pondered his question for a moment. “I moved out of the nursery,” she told him slowly. “And I suppose I’ve been fabulously clever as well, however nobody can be as fabulously clever as the great Peter Pan.” She giggled at him.

She knew him. He wondered if she had missed him, and of course the answer was yes, but he was the boy who never grew up. So she answered his question in the same air of nonchalance as he had proposed it, letting the words “yes, of course!” slide off her lips like a light breeze.

Peter was under the firm impression that people forgot about him. The same way that they forgot about toys and playing and having fun when they went to school and grew up. She still told stories about him? He’d come once but they’d all been fast asleep. He would never admit it, but he’d been too scared to even tap on the window. His own grin widened to match hers. “I always turn up, after all,” he said proudly, as if he hadn’t even doubted himself.

But her words reminded him that she had moved out of the nursery - which he had known. It hurt. “You’ve been almost as fabulously clever as me, maybe. You’re as close as it is to get.” Her giggle set up a bar for him: he had to have her laugh like that again. That’s what he did best, wasn’t it? “It’s no laughing matter, Wendy!” He said, with a mock stern face that only collpased into giggles itself.

Peter ate her words up like air. “I’m quite pleased too, I suppose.” He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “So, wouldn’t you like to go somewhere?” And there was that question that they both knew now, though it wasn’t a question at all, but a compelling call. Come away to Neverland.

Genderbent Peter for the week: Petra Pan

Always and forever a girl

undyingmother:

“I’m not a lady,” Petra said vehemently, as the thought was despicable. But after a moment’s consideration, she continued, “I do like to chat though. Who’re you?” 

james-hook:

The door to Hook’s cabin was knocked on, and Hook set his book aside curious not by who was at the door but rather what Johnny Cookson has created, and what was ruined. It wasn’t all that big of a deal, but overcooked bread was not very appetizing for a morning meal.

“Enter, Mister Cookson,”

Johnny entered with a large silver platter.

“Good morning, Captain,”

“Mister Cookson,” Hook tipped his head in greeting.

“The morning meal,” Cookson set the platter on the ornamental table and Hook caught the wiff of something tasteful. Rising from his seat by the window, Hook crossed the cabin to the table. A selection of meats, cheeses, fruit, and (oh Cookson baked it right!) slices of freshly baked bread. The butter however clearly was no good.

Hook wouldn’t complain today. He had been more upset when the tea and coffee had run out. He had taken to desalinized water instead for his morning meal.

“Very good, Mister Cookson,” Hook observed in a dismissal tone hearing the crew was beginning to stir in the lower levels of the ship. One, Hook could hear had trouble getting out of his cot, when he made a loud thump against the floorboards. Another below made some ghastly sounds that Hook dared not try to identify.

“Off you go then, Mister Cookson,” noticing that the cook was still standing, “The crew needs to be fed,”

“Thank you sir,” Cookson left, and Hook plucked a slice of cheese and an almost overripe apple from the platter. 

Just as Peter knocked the door opened - but it was not Hook. Peering up through his locks, he grinned. He was familiar in some sense with all of the crew. Maybe he hadn’t had a civilised conversation with most of them, but he’d certainly had at least one scuffle with at least half. And with Mister Cookson…Peter may have disturbed his kitchen a couple of times.

He could smell good food on him. No doubt he’d just been cooking breakfast for the captain and his crew. Peter’s own stomach growled slightly. The fish were supposed to have been his breakfast, him being sure that he would manage to catch one. But arriving here on the boat was going to be more fun than fishing and breakfast.

“Goooood morning, Cookie!” He tipped his little hat towards him, and while the man was still stunned at the sight of him, he slipped through the small gap between him and the door frame, his dagger clutched in his hands, for no reason other than he liked to have his trustyworthy dagger with him.

His eyes first caught sight of the breakfast and he broke out into a grin. “I haven’t had cheese in too long! Good morning, Hook!” Surprise was always Peter’s key advantage. He could pop up almost anywhere he liked after all.

superherotimelorddetective:

choc-o-late:

est-offensa-et-mirari:

deppsydoodle:

deppsydoodle:

why is peter pan always flying?

he neverlands

I love this joke because it never grows old

It has a nice hook.

This doesn’t make sense. I’m lost, boys

themanwiththesatchel:

“The only thing you’re running from is the fashion police,” Flynn muttered under his breath. The boy wore a leotard and tights, for God’s sake.

Louder, asked Peter, “So, you’re faster than everyone… How about a race?” Arms akimbo, he did his best to look as athletic and intimidating as possible. Though he’d had an idea clever enough that he probably wouldn’t have to exert himself too much today, which was just as well. He wasn’t about to prove anything to a kid who hadn’t even hit puberty yet.

Peter didn’t understand the reference, but he understood it as an insult. Fashion was barely a word that he knew - as a young boy it wasn’t something he’d ever considered. He scowled slightly, trying to wonder what he could mean.

Eyes flashing with eagerness, there was no way in heaven or hell that Peter would ever let this opportunity go. “A race to where?” His mouth curved into a smile with his own confidence - no one beat Peter Pan ever. To him, that man looked rather ridiculous. Sure, he was proof you didn’t have to be muscly to be fast, but Peter never found anyone intimidating.

stitchedsallydoll:

“Alright, if you say so.” Sally nodded. She took one last glance at the blood (what little there was as Peter pointed out) and grimaced slightly. As long as the stuff wasn’t coming out of her, she would be alright. She shook her head. 

“Push forward, okay…” She watched his demonstration, determined to get better. “Wouldn’t want the enemy to take advantage, right?” She practiced off to the side, hacking and slashing while pushing forward. “Because, if I stop-” Another slash. “-I’ll be exposed, right? I’ll get hit and bleed.” One last swing before she rounded on Peter. “And bleeding doesn’t look all that enjoyable.”

She pressed forward like Peter directed her to, but in the process left her right side exposed to a hit. She was too focused on learning that she didn’t notice.

Peter grinned as she seemed to grow in confidence. Of course, she never would be as good as him, but nobody was and the world just had to leave it at that. She could fight, couldn’t she? And like she pointed out, that meant lesser chance of bleeding. Peter felt proud of the various bruises and cuts he obtained, but when it was a big cut, he had to admit to himself at least, that it did hurt.

“With some opponents,” and he pronounced the last word with surprising viciousness. “You have to keep at them and they get scared and they stumble or make a mistake.” This was his language, even if he didn’t realise it. Peter knew how to fight, he knew rough and tumble. He watched her critically, noting that she genuinely was getting better. But that uncovered side…it was tempting. It would have been tempting if it was Captain Hook or a stranger: he couldn’t help it. He jabbed forward lightly (or he intended to be light), using his stick to poke her side. “You have to watch yourself too,” he grinned, trying to look innocent.

thewendydarlingbird:

“Peter!” She giggled, holding a hand to her mouth before grinning widely up at him. “Oh, hello, I thought you might be here.” She blushed, taking his hand and using the other to pull up her gown, stepping up onto the ledge. “How have you been? Why, it’s been so long.” Wendy watching him, the same cocky grin plastered onto the redheads face.

He looked just the same, and she wondered silently if she looked any different to him. “Come to visit, have you?”

“You did?” Peter blinked in surprise - he hated being expected, he wanted to be spontaneous. That was the point of having no parents and living on an island with fairies and pirates: you got to do what you like when you liked and where you liked. But he also did want to be expected. He wanted to be wanted and then they would have to wait for him. And maybe that was cruel and selfish but that was part of Peter. “I’ve been fabulous and fabulously clever. Like always.” He smirked, folding his arms and leaning at an unnatural angle on the air, as if leaning on a wall. “How have you been?” he added after a pause, as if just remembering it was supposed to follow.

“I was passing by,” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Are you pleased?” The aloofness dissolved quickly as his eyes turned bright again. Not caring wasn’t something Peter was very good at pulling off.

hiddenblondie:

Fry up? she’d never heard of that before she sat him on the booth and they were presented with an array of woodland delicacies. Rapunzel was more of of a grain eater so their plates were an assortment of breads and cheeses and salted meats. A small bowl of soup was added to the menu and she silently thanked the patron.

“You could uuhhh, you could say that.” she answered  “When I was a baby I was taken, for my hair. My adventure wasn’t very much epic I’m afraid although you’ll learn it soon enough when the show begins.”

She broke bread and dipped it into her soup, “So uhh what’s your story?”

Looking down at the plateful of food, the Doctor grinned. Sure, a steak wouldn’t exactly have gone amiss, but he wasn’t one to complain when food was served. Not that he had any money…but he’d figure that out later. He never had money and he always got by. Tearing a slice of crumbling bread, he had to admit it was good. Adding a chunk of cheese made it even better. “Thanks,” he said belatedly to the retreating back of the server.

“Your hair? I get abducted for my hair sometimes.” He flashed her a grin, ruffling his terribly messy mop, before realising what she said was quite serious. Her hair truly was very interesting. He wondered if she ever got lost in it - no, not in the literal way - in a way when it was the focus around her rather herself. “I bet it was knights swash bucklingly dangerous…I’m looking forward to it anyway!”

“Story?” He paused for a moment to think. His story was made up years and layers and wibbly wobbly timey wimey moments. “Do you know when people say that it’s a long story, usually because they don’t want to tell it? Well, this really is a long story that I would love to tell but I have no idea where to start.” He grimaced playfully.

speed-machine:

“Uh huh…sure it is,” Turbo replied, though he eyed the boy with some irritation. He never did like it when people talked down to him, and he might have been being over sensitive, but that was the intonation he had gotten off of Peter’s words. Well, excuse him for not knowing everything about the wonders of flight…though Turbo had always liked the idea of flying. He had some memory of flying, but the details remained hazy. “No buttons? Well, then how do you control it? I don’t see any wings.”

Turbo watched Peter’s exit with some interest. He would have given the boy a compliment, but Turbo wasn’t one to praise anyone other than himself so readily. “Well, then you’ll like this,” the racer grinned completely pushing his distraction to the side. He gestured to the nearest kart like a gameshow host presenting a prize. “Pretty sweet ride, yeah?”

Peter never meant to irritate anyone. No, that’s not quite the truth. Sometimes Peter meant all too well to irritate people. But often his obnoxious attitude was unintentional and he obliviously left behind rather frazzled people in his wake. “No, it’s fairies that have the wings,” he grinned. “Pixie dust does the trick. And happy thoughts.” He looked over, trying to gage whether the man was a grown up. It was getting increasingly hard to figure this out - people tended to be less grown up than they appeared or vice versa.

As if it was still a big surprise that he was getting to ride a car, Peter’s delight was evident in his face. He was always appreciative, in his own ways. “Yeah, it’s a sweet ride!” He exclaimed, not really knowing what he meant by ‘sweet’. Skidding over to it, he stopped just before it, looking back. Peter might not have lived with grown ups for a long, long time but there was still that small part of him that paused on occasion to check it was okay.

themanwiththesatchel:

“Coconuts? Sure. They grow on tropical islands. Exactly the kind of place I’d rather be than here.” He raised a brow doubtfully at Peter’s mention of expertise. Especially when it recalled his own mislead youth.

“My runs are far from boring, kid. I don’t think you’d even dream of trying to keep up.” Of course, his runs were from angry villagers, husbands, and law enforcement, which meant that the ability to fly would probably come in handy. But he couldn’t very well let that be apparent, now could he?

“I live on an island that has coconuts. Does that make it a tropical island?” He grinned, hoping he could prod the man’s annoyance further. Peter himself had never understood adults fixation of hot places and how wonderful it must be. It made utterly no sense wanting to lie on beaches and ridiculous things like that.

Peter took any bait that dangled in front of him, even if it wasn’t intentionally bait. “I run faster than everyone!” Usually he was aided by flying but that was neither here nor there. “Runs are only fun when you’re running from something,” he said, unwittingly finding something in common with Flynn.

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

Jane suppressed a tiny sigh.  Though spying on spurious fairies had avowedly been their destination for quite some time now, she would rather have liked to catch her breath - and let her heartbeat return to normal.  At the very least it would have been nice to have somebody around to say what a very long way she’d come, as far as traveling by vine went.  Oh, well, at least practicing away from Tarzan and their animal friends meant she might come to surprise everybody later (Jane told herself wistfully).

“Do tell me, Peter,” she began conversationally - and also because, while she was not really the scheming sort, Jane was human and not without a certain mischievous guile.  ”What are fairies like?”  Hah!  She defied him to be able to explain himself adequately, especially as she’d never before met a boy who was quite so keen on fairies.

Still staying ahead, Peter threw his words back over his shoulder. “Fairies,” he started, clearing his throat with a grin, “Are about this big.” He turned and hopped backwards, holding out his hand and cupping them to roughly estimate their size. “They fit in your hands like this. And they have wings that are sort of see through, but they fly with them, obviously.” If there was an expert on fairies anywhere, Peter was possibly it, having seen so many and had one as a best friend. “They can be bad tempered sometimes, and jealous, but that’s because they like to feel special.” So did Peter - in fact, he was very much like fairies in personality, and his pointed ears. “But they’re good, fairies are. They don’t mind coming on adventures.” Miniature pools of water were dotted about and he hopped over them gleefully, like they were puddles in London.

adellaenchanted:

hahanevergrowingup:

Peter, not understanding that she didn’t understand his reference went on, “Well you kind of look a little like one. All skinny and beaky…” He then realised that really might be pushing it with this girl. His eyes widened marginally but he couldn’t get rid of his cheeky smirk, like it was stuck unwillingly on his mouth. “Adella Triton is a good name,” he added quickly, as if this could undo the damage. And he did think it was. It was a rather wonderfully grand name, yes. 

He raised an eyebrow, but made no comment on her skid, simply ignoring it. Obviously, his had been better. But he had to give her a chance. She’d had a lot less practice, he thought smugly.

“Of course we’re not invisible,” he scoffed. After all, where was the fun in that? “People see me when I want them to see me though.”

Peter considered her proposal for a moment. He wished he’d thought of it himself, although he didn’t say so, because he didn’t want to admit that. “Yeah, I bother people all the time. I’m an expert in bothering.” Maybe that was a lie, maybe that wasn’t. He tended to show off rather than bothering.

“Well”

Adella began, with an inflection so pointedly obvious that she was on the journey of complimenting her many wonders. Again. “I’m perfect at anything and everything, but I don’t bother people. You know why? Because everyone adores me and I’m never a bother.”

Her words were punctuated with short shows of arrogant giggles, and ones so heavy that it made her lose her footing—or… whatever sense of the word applied when one was floating—and grab at the air, swing her arms and such, to regain it. She skipped a few paces in front of Peter Pan, her number one enemy, and blinked over her shoulder back at him.

“So, naturally, you need to start the bothering.”

Peter was confused. If she was never a bother then why was she asking him if they could bother? He barely listened to her words, letting them slide over him like water. Her self important voice was too familiar to pay attention too - Peter didn’t realise that it was familiar because it was very much like his own every day.

Some small part of him registered her sudden movement and he made to lunge forward before seeing she was alright. She hadn’t seen it, he didn’t think, but Peter wouldn’t want her to know that he got worried. Worried was a grown up thing, but he would feel a little bad if she did plummet to her death or possible death.

He heard the last thing alright. “Start the bothering?” He asked to stall for a few seconds as he looked around. “But I did start it. I was on top of the church and I bothered lots of people by flying off.” But catching sight of a figure down in the square he added, “But I’ll start if you really feel you can’t do it first.” And Peter swaggered off the roof top, sailing down unnoticed to the street below.

The man on the street was shouting angrily at a donkey who, if donkeys glared, was definitely glaring at the man. It only required a little nudging really. Creeping around them, Peter grabbed a carrot from a nearby grocery shop and jumped towards them. The man looked up, startled, as Peter whacked the donkey on the nose. Rearing and snorting, the man got a faceful of hoof and Peter ran away giggling, tossing the carrot to the resentful donkey.

thewendydarlingbird:

It had been only a year since Wendy had left Neverland to return home, to grow up. She was 15 now, she was getting older and more mature and she had many more responsibilities but she didn’t consider herself grown up yet. She no longer lived in the nursery, but she had happened to go in that night to read Michael and John a bed time story and as she went to peek out the nursery window (which had become a habit, she was afraid), she noticed the shadow. The teenager placed one foot up gingerly, grasping the gutter tightly. “Peter?” She called quietly. She knew she had seen a shadow. “Peter, are you there?”

At the sight of a figure, not knowing who it was at all, Peter jumped back, pulling his shadow with him. He lay low to the roof, his eyes trained on the edge as a pale hand curled over the gutter’s side. A very familiar pale hand, if he wasn’t mistaken. And a very familiar voice saying his most definitely familiar name. A smile quickly making its way on his face, Peter slid back down the roof, looking down at her. “Peter Pan, the one and only cleverest!” It was hard to put his hands on his hips, while he was half sitting, half lying down on the roof, but the elfin like boy managed it. He reached out his hand, ready to pull Wendy up, acting as if the situation was all quite normal. As if Wendy hadn’t returned back to grow up.

hiddenblondie:

After making her rounds around the pub she was dropped right next to the skinny man with the funny brown hair (as Attila described) and she grabbed her companion’s arm and giggled.

“You have to meet everyone! And try Attila’s cupcakes. And Fang is going to start his puppet show soon! Hook Hand is going to play the accompaniment and they said is the story of how I was found!” She bounced in her spot and tugged at him. “But first food! You haaave to try the food here.”

Having absolutely no idea where to start, he nodded happily at her ideas. He’d go along with whatever she said. It all sounded fun - cupcakes, puppets, what wasn’t to like? Sure, there was a few odd faces, crooked sort of people, but a good sort of people by the looks of it. The Peter Doctor grinned sheepishly at everyone, waving and wiggling his fingers.

Allowing her to tug him along he nodded again because you couldn’t go wrong with nodding. It was rare he meant anyone more bouncy than he was, so he was left a little at a loss. “Food sounds good! Is it a good fry up or something?” Her words started to sink in properly. “What do you mean, how you were found? Did you get lost and have an epic adventure? Because I do that a lot,” he grinned.

curiouslittlemermaid:

“You-” Ariel balled her fists. “You sea-snake!!!“ 

The mermaid flapped her fins in the water and quickly tried to close the distance between herself and the rock. However, by the time she had reached the little mountain, he was already perched on top.

“That’s not fair! You cheated!” She crossed her arms once more. He was definitely very childish. Of course, he was just a boy just like she was just a girl. With a wicked grin, she splashed water up at him.

“Sea-snake?” Peter tested the insult out on his tongue as he whizzed forward effortlessly, propelled by magic and endless happy daydreams. He never ran out of them. He had days and days of stored away thoughts that could alleviate him through the air at any time of day. When he placed to feet on the rock, he could look out and see her shimmering tail glittering under the surface as she sped towards the rock. Ariel was quite fast…but not fast enough, he thought triuphantly.

“I didn’t cheat. I’m just faster than you. I’m a fast sea-snake!” Once Peter found a new word he liked to use it as much as possible. He almost darted out of the way of the water, but not really minding the dark green splashes on his clothes. The problem with a water fight with a mermaid…was that she was always sort of covered in water. Peeling a string of seaweed off the rock, he threw that instead, watching it whirl through the air.

speed-machine:

“Whoa, you can fly?” Turbo asked, his attention so suddenly drawn to that aspect that he practically missed everything else Peter said. Fly…this kid could fly? Somehow he was inclined to believe it, but even so how would he do it? He didn’t have wings or anything. Maybe it was something in his code or whatever it was humans had that made them up. ADN or something like that? “I dunno anything about flying, but I bet it’s pretty different. More buttons, probably.”

The racer drover back to the garage, nodding confidently at the boy’s exclamations. “I know, I know. Everyone loves their first ride and all the rides after that,” he said, taking his turn to boast. He patted the steering wheel fondly before hopping out of the race car. “Ya like blue?” he asked as he walked up to one of the twins’ cars. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and if they did find out what did it matter?

Even Peter was surprised at his ignorance insofar into their meeting. “Yes, I can fly. You can drive, I can fly. Same sort of thing.” He shrugged - there was something enjoyably superior at the impressed or shocked reactions he received. “There isn’t any buttons. Which is a shame. Buttons are fun to press.” He considered this for a moment, thinking how flying would be even better if there were buttons to press too. He’d broach it with Tink next time he saw her.

Peter did his own version of hopping out the car, tumbling over the side and landing on two feet, a humanoid cat. “Blue is my third favourite colour,” Peter approved, nodding. After green and red obviously. “Blue is good.” He followed afterwards, having no idea of ownership and probably not caring if he did.

adellaenchanted:

Would the (chidlish/naive/innocent/more playful than mean) teasing between the two of them ever stop? Adella gasped at the mention of the hideous invention of the gods that was The Dreaded Chicken. Her lips opened to a little ‘o’ and a single finger pointed at him with such powerful accustation that she stumbled in her stance in the air for the smallest moment.

“How dare you! A chicken and Adella Triton are the most opposite things you can ever compare!” She, of course being a mermaid, didn’t understand the stereoytpe of chickens being understood for cowards. Which she was. But, the only thing that she took from that comparison was a side-by-side of appearances.

Now, the cartwheels she didn’t do, or the fancy flip and twirls, but Adella treated her skidding over to him as just as marvelous a feat. Her hands were firmly locked onto her waist and she raised her chin a show of flowery haughtiness. An idea struck her, and perhaps a way to prove her dominating magnificence. 

“Danger, huh?” She blinked. “Are we invisible? Can we bother people? I want to bother people.” 

Peter, not understanding that she didn’t understand his reference went on, “Well you kind of look a little like one. All skinny and beaky…” He then realised that really might be pushing it with this girl. His eyes widened marginally but he couldn’t get rid of his cheeky smirk, like it was stuck unwillingly on his mouth. “Adella Triton is a good name,” he added quickly, as if this could undo the damage. And he did think it was. It was a rather wonderfully grand name, yes. 

He raised an eyebrow, but made no comment on her skid, simply ignoring it. Obviously, his had been better. But he had to give her a chance. She’d had a lot less practice, he thought smugly.

“Of course we’re not invisible,” he scoffed. After all, where was the fun in that? “People see me when I want them to see me though.”

Peter considered her proposal for a moment. He wished he’d thought of it himself, although he didn’t say so, because he didn’t want to admit that. “Yeah, I bother people all the time. I’m an expert in bothering.” Maybe that was a lie, maybe that wasn’t. He tended to show off rather than bothering.

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

Jane raised an eyebrow at Peter’s advice, but - unusually for her - decided not to comment.  And it served him right, too, for frightening her half to death with his twisting off of the branch!  But that was just one more mystery solved about the mysterious Peter Pan - whomever he was, however he had wound up in the jungle, he was clearly adroit with climbing things (and jumping off of them).  Perhaps that would be a clue to his sudden appearance earlier.

For now, though, she simply adjusted her grip on the vine she’d been holding tight to as she leaned precariously after Peter.  Holding it in both hands, Jane tried not to think about the immense likelihood that she’d make an ass of herself - or worse yet, break a bone exactly as Peter, naively, had suggested - and jumped from the tree, hugging the vine close between her legs as well as her hands as its momentum swung her towards Peter.  At the top of its speed she let go, which took a great deal of nerve, and flung herself at clump of creepers that hung close to Peter.  ”Oh, I could have warned you of the same thing,” she panted, trying not to let on to just how rattling vine-swinging still was for her.  ”Come on then, how did you learn to get around like this?”

Peter found himself pleasantly surprised at her chosen root. He didn’t make a comment, waiting to see exactly what she would do. He raised his eyebrows as fear flashed through her eyes and although he looked like he was lounging lazily in his cradle of branches, Peter was ready to dart forward to help. But she managed, in a very unladylike manner. This was a compliment to Peter - he was impressed.

“There’s lots of jungle in Neverland,” Peter started on again, still not aware of Jane’s disbelief. “Anyhow, it’s easier to do when you stop being scared. Holiday resort pond for possible fairies is that way.” He bounded off, always moving, whether it be physically or conversationally.

Crouching on that familiar roof with its familiar glowing windows, Peter wondered when was the last time he’d been here. Well, what he was really wondering, was how old Wendy was. A deep seated fear rooted down in his stomach - was she a lady? It filled with horror and he bit his lip nervously as he creeped to the edge. He used to come here to hear stories. Stories of the adventures of Peter Pan against the pirates in Neverland! And then he’d taken her on her own Peter Pan adventure. And then she’d left, he remembered bitterly, it all coming back to him in pieces, like the many slates make up the rooftop. She’d left to grow up.

Hanging down from the gutter, Peter peeked through the slightly fogged up glass.

curiouslittlemermaid:

Oh, that’s right…some sort of dust. She reminded herself. She didn’t even know where to get such a thing. Perhaps she would find it one day. Ariel cast her gaze upwards to look at him again and slowly turned her frown back into a smile. “Hi Peter.” She liked his name. There wasn’t any boys in Atlantica with the same one. It was unique. 

The redhead followed his pointing finger to see a rock jutting from the surface. It was covered in barnacles and no doubt home to starfish and coral just below the water’s glossy edge. “Oh, that one? Yeah! I see it!”

“Hi,” he repeated, grinning, glad to see her happy again. Peter never knew what to do when people were upset. He tended to revert to joking them out of their ditch of gloom. Or just annoying them until they forgot their sadness and started chasing him, trying to catch him. Not that they ever did.

“Yes, well we’re going to race to that rock,” Peter announced and with barely a breath in between he shouted, “Go!” He zoomed off quickly, zipping just over the water, leaving a cackling laugh behind, confident that she wouldn’t be able to beat him with his cheated head start.

james-hook:

As it always and always would be, Hook was awake long before the rest of his men. His mind at peace listening to a quiet ship. They had finally returned to Neverland, for a short while to get away from the work that Hook had run them through on Earth. 

He had walked about the decks of his ship surveying the ship for any potential flaws, or problems, but found none. He had returned to his cabin to read, having picked up a few new tales of sailors and royal sea battles. Most were in fact memoirs, but there were one or two that were make believe … fictional. 

It would be nice to not have to deal with any stresses, though returning to Neverland had come with its own issues that Hook had not dared voice to any crew member. 

Somewhere below the cabin Hook heard someone stir, and knew that it was Johnny Cookson without checking. The galley cook had to be up early to cook morning meals for everyone on the ship. Besides, he could hear the pots and pans bang about as if he pulled one from the bottom of a stack. Had the fool forgotten to wash the cookware the night before? Hook didn’t care to check, lost in his book as it was.

Peter thought he could smell a lazy aroma of food drifting from the ship, but perhaps he was so hungry he was imagining it. Peter was always hungry, except when he was eating, or when he was presented with vegetables. He certainly heard a quiet clanking and guessed that it was the kitchens. He knew the boat that well.

Still clinging onto his fishing rod, Peter landed noiselessly on the deck. Now, it would be much better to fish from here, he thought, a sly grin on his face as he strode straight for Hook’s cabin - he knew where that was as well.

Peter knocked politely on the door, looking positively angelic with his hands clasped behind his back with his rod there too.

His dagger was in his belt too of course.

stitchedsallydoll:

“I won’t?” Sally frowned, the stick dropping slightly in her hands. She shifted her weight on her feet, trying to hold her balance. Okay, maybe she should forget about feeling bad - or save it for after the scuffle like Peter said. She shook her head and tightened her grip. 

Her eyes widened at the scrape. “A-Are you alright?! D-Do you need a doctor?” She bit her lip worriedly. Yup, still concerned - even after all that lecturing. But he did say it was good, right? So, maybe she was doing the right thing after all.

“Should I try again?”

“No, how many times do I have to say?” But Peter wasn’t angry, he was laughing as he said it, the childish, still higher pitched laugh of joy. “I’m fine! Look, it’s only bleeding a very tiny bit. Getting a doctor would be silly.” He rolled his eyes, but a part of him remembered she couldn’t remember much about herself and maybe people got like this then. Though her attitude was a little similar to a mother’s. He put away any thoughts of mothers quickly, as he always did.

Although Peter might have tried a taste of humility from his attempt at not winning, he found ways to boost his ego. “Yes,” Peter answered her last question. A flicker of authority appeared in his air: not the usual cocky kind but a more disciplined one, akin to his nature. “But this time be more like…push forwards more.” He demonstrated off to the side, fighting fiercely with an imaginary villain and almost slicing off part of a bush in the process. “You have to keep at them, or they’ll keep at you.”

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

If anything, Jane was more confused than ever.  Boys falling out of their perambulators and joining Peter in his imaginary land?  The mind boggled. Jane’s mind did, anyway.  As usual she was full up with questions, but less characteristically could not find the words to voice them.  It was one thing filling in the spaces in a conversation with her own voice, and quite another to be so heavily handed information all at once - mercy, was this the way others felt around her?!

So she merely swallowed, eyes wide, and held onto the tree trunk shakily, holding her hand out to Peter.  ”We’ll go and see the probably-fairy, but for goodness’ sake don’t bounce so, Peter!  What if you fell?”  

“But I’m not afraid of falling!” He ignored her hand, edging backwards so the branch bended more and more each way, screeching slightly. Peter felt a twinge of guilt; he’d always hoped he wasn’t hurting trees when he did that. So he only grinned at Jane before flipping backwards through the leafy foliage.

He landed neatly on a crisscross of creepers that hung like a swing. Sitting on these comfortably. “You’ll have to get down the other way, else you might break a bone.” He grimaced in a sympathising way, as if it was a terrible shame for people who couldn’t simply move effortlessly where they pleased.

this-changes-everything:

Helga only smirked as she watched the boy float down to the street below. For a moment she thought about what it would be like to have such an ability as that, though maybe it was more trouble than it was worth. Having two feet firmly planted on the ground was more her way of doing things and flight, though valuable in some cases, attracted more attention and risks than it was worth.

As soon as Peter was out of sight she silently stepped back inside and opened the dresser drawer, pulling out the top pair of pants. No matter the time of day she would at least look decent. Upon exchanging her pajamas for them she slipped her coat off the back of the door, but jerked her head around at a deep and guttural echo. She huffed her bangs away from her face in relief when she saw it was only Gaston turning over to his side. Mouthing a be back later Helga headed out of the bedroom towards the stairs.

Her steps were light and she tied the belt of her coat tight around her waist before stepping out the door of the building. At the sudden appearance of Peter, however, she took a quick step back and placed a hand over her chest. It wasn’t in her nature to be surprised so easily but there always seemed to be an exception. Her jaw dropped in a slight gasp and she shook her head at Peter, though more amused than annoyed. “Well aren’t you scary. And it takes a lot to scare me, trust me.” Helga inhaled and exhaled slowly and looked around at their quiet surroundings. “Shall we get moving, then?”

“Aha!” Peter crowed triumphantly, though it was a rather quiet crow. He didn’t want the almost husband to wake up anytime soon. He didn’t want him to ruin the adventure. That’s what adults almost always did, wasn’t it? “I knew I was the scariest of all, ever. I have really scary masks that leer like this.” Peter did a gruesome demonstration of the messily and crudely painted warrior masks that lay scattered in the corners of the treehouse. His face scrunched up and he bared his teeth. Usually on a child this would look comical but there was something unhumanly vicious that lay underneat it. However, Peter dramatically crossed his eyes which made him only look ridiculous.
“Yes, let’s get…” He trailed off, spinning around in a circle. Not being able to see over the shadowy buildings, Peter frowned. “Do you know which way it is? If not I can fly up on the roof as a scout.” He nodded, his mouth a firm, professional line.

hiddenblondie:

“I have no idea,” Rapunzel replied in a whisper but to her it didn’t matter. Everyday was a celebration for her whether it was Leaf Erikson Day or Monday. Shorty bowed (or maybe he tripped) at Rapunzel and stumbled back towards the Snuggly Duckling and Rapunzel followed closely behind.

The music and merriment that had been drowned down by the walls was soon as full blast and Rapunzel had to cover her hears when she stepped in. Upon seeing her the thugs jumped and stumbled over each other to great her first. They never did learn how to share.

She was picked up eventually by Ulf and passed around the Tavern for huge smelly brown hugs.

The Doctor could cope with the noise - in fact he loved it. And he adored the setting - the place felt undeniably welcoming. But none of this prepared him for the meaty looking men who came over gleefully at the sight of the blonde princess. Sure, he had friends that looked tough but were actually sweethearts, but it was still a lite stunning. She seemed utterly familiar with them Something of a people’s princess then.
Shoving his hands, in his pockets, the Peter Doctor stayed just past the doorway, hidden in the shadows he could find. “Um, excuse me,” he tried to tap the flying cupid man he’d seen on the shoulder but he jerked drunkenly away from him. “What is Leaf Erikson day?” But all he seemed to get was hiccuping giggles in response.

curiouslittlemermaid:

Ariel’s eyes began to widen. Could it really be that easy? She closed her eyes tightly and tried to think of things that made her happy. She really liked kelp cakes! She thought about the time she found her grotto for the first time and all of her special treasures. Her thingamabobs, whozits, and whatzits galore. Of course, she couldn’t forget her dinglehoppers. She began to smile as she thought about them and peeked to see if she was floating. 

Nope.

Disappointed, she crossed her arms. “Ariel…my name is Ariel.”

Peter watched her curiously - why was she closing her eyes? It took him a moment to figure out what she was doing. He bit his lip anxiously. He didn’t even have any pixie dust with him today, which was unusual. And a shame because he would have loved to see if a mermaid could fly. He thought he should ask one of the mermaids to try back in Neverland. “Um, you need Pixie dust…” He murmured, then, with his usual bravado, “I’m Peter Pan. Hi Ariel!”

But it really would be nicer to talk to this Ariel somewhere else. But they were out at sea. Peter took a quick scan around and over there! A small outcrop of rock, dipping out the sea. Large enough for a mermaid and a boy? Or just a boy even? Probably. “See that rock over there?” He pointed right over.

Sucking on his frozen fingers which were numb from the morning dew, Peter traipsed through the forest. He rarely made his way anywhere on foot, but sometimes it was a novelty. He was even bare foot today - he wasn’t going anywhere out of Neverland today and he liked the gasping cold trickling streams that edged their way through the trees. He followed them out of the forests and onto the ringed beaches, not bothering to go too fast.

When he reached the shore - now enjoying the grains of wet sand stuck in between his toes - Peter leapt up on a large collection of boulders jutting out to the Neverseas. There were jagged holes between some of the rocks and from one of these he fetched an old fishing rod, made of a simple, flexible branch, whittled to a pale bone colour. It was just as he was sitting down at the end of the rocky outcrop that he realised he had no bait, organised as he was.

Shrugging to himself, Peter looked up into the rising sun and towards the silhouette of the pirate ship. There’d be food on board that he could use as bait…his smile split into a wild laugh. A morning visit to the pirates it was then. He set foot on the air, swooping towards the ship, keeping low.

adellaenchanted:

Adella surveyed everything. The town looked like a dark chocolate sheet and with white gum drops (lights), and at thinking this she chewed on her bottom lip, passing up the opportunity to attack Peter with another angry return when they called each other stupid. Because, obviously, they knew who was the winner of that argument in the end. Her!

Her stomach sunk and then she turned back to look at Peter over her shoulder. “There’s… more I hafta do?” Her voice, too, dropped probably a thousand miles into a pit the drowned in absolute horror.

Peter was fairly sure he understood the look on her face as she actually looked. He was convinced she was enjoying it - who couldn’t? For someone who was supposedly eternally a boy, Peter felt things very deeply. He understood the concept of beauty and with the mind of a child, appreciated the wonder in the things like a rooftop view of a city. Adella had practically admitted that she was enjoying herself when she said it wasn’t ‘that bad’.

A sly grin spread over his face. “Well if you’re too chicken then I suppose this is enough. You can enjoy the sights. Or you can live on the edge of danger.” And dodging past her on the roof, he executed a couple of cartwheels and then a flip in the air, his skinny frame flipping through the air with ease. 

sketchbookpinchedbyababoon:

“No, I can’t say I do have a - lost boys?” echoed Jane curiously, eyebrows darting together.  She tugged appraisingly at a thick vine and, finding it to be apparently strong and secure, climbed after Peter.  ”You said we were going to see a fairy (though I can’t say I’m entirely sure you’re telling the truth) - but that’s neither here nor there, if…they’re lost?  Here in the jungle?”

It was high time she got to the bottom of all of this.  ”Peter, how did you get here with a gaggle of other boys?  Where are they now?”

“If I had a one with me I’d give you one,” Peter said, referring to the sling shot. The offer made him feel very generous. If you didn’t include the fact that he didn’t have a sling shot to give her. But it was the thought that counts. That’s what the adults always said at Christmas and birthdays when he said he didn’t want an itchy pair of orange woolen gloves.

Peter grinned. “They’re not lost here. Back in Neverland of course! And I don’t know it’s a fairy. I just said it probably was. An educated guess.” Shrugging, he jumped down to the next branch, staying completely unalarmed at its wobbly nature - in fact he started bouncing up and down slightly. He looked back up at Jane, right through his fringe that had been kept in control by rough and tumble rather than hair cuts. “I’m not here with anyone. I’m a lone wolf!” He howled to the sky. “But sometimes I have a gang. The boys fall from their prams you see, because boys can be a bit stupid sometimes. But don’t tell anyone.” Peter rarely ever admitted that to anyone. It always hurt a bit to say it. But Jane seemed nice and even though she was sort of a girl, he didn’t think she’d make fun of him. Girls weren’t better at everything. Just at not falling out of prams.

“But anyway, the boys that get lost from their prams find their way to Neverland and come on adventures with me! They almost all get unlost though.” Finally finishing his explanation, Peter pointed back to the slightly beaten down jungle growth where they’d been before. “Are we going to go see this probably fairy then?”

curiouslittlemermaid:

Ariel found herself fascinated by the boy’s voice. She never would have imagine him to have a decent singing voice. It was slightly off tune but yet soothing at the same time. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she listened to his melody. The lyrics were haunting. She was forced back into darker memories of her past. The princess could see her father, strong and powerful, casting his trident over her cousins. Their teeth were sharp and their pupils dilated. They had a flesh and blood lust for the sailors up above- the very men they were forbidden to go near. Although Ariel had pleaded with her father to spare them, it didn’t do much good. They just barely passed an execution and were instead banished from the kingdom. She remembered their hissing and screaming as they were forced out of Atlantica. 

“Wow, so…you do.” She commented, opening her eyes again. “I believe you. I didn’t know flying boys existed neither. How do you…do that?”

It was certainly nice to have some appreciation for once. Not many people gave him that. His catlike, crooked smile slipped on his features as he relaxed into the air, like he was sitting on a large comfy couch. “Yeah, well there’s not many of us flying boys,” he said confidently. Although technically he would teach his Lost Boys to fly, they couldn’t do it very well, nor had they adapted like Peter had where he hardly needed pixie dust anymore. “It’s really easy,” he continued to boast. “Just pixie dust and happy thoughts. Lots of happy thoughts. Really, really happy thoughts are the best ones. Obviously.”

It seemed a little awkward with Peter hanging in the air and…who was this? “Hey, what’s your name, mermaid?”