Work Text:
You stand in the full-body mirror, swaying back and forth as you look over your new appearance. You’d gotten to choose what your disguise would look like, but you suppose you hadn’t considered actually having to look like this everyday. You thought you’d forget the way you looked and would just feel normal, but you can’t forget. Your hair grazes your neck and your legs bump the table leg without a layer of fabric protecting you and people call you by a different name than the one you’ve been referred to for the last few hundred years of your life.
You don’t feel like you. You are you are you. But… you’re not you.
So you take a handful of your hair into your hand, pull it taut, and cut cut cut with the craft scissors, over and over until you’ve got your bangs back, until the hair doesn’t cover your ears — which are supposed to be round but they’re not. You take the markers and draw the crescent moon pattern back onto your face, which takes a lot longer than it took your brothers and sisters to create it for you the day you came into existence. And then you’re trying to figure out how to turn your blond hair to white without the amount of magic you’d normally have, but then a grownup walks in.
She gasps at the sight of you. That’s another thing people haven’t done in a while. You suppose this level of craziness is less than turning the Boiling Isles into your personal playplace, but is still crazy.
You just wanted to be the normal kid you were always supposed to be since the day you were first created, since Belos found you, since King freed you, since Luz taught you about kindness and forgiveness. But you couldn’t even keep yourself in check for the whole entire day.
The school grownups call your grownups — well, they’re not really yours — to come get you, because you’re just too much work for the grownups at school to deal with.
Hunter ends up being the one to come get you, and you know he’s been really excited about rebuilding the palismen workshop, and you feel bad he had to stop doing that to deal with you. Why is a mortal better at playing make believe than you? He smiles at the sight of you and you just know he’d never tell you you’re being a burden the way Belos would’ve, not even if you asked for his honesty… that makes it worse somehow.
He’s just too good at playing his part, no matter the role he’s supposed to fit in. And you can’t play yours… unless it involves being mean and destroying things.
But nobody likes to destroy anything anymore.
“Hey, Collector,” he says, soft enough that only the two of you can hear. Like your identity is some big secret.
But everybody knows the Collector turned everyone to toys, what’s the point in pretending he isn’t you when you’re no good at being anyone else? You’re not a good kid, you’re not Luz Noceda, you’re not a witchhunter and you’re not an Archivist. You’re the Collector. And you’re starting to think that’s all you’ll ever be no matter what. Even if you had your coming-of-age ceremony, even if all the mortals found out your real name — the one your siblings assigned to you because “Collector” is just your title — you think you’d still prefer Collector. Belos said it too many times for you to think of yourself as anything else, and even if everyone else is ready to put that all behind them, you’ve never been any good at goodbyes. You spent so long hoping for your big sister to come and find you, and even if you ended up being right, you weren't as happy about it as you thought you'd be. Maybe ‘cause you didn't need her to save you anymore.
Hunter’s kneeling in front of you, and even if his head isn’t bowed and he’s not apologizing for anything, you still feel funny about it. And not funny as in you want to laugh. You’re not sure why you said it’s funny because it actually just makes you sick. But you’re sure it would be fine if he was Luz or Eda or Ray-Ray.
Not if he was Lily though.
He reaches his scarred hand out to touch your hair, but you cringe away from him.
“Sorry,” he says, his easygoing smile faltering. “I should’ve asked first.”
He pauses, before putting the act up again, and you’re starting to wish anyone else came to get you. You feel just like Belos and little you would’ve loved to be him even for a day just ‘cause he’s a grownup so everyone listens to him but now you hate it and you’re immortal but you could die.
“I cut my hair once,” he says. “And I did a worse job than you, so it’s okay.”
“Why?” you deadpan.
“Why’d I do a bad job or— oh, it was after the Day of Unity so—”
“Stop.”
He tilts his head at you, and you can visually see him processing your words. You really didn’t think you were that confusilling. You just don’t like thinking about anything that happened before things started being the way they are right now, not before the Day of Unity, or immediately after, when you’d been in charge of the Boiling Isles. Hunter probably doesn’t like thinking about any of that either, right? I mean, it’s why Flapjack doesn’t get to play with anyone anymore.
Then it clicks and he says, “Nobody holds anything against you, buddy, everything’s okay now.” He stands onto his feet. “Let’s get going, yeah?”
You don’t particularly want to be at school, but you don’t really feel like putting the effort into leaving it either. But you want Hunter to be your friend so you have to do as he says. And it’s not like he’s asking you for any sort of big favour either.
You slip off the chair and follow him through the doors, and reach for his hand. You think he’s a little more real than you are right now. You’re still trying to remember that he’s not a toy and he’s not Callie, even if he’s created from Callie’s bones, he’s just a person like everybody else.
But are you a person or are you a thing? You come from stardust, not alive things like carbon or water. You’ve never thought about it before, but you’re thinking about it now.
“Collector,” he says. “Do you want me to take off the concealing stone for you?”
Oh right, you forgot your whole disguise was just an illusion. It means you have to let go of his hand to pull off the necklace the spell is tied to, but once you have, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved. Except for when King freed you.
Tears spring to your eyes and you look over your yellow hands and oversized sleeves, the sun and moon patterns of your Archivist robes and the pompoms on your shoes and the alternating colours on your onesie and ankles and—
“Are you alright?”
You almost forgot Hunter was there, but you’re running into his embrace before you even realize that’s what you’re doing.
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. “Oh Collector, I’ll talk to the others for you, yeah?”
“Mm?” You think you might’a meant to say something else but your voice got muffled by his body against yours.
He pets your head over your cap, and you’re leaning into him all over again and he’s squeezing you all tight just the way you like.
He tells you, “You don’t have to wear the concealing stone if you don’t like it. We’ll find another way for you to go to school, okay?”
“I like being me,” you say.
“You’re still you. But…”
“You’re the Golden Guard. Even if you’re not him right now, he’s still you. Just like how I’m still the Collector without… everything…?” You’re not sure why you said it like a question because you’re not asking anything.
“There’s no more Emperor’s Coven, or any Covens for that matter. So I’m not the Golden Guard, right?”
Why are mortals so stupid— oh wait that’s mean you can’t say that. Why won’t Hunter listen? There you go, that’s nice. “He had a Golden Guard before he invented the Coven system.”
“Great!” Hunter says, and belatedly, you realize he doesn’t want to talk to you about this, so you start to walk away before he can even begin to explain why you’re wrong, because you know you’re not. He just doesn’t feel like listening, which isn’t a novelty when talking to grownups but he could at least be honest like Belos was. You never had to guess how he felt about you, even if he wouldn’t use his words he’d huff and puff and sigh and you knew that meant it was time for you to disappear until he needed a favour.
He never didn’t want to talk to his Golden Guards though, even when they let him down.
Sometimes you thought you would make a better Callie, but then you’d break one of his pretend rules from the Human Realm and you wondered why nobody killed Callie sooner. Or how anyone was even still alive in the Human Realm.
“Wait, Collector!” Hunter says and chases after you. He catches up to you quick, and you tell yourself it’s because you have little legs and not because he’s chased people down before.
“My siblings don’t believe in school,” you say before he can say whatever it was he was gonna say.
He pauses and says, “It’s your choice though, not anyone else’s.”
“I know, but we didn’t go to school. I learned to be an Archivist ‘cause we went places and practiced and learned out in the universe while we did our work together.”
“I know, but—”
Your stomach twists and coils and wraps around itself, getting all tied up in knots… things that come after “but” don't tend to be good.
“Everybody has to go to work. We can’t stay and watch you all day, so you have to try to go to school. Please, Collector.” His brown eyes get all sad, and you can’t help yourself when you sob.
“That was the real reason you wanted me to go all along,” you say, voice all croaky and choked.
“No. No, it wasn’t. I mean it, you’d get to learn more about magic—”
“No.”
“Yes, and you’d get to make friends, an—”
“No.”
He gets that edge of warning in his voice, as he says, “Collector,” but you don’t even care about making him upset with you anymore.
“You said nobody would wanna be my friend if I looked like me.”
“That’s not what we meant—”
“That’s exactly what you meant!” You raise your voice. “That’s why you wanted me to change my name and use the concealing stone and get Addie to give me a sigil! So I would be less me!”
He drops his head and sighs. “Kids can be cruel, okay.”
“So can grownups.” Always grownups, actually. Grownups are the only ones that are ever mean. He’s probably joking or making believe about kids. You’ve never seen a mean kid in all the hundreds of years you’ve been alive, actually you haven’t even seen it one time.
He visibly tenses at your words and says, “You’ve unintentionally created this, reputation for yourself, and this is your chance for a fresh start.”
“So did you. But you’re still the same Hunter you always were.”
“It wasn’t easy to turn it all around.”
You scream as loud as you can, “I’m not going to school and you can’t make ME!!!” You shriek and stomp your feet and wave your hands, which are squeezed into fists.
“Please, calm—”
You screech at him again, putting enough force in it that your voice sounds all rough at the end.
“Please, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He reaches for you, but you wave his hands away.
You throw yourself onto the ground and wail, turned away from him, lying on your stomach and beating your fists.
You wait for Hunter to try to get your attention again, but he doesn't, and you think maybe you really have pushed him too hard. Maybe nobody would ever be able to deal with you after all, but then—
His hand’s rubbing your back and he says, “C'mon, Collector.”
You climb up onto your knees and wrap your arms around him because he can't leave he can't leave he can't leave not yet, and you feel him kiss your cheek. You turn to look at him, and his face is scrunched up, just like yours, as quiet sobs escape your lips.
“Eda’s gonna come take us home,” he says.
Oh, never mind. You were too much for him, you're too much for him—
“I love you, okay,” he says, his voice breaking.
Right, you forgot he's a mind reader. Not for real life, but somehow he always knows what you're thinking.
“Collector.” He presses his forehead to yours and cups your cheeks. His hands are warm, even if they’re rough. “I love you so much.”
“Mkay.” You don't really believe him, even if you wanted to. Hunter might be a grownup, but that doesn't mean he's smart. He can love someo— you, and be wrong about it. They're all wrong, but it's okay. When have mortals ever been right? Unless it's about kindness and forgiveness, then they’re right.
He lifts you into his arms and stands up, and presses a kiss against your cap. “You’re so special to me, okay?”
You look into his brown eyes. He’s lying, he’s lying. They’re filled with tears, so they look all shiny.
His eyes flicker away from you and he says, “I don’t want you to change, or to stop being yourself.” He sniffles, and then meets your eyes. “I just… I want you to have friends your age.”
“Nobody will like me if I’m me.”
“Nooo,” he says, and sobs, burying his face against your shoulder. “I—”
“Also I’m immortal so nobody’s my age.”
“Collector. I like you like this—”
“But you’re supposed to.”
He takes a couple breaths in, deep breaths, and then says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help you right now.”
Oh. So you’re just too hard for him. Of course he thinks no one will like you. Of course he wants to pawn you off on someone else.
“I struggled too, when I was your a— younger than I am right now. A few years ago,” he says, and sniffles. “But. Eda helped me… she’s really good at helping.” He bounces you, and then wipes your tears away with the pad of his thumb.
You like the way the calluses feel, before you notice you’re probably feeling the scars too… poor Hunter, you wonder if Callie had them too. You press your cheek against his hand.
He laughs wetly. “You’re so cute. I love you, Collector.”
“Why?”
His smile slips for a moment before he puts it back on. “You’re funny, and I like playing with you—”
“But my games always hurt people.”
“Not always. ‘Hide and Seek’ didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Luz falled and bumped her head when I found her and jumped onto her.”
“She laughed about it though.”
“She could’ve got concussed.”
“But she didn’t. She said she was happy to see you too.”
“But she could’ve. Got concussed.”
He shushes you all soft. “Luz loves you, okay? And accidents happen.”
“She still gets hurt even if it’s on accident.”
“But she wouldn’t hold it against you because she knows you weren’t trying to hurt her.”
“But how does she know that?”
“Because she knows how much you love her, and you love her so much, don’t you? ‘Cause you’re so worried about it.”
You hum in response, and you feel Hunter kiss your cheek.
“You were never trying to hurt anyone, you jus’ didn’t have a choice, and you didn’t know better. But now you do, right?”
You’re not sure you do, and shake your head.
“Yes you do, buddy, you’ve been trying so hard. You gotta give yourself some credit.” He kisses your cheek again.
You wipe your face dry on the back of your hand. “M’love you.”
“I love you too. So much. Never forget that, ‘kay?”
You nod a little.
“I hurt people and didn’t know any better too, you remember that?”
You nod again, and feel him kiss your cheek.
“Mmmm, so you’re not the only one, ‘kay?”
“Yeah.” This is the part where you're supposed to feel better but you don't.
“What do you wanna play once we get home?”
“Wanna play babies.”
“Ooooh, that would be fun.” He pulls you in closer and presses kisses to your head. “Are you gonna be the baby or the grownup?”
“The baby, and you're gonna be the grownup.”
“I see,” he says. “What are you gonna do, as the baby?”
“I gonna get lots’a kisses an’ cuddles, an’ an’, crawl around an’ play with my toys.”
“Awwww,” Hunter says, and squeezes you close. “That sounds like so much fun, baby.”
The minute you're put down inside the Owl House, you drop to your hands and knees, and crawl across the smooth, wooden floors.
“Wow, look at you go!” Hunter says.
Warmth blooms in your chest, and you lift your arm and point at something. “Wazzat?”
“That's a table! Can you say ‘table?’”
“Babababa.”
“Good job!”
You look over your shoulder at him before crawling towards him, and climb into his lap. “Daaaahhh dadadada.”
“Whoa, that's so cool! What happened next?”
You try to stick your fingers in his mouth, but he turns his head away.
“Oooh, let's not do that, okay? Your hands aren't clean.”
Then you point at something else. “Wazzat?”
“That's a candle.”
You grab a fistful of his shirt and he takes your hand and says, “No thank you.”
You tilt your head back and laugh, and crawl away from him again. You stand onto your feet and take a step before dropping back to your hands and knees.
“You almost had it that time!” he says.
You pick up one of the toys on the floor, and then hold it up to him.
“That's a bunny plushie. Isn't he cute?”
You drop it from your hand and let it fall to the floor. Then you roll onto your back and make grabby hands at him.
He shuffles towards you and pats your tummy. “You're such a good baby.”
You take him by the wrist and pull his hand towards your mouth, and he slips out of your grip.
“Nooo, we don't do that,” but he's smiling at you all the same, and tickles you under your chin.
And you feel your own smile on your face as you tilt your head back, especially when he brushes your bangs away from your forehead affectionately.
“I love you,” he says.
A fuzzy feeling swirls through your body, and you flap your hands and then say, “Tickle me!”
He wiggles his fingers over your stomach and you squeal in delight.
And maybe you don’t quite feel better all the way, but it was enough to get you to forget about school, so that was a start.