#CANON gives him more depth than y’all do it’s so embarrassing

[starlooove]

It’s not even voting Duke over Guy; Guy is crazy. It’s all these illiterate braindead bitches fighting to prove they’re THEE child left behind providing the shittiest reasons ever to excuse their own racism with themselves and their just as stupid followers. Like that person listing the reason every batfam member is insane and ending with ‘6. tim Drake’ I’m so sick of it you WILL be dealt with.

[diremoone]

“make me (yours).” | r. sukuna

w — [ minors do not interact ] modern! AU, hints of sugar daddy vibes ;), older man/younger woman, age gap, everyone is above 20+ and legal age, male masturbation, Sukuna imagining seggs positions and shit like that, Sukuna is around 36 & Reader is around 22/23, tbh sukuna being a comfort character rn. jjk after 235? it’s non-canon lmao

a/n: this is the most I’ve ever written that’s sinful I’m not used to this (it’s been so damn long since i have written anything remotely sinful omfg) and it’s not even that much I’m so embarrassed y’all HELP— also part two depends on you guys and any ideas you want to send in through my ask box :3

part one | part two

[ first divider by @/benkeibear, the second by @/cafekitsune ]

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who meets you through his younger brother, who’s a few years older than you. You’ve been in Japan for a few years now, that much he knows, attending the same school his little brother got into. And now he’s determined to find out everything about you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s so fucking glad you can speak Japanese. He knows English, yes, but he prefers it when you speak his native tongue, because he fucking loves your accent and gets off on it. It’s exotic — you’re exotic — and he can’t help the temptation of wanting you and more.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who knows to keep his smug smirk into himself when his little brother finally mans up and finally introduces you to him one day when he comes home to work on a project that you’re helping him with. And he knows that Yuuji knows about the look on his face. Because he knows his history with women. Yuuji knows he’s made a mistake introducing you to each other.

Or so he thinks.

Sukuna is thoroughly amused by you, although there are times where he becomes frustrated. You’re not an easy case to crack, and not easy to tease and rile up. Perhaps that’s the part of you that’s from accelerated maturity.

You’re smarter than the average person, even the people slightly above average. You’re intellectually and psychologically challenging and he very much likes it. It’s been a long time since he’s had the kind of stimulation you’ve brought him. Since his and Yuuji’s father passed away.

He watches from a distance as you and his brother go over notes and work and crack jokes that put a pretty smile on your face. He can’t hear your laughter from where he stands, but he’s positive it’s as lovely as your smile.

As for you, you know you’re being watched. You look to the tall man out of your peripheral vision and halt rolling your eyes.

“Your brother is never subtle, is he?”

Yuuji sighs heavily. “Never.”

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who hates the fact he can’t see you more often. So he digs and digs and then finds out about some old family debts and a couple things for medical expenses he can easily pay off to hold over your head, to use as a means to be something akin to a sugar daddy so he can order you around and see you whenever he wants to.

And it comes as no surprise to him when he mentions it the next time his brother brings you over for schoolwork that you’re startled by him finding out. He only mentions it after Yuuji has fallen asleep on the couch. You give him the wide-eyed expression of shock, probably wondering how he found out about it.

But unlike his expectations, you don’t ask how he knows. you don’t get embarrassed and try to hush it away with the option of using yourself as his favor. You shrug, going a little more into depth and detail about the financial struggle that’s been kept under wraps for several good years.

Sukuna himself is surprised in return, by both you and the way he sits down for you — to listen to you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who finds out that even though you see him as super attractive, you’re not as swayed by his flirting and all of his advances like many women and young women your age are. Yes, you know he’s super fucking stupidly hot, and yes you’ve more than likely thought about certain things while in bed under the sheets, but you’ve got more important things to prioritize than hot men. Which he applauds you for just as much as he despises it. It makes him frustrated, because he’s attracted to you and wants you in his bed so bad; because it should be so fucking easy like it has been with other women. But you’re not the same, and while his lust is as prominent as ever in his older age, he also has the desire for something more than just a fling.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who manages to get ahold of your schedule through his baby brother (who’s prepping for your broken heart) and asks you out, setting up a date for when he knows you’re free. He much enjoys the look on your face when he brings up the date he’s set, knowing you’re wondering about how he managed to nail the exact day you’re free for the day he’s set for the outing. He enjoys it even further when you quickly deduce how he knows about it.

Goddamn, he loves a sharp woman.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who orders you a dress to be made that’s a mix of beautiful deep crimson and black, one that shines but doesn’t shine too much to glare at people eyes. He drums his fingers against his desk in his home office as he sees the notification pop up on his phone that the item has been delivered.

But as usual, you surprise him. You don’t end up wearing the dress he’s made, but something completely different. You arrive to the restaurant he’s bought out for the night in a deep silver-gray tux, hair styled in a simple manner with minimal makeup that he knows you don’t need because he’s already seen and fallen for your natural looks anyway.

Sukuna hates you. He doesn’t, but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with the feelings he has. You’re so much younger than him, but holy fuck has it been so long since he’s been given any sort of challenge or stimuli, especially from a woman. He both hates and is glad you’re not easy. And it only fuels his drive to get you to give yourself to him.

You drive him up a damn wall.

He’s been in the shower for at least forty minutes, alternating between hot and cold every five minutes. Forty minutes and the painful hard on he’s had all morning still hasn’t gone away.

Sukuna leans his head forward against the wall and cusses at himself. His hand isn’t enough, but there’s some relief as he starts leisurely pumping his shaft. He cusses and swears worse than a sailor as he starts off slow, imagination running wild (at what could be).

He wants you so fucking bad. He wants you on your knees in front of him; on the soft carpet because no way is he going to let his pretty woman have sore knees while taking his monstrous dick down her throat.

He wants to bury his face between your legs and make you cum so much and so hard you see fucking galaxies, then let you catch your breath just barely enough before he uses your juices as lubricant and permanently molds your pussy to the shape of his fat cock.

He wants your legs over his shoulders as you throw your head back and moan as he fucks your better than anyone ever has and ever will. He wants to see a white ring around his cock as he pumps himself in and out of you like he’s a starved man. And that he is. For you, anyway.

Sukuna just knows your pussy is so fucking warm. He’ll bet his dick that you’ll have the tightest pussy he’s ever going to have. The best he’s ever going to have.

His hand pumps his shaft faster and faster, gripping it harder as he nears climax. His massive cock aches painfully, desperate to cum. Fucking hell… He wants you so bad, underneath him, or on your knees, calling him by whatever pet name or name from whatever kink you might have.

Forbid everything if you call him ‘Daddy’ or ‘Master’. Game fucking over.

He doesn’t even care if you have those kinds kinks or not. He just wants the pretty girl that’s done more than caught his attention under him as he makes her feel pleasure that only he can provide.

But the selfish part of him can’t help but hear you call out those names in his head. And that’s what does it.

Sukuna’s thighs and back muscles flex almost painfully as his balls draw up and cums. He tosses his head back, the feeling of his load spurting from the tip making him groan in pleasure. He cums so hard he feels like he’s about to keel over.

“Fuck yeah…” he pants, oxygen finally catching up to his lungs’ need.

But now he’s disappointed and just a little pissed off. Because the cum on the wall shouldn’t be there. It should be on or in you. And he doesn’t like that.

And as he rewashes himself, his jaw clenches, can’t help but thinking determinedly he’s going to change things between the two of you.

Come hell or high fucking water.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s finally shifted the relationship to being something else. Although you can’t tell what it is. The first date he takes you on is to break the ice, getting to know you better as a person. It’s also to see if you’d fuck him, but he knows you’ve got stronger convictions than the women he’s used to.

He takes you on a second date, this time in more casual clothes on a drive to a house he’s set up to have dinner and stargaze at.

He gets to tell you he’s paid off your family’s old debts now, relieved them of the medical bills and taxes that haven’t been paid yet. But it backfires, and now he’s left to make you understand that it wasn’t to make you feel beholden to him in any manner, like owing debt to the mafia.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna needs you to understand that despite how much he wants to fuck you, it’s more than just because he finds you attractive and wants to satisfy his dick. He wants you to know you’re not temporary; he doesn’t see you as a quick fix to his primal needs.

Not at all.

You’re the long term fix to his primal needs. And perhaps the only one he’s going to need ever again. And once the expression of understanding crosses your face, he goes to cradle the back of your head and hungrily slots his lips on yours. He may not get to take all your clothes off right now, but he’s happy with his results tonight.

Besides, he knows he’ll get you into his bed with a shiny diamond ring on your left hand eventually.

wheeeew im gonna go take a cold bath

@vagabond-umlaut here’s ur man babe pls enjoy.

& everyone pls feel free to send in more ideas for this series if you want im having fun with this lmao

[moiraineswife]

Autistic Allegories in Renarin’s Arc - Meta

s’up y’all, your favourite local rambler is back at it again. Diving straight in to this one. The motivation for this post is something that might be controversial, and I’m going to try and  explain it as clearly as I can and make my intentions clear, but I get this is the internet and things get misinterpreted to fuck. 

So, since Renarin was confirmed to be a queer character, I’ve seen a lot of posts and takes on pretty much every platform I frequent that equates all of Renarin’s traits/struggles in canon as being foreshadowing/parallels to his queer identity and experience. 

I get this. I’m also queer. I understand the instinct to take, say, Renarin’s corrupted spren bond and his desire to keep his nature as a Radiant hidden/his lack of understanding initially and assume it to be queer foreshadowing/parallel. I big get that. And that’s not a bad interpretation. 

The problem is, this is the ONLY interpretation people put forth. They ignore things explicitly said/connections made in canon to Renarin being autistic and say ‘this is it. this is what this means. it’s about him being gay’. When, actually, a good chunk of it is about his experience as an autistic man in an allistic society. Which I think is what Brandon wants to explore/has set up in the text. 

So I decided to look at this in more depth from an autistic perspective - some of the moments that most clearly parallel Renarin’s autistic experience and explain how and why this is a thing, and hopefully just highlight this aspect of his character and explain things to folks. 

Renarin’s Blade Screaming 

Jumping right into it then: Renarin’s bond with Glys is very clearly paralleled with his autism. The text outlines this connection multiple times throughout the series, and explores it in interesting ways. 

First up, Renarin first revealing himself as a Truthwatcher makes this pretty clear: 

“And the Shardblade,” Dalinar said, stepping over and taking his son by the shoulder. “You hear screams. That’s what happened to you in the arena. You couldn’t fight because of those shouts in your head from summoning the Blade. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was me,” Renarin whispered. “My mind. But Glys, he says . . .” Renarin blinked. “Truthwatcher.” (WoR)

“Adolin,” he said softly. “I … um … I have to give you back the Shardblade you won for me.”

“Why?” Adolin said.

“It hurts to hold,” Renarin said. “It always has, to be honest. I thought it was just me, being strange. But it’s all of us.”

“Radiants, you mean.”

He nodded. (Oathbringer)

Renarin didn’t explain to his father or the others what was happening to him because he thought it was part of his autistic experience. 

Being autistic you get used to experiencing a lot of in-brain things and not realising that other people don’t experience them, too. I have hypersensitivity to sound. I can hear things other people don’t, because their brains naturally filter them out - like electronics whining. 

The experience of having a Shardblade scream inside your head is actually a pretty great parallel for sensory overload. It’s something intense, something frightening, and overwhelming, and even painful. But Renarin just endures it without comment because that’s what we’re conditioned to do. 

“A group of shellheads tried to seize one of the bridges, Brightlord,” the bridgeman said softly. “Brightlord Renarin insisted on going to help. Sir, we tried hard to dissuade him. Then, when he got near and summoned his Blade, he just kind of . . . stood there. We got him away, sir, but he’s been sitting on that rock ever since.”

[...]

“I just stood there,” Renarin said. “I wasn’t frozen because of my . . . ailment. I’m just a coward.”

When Adolin hears about Renarin freezing up he assumes that he had a fit. Renarin corrects him on this, once he’s verbal again, but says that he was just a coward. 

He froze up once he summoned his Blade. Because it would have started screaming in his head and this was overwhelming. When other Radiants have experienced this on-screen the screaming has been so intense they immediately dropped or dismissed the Blade, unable to hold it. 

From this, I infer that Renarin believes everyone experiences this when they fight with a Shardblade. He doesn’t realise that it’s strange for him because he’s a Radiant. He thinks everyone experiences it, but they push through and overcome it. He can’t, and instead of thinking something strange is going on, he assumes that it’s a weakness of his and that he’s a coward. 

This is a fairly common autistic experience. Why can’t you just get over this? Why is that overwhelming you? Just ignore the sound. Just ignore the lights. Stop being so weak/oversensitive. 

That’s what Renarin thinks is happening. That’s why he doesn’t examine his experiences more closely, and realise he’s a Radiant. He thinks it’s part of him being autistic, and that he’s just being overly sensitive, until Glys is able to communicate with him and explain he’s a Truthwatcher.

The Rhyshadium Don’t Fit

“They don’t fit, you know.”

“Don’t fit?”

“Ryshadium have stone hooves,” Renarin said, “stronger than ordinary horses’. Never need to be shod.”

“And that makes them not fit? I’d say that makes them fit better.…” Adolin eyed Renarin. “You mean ordinary horses, don’t you?”

Renarin blushed, then nodded. (Oathbringer)

This, for me, is one of the most direct and obvious parallel between Renarin’s experience as an autistic man, and his experience as a Radiant. 

Firstly, he comments on the Rhyshadium ‘not fitting’ with ordinary horses. They’re different. They have different hooves, which means they never need to be shod, like regular horses. In this case, being shod is something all horses do. It’s something natural for them, and the Rhyshadium not having it makes them stand out. This is similar to Renarin’s experience in society and in life. 

The Rhyshadium are sometimes called ‘the third shard’ - they’re tied to the Radiants and to Stormlight. Renarin aligning himself with them, and his not fittng with them not fitting, mirrors his being Radiant stopping him from fitting in as he wants to.

A big part of his arc is his desire to fit in somewhere. His integration with Bridge Four is a huge boost to his confidence. He asks to join them to try and find somewhere to belong. The bridgemen are outcasts. They’re people who don’t fit in society, either, for various different reasons. Renarin fits with them, therefore, because he doesn’t fit elsewhere. 

When he starts becoming a Radiant, and a different type of Radiant to the others, he starts to worry again. He worries that, yet again, he’s different for reasons he cannot control, and he’s worried the bridgemen will abandon or reject him as has happened frequently in noble society. 

“So why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m … not?”

Adolin gave him a flat stare.

Renarin dismissed the Blade. “I simply … Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”

Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”

“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”

The conversation continues, and further solidifies the connection between the Rhyshadium not fitting with other horses, and Renarin not fitting in with other people. 

He had become a Shardbearer, and was starting to fight and do what an Alethi man is expected to do in society. Go to war with Shards, with glory, etc etc etc. That didn’t quite work out. 

For Renarin, whenever he gets closer to assimilating with the standard society and expectations, something happens to stop him. Initially it’s his epilepsy. He has fits, and his chronic illness makes him generally weaker and more frail, meaning that he can’t fight. 

Once he’s given Shards to help mitigate those factors, he can’t use the Shards because his Radiant bond makes them scream inside his head. Again stopping him from fighting and becoming a soldier. 

He then goes on to tell Adolin that he doesn’t really know how to Radiant. And Adolin says that he thought it would just come to him/he would instinctively know, but he doesn’t. 

This is, again, a very classic autism thing. We struggle with doing things that allistic people find instinctive, and don’t need to be actively taught - such as reading and projecting the correct body language.

Adolin, who takes very naturally to all this stuff, just assumes that Renarin’s Radianting would just come to him, and Renarin has to explain that actually no, it hasn’t. This literally cannot get any clearer in forging an obvious link between his autism and his Radiant abilities. 

Renarin’s ‘Corrupted’ Bond: 

“What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…” (Oathbringer)

[...]

“Does it strike you as cruel of fate, Father? My blood sickness gets healed, so I can finally be a soldier like I always wanted. But that same healing has given me another kind of fit. More dangerous than the other by far.” (Rhythm of War)

[...]

Lopen called out, asking Renarin to “look into the future and find out if I beat Huio at cards tomorrow.” It seemed a little crass to Dalinar, bringing up his son’s strange disorder, but Renarin took it with a chuckle.

[...]

It would be so much easier if he were like other Radiants. (RoW)

[...]

“And a blackness interfering, marring the beauty of the window. Like a sickness infecting both of you, at the edges.”

“Curious,” Dalinar said, looking where Renarin had pointed, though he’d see only empty air. “I wonder if we’ll ever know what that represents.”

“Oh, that one’s easy, Father,” Renarin said. “That’s me.”

“Renarin, I don’t think you should see yourself as—”

“You needn’t try to protect my ego, Father. When Glys and I bonded, we became … something new. We see the future. At first I was confused at my place—but I’ve come to understand. What I see interferes with Odium’s ability. Because I can see possibilities of the future, my knowledge changes what I will do. Therefore, his ability to see my future is obscured. Anyone close to me is difficult for him to read.”

“I find that comforting,” Dalinar said, putting his arm around Renarin’s shoulders. “Whatever you are, son, it’s a blessing. You might be a different kind of Radiant, but you’re Radiant all the same. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide this or your spren.”

Renarin ducked his head, embarrassed. His father knew not to touch him too quickly, too unexpectedly, so it wasn’t the arm around his shoulders. It was just that … well, Dalinar was so accustomed to being able to do whatever he wanted. He had written a storming book.

Renarin held no illusions that he would be similarly accepted. He and his father might be of similar rank, from the same family, but Renarin had never been able to navigate society like Dalinar did. True, his father at times “navigated” society like a chull marching through a crowd, but people got out of the way all the same.

Not for Renarin. The people of both Alethkar and Azir had thousands of years training them to fear and condemn anyone who claimed to be able to see the future. They weren’t going to put that aside easily, and particularly not for Renarin. (RoW)

Sorry for the quote barrage, but there was really  no other way to do this, and I think it makes a nice little arc in how Renarin sees himself and his bond to Glys and, by extension, his autism. 

In the temple, with Jasnah, he considers it to be something wrong. He’d thought he was finally fitting in, being like everyone else, doing something “right” but it turns out his bond is of Odium, and while he thought he fit with the others, he doesn’t. Again.

 The RoW segments are what’s most interesting to me, because what we see here, I think, is Dalinar experiencing Renarin’s ‘disorder’ as he calls it and processing it/coming to terms with it in a way a lot of parents approach their kids’ autism. But this is a bit more approachable/less painful to look at because he’s considering him being a weird glowing power ranger, and not an autistic kid. Easier to examine more honestly. 

So first of all Renarin, again, calls a direct link between his bond and his autism. The ‘healing’ that came with his bond gave him another kind of otherness. Another way he can’t be a soldier - which, for Renarin, in Alethi society, means him being like everyone else. I was going to go into this more here but this thing is already long as fuck, but in a nutshell being a soldier is Renarin’s dream because that’s him being “normal” and being like everyone else, which fate always conspires to stop him from being. 

In Alethi society the peak of masculinity and of fitting in to the social order, which revolves around war and glory and battle courage blah blah blah - is being a soldier and fighting. Which Renarin has never been able to do. Which his father has always wanted him to do - wihich Renarin knows. 

A lot of allistic people, especially allistic parents, think their autistic kids won’t pick up on their blatant ‘oh my god I wish my kid was normal’ vibes. They do. BELIEVE ME they do. This is a good little nod to that. Dalinar has never outright looked at Renarin and said ‘I want you to be a soldier to be worthy of my love and respect’ but it’s what Renarin grew up knowing and seeing from him. 

The evolution of that through exploring Dalinar’s attitude to Renarin being bonded with an Odium-aligned spren is...Utterly fascinating, to say the least.

Here, for example, Dalinar sees it as a “strange disorder”. When Renarin calls a spade a spade and just goes ‘yeah no that weird thing right there that makes you comfortable? That’s me, buddy, get used to it’. Which is just. Absolutely effervescent. There’s a big instinct allistic people have to dance around autistic people. So many innuendos. So many fluffy phrase that I hate. “On the spectrum.” “On the autism spectrum”. “Differently abled” “Sees the world differently.” Just call me autistic and let me move on with life I do not have time to deal with your internalised issues. 

He kind of comes around on it and gives him the whole “you might be a different Radiant but you’re still a Radiant to me, son”. Replace the word Radiant here with person and you’ll have a conversation I’ve experienced so many times. “Just because you’re a weird person doesn’t mean you’re not still a person!” Why thank you for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed....Thank you for validating my humanity to my face?? As though I needed you to do that?

Contrast this with Renarin’s cheerful acceptance (ABSOLUTELY STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, HELL YES) - ‘yeah no that weird thing right there is me’. I cheered, dear reader, I CHEERED. It’s a little thing but it’s also a very very big thing. 

So is Lopen making light of things - in a way that laughs with Renarin and not at him - wanting him to predict the outcome of his card game. Renarin laughs at this, and is obviously comfortable with the jokes and the camaraderie. Dalinar winces at this and thinks that it shouldn’t be made fun of this way, that it’s crass or wrong, Renarin has a disorder, it makes him weird and delicate, people shouldn’t joke around him with that, it’s not right. But Renarin is comfortable with it, and the Bridgemen are comfortable with him, which Dalinar obviously isn’t - though I get that he’s trying to go there. 

Then, again, we draw a very direct parallel between Renarin’s Radiant experience othering him socially and autism othering a person socially. Absolutely exquisitely done mister sando, very nice indeed. 

Renarin notes that there are ways to go through society. It’s nice to be like Dalinar and have the clout to buck the expectations, and not do what you’re supposed to, and still get away with it. Isn’t that nice? Bitch wrote and published a book and he’s still seen as masculine and worthy of respect and being yielded too. 

Remember that Renarin can read and write as well - he learned so he could interpret his visions. But he hasn’t shared that with people. Because he knows that it won’t be accepted the way Dalinar was. 

Sanderson sets up this idea rather nicely in Oathbringer, actually, with the scribes meeting. 

Renarin glanced at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.

He came so Renarin wouldn’t feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can’t be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.

 This part has always made my heart happy. Because it’s not just about Dalinar validating Renarin’s societally ‘feminine’ tendencies - which he gets subtly bullied/mocked for during that meeting by one of the other women in attendance. It’s about all of his differences, it’s about Dalinar validating his autistic experience as well, and helping to fit him in to a society that continually rejects and ousts him. 

This idea evolves through RoW, however, with Renarin understanding that Dalinar can do things that he won’t be allowed to get away with. Dalinar isn’t so much breaking down barriers with Oathbringer as he is stomping through them because he has enough social privilege to do so, for the most part, unscathed. 

Renarin keeps his reading a secret because, even after what Dalinar has done, it’s not going to change things for most men, and certainly not him. 

Renarin has learned, throughout his life, that him being different is not going to break down any barriers. People are not going to change their world, or their worldview, for him and his differences. He knows that he has to adapt, and he knows that he won’t be afforded the same luxuries as others. 

He’s more comfortable with this now. He’s learning to be himself, and learning that the world won’t fit itself to him, he just has to do what he’s going to do anyway, and find the places where he fits, rather than trying to change the ones where he doesn’t. It’s actually a really beautiful little arc, and I’m strongly tempted to look at it in more depth at some point. Renarin and Dalinar’s dynamic is actually incredibly deep, layerd, and complex, and it’s something I’ve been meaning to look at for a while. HOWEVER. NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THAT. 

TL;DR: Renarin’s Radiant experience is a direct allegory and parallel to his autistic experience. This is explored and made blatant by canon repeatedly, throughout the series, and Renarin’s experience as a Radiant is clearly a vessel by which Sanderson intends to explore his autism. Stop erasing and ignoring this when you talk about Renarin and analyse his arc. His autism is as intrinsic to this as it is to identity. It’s part of him. Stop erasing it.

I’m not saying you can’t find parallels or comfort in Renarin’s arc as a queer person. I’m just saying you cannot look at it in isolation. As though the text is ONLY making a parallel between his queer identity and his bond. Because it’s very fucking blatantly not. His autism is obviously and canonically tied to his Radiant bond and this is something that MUST be noted whenever you talk about this aspect of Renarin’s character.

Note: if anyone has any questions or comments on this, I am happy to engage and to clarify what I meant/add further detail and supporting evidence for various different aspects. There’s only so much I can cover in one post! For my sanity as well as yours...But there’s absolutely more, and I’m happy to look at that as well.

[dindjarindiaries]

Mandoctober - October 1: Mandalorian

summary: While spending a relaxing evening together, Din tells you stories of his people and the culture of the Mandalorians.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: pure fluff y’all (and possibly a little bit of canon divergence), happy mandoctober!

rating: T

word count: 1.194k

mandoctober masterlist

october 1: mandalorian

You don’t always get moments like these, dropped out of hyperspace and resting somewhere remote and safe at your riduur’s side. The baby’s sleeping peacefully on the ship while you and Din share your own makeshift bed on the ground beside it, looking up at the night sky together through a clearing in the surrounding wood. Din’s comfortable enough in this private space to rest without his armor and his helmet, leaving all of it in the ship as he lets you rest your head on his tunic-covered chest. His hand runs gently over your head as yours plays with the charm around his neck, the lines of the Mythosaur rolling over the pad of your thumb.

You shift your gaze from the night sky to the necklace in your hand, looking over the figure of the Mythosaur with wide eyes. You see Din’s still focused on the sky, his dark gaze reflecting the stars as they reveal all the warmth and peace he feels here with you. It makes you bite back a smile as you look back to the necklace.

“Din?” you whisper, regretful to break the peaceful silence but needing to feed your curiosity—and your desire to hear his voice.

“Yeah, cyar’ika?” Din responds, his own rasp light as you feel his gaze shift to you.

You turn the Mythosaur over in your hand, biting back a smile before you continue. “I want to hear about your people.”

“My people?” Din chuckles slightly as he runs his hand over your head again. “What about them?”

You shrug. “Anything.” You look up to meet his gaze, soaking in its warmth as you press a kiss to the Mythosaur in your hand. “Please?”

Din sighs lightly, easing your head back onto his chest as he moves his hand to your back. “Sure.” You smile with content, staring back up at the stars and waiting for the rumble of his baritone in his chest as he goes on. “I... didn’t know much about the Mandalorians when I was growing up. We weren’t used to any kind of action. That’s why that day took us by surprise.”

You grimace slightly at his words, entwining your free hand with his and giving it a squeeze.

“My mentor, the one who saved me, he filled me in. I could just… truly tell how much he loved Mandalore and its culture. It made me want to be the same way. So, I had him tell me new stories, every night—up until I was of age and no longer under his care.”

“What was your favorite story?” You’re smiling again, running one thumb over the back of Din’s hand and the other over the Mythosaur.

“My favorite? Oh, cyare… it’s been a long time.”

“I know you remember.” Your tone is teasing, and when you look up to face Din again, you see him biting back a smile up at the stars.

“The rebuilding of Mandalore.” Din’s voice is full of wonder as he speaks, making your smile impossible to remove as you listen to him speak about his people with such reverence. “I… well, I always thought it was incredible to hear about how the Mandalorians rebuilt their home after its devastation. They adapted and made the changes they needed to and it just makes… it makes me feel—.”

“Proud?”

Din nods and brushes his hand over your back. “Yeah. Proud.”

“I understand why.” You’re both silent for a moment, with you thinking on Din’s words while he waits for you to prompt him with something new. “The Mandalorians never made you feel like an outcast because you were a foundling, did they?”

“Never.” Din provides the answer quickly and with passion. “They always made me feel like one of their own.” He takes a gentle breath, and when you hear his head rustle around, you lift your own head to follow his gaze that points towards the Crest. “The foundlings are the future,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s saying it to himself. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” you repeat after him, still keeping your soft tone as you smile at him. Din looks back to you and you just about melt at how warm and affectionate his gaze is. He gently encourages you to sit up with him, pressing his forehead to yours in a Keldabe kiss as soon as he’s able to. He takes both your hands between his as he smiles at you.

“You know what one of my very favorite things is about my culture?” Din questions, his voice as light as air and nearly breaking on a few words thanks to his rasp.

“What?” You use his same tone, unable to stop smiling as he gives your hands a squeeze.

“The importance of family.” Din closes his eyes, still smiling to himself as he brushes his nose against yours. “Your clan is everything. You protect them and provide for them with your life, no matter the cost.” He pauses, reopening his eyes to look deep into your own. There’s so much amazement and love swimming there that you feel your own gaze getting misty, your heart swelling in your chest as he continues. “Thanks to you and the baby, I finally have a clan of my own. There’s nothing I love more than caring for you two.” Din lifts one of his hands to gently brush his fingers over your cheek. “There’s nothing I love more than you.”

You can’t help giggling, needing to release the pure love and giddiness he’s built within you at his touching words. Your hands meet the sides of his face as you pull it to your own, kissing him with the same depth and passion he’s just shown you with his words. When you pull away, you add a kiss on his forehead and then lift his necklace again, also kissing the Mythosaur. “I love you too, Din—every part of you, especially your culture. It’s beautiful.”

Din smiles at you almost like he’s in a daze, his lips meeting your temple as his hands support your neck. “Gar mesh’la.” You’re beautiful.

You wince with slight embarrassment, hiding your face in his neck as he laughs softly at you.

“N'eparavu takisit,” Din continues to laugh, pressing another kiss to your head. I’m sorry. “Don’t hide from me, riduur.”

You lift your face again, meeting his affectionate gaze with nothing but warmth. “Do you ever worry if you’re too soft for a Mandalorian, Din?”

Din chuckles, running his thumbs over your cheeks as he raises an eyebrow at you. “There’s no such thing as a ‘soft Mandalorian,’ cyar’ika,” he assures you. “There’s only a Mandalorian very much in love.”

You shake your head at him, exchanging another smile before he kisses you again—his passion for his people easily matching that which he has for you.

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[mcu-padawan]

let it be me

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x gender neutral!Reader 

Description: Obi-Wan Kenobi. A renowned Jedi Master across the galaxy. A prized General in the Republic. But to you, he was just a shy boy with eyes as endless as the ocean. 

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of slavery (SW canon), angst, some fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! I am back!! This took me FOREVER to finish mostly because I was adjusting to school being back in session and being back on campus. Anyways, I am happy to finally be posting this because i feel like i’ve been almost done for the longest lol. Hope y’all enjoy this! 

If y’all want to you should listen to “seven” by Taylor Swift for this! It was a huge inspiration (especially the part where she sings about a braid… because… padawans have their braid… ok i’ll go)

(check out my other works!)

large italicized section is a flashback 

not my gif 

— — — — — — 

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” you say. You’re trying your best to keep up with Aayla Secura, Jedi Master, and one of your best friends. Even though you two hadn’t spent your padawan years together, Aayla is one of the Jedi you were closest to. Having spent almost your entire Jedi years away from Coruscant, Aayla is one of the only constants in your life. You first met the younger Jedi when she traveled to a planet on the Outer Rim to join you on a mission. Since that mission, both of you have made sure to work together in as many missions as possible. You loved spending time with her, and after having spent countless rotations without seeing her, you are especially happy to see her. Except for this moment in time.

“Nonsense! You haven’t been back in Coruscant in years! Everyone needs to know you’re here.” Aayla grabs your hand and pulls you closer to her, guiding you quickly down the halls of the Temple and into what you know will surely be your doom.

You’re not sure where your friend is taking you, but as you keep walking, a feeling of dread starts to settle in your stomach. You start to feel a familiar pull in the Force, a pull that you thought you’d never feel again.

-

You sit on a bench outside the Jedi temple. Your limbs are sore after all the training for the day. As a newly appointed padawan, you are still getting used to the schedule your new master has you on. Today consisted of grueling physical drills. After a week of meditation training, the physical training was a welcome change of pace, but you are now suffering the consequences of such a change. 

After the training ended, your master allowed you to return to your quarters for the day. Instead of going straight back, however, you decided to take a walk outside the temple to catch some fresh evening air. So here you sit, on a bench in the temple gardens, massaging your sore shoulder in hopes of easing some of the discomfort. 

You sit in comfortable silence for a while when you hear noise coming from behind some large bushes. You look up to said bushes, trying to see if you catch anything. Your master had been teaching you about reading Force signatures earlier in the week, but you don’t pick up anything tangible. After a few moments, you hear the sounds again. This time, you can decipher the sound of a thud followed by frustrated sighs and mumbling. You decide to get up and investigate, your curiosity getting the best of you.

You walk behind the bush to find a fellow padawan trying to float upside down while keeping his legs crossed and under (on top?) of him. You can see his form is off, and you notice the visible shakiness going through him as he closes his eyes and silently mumbles to himself. You keep watching him for a few moments until he suddenly falls out of his position and onto the floor. He quickly scrambles up, dusting his robes off in visible frustration. It’s not until he looks up that he notices you looking at him.

“Umm... hello there,” the young man says. 

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment of being caught spying. You quickly scramble up an answer.

“Hi. I wasn’t spying you know.” You mentally curse yourself at the obviously flustered response.

“Right. Well, I’m sorry you had to see that.” He mumbles the last half, looking down and dusting his robes in discomfort.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say as you move closer to him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service,” he says and looks up at you. The two of you make eye contact and you feel your breath leave your body. 

The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen capture you. You feel like you can’t look away from the eyes of a young man you just met. You feel a tug towards him, but you can’t exactly describe what the tug is. You only know that you feel like you’ve known Obi-Wan Kenobi your whole life.

“What... what were you doing behind the bushes?” You decide to break the silence, if only to prolong the time you have to look at him. 

He laughs and averts his eyes, a ting of pink brushing his cheeks. “I was working on a new meditation drill my master taught me. Well, I guess it’s not new... I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while. As you can see, I haven’t been successful.” You can tell he’s embarrassed, as he keeps his eyes on anything but your direction. His hands are fidgeting at his side.

You hesitate, unsure how your proposal will sound, but ultimately decide it’s worth a shot. “I- I can help you out, if you’d like.”

He looks up. You’re trapped in the depth of his eyes once again, the pull you previously felt stronger now. You take a couple steps closer to him and continue. 

“My master taught me a couple of breathing techniques that helped me out with this exercise. Here, let me show you.” You move to sit on the floor with your legs crossed, motioning for him to do the same. Obi-Wan sits next to you. At this distance, you can feel the warmth that radiates from Obi-Wan. At this distance, you can feel the pull get stronger and know that it’s a product of the Force. At this distance, you feel yourself get trapped inside Obi-Wan’s Force signature, warmth and safety the only words on your mind.

And that’s how it began. Weeks of practicing drills together turned into years of friendship with Obi-Wan Kenobi. You two trained almost daily together, offering comfort after difficult training sessions, confiding in each other secrets nobody else knew.  But that was then, and this is now, ten years later, with nothing but memories of those deep blue eyes.

-

Aayla pulls you into a room. You can only assume a meeting has just wrapped up, given the Jedi chatting. You recognize several faces of Jedi you’ve met throughout your missions. You nod and smile in acknowledgment to those you make eye contact with, but Aayla keeps on pulling you away before you get a chance to give a proper hello.

Aayla finally stops in front of three Jedi. You recognize Kit Fisto, and you’re sure the other Jedi is Luminara Unduli (you hadn’t had the chance of formally meeting her yet). The third figure looks up when you join the group. When you meet his eyes, it takes all your willpower not to gasp.

An ocean, deep and endless, captures you. The pull in the Force you’d been feeling since arriving at Coruscant is as intense as ever, awakening after being dormant for more than 10 years. 

You don’t recognize his face. No, the face looking back at yours is not one you remember. Gone is the shy smile of the young man you met all that time ago. Gone is the excited expression of the young padawan you spent each and every day with. Gone is the eager innocence of the man you’d come to know and love. 

Instead, the man you face is one who’s had to endure loss, as many other Jedi had due to the war. Years of fighting have taken a toll on this man, it’s evident through the lines surrounding his eyes and the grey hair around his temples. His face is hardened with years of experience as a Jedi, a Jedi who’s seen the true evil in the galaxy.

But his eyes. They’re the same eyes you’ve always known. And they offer the same warmth and safety they did when you first met Obi-Wan Kenobi all those years ago.

“Hello there.” 

The rich voice with the unmistakable Coruscant accent breaks you away from your thoughts. You feel heat come up to your cheeks when you realize you’ve been staring.

“Hello Obi-Wan. It’s been too long.”

~

You stroll the gardens outside the temple, fingers grazing the various plants and flowers growing there. Memories flood your mind. Memories of when you first came to the temple as a youngling. Memories of exploring the temple’s secret passages as a young padawan. Memories of spending your day by Obi-Wan’s side, climbing trees, wrestling in the gardens after dark, gazing up at the night sky and speaking of all the places you’d explore as Jedi, places you promised to explore together. 

You stop at a bench and take a seat, trying to clear your mind of moments long gone. Everything had changed after the sudden death of your master while on Er’Kit, a planet distraught by slavery. The loss of your master forced you to become a Jedi Knight suddenly and take over the number of missions assigned to them. What followed was change: you had a chance to travel the galaxy and make a difference in countless planets. But with that change came loss: you hadn’t been on Coruscant for more than ten years, losing the only home you ever knew, and with that the person you knew understood you like no other.

You feel a change in the Force before you hear him. Over the years you had grown skilled at noticing changes in Force signatures. The Force signature headed your way is unmistakable. 

He takes a seat next to you, his cloak rustling against yours, his thigh a breath away from your own. The both of you sit in silence for some time, simply readjusting to be in each other’s presence after being apart for so long.

He decides to break the silence. 

“When I heard you were coming back to Coruscant I didn’t believe it.”

You chuckle, keeping your eyes on the garden. “I didn’t either. The council had promised me countless times I could return only for something else to pop up.”

“Well there’s no better person than you to lead our efforts in freeing those in captivity. You always were so caring of others.”

You wait a heartbeat before turning to face him and notice he had been looking at you this entire time. Your eyes scan his face, taking him in, really taking all of him in, and looking for the man you had left behind all those years ago. You find him in the warmth of his eyes, present despite all the events the war had brought with it. 

“I tried to come back. As much as I knew I needed to continue on the operation, I tried coming back. I need you to know that I tried to contact you, I tried to tell you how sorry I was for —“ You don’t realize you’re rambling, eyes beginning to water, until he puts a hand over yours and soothingly shushes you.

“Shhhh Y/N. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know. Naboo was a long time ago. You had no control over anything that happened.” His thumb is rubbing circles on your hand, sending chills and warmth through you.

“My only regret is that I wasn’t here with you when you needed it. If only I hadn’t been send on the mission to Er’Kit maybe—“

“Don’t do that to yourself.” One of his hands moves to wipe a tear off your cheek. “My love, you’ve been through so much yourself. I know I wasn’t there then. But I am here now. You’re here now. We’re here now, and that’s more than I could ever hope for.”

Your heart clenches at his words, emotions that had built up and that had been pushed down for years finally surfacing. 

“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you,” you tell him. “Look at the man you’ve grown to be Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon would have been so proud.”

“Just as your master would have been proud of the person you’ve become. You’ve done so much for the people of the galaxy. Even if I wasn’t able to say it then, know that I’ve always been proud to know one of the best Jedi this galaxy has seen.” 

“I’ve missed you.”

“As I have missed you, my darling.”

You can’t hold back anymore, so you lean in to hug him. Obi-Wan wraps his arms securely around you, enveloping you in his warmth and in his Force signature. Though its been too long since you’ve felt his embrace, it feels as if you’ve never left his side.

“I’ve always cared for you Obi,” you whisper into his shoulder. “Deeply.”

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you, my sweet. My life is a million times better with you in it. I’m glad you’re finally home.”

Home. You used to think the Jedi temple was home. But now you realize you’d been wrong. Home wasn’t a place for you, but a person. 

He didn’t need to say it. His embrace, his warmth said it all. Let me be your home. 

“I’m glad I’m home.”

-------------------

Tags (ps feel free to ignore / lmk if you’d like to be removed)

@anakin-danvers @acciokenobi​ @obirain​ @goldenkenobi​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @cherrykenobi​ @valkyrieofthehighfae​ @corellians-only​ @a-dorin​ @jediforce​ @snips-n-skyguy0501​ @anakinswhore​ @sweeetteaa​ @weirdfangirl2416​ 

[kmomof4]

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

We’re back y’all!!! I am so glad that you enjoyed last weeks installment and I’m hoping that you’ll like this one just as much, if not even more!!! We have quite a bit throwing back to canon in this chapter and I so hope you enjoy it!!! Thank you all again for coming along on this journey with me! Words cannot express how much it truly means to me!!!

@profdanglaisstuff​ and @hollyethecurious​ both deserve every good thing and all the love I can possibly give for their invaluable assistance and input in the crafting of this story!!! I also want to express my appreciation to the ladies of the CSSNS and the CSMM discords for their encouragement and help with a title! And finally to @spartanguard​ for bringing this story to LIFE every single week!!! Real life got in the way this week, so the chapter art will be up tomorrow. But even so, my heart is so full, just know that I’ll never be able to adequately express how much your hard work on behalf of this story means to me! I am immensely grateful!!! Thank you all so much ladies!!! I couldn’t have done this without you!!!

Chapter summary: 19yrs after leaving Massachusetts, Emma returns to Killian.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 8751 of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @branlovestowrite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @nikkiemms​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

19yrs later Emma Swan Fisher drove down the meandering gravel road that purported to lead to the address, and the man, written on the envelope tucked into her purse. Purported, because she had left the main road almost three minutes ago and there was still no sign of the house. She finally came around a bend and laid eyes on the… her jaw dropped, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. It was a mansion, there was no other word for it. She pulled into a courtyard in front of the most magnificent home she had ever seen. Realizing what she probably looked like, her jaw snapped shut. Being seen gaping like a fish wouldn’t exactly be the best first impression.

Climbing the stairs to the front porch, she could see into the house through the top half of the door. It was designed like a farmhouse window with wood mullions dividing the glass into smaller windows so that she could easily see in. The doorbell echoed as a tall, older gentleman came toward the door. She stepped back as she waited for him to answer.

He opened the door and a gasp left his lips. “Miss Emma?” Surprise colored his words and his face. She stepped back further in alarm at his question, nearly taking a tumble off the steps. He reached out, catching her before she could fall. He was clothed in black slacks and white shirt, open at the top with the sleeves rolled up. He was probably a little old to be sporting a mostly grey ponytail, she guessed him to be in his late 50’s, early 60’s.

“Do I know you?” she asked, regaining her balance. He still held on to her by the elbow and she had to stop herself from jerking away from him. He was only trying to help her.

He looked down and chuckled. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t expect you do, Miss. But I certainly remember you, although you were only a wee lass when last I saw you.” He looked back up at her with a broad smile. “I expect that you are here for Master Killian.”

“Uh, yes,” she agreed.

“Please come in, lass,”  he invited, “I’m Starkey, his butler.” He held the door open for her and followed her into a bright, sunny room with floor to ceiling windows opposite letting in the late morning light. She followed him through several rooms, all sporting spectacular views of green lawns sloping down to the Atlantic, before he led her out to a screened-in porch, where she could just discern the waves breaking on the beach and the salty sea air wrapped around her like a blanket. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful and peaceful in all her life. “I’ll let Master Killian know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at him as he left the room. She was still stunned at the reception she had received when he had opened the door. It made the relationship that her mother must have had with this Killian Jones much more clear. If the butler knew who she was, and remembered her after all this time, they must have been very close, indeed. But if they were so close, why had Emma never heard of him? She knew, of course, that she had been born in Boston, and that the family had moved back to her mother’s birthplace in Minnesota when she was three. She’d been so young when they left Massachusetts, it never occurred to her to ask about their years there when she was growing up.  She had a feeling though, that she was soon to get a crash course about that time of her life.

She couldn’t decide if she was dreading it or excited about the prospect.

Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had come here today for one purpose. To hand deliver this letter, written by her recently deceased mother, to the closest friend she had ever had. She had been given this task just a few weeks before Ingrid died. Emma sighed. Those days had been a blur. Anna and Elsa returning home, home health nurses around the clock, being woken in the middle of the night with the news that the end was near, sobbing in her sisters’ arms after she was gone, taking care of legal affairs, it was a miracle that she remained sane. Once everything had calmed down, she knew she had to fulfill her promise. So here she was. Her past had no bearing on what she was here to do. It had no bearing on her future. She’d deliver the letter and leave, duty fulfilled.

Suddenly, Emma felt a familiar shiver race down her spine. It had been awhile since she’d felt it, but not so long that it was wholly unfamiliar. She had felt a similar shiver occasionally over the years when she’d visited Boston with her college friends on the weekends. Especially when they visited the North End. But now, the tingling she’d felt under her skin when she entered the gates of the estate, intensified into full body chills before coalescing around her heart and almost tugging her back toward the main house. She turned away from the view of the ocean back into the house, only to meet another vision in the form of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

A myriad of emotions paraded themselves across his beautiful features. Relief, joy, sadness, excitement, something else that she wouldn’t name. He looked at her as someone would look at their greatest pride and joy, and dearest love all at once.

“Emma,” he breathed.

Emma stepped toward the man slowly, trying to bring her racing heartbeat under control. Her steps faltered slightly as she approached him, trying to catalog everything about his appearance. He was young. Way too young to be a close friend to her 57 year old mother. He didn’t look to be any older than she was. His black hair was gently mussed as if he had a habit of running his hands through it, black scruff with just a hint of ginger, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen (and given the blue eyes of her mother and sisters, that was saying a lot). He was dressed casually in jeans and a gray pullover that stretched enticingly across his chest and biceps. She couldn’t help but wonder at the strength of those muscles and how they’d feel underneath her hands. A shiver of desire ran through her that she promptly squashed. Whoa! Where did that come from? She ran her tongue across her lips as her eyes met his. The tightness in her chest subsided briefly but then intensified as she approached him. Along with the tightness, a wave of dizziness overcame her so suddenly that her knees buckled and she nearly fell at his feet before he caught her in his strong arms.

“Emma,” he cried, “Are you all right?” His clear concern for her well being took the edge off the embarrassment she felt showing that kind of weakness to a virtual stranger.

“Y- yes,” she stammered, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She clutched at his forearms as she gathered her legs back under her and attempted to stand.

“Here,” He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the small table in the breakfast nook before setting her down on one of the chairs. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? See if we can’t get you feeling a bit better.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Hot chocolate would be great.”

A few minutes later, Emma watched as her host placed two hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon on the small table and sat down opposite her.

“How did you know how I liked my hot chocolate,” she asked, with a small smile.

A sad smile crossed his face as he shrugged. “Lucky guess. This was how Ingrid liked to drink hers.”

Emma took a sip of her drink. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Jones,” she apologized, with a shake of her head.

He waved away her apology. “No need to apologize, lass. I’m just glad that your color is a little better now that you have some ‘elixir of the gods’ in you, as Ingrid used to call it. And please,” his penetrating blue gaze seemed to pierce to her very soul, “call me Killian.” She nodded, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s been many years since you and your family left Massachusetts, Emma.” He looked into her eyes, hope and a shyness that she didn’t expect swirling in their depths. She couldn’t explain this unexpected draw to him, but she wanted to stick around and try to get to the bottom of the mystery connecting this man to her family. “How is your mom? Your sisters?”

Emma was brought back to the man before her with the mention of her mother. “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten,” she exclaimed, reaching into her purse with the letter. “That’s why I’m here.” She handed the envelope to him. “My mom asked me to hand deliver this to you.” She looked down and tried to swallow over the sudden lump in her throat. He gently took it from her and she heard the rip of him tearing it open.

She looked up when he’d been silent for several moments reading the letter in his hands. Sorrow sat upon his brow and his eyes were very red, as if he were trying to hold back tears. He folded it back up and laid it on the table between them.

“So Ingrid is dead,” he sighed.

“Yes.”

“When your family didn’t come back four years ago and there was no contact, I was afraid that something like this might have happened,” he murmured. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

The clear anguish and sorrow on his face nearly broke her heart anew. She couldn’t possibly refuse him this, no matter how much she wanted to question him.

“The uterine cancer won in the end,” she began, haltingly. “She was diagnosed just before Christmas of my senior year in high school, 2012. Being so close to the Mayo Clinic, she was able to be treated there.”

Killian nodded. “They’re the best at what they do. I’m glad they were able to treat her.”

“She went into remission just before Anna and I graduated. Anna got her degree in graphic design from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and was planning a fall wedding, so,” she shrugged, “perfect timing.”

“Indeed.” His blue eyes bore into hers sending even more shivers of attraction down her spine that she felt helpless to stop.

“The type of cancer it was,” she continued, “we always knew there was a good chance of it coming back. We were planning on moving back here after I graduated, I was accepted to Harvard, but we decided that she should stay close to her doctors.” Killian nodded at her to continue. “She stayed healthy all through my years at Harvard, but…” here she faltered, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed again. “It came back. She told us the day after I graduated. She was dead three months later.”

Killian bowed his head in sorrow. “It’s taken this long for the estate to get settled and all the legal proceedings to wind up. I’m sorry.”

His head snapped back up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for, lass,” he choked out. “I’m glad you were able to come and give me the news in person, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to find out any other way.”

Emma could feel the blush rising on her face. “It was nothing,” she demurred, “I promised Mom.”

A few moments passed in silence before finally, Killian spoke. “Tell me about your sisters,” he encouraged. “Is Elsa still the quiet one?”

Emma laughed heartily. “As opposed to Anna? Yes! Absolutely!”

Killian chuckled. “I’ll never forget watching Anna learn to walk. She only walked for about a week and then she ran.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “And never stopped.”

Emma laughed again. “That is still true. Anna is a bundle of energy. She surely needs it now...”

“Tell me about Elsa and Anna,” he repeated. “How are they?” Emma lightly shook her head, trying to focus on his question about her sisters instead of the obvious confusion surrounding his memory of her twenty-six year old sister.

“Elsa came home,” Emma began, “after Mom was first diagnosed. She took a job with the St. Paul Chamber of Commerce and has made such a difference in the business community since then, that she’s running for Mayor, and doing very well in the polls. She’s also dating a guy she met at some shindig last year.” She laughed as Killian’s face fell into a tight frown. He certainly had the disapproving Dad look nailed.

“Well, tell me about him,” he very nearly growled. Emma couldn’t hold back her grin. “His name is Jack Frost, owns his own, very popular, restaurant, he’s 30, and treats her like a queen.”

Killian relaxed. “As long as he treats her right, I have no objection,” he huffed. Emma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian’s face broke into a sheepish grin as his face and ears turned red and he scratched behind his ear again. Doubtless he realized just how ridiculous he sounded. His slight bashfulness was adorable as well as the protective instincts he just displayed. “And what about Anna?”

“Anna and Kristoff welcomed their first child, Aggie, last summer. They named him after Anna’s father.” A soft smile broke over her face. “Here’s a picture of Ingrid holding him,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “He was born about a month before she died.”

His smile matched hers. “I’m glad she was able to see and hold him.”

The bittersweet moment ended when Emma put her phone back away. Killian looked back up at her. “He’s obviously taking after Anna,” she added. “He has two speeds. On and off. He just started walking.” She couldn’t stop her smile from widening as she thought about her nephew. She looked back over at Killian who sported an almost awed joy on his face. How had she been drawn in so quickly and easily to this man? A man she had grown up not even knowing of his existence, and had only finally met such a short time ago. She couldn’t believe how easy he was to talk to, to share intimate details of the lives of her family with.

“And now, what about yourself, lass? You said you attended Harvard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, proudly. “I studied Sociology with a concentration in Family and Adoption.” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “I’m thinking about going to law school so that I could specialize in adoptions.” She shrugged and looked away from him. “Given our family history…” she trailed away.

She looked back up at him to see his face split in the widest grin she had ever seen. “I don’t think I could be more proud of you,” he murmured. “That’s wonderful, Emma.”

She could feel the blush spreading again but she maintained eye contact with him, basking in his praise. Why was she so receptive to him? So willing to accept his admiration. She barely knew him!

She fixed him with a hard, confused stare. “Okay, now it’s my turn.” Killian scratched behind his ear in what she recognized as a nervous tic. Something wasn’t right here and physical attraction aside, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. “How exactly did you know my mom? She said that you were her best friend. You tell me stories of my twenty-six year old sister as a toddler. But you don’t look any older than I am.”

Killian chuckled and his ears turned red again as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m much older than I look, lass,” he admitted.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life,” she sassed.

He chuckled again. “Not quite.”

“So how old are you?”

“I’m a lot older than I look.” He fixed her with just as hard a stare as she’d leveled at him. “Let’s just leave it at that. But believe me when I tell you, that not only was I Ingrid’s closest friend, she was also mine.”

His cerulean gaze spoke to the deepest part of her. She knew that he was telling her the truth. Emma prided herself on being able to tell when someone was lying. A sixth sense, so to speak, that was unfailingly accurate if someone was trying to feed her a load of bull. That sixth sense was eerily silent at his statements.

She nodded. “Okay.” She had no idea why she was backing down. Yes, he was telling her the truth, but he wasn’t telling her all of it. How could he be when he didn’t look as old as Anna was now, much less old enough to be such an intimate friend of her mother? She didn’t want to let him off the hook quite so easily, but the quickening of her heartbeat and the tug she felt toward him ever since seeing him for the first time only confirmed what everything else about this encounter pointed toward. The reception she had received, both from him and his butler, and his obvious love for her mother and knowledge of her sisters, all combined to tell her one thing. She was exactly where she belonged. She was home. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she could trust this man in front of her. Knowing that was one thing, acting on it however, was quite another.

“Please,” she begged. “I do trust you. I just want to know your connection with my family.” She knew that she was treading on thin ice, pushing him on this, but she couldn’t help the natural curiosity and desire to put together the puzzle that had been presented her in this man.

“Perhaps that would be a better topic of conversation at a more… neutral location.” Her brow furrowed at his words. “I will answer all your questions. You have my word. I have a lunch appointment that I must depart for soon in order to make, but may I escort you to dinner this evening?”

Emma’s eyebrows jumped nearly to her hairline. “Are you asking me on a date? You just met me!” she exclaimed.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He chuckled. “Then yes, I guess I am.” His face turned serious, his eyes burning into hers, sending her heart rate into a gallop. “Would you go out with me, Swan?”

“What did you say?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Why did you call me that?”

Killian also paled. “It’s your middle name. Anna thought you should have it because of your birthmark.” Her hand rose to her neck where her birthmark was. “Ingrid told me on the day you were born.” He rose from the table and kneeled before her, holding out his hand. “Please, Emma,” he begged, “I know it seems crazy.”

“Yes, it does,” she exclaimed, standing to her feet, her heart galloping in her chest. “Much older than you look? Telling me about the day I was born and when Anna learned to walk? Do you know what you sound like?”

Killian looked down at the floor. “Like a madman, I’m sure.” He looked back up at her, his azure eyes pleading. “And if your face is telling me anything, you’re ready to run out my door and never come back.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

His eyes grew soft as they gazed into her own. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’re something of an open book.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her awaiting her answer. “Please give me a chance.”

She continued to stare at him, the two opposing voices in her head vying for dominance. The one telling her that it was too much, it was too soon, the mystery of the man in front of her didn’t matter. This, he, was dangerous and she would be well served to run as fast and as far away as she could. But the second voice spoke from her heart and told her what she already knew. She could trust him. She could look in his eyes and see how much he cared for her, how much he loved her. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she knew that everything he had told her today was the truth. That piece of her heart, that she never knew she had until today, responded back to his. She placed her hand in his outstretched one.

Killian’s face rivaled the sun at noon as his fingers curled around her own. He rose to his feet before her. “Thank you, Swan.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips, never taking his eyes off of hers. A gasp escaped her as her heart rate sped up even further with a flood of arousal coming over her. He turned her hand over in his own and closed his eyes as he seemed to inhale deeply, drawing his nose along the inside of her wrist. He held his breath for several seconds before slowly letting it out, his warm breath brushing along her skin and raising goosebumps in his wake. His eyes opened and met hers again. “Where may I pick you up this evening?”

Emma swallowed heavily, trying to will her heart rate to slow down. “I’m at The Harborside Inn.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he declared. “I’ll see you at 8.”

~*~*~

Emma opened the door after his knock rang through the cozy, comfortably furnished room. Her eyes widened in appreciation as her eyes landed on him standing on her threshold. He appeared to be equally speechless.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he breathed.

“I, uh…” He looked to be dressed all in black. From the dark silk shirt and waistcoat, showing just a peek of dark chest hair to the black jeans and boots on his feet. A black leather jacket completed the ensemble. The same tingling under her skin she felt earlier intensified into the full body chills and heart tug yet again as her eyes raked hungrily over him. “Thank you.”

His appearance made her doubly grateful that she had done some shopping that afternoon after leaving his estate. She had found a small boutique near her hotel and was helped by a perky blonde saleslady who helped her find the perfect dress and accessories for her date tonight. She wore a pink flowing number with cap sleeves and a v neckline paired with nude pumps while pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. If his widened eyes and shortness of breath were any indication, she did good.

He shook himself out of his apparent daze and held out his arm to her. “Shall we, milady?”

“We shall,” she replied, smiling and slipping her arm through his.

He led her downstairs and out the back toward the pier. Her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on a full sized ship that looked straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. Killian preened beside her at her reaction. “Is that yours?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“She is, indeed,” he replied, proudly. “Behold, the Jolly Roger!”

She couldn’t wipe the shock off her face if she tried. She turned to him, mouth hanging open. “The Jolly Roger? Like from Peter Pan? Are you serious?”

He led her up the gangplank and down onto the deck of the ship. A chuckle escaped his lips and a delighted grin adorned his features as his eyes danced. “Peter Pan is my favorite book of all time. Although I’m definitely partial to Captain Hook. So, of course, I had to name her the Jolly Roger.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him as he led her to the helm. “So, where are we going that it takes a ship to get there?”

Killian’s grin grew even more, if possible. “I got in touch with an old friend of mine this afternoon. He owns a restaurant on the other side of the island. Very upscale, very popular, reservation only. It’s booked solid for the next three years. Most of the menu changes daily according to what the fishermen bring in, but his lobster dishes are the best to be found in all of New England. He was very pleased to arrange an extra seating for us this evening.” Killian drew her into his side as he steered the ship away from the pier and out to the open water. “The Nautilus is right on the water and we can pull in right there and enjoy our meal.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked down at her. She couldn’t suppress the shiver his gaze engendered as she returned his scrutiny. There it was again. The bone deep certainty that she was home. That at his side was where she was supposed to be. Her gaze drifted to his lips as his tongue peeked out between them. He cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back up to his. The hunger she saw there nearly took her breath away.

He looked back out over the water as the lights of Edgartown faded behind them. But she would have none of it. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands and turned his face toward her again before drawing him into a kiss.

Killian groaned into her mouth as she opened in invitation. He gathered her to him even more tightly, her body lining up perfectly to his. Her earlier thought about how his muscles would feel under her hands came back to mind as her own hands wrapped around his biceps as their tongues tangled until she pulled away trying to catch her breath.

“That was…” Killian trailed away, his forehead resting on hers.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

~*~*~

“Killian!” an older bald man exclaimed striding towards them with his arm outstretched.

“Nemo!” Killian called out. Emma immediately mourned the loss of heat when Killian removed his hand from the small of her back to greet his friend. The men met halfway and clasped hands before pulling each other into an affectionate embrace. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them.

Killian led his friend back to where she stood. The genuine smile that lit up his features put her even more at ease at meeting someone who clearly meant a lot to him.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet Captain Nemo,” he introduced. Her face broke into a delighted grin to match his own. “Nemo, my old friend, this is Emma Fisher.” He shot her a bashful, almost apologetic look as Nemo took her hand in between his.

“It is so lovely to meet you, my dear,” he enthused, pumping her hand up and down. “When Killian called this afternoon, I was delighted to add one more seating to the evening.” He cut his eyes back toward Killian. “We’ve been friends a very long time, but it’s also been a very long time since I’ve seen him. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see this one again.”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Captain,” she replied. “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of my favorite adventures from when I was a kid.”

Nemo beamed at her even more than he already was. “I’m so glad! It is also my favorite story. I very much identified with Captain Nemo for many, many years, before I met Killian in the course of my travels. It was his influence that turned me onto a better, nobler path.” Mirth and a bit of mischief could be seen in his eyes as he looked at Killian again.

Killian blushed and scratched behind his ear. The move was even more endearing now, in the presence of his friend, than it was earlier.

“But enough about that,” Nemo continued, “Let me show you to your table.” Killian’s hand returned to the small of her back as they followed Nemo through the large, but very intimate dining room. The low lights and ample space between tables, she could only see five, created an ambiance that sent a flutter of awareness down her spine as they followed their host into another, much smaller room. It contained a single table, set for two. Emma gasped at the loveliness of the setting. The small table was covered by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. A tall, navy blue pillar candle in a hurricane lamp with a ring of yellow buttercups around the base adorned the center of the table. Killian came around her and held her chair out for her.

“So now you’re going to be a gentleman?” She smirked at him.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he cooed, his warm breath brushing the shell of her ear as she sat down. She sent him a small smile as he removed his jacket and seated himself across from her.

Their waiter approached to fill their water glasses. “What may I bring you to drink?” Nemo asked, stepping aside to give the waiter room.

“A bottle of the Premier Cru Les Vaillons 2015, if you please, sir,” Killian decided. He leaned over to her, whispering, “An excellent vintage for the lobster that’s being served tonight.” She nodded her acknowledgement before looking up at their host again.

“Excellent choice,” Nemo agreed. “I’ll get that right out to you and your meals will be out shortly.” Nemo and their waiter disappeared and she was finally able to direct her attention to her company for the evening. She could see the flickering yellow candlelight in his eyes that sparkled in the low lighting. His pupils dilated as he watched her, whether from the lighting or desire, she couldn’t tell.

His eyes grew dark when she lightly wet her lips. She returned his obvious admiration until Nemo returned with their wine. “Your Lobster Thermidor is being prepared as we speak,” he informed them as he poured their wine. “The lobster was harvested this very afternoon after I spoke with you, Killian. It will be served with a simple green salad topped with a light herb vinaigrette and couscous.” Nemo backed away and gave a slight bow to the couple. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Emma and I hope you both enjoy your evening here at the Nautilus.”

Killian smiled. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure we will.” Nemo withdrew and left them alone.

Conversation was light as they waited for their meals. Ranging from favorite books and television shows to a quite vigorous debate on whether Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies lived up to his Lord of the Rings saga. Casual and light touches did nothing to quell the simmering desire brought up by their earlier kiss. Aware of the desire in his eyes, and sending him a sultry smile back, she knew there was only one way she wanted the evening to end. Once their meals arrived, they both dug into the succulent dish accompanied, on her part, with moans of delight as she’d never tasted anything so delicious. Killian appeared spellbound as she swirled a piece of bread in the last of the creamy sauce left behind on her plate. She looked up at him and was gratified to see the desire in his eyes as she opened her mouth and laid the piece of bread on her tongue before closing her lips around her fingers and drawing them out of her mouth.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold as to play the blatant seductress, but the connection she had felt with him, even after she had left him earlier today, plus the effect of the wine was definitely playing a part in her attempts to flirt. He ran his tongue across his lips and a different kind of hunger colored his countenance before he seemed to shake himself out from under her spell. She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment she felt when he looked down at their table.

“Before this goes any further, Emma…” he looked up and his voice trailed away. The darkness of his eyes flashed blood red and a rage that she had only read about took over his visage.

Her sharp intake of breath and her face going pale snapped him out of whatever had overtaken him. He turned conciliatory and concerned eyes upon her. “Emma, are you all right?” He reached out and grabbed her hand with his own.

“Am I alright? What about you?” she asked. “What was that?” She turned to look behind her where the back of the restaurant was a glass wall looking out on the water. She could see nothing that might have incited the drastic change in her companion. “Your eyes went red and I’ve never seen anyone so angry as what I saw on your face just now.”

He shook his head. Not in denial, but in sorrow. “I’m sorry, Emma. I…” he looked back at her. “I promised to answer all your questions. I didn’t want to do it tonight, I was hoping to postpone that just for a little while. I just wanted us to have a fun evening, as a proper first date should be. A chance to get to know each other a little bit. Enjoy each other's company. But circumstances have changed enough that I see I’m going to have to answer all your questions tonight. And I can only hope that you’ll listen, believe, and not reject me. And what is between us.” He stared earnestly into her eyes, hope and trepidation mixing in his until she couldn’t discern which was stronger.

The connection she felt and the trust she had placed in him prompted her to nod her head at him to continue. But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

“You wanted to know what my connection was to your family.” She nodded. “You wanted to know how old I am.” She nodded again. He swallowed heavily. “I am a 450 year old vampire.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t make sense out of what she had just heard. “W-what?” she stammered.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud again.” He shut his eyes, his anguish etched across his face. “You heard exactly what I said.”

She shook her head. “Yes,” she agreed, “I heard what you said. But…”

“I told you that I was much older than I looked,” he interrupted, “and you said you believed me.” The pleading she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“Yes, I believed you. I have a thing about lies.” She shook her head again, trying to clear it, before dropping it into her propped up hands. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. And I know you weren’t.”

“Look at me, please, Emma,” he begged her. She lifted her head and looked into his earnest, forthright eyes. “Everything I will tell you is the truth. You have to trust me,” he pled.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath, seemingly to gather himself. “In answer to your first question, my connection with your family is this. I met Ingrid when she was a child,” he began. Truth. “I saved her life when her parents were killed.” Truth. “I was a close friend and watched her grow up.” Truth. “I was there when she took custody of your sisters and when she adopted you.” Truth.

“I’m telling you all this now because the monster that made me what I am, is here. He’s here for you.” He looked at her again, pleading with her to believe him.

“Why me?”

“We are soulmates,” he asserted. “And we are prophesied to destroy him. Rumplestiltskin.”

She was speechless for a long moment.

“Rumplestiltskin?” she croaked, finally finding her voice. “As in Rumplestiltskin Rumplestiltskin? The fairy tale Rumplestiltskin?”

“All the fairy tales that you know and love, were, at one time, real. They happened to real people. Their true stories have largely been lost, but some still survive in some form. The true story of Rumplestiltskin is much more sinister than the fairy tale you know. He was the first vampire. Created by Darkness from the dawn of time. The baby from the fairy tale was my older brother, Liam. When my mother defeated him, he swore vengeance upon our family. He took that vengeance thirty years later. He murdered Liam, in front of me, and then made me what I am. It was then that I swore vengeance upon him.”

Her heart flooded with compassion for him. The pain of that loss lay plainly upon his brow. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his. He looked up at her, surprised. “I’m so sorry. It may have been hundreds of years ago, but it obviously still pains you.”

He gave her a small smile before looking down at their joined hands. “It does.” He squeezed her hand and ran his thumb along her knuckles. “But this helps.”

“Liam’s murder and my turning happened on the Jolly. In the captain's cabin. I couldn’t return home to my family, so I renamed the ship and became a pirate. In 1650, I found a prophecy in my log book. A prophecy concerning the destruction of Rumplestiltskin. The Blue Fairy, she was the fairy godmother to our family, wrote it. I found it then, but promptly forgot about it until almost sixteen years later. When I met my soulmate for the first time,” his blue eyes bored into hers, “Emma Swan.”

Emma gasped. “Me?”

“You,” he confirmed.

Emma’s head was spinning. As much as she believed him, she did, trying to wrap her mind around everything he had already told her was proving difficult. He was her soulmate. Her soulmate! Did soulmates even exist? Apparently they did, given the connection that she’d felt since she met him. She looked over at him, knowing that the trepidation she was feeling had to be written all over her face. He looked at her so earnestly, so hopeful, with so much love. As nervous as he obviously was to begin his story, none of those nerves were in evidence now. He had laid it all out for her and was waiting for her response.

“I…” she stammered.

“There’s more,” he continued.

Emma withdrew her hand from his to drop her face into them. “How much more,” she moaned.

“I can tell you more about yourself,” he admitted, “and your past, I can tell you more about what my life has been like. But if you’d rather I not, you’ve got the most important information. We can save all that for another time, if you prefer.”

She raised her head and waved her hands around. “Yeah, I think I’d appreciate that. Don’t think I’m ready at the moment for any more.”

Killian took one of her hands in his own again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that our first date took this turn, Emma.”

Captain Nemo approached their table. “How did you enjoy your meal, my friends?” he boomed.

Emma turned to him somewhat startled only to catch a look of significance pass between the two men. “It was w-wonderful,” she stammered. “What?” she questioned, looking back and forth between them. Killian looked back at her, somewhat abashed.

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he contended.

Emma felt the indignation rise underneath her breastbone. She rose from her chair and placed her hands on the table. “Don’t lie to me. I told you I could tell when someone was lying to me.”

Killian’s face immediately fell in shame. “You are absolutely correct, Emma. I apologize.” He motioned back to her chair. “Please sit back down?”

Emma took a deep breath before murmuring her acceptance of his apology and returning to her seat.

“Nemo was relaying what we already knew.” Killian looked back at his friend. “That Rumplestiltskin is outside.”

Emma’s head whipped back to their host so quickly, she heard and felt a pop in her neck. “How do you know?” she asked, astonished.

“I told you, Swan, that he was an old friend.”

Emma turned overwhelmed and incredulous eyes back upon Killian. “Just how old are we talking here?”

Killian’s focus on her face never wavered as he lay yet another truth before her. “Nemo and I have been friends since we met for the first time toward the end of the nineteenth century. Nemo is the Captain Nemo that Jules Verne made famous, in a supposed work of fiction, in the early 1860’s.”

Emma could feel the panic rising up within her, making it hard to breathe. She shook her head again and rose once more. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” She could barely look at Killian, not wanting to see the disappointment she was sure was in his eyes. “Captain, would you be so kind as to call me a cab?” She spoke to the table again. “Killian, I can’t… I just can’t right now. Please, just leave me alone.”  Pushing her emotions deep down, Emma turned from the table and walked as calmly as she could toward the front of the restaurant.

~*~*~

Nemo approached Killian, still sitting utterly forlorn at the table. “You’re not just going to sit there, are you?” he asked.

Killian looked up incredulously at his friend and rose from the table. “Bloody hell, of course not! With Rumplestiltskin out there? What do you take me for?”

Nemo chuckled. “Just making sure, my friend,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Your cab will be here in moments.”

Grim determination adorned his features. “Thank you, Nemo. I’ll not let anything happen to her. Not this time.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied. “That’s why I asked for two cabs to be sent when I called. I knew you wouldn’t want to let her out of your sight.”

Killian rose from the table and placed his hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “You surmised correctly, my friend.”

“She is still in the lobby, waiting for hers. As soon as they arrive, I’ll get her on her way, and then you can come out. I don’t imagine that she’d want to see you waiting as well.”

“I’d imagine not,” Killian conceded.

Nemo left then toward the front of the restaurant. Killian turned toward the glass wall. “I know you’re there,” he growled, “and you’re not going to get her. Not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes flashed red, and he stormed out of the room.

~*~*~

Emma stood at the door to her room when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had understandably felt anxious from the moment she had left The Nautilus. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt exposed and out from under Killian’s protection. She’d had to fight with herself to not rub her arms trying to will away the fear that licked under her skin. But now that fear was intensified for no apparent reason. She opened the door and entered the darkened room, closing and locking the door behind her.

That only made the goosebumps already along her skin tighten even further. The panic from earlier was making a reappearance as she made her way to the bed to turn on the lamp at the bedside table. She drew in a stuttered breath as the lamp cast its soft glow around the room.

A sound she’d never heard the likes of in all her born days drew her attention to the corner of the room. It was a giggle. Of course, she had heard a giggle before, but this was altogether different. It was a sound that she could imagine coming from a homicidal maniac on the big screen or from a creature released from the pits of hell to do what it pleased with the inhabitants of the earth. It was full of a depraved glee that shot waves of terror down her spine.

She turned toward the sound and beheld something that she couldn’t have conceived of in her worst nightmares. Green skin shimmered in the low light, lank hair lay hopelessly tangled around its face, but it was the eyes that forced the scream out of her mouth. At the same instant, the creature waved its hand towards her and the scream was cut off as if with the sharpest knife. She was frozen in place, unable to move as the creature moved deliberately towards her.

She should never have left Killian. It was one thing to listen to what he had to say. It was another to believe and trust him. But it was altogether different to see the things he spoke of alive and in person. At the time, it was a bridge too far to stay with him. And she was going to pay the ultimate price for her folly. She was about to die at the hands of this terrifying monster. Her frozen state notwithstanding, the terror and panic were about to steal her consciousness away. Red eyes and fangs were going to be the last things she ever saw. A lone tear tracked down her cheek. I’m sorry, Killian.

~*~*~

Killian arrived at Emma’s door with the Blue Fairy only to find it locked. The fairy closed her eyes, apparently trying to ascertain if there was any danger nearby. He knocked on the door.

“Emma, it’s Killian, darling,” he said, as he rattled the door knob in his hand. “Please let me in. I don’t want to leave you alone with Rumplestiltskin still out there.”

The Blue Fairy’s eyes flew open. “He’s in there!” she cried, “He’s in the room with her.”

That was all Killian needed to hear. He backed up and kicked the door in with all his might. His beloved was standing near her bed, frozen. Just as he had been all those years ago. His sire stood several feet away from her yet, not having had enough time to execute his foul plans. Killian rushed to Emma and gathered her frozen form in his arms.

“I’ve got you, my darling,” he crooned in her ear. “I won’t let him hurt you. Blue will take care of him for the moment.” He turned to where the two magical beings were locked in a fierce struggle. Dark and light magic sparked and crackled between the adversaries as they met in the center of the room.

Killian lifted Emma in his arms and called to the Blue Fairy as he ran out of the room. An inhuman howl of rage followed them out as the fairy shrunk down to her normal size and led them out the fire exit into the night. Once they were outside the building, she waved her wand over Emma’s frozen form. The enchantment that held her dissolved and she collapsed into Killian’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry! I never should have left you!” She cried into his shoulder as he held her tightly against him.

“Shhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Shhhhhhh. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Turning to the fairy who hovered a short distance away, he asked, “Can you transport us to the Jolly? It’s still at The Nautilus.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she agreed. A cloud of blue smoke enveloped them and the next thing they knew they stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger. They looked into the restaurant where they had enjoyed a marvelous dinner only a short time before and saw Nemo standing at the window. His face was suffused with joy as he raised a hand to them in farewell.

~*~*~

Once they were out to sea, Emma knew they had over half an hour before they’d arrive back at Killian’s estate. She leaned on the gunwale and stared out at the moon and stars shining down on the gentle waves. The chill that pulled her toward Killian was ever present when he was near, but now, she knew he stood just behind her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

“Aye, beautiful,” he murmured.

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “Why do I have the feeling that you aren’t talking about the same thing I am?”

He mirrored her position against the gunwale and looked down at her. “Perhaps I’m not,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry for running,” she confessed, looking down at her clasped hands. “I just couldn’t…” she paused, searching for the right word,  “deal… with everything you were telling me.”

“You’ve no need to apologize, Swan,” he demurred. “Laying all that on you at once, when our attachment was still so new… anyone would have reacted the same.”

“But I nearly lost you,” she began, “because of my foolishness. You almost lost me. If Rumplestiltskin had succeeded, I’d be dead right now and we wouldn’t be able to destroy him.”

Killian turned and gathered her into his arms. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered into her hair. “We are soulmates. Unbound by time. This is the fourth time you’ve lived, and if that monster had taken you again, you’d eventually be reborn again and we’d destroy him next time.” He continued to stroke her back and she could feel the last of the fear and anxiety at what had happened tonight leave her body. With a deep breath, she melted further into his embrace. He pulled back slightly until he could look into her eyes. “I’ve waited centuries for you, my love.” He pulled her back to him. “And I would wait centuries more. I’d go to the end of the world for you. Or time.”

“What if you made me a vampire?” she speculated. She looked back up at him. He was already shaking his head. “Is that possible? Do you know how to do it?” She was starting to get excited. She plowed ahead, even in the face of his reluctance. “Then he couldn’t kill me. I’d be able to stay with you, but we could take our time and formulate a foolproof plan to destroy him, and when we were ready, we could bring the battle to him, instead of always being on the defensive.” She was rambling now, she knew it, but she had to convince him that her idea had merit.

“Emma, I could never inflict on you what was forced on me,” he began.

“But you wouldn’t be inflicting it on me,” she interrupted. “I’m willingly asking for it. Think about it. Please, think about it. Promise me that you will. This will work. If you agree.”

The pleading desperation in her eyes was his undoing. Killian sighed. “I don’t need to think about it,” he acknowledged. “You’re right. Making you a vampire, like me, would give us the greatest weapon available to us, time. And protection for you that in 350 years, I’ve been unable to provide. The night you and your family left Massachusetts, he was waiting for me in my kitchen when I arrived home, holding Starkey captive. I was able to subdue him that night because actions I had taken years beforehand had finally given me the advantage in our strange, centuries long relationship. When that was over, Blue gave me a vision of how to destroy him. But that doesn’t mean that it will be easy, nor that we’d be ready to try it in the near future.” He breathed deeply and released a long, slow exhale. “When we get home, I’ll show you to your room and I want you to really think about this. To really deal with everything you’ve learned tonight. You needn’t fear him breaching our sanctuary. That night, before she left, Blue placed magical barriers around the estate and the Jolly that prevents him from entering.”

Emma rested her head back on his chest, her soul enveloped in peace. Peace only he could give. The peace that came from finding her soulmate. The one she was destined to be with. The one that she would remain with. Forever.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!

[johannas-motivational-insults]

For the DVD commentary ask, my first thought was the BDE/“no toasters” scene from Chapter 3 of Satisfaction, because the idea of a “making of” commentary over that is very funny to me for some reason. But since that probably falls quite a bit too far on the NSFW side, my fallback was the scene from Chapter 20 of Demons where Catra decides to leave the Horde. That one is probably my favorite of the story so far.

omfg, that would be hysterical but I don’t even know what I’d say about that. Your easy pick is an excellent choice though so I’ll do that! (Commentary is bolded.)

I was so excited to finally release this chapter after so much buildup of Catra becoming disillusioned with the Horde and her identity in it. It was clear to me that Catra would not leave just because something bad happened to her, that would only make her more determined to stay and prove herself, so she’d have to see people she cared about getting hurt to make that mental leap. And so, this scene was born.

Eyes scrunching shut, Catra covers her mouth in an attempt to suppress a yawn. It leaks out through her fingers all the same, high and squeaky and embarrassing. Blinking the focus back into her eyes, she flicks them around in search of witnesses. Seeing no cadets looking her way, she sighs in relief and folds her arms back together. She scowls into the sparring circle, watching but hardly paying attention. Is she really supposed to give a shit about any of this?

Don’t forget this happens the morning after Catra has her big breakdown when it hits her that she’ll never have another chance to earn Shadow Weaver’s love or approval. She’s finally at a tipping point.

A few more moves and Lonnie is victorious, slamming her opponent on his back before rolling and dragging his wrist into a devastating arm bar. He taps out and Lonnie gets a modest amount of applause as she stands. Grinning with a sweeping bow, she offers a hand to her opponent, who takes it grudgingly. Kyle and another boy take their places in the circle and Lonnie shares high fives with a few cadets on her way out. She’s nursing a sprained ankle from a couple days ago, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she struts.

When Lonnie’s eyes lock onto hers, Catra groans internally. Of course Lonnie can’t just ignore the folded ears, crossed arms and twitchy tail that very clearly say ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ No, that’s like a homing beacon for Lonnie. She’s always gotten a kick out of getting under Catra’s skin.

Well, Catra won’t give her the satisfaction. As Lonnie sidles up to her, she extends a congratulatory fist. “Nice armbar, dipshit.”

Lonnie grins, bumping it with pride. “Thanks, bitch.”

I love these two so much. Anyone who reads my fics can probably tell but I am Invested in Catralonnie. In my head this ship falls under the category ‘brotps who hate fuck.’

She turns to the circle and they stand silently side by side, watching as the next fight gets underway. In theory, anyway. Catra’s zoning out, her lips sinking into a frown as she settles back into the numb, dark, heavy place she’s been inhabiting today. Grief, she supposes, though not in the usual sense of the word. She’s not grieving that abusive witch who tormented her all those years, body and soul. No, what she’s grieving is the end of their relationship, how it’s encased in stone forever, how she’ll have no more chances to make things right. No more chances to make Shadow Weaver proud, to earn a gentle touch and kind words, to earn her pride and her trust. But that’s bullshit, and she knows it. Those things were never earned, never given fairly.

Oh, she’s starting to get it...

Catra grits her teeth, glaring straight ahead. Today’s numbness has been punctuated by occasional bursts of anger, rage so blinding it makes her wants to tear her own skin to shreds to purge the feeling from her body. (*thousand year stare into the camera*) She rides out this latest wave of fury in silence, clenching her fists but keeping her claws sheathed to avoid making a scene in public. She takes a few deep breaths, pushing them out until the sensation releases her and she sinks back into the depths.

Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra will never get what she needs. It’s over.

Girl, you need to get you some therapy.

“What’s eating you?”

Catra jumps slightly at the invasive words, turning to find Lonnie watching her with those infuriatingly smug green eyes. Licking her lips, Lonnie cracks, “I know it isn’t Adora.”

Me @ y’all:

Catra’s eyes narrow and she gives Lonnie a weak shove, prompting a laugh. “Nothing’s eating me,” she growls. “I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you sparring?” asks Lonnie. “Usually you love the chance to beat the shit out of some dumb human.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Catra answers flatly, mouth twitching only slightly. She doesn’t have the energy to be indignant. She doesn’t give a shit.

Damn that’s when you know Catra’s really got it bad.

Nodding with an exaggerated hum, Lonnie remarks, “You’ve been weird all day, dude. Broody, like more than normal.” (Have I mentioned how much I love Lonnie??) Catra summons the strength to shoot her a withering glare, but she’s undeterred. “You snuck into the barracks after midnight last night, then you woke me up again with your snivelling at four in the fucking morning,” she says with a glare of her own. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, assface,” retorts Catra, jamming a threatening claw against her chest. “And I was only snivelling because I inhaled something weird up on the rooftops.”

Lonnie tips her head with a condescending smirk. “Sure, Catra.”

Yes, this is in fact a hat tip to ‘Sure, Jan.’

“I’m serious,” insists Catra. “There must’ve been some kind of spill in one of the factories.”

“Uh huh.”

Catra turns away with a glower, shaking her head. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“You wish,” snickers Lonnie.

“Ughhh!” Catra smacks her forehead with a huge sigh of exasperation. “Fine, I’ll fight you if it will get you to shut up. For fuck’s sakes, Lonnie.”

Lonnie’s preferred method of therapy is to piss people off enough that they’ll fight her and I think that’s very sexy of her.

Chuckling deeply beside her, Lonnie slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder and gives her a playful shake. “That’s my girl.”

Catra would usually shove Lonnie away in this situation, but she doesn’t this time. She’s too tired to fight the contact and needs to save her strength for the actual fight. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. Lonnie’s arm is beefy but not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The pressure is actually kind of soothing in a way, clearing Catra’s mind and lulling her into a state of calm. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, let alone Lonnie.

BROTPS WHO HATE FUCK Y’ALL. Okay but honestly I love that I have this relationship to work with because having someone who’s really good at getting under Catra’s skin is another way to open up her character. Lonnie is not only a loveable character she’s a very useful one for a writer who tells stories primarily through character work and relationships.

A loud thud and a howl of pain pierce the air, snapping Catra back to the moment. Her ears prick up at the familiar sound and she moves toward it on instinct, only to realize she’s half a step behind Lonnie. Humans like to say that cats aren’t pack animals, she’s heard that one many times as a reason she can’t be trusted. Catra is no more an animal than anyone else here, but she thinks Magicats must be different from their feline relatives in that way. The urge to protect her pack is overwhelming and immutable. One of her squadmates is hurt, and she needs to be there to help. Now.

Anyone who says Catra doesn’t care about other people can fucking fight me and that’s a fact.

She and Lonnie arrive at the edge of the circle to find Kyle sprawled on his stomach, moaning and writhing, pounding the floor as he tries to hold back wails of pain. It’s not immediately apparent what the problem is from Catra’s vantage point, but Rogelio is already kneeling on Kyle’s other side, telling him to breathe and that he’s going to be fine.

Okay so I fucking went 16 chapters never specifying whether the rest of the squad understood Rogelio’s language because it wasn’t clear in canon and I wanted to see if they would confirm it one way or the other, and of course as soon as I posted chapter 17 (where I specify that they can) season 4 came out and implied that they know him well enough to understand via his tone and gesturing but they don’t understand the language. So mark me down as annoyed over that. Anyway that wasn’t something I wanted to retcon so I kept it for the rest of the fic.

The instructor, some lower tier officer Catra doesn’t really know, steps into the ring. Pushing Kyle’s worried sparring partner aside, he shouts, “Enough theatrics! Get up and fight!”

Oh boy, Shadow Weaver likes to use that word on Adora too. I don’t remember if this mirrored that intentionally.

Catra feels Lonnie tense beside her, hears Rogelio snorting at Kyle that his leg is broken and he’d better stay the fuck down. Cringing in anticipation, Catra peeks over Kyle’s body and immediately wishes she hadn’t. The sight of his unnaturally bent shinbone sends a shudder of sympathy through her bones.

The instructor must not have any reptile friends (likely) or he understands and is a complete and utter asshole (also likely), because he keeps yelling at Kyle, “Come on, don’t be such a princess! I said get up, you coward!”

The boys’ wailing and snorting is getting them nowhere, so Lonnie intercedes. Gesturing down at the deformed limb, she shouts over the din. “His leg’s broken! You really think that’s a good idea?”

The instructor’s mouth falls open and he peers down at Kyle and then back up at Lonnie, his face turning red. “Don’t talk to me that way, Cadet!” he barks. “You’re running laps for the next half hour.”

Okay, Shadow Weaver Lite.

Lonnie blinks, purging her face of emotion. “I’m just trying to help. You needed a translator.”

“The next hour!” he shouts. “Wanna push it more?”

Scowling, Lonnie shakes her head tersely and begins to push her way out of the circle of cadets. Watching her go, the instructor puffs out his chest and waves a dismissive hand down at Kyle.

“Someone take this weakling to the infirmary,” he orders.

Rogelio glares up at the instructor, though to be fair the asshole probably can’t read reptilian expressions either. Lucky Hel. Rolling his whimpering boyfriend to lie on his back, which results in another howl of pain, he grunts out an apology. Then, supporting the injured leg with one massive arm and the rest of his body with the other, he scoops Kyle up and carries him away.

Okay but the bridal carry is *chef’s kiss*

As the crowd reforms around the sparring circle, the instructor claps Kyle’s partner on the shoulder and declares, “Alright, let’s get a real soldier in here to fight this guy!”

I feel really bad for this kid tbh.

The cadets erupt into cheers and several rush forward to take Kyle’s place, which results in a couple of impromptu fights as they try to push each other out of the circle. Catra is knocked back into the crowd in the process, but she doesn’t react with her usual bared teeth and claws, too busy staring slack-jawed at the chaos. Never in her life has she felt more disconnected from her surroundings, not even when she wanted to be.

At one point in her life (okay, many points), Catra would have been clamoring along with the rest of them. For a chance not just to prove herself, but to avenge her injured squadmate. But she feels no need to prove herself to this incompetent asshole of an instructor, and it’s not that kid’s fault they’re compelled to fight each other like this. He clearly felt terrible about Kyle, anyway.

As Catra watches the scene play out, watches the instructor continue to egg the cadets on, only one clear thought forms in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously. How is it weak and cowardly not to stand and fight on a broken leg? That’s not how the body works. Then again, they also like to say that deserters are weak and cowardly. Maybe they don’t know what those words even mean. Maybe weak and cowardly just means having a mind of your own.

Catra’s eyes track Lonnie as she hobbles around the room with a red face and clenched fists. Though she isn’t visibly fuming in the same way, a similar heat smolders deep in Catra’s belly, filling her mind with treasonous thoughts. The whole thing is so fucking unfair. But that’s hardly some grand revelation. Nothing that happens in the Fright Zone is fair.

So what is she even doing here?

That thought in particular makes Catra blink. Hard. She knows why she’s here, she’s been saying it over and over, clinging to these words, this need. She needs to show them they were wrong, she needs to achieve what everyone thought her incapable of. If she leaves, she’ll never do that, and everything that happened here would be for nothing. But if nothing is fair here, rising to the top says nothing about her qualifications, only her ability to work the system. A system that’s absolute bullshit.

And who does she need to prove it to, anyway? These mindless idiots submitting to an incompetant authority figure? Her temperamental former boss who put blind faith in her one day and took it away the next? Her deceased sorry excuse for a mother? Her ex-best friend who left her alone to suffer, but has since come to understand her wrongdoings? No… the only person Catra really needs to prove it to is herself. But if the system is bullshit, there’s nothing to prove, only a painful void to fill with… something.

Honestly this is a rough feeling to deal with but at least now that the illusion has been broken she can go about trying to find that thing to fill it. And no that’s not a sex joke lmao, though I suppose it could be.

Scorpia’s words from last night filter into Catra’s brain through the distant sounds of cheering and shouting. If it feels like everything is for nothing, she needs to find a way to make something of her suffering so she can be at peace. Her eyes fall on Lonnie again, her ears recalling Kyle’s sounds of agony. If she can stop other people from being hurt the way she was, would that make something of it? Would that be enough to satisfy the longing deep inside her, to heal the yawning, yearning chasm Shadow Weaver created with her rejection and cruelty, with her refusal to provide validation and affection? Catra doesn’t know.

All Catra knows is she’s done with this shit.

Catra I am so proud of you bb I love you and you deserve better.

Anyway sorry I had less coherent thoughts for this commentary but this scene makes me emotional so I got a little meme-happy. I have had many experiences like this where I was just holding, holding onto something that was unhealthy or a lost cause and then something happened and a switch flipped in my brain, releasing me from that mind trap. I really wanted to get the feeling of that experience across and I’m proud of how it turned out. It’s a great payoff scene for that whole ‘return to the Horde’ arc for Catra. I didn’t want her to leave for Adora but I also knew she wouldn’t leave for herself until she witnessed the brutality and inequality hurting someone else.

[giranswife]

The “Moment”

Summary: During a late night of deserts and conversation, Ashley and Shiroe both recount the moments when they both realized that they loved one another.

Warning(s): fluff, self-insert x canon

(( This is probably one of the sweetest things I’ve ever written for us. I couldn’t stop crying with this one. I really hope that y’all can enjoy this piece of us, because that is exactly what it is. I love it so much. This includes my self-insert/oc shipped with a canon character ))

Remnants of our desert lay scattered at our feet as the moon shines brightly in the sky. It wasn’t so a few hours ago when we came here after everyone had gone inside to relax before bed. We just got to talking, eating our desert that Nyanta had made, and just losing track of time. Not that I minded. It was nights like this, in fact, that I love the most. There’s not a single worry on each of our minds, and we can just be in the moment together.

Shiroe had finished his work earlier today, knowing that I wanted to spend tonight talking until the sun came up. Or at least until the two of us fall asleep on each other. Which was definitely bound to happen given the day that we had today.

We sat together underneath the stars, and I had my hand on his leg while he spoke. Telling me about his plans and his dreams, just like I did a few moments prior. It’s moments like this that I forget that we got stuck in this world a long time ago, and the real world is far behind us right now. Sometimes I wish that I could’ve known him then too, but right now it almost feels like a past life.

“You’re really something, Shiroe,” I said, looking deeply into his eyes and practically speaking from my thoughts.

His eyes widened a bit in surprise, cheeks turning a little pink.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Just… you’re so smart and it amazes me. I love your brain so much… sorry if that’s weird.”

I giggled, giving his knee a squeeze and leaning on my palm that was rested beside me.

His eyebrows furrowed, and I could practically read his mind at that moment. The words that would leave his mouth next were ones that I expected, which is why I had no hesitation to retort back without even thinking.

“I don’t know about that,” He said, chuckling nervously and rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s not… that special-”

“Shiroe, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Coming from me who only has a general level of intelligence, it’s really amazing. I don’t know how you do it, and I just… I wanna listen to you talk for hours.”

Smiling warmly, I caught his gaze and watched his cheeks darken a bit more. But he smiled in return, taking a quick sip of his tea that I had made moments prior. It was still warm, so I’m sure that it wasn’t going to help his warm face much.

“I could say the same to you,” He said.

“Me? I don’t have that much interesting things to say-”

It was his turn to interject rather quickly, shaking his head.

“Come on, Ashley. You’re incredibly talented, and I could listen to you talk about your ideas all day too. I still want to read your stuff… if we ever get the chance…”

And I started blushing like a fool just like him. Hearing those words made my heart warm, and I realized how he felt moments prior.

But it was sweet for him to say that. I definitely wanted to show him some of the things that I had written, but that was back in the real world. Maybe if I ever wrote something here I would show him, but all I have right now is what’s in my head. Which he’s heard a couple… hundred times or more.

“I hope we do,” I said with a smile.

We started talking about different topics than just ourselves. Things about this world and Shiroe’s questions that he had. So many different depths that even I hadn’t considered before. Deep conversations with Shiroe were always my favorite. It’s another thing that he and I have in common. Picking each other’s brains and asking the tough questions.

Things that make us think and learn and sometimes dream.

Eventually, however, that just turned into us asking each other random questions that came to the top of our head. Anything went at this point, even questions about embarrassing moments in our childhood. Things that we wouldn’t tell anyone else. Stuff we wanted to know and others that we weren’t sure if we did.

It was… actually really nice.

“Yeah, right,” Shiroe said with a laugh, tucking his arm behind his head.

The two of us were now lying on a blanket on the ground, staring up at the stars side by side. There was a candle that lay a few feet away to give us some light, but otherwise we were relying on the sky. It was kind of romantic, and I honestly didn’t want to leave.

“Excuse me? You weren’t there. You didn’t see how much of a brat that I was.”

“True, but I just can’t believe that you were that bad-”

“Well, believe it, baby. Because it’s a fact. I grew out of it, obviously, but I wasn’t an angel.”

Shiroe laughed, shifting a bit when he noticed that I was moving a little closer to him. His warmth felt so nice, and I just wanted to feel him close to me.

“I’m pretty sure I was,” He said, “Always been the quiet, dorky kid.”

“You? Quiet and dorky? Psh.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I let out a rather loud laugh by accident. The kind of laugh that I would usually suppress around others, but with him it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to hide it. Right now I was more comfortable than I ever could be with just anyone.

With my head on his shoulder, I listened to him talk about his childhood. The stories that were a little harder than others, and a bit about his family. I found myself squeezing his hand tightly, listening to him finding it hard to speak at a few parts. He really wore his heart on his sleeve that night.

“You think they’d like me?” I asked.

Shiroe lifted his brows, glancing down at me with a bit of surprise before he clicked on what I was asking.

He hesitated, and for a second I was a little worried.

“My parents? There’s nothing that they couldn’t love about you,” He said, smiling softly.

“Shiroe… that’s sweet. But I’m serious. If I ever get to meet them, which… I hope that I do. I want to know what I’m in for.”

He chuckled, nodding his head in understanding. It was just as important to me that his family liked me, because I loved him. And I wanted to love them too.

“My mom would probably be happy knowing that I had anyone at all-”

I laughed, playfully swatting at his chest.

“Oh, shut up,” I teased, “Wait… you’re serious… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. But seriously. They’d like you.”

“You sure?” I asked.

He nodded, leaning down to kiss my forehead softly.

There was a lot that I wanted to know, but I knew that the subject was still a little bit sensitive. The more that I learn about him, the more I understand why. Which is why I take it a small step at a time to make sure he’s comfortable. But it did make me happy that he thought they’d like me.

After that, I wanted to talk about something more light hearted. To get us off this subject and maybe make the two of us smile. It also happened to be something that I was curious about and genuinely wanted to know the answer to.

“How did you know that you loved me?” I asked, turning on my side.

I rested my head on my hand, watching Shiroe continue to stare up at the sky.

“How did I know?”

“Yeah… I wanna know what the moment was for you.”

His eyebrows furrowed in thought, and I smiled a bit at how cute it was. The face that he makes when he’s lost in thought is one that I will always adore. I’ll never get enough of staring at him every single time. Sometimes it makes him a little nervous, but I can’t help myself.

“I don’t know,” He said.

“Oh, c’mon. You know. Just tell me, please?”

I batted my eyelashes, watching him cut his eyes and give an amused smirk. He knew that there was no arguing with me, and I’d get it out of him eventually. I just really wanted to hear what it was for him since I hadn’t heard the story myself before. Though, I wonder who has heard the story.

He breathed a sigh, situating himself a bit and shifted his head near my own. He still stared up at the sky, but his face was turned towards me so I could get a better angle of his face as he spoke.

“I guess… it’d have to be the festival Marielle made me help out more on the ground,” He said, “You know… the one where she set up that whole stage play.”

“Ah, yeah. I remember that. It was fun.”

And I did remember it. Marielle got the idea from one of the girls at Crescent Moon who really loved musicals. She thought it would be a wonderful experience for everyone, plus she wanted to have auditions and make it a whole thing. The entire thing was actually really fun. Only snag that we hit was the day of.

Lots of things went wrong that weren’t entirely out of our control. But Henrietta managed to get it together in the end. The most important part of it, though, was that everyone had a good time. We’re still waiting for the day that we can plan another event like that. 

“Yeah, well… She was talking to me about costume ideas to bring back to Karashin when… I heard your laugh. Just your laugh. I didn’t see your face, but I didn’t need to.”

Watching him speak was something else entirely. I couldn’t describe it, but it looked like he was speaking from the heart completely. He was describing the moment in detail, and the smile faded from my face slowly. I didn’t realize just how emotional this was going to make me until he got deeper into his story.

“Marielle kept talking too. Didn’t even realize that I had stopped paying attention, not that I could’ve kept up anyway. But…” His voice faded, and the smile that formed was the cutest thing I’d ever seen, “I didn’t know you were coming already. Kinda threw me off guard.”

I remembered the moment he was describing. It was just cute to hear it from his perspective. He looked really cute standing there with Marielle. I remembered that button up he was wearing with a few buttons undone. Almost like he was trying to tease me.

That was one of the funnest nights I’ve ever had. With our friends and ending it with him in bed, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. I wouldn’t have wished for anything else in the world.

“You were wearing that blue dress with flowers in your hair,” Shiroe spoke up again, recalling the moment like it was yesterday, “Talking to Sayeko when Serera started dragging you to look at jewelry. Your voice was… so soft. I lost track of time just staring at your smile.”

I giggled softly, watching him turn to look at me.

“Y’know… in that moment it was like I was seeing you for the first time. Like I was… falling for you all over again.”

“That’s so… freakin’ cheesy,” I giggled again, loudly.

“It’s true! I felt like that same guy seeing you in that cute, pink outfit Marielle was forcing you to wear. Sure as hell was still as flustered then…”

My smiled widened, and I couldn’t help but giggle more at his words. It was so adorable, but I understood every single word of what he said. Even if it was cheesy, I loved every second of it.

“That’s really sweet, love,” I said.

He nodded, reaching down to lace his fingers with mine.

“That was the moment I knew that I loved you. I wanted to tell you right then and there, and I almost did if it wasn’t for Naotsugu who saved me from myself. He didn’t know it at the time, though.”

“Did he, though? Eventually?”

Shiroe paused, pursing his lips in slight hesitation.

“Baaaaby!”

“Okay, okay! I told him afterwards about the whole thing and my almost love confession. He was the one who talked me out of doing it my way and going for something more… spontaneous.”

“Naotsugu is giving you romance advice now? I thought you knew better than that, baby.”

“Usually I am, but he had some pretty good points. Gotta give him that. He’s saved me a few times.”

My eyebrows lifted, and I stared a little closer. Shiroe practically jumped up, lips twitching into a nervous smile as he read my expression perfectly.

“Oh, did he now?”

Shiroe stammered, flickering his eyes back and forth and not wanting to look at me. The two of us were sitting up now, and I was leaning closer and closer with my eyes becoming more narrow. There was a wide smirk on my face, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked so nervous.

“Yeah, uhm, well… you see, uh…”

“Mmhm?”

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his tea to distract me for a couple more seconds. Giving himself time to think of a way out of this one.

“What about you?” He asked, “You owe me your story now.”

“Oh, no. Don’t try to change the subject now!”

“Come on, sweetheart. I told mine. Now, you gotta tell me yours. It’s only fair.”

He was smiling, trying anything he could to get me to drop it. If only he wasn’t so cute, but… that smile is so goddamn hard to resist.

I ended up melting from it, but honestly it was mainly because I didn’t care. I just wanted to tease him a little bit more and see that flustered smile. Their friendship was rather sweet, and even though Naotsugu can be a pain sometimes… he’s like a brother to me. I know that he would do anything he could to help Shiroe and not ruin him.

Though, sometimes, his advice can be a little… outrageous.

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you, but only because you’re kinda cute.”

Booping his nose, I giggled softly and took a sip of my own tea. My story might not have been as romantic as his, but… it happened. Another reason why I was nervous telling it. There was nothing special about it, at least compared to his own.

“My moment was… that night you fell asleep at your desk,” I said, staring into my cup of tea, “You’d been stressing yourself out for a while and I didn’t realize for another couple of months why that was but… I was worried.”

Shiroe watched me speak, shifting hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The action caused my cheeks to burn, and I continued the story without looking at him. Even though he was staring at me very intensely.

“You looked so cute and peaceful with your glasses hanging halfway off your face. Using your arms as a pillow and snoring pretty loud for you. I blame the stress sleeping.”

He chuckled, knowing exactly what I was talking about. The louder he snores, the more stressed out he is. That’s typically how it works anyway, same goes for how heavy he sleeps. Usually it’s not very heavy at all, unless he’s stressed.

“I don’t snore,” He tried to protest.

“Baby… you snore. It’s not usually loud, but… that night it was. Don’t worry. I think it’s really cute.

I winked, watching him blush a little.

“Anyway… I thought about giving you a blanket, but I didn’t want you to sleep in that uncomfortable position. So I rounded the desk and went to shake you awake. Gently, though, because I know that you wake up best like that. And the way that you looked at me with those tired eyes… and asked if I’d been waiting long for you…”

My voice trailed off, and I couldn’t really find the words anymore. Nothing could’ve described the way that I felt in that moment. And I was practically reliving it right then and there. Now I knew how Shiroe felt retelling such a strong memory.

“You were just so sweet and thoughtful and adorable. My heart felt so warm, and I just… I knew in that moment that…” My voice cracked, and I felt my eyes watering a bit, “I knew that I loved you… more than anything else on this earth. More than the air that I breathe. I wanted so badly for time to stand still, so I could stare at you a little longer.”

I swallowed, trying to laugh even though I knew it was impossible. Shiroe had already seen me lose it, and he doesn’t miss a single thing anymore from me.

He leaned forward, pressing his palm against my cheek and kissing me sweetly. His lips were soft and warm, and I leaned into his touch to kiss him back. There was no other words that we needed in that moment. His kiss was all that I needed to know how he felt.

When he pulled away, the two of us were staring at each other with soft smiles and eyes that were shining. Behind his glasses I saw the shimmering of his eyes, and it just made my eyes grow more misty.

“I love you,” He whispered, “You’re the best thing… that’s ever happened to me.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, giggling softly as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“I love you too, Shiroe.”

This moment almost beat out the night that I told him I loved him the first time. Almost. But this one was special in its own way. One that I’ll always remember in the way my heart raced in my chest when he kissed me, pressing more and more kisses against my lips after that. Neither of us wanted to come up for air, no doubt waiting until the sun came up after all.

[floralmarsupial]

Character Arcs and Ghost Army’s

So I thought of something while at work and it got me wondering, am I the only person that was kind of disappointed with how the Ghost Army came together in the end?

Someone has probably written this meta before but really, Tavros bringing together the Ghost Army with the power of friendship was probably one of the least satisfying ways for that resolution to come about. In reality, I honestly believe Karkat should have been the one to orchestrate bringing the army together with help from Tavros and GO Karkat, more meta and context under the cut-

Tavros

First off, Tavros is good natured and sweet but he’s not exactly the best at being inspiring or organizing large groups, or even really making friends (like remember how awkward and cringey his interaction with Jade was) and more importantly, bringing the Ghost Army together as a resolution to his arc(?) gives the idea that all along Tavros’ problem was that he wasn’t useful. Yes, he got to shove it in Vriska’s face a bit, which was satisfying and we got to see him be relevant to the climax of the plot but the thing is, the way to end a character’s arc should never be through them gaining the approval of their abuser.

 Tavros’ problem was never that Vriska was right about him but that he believed she was right and thought that he deserved to be treated that way by her for not being confident enough to stand up for himself. In that same vein, any sort of parallel to the Summoner shouldn’t have been involved in his resolution either because being more like Rufioh or becoming a hero was what he THOUGHT would fix him in a way Vriska would respond to, ignoring the fact that Tavros didn’t need fixing in the first place. 

We never had any indications Tavros didn’t like who he was before Vriska’s abuse started and I would have loved for the story to actually reinforce that it was always just Vriska’s imposing on him these fantasies of being like Mindfang and building him to his greatest potential that was the REAL issue and the resolution to that being him to realize he didn’t need to be what she wanted. Tavros didn’t need to raise an army to jauntily dance in Vriska’s face, I honestly would have preferred if he didn’t even care enough about her to do so.

Karkat

So. Fuck, this arc conclusion. Yeah, Karkat jumping straight into LE only to get obliterated was kind of funny and we got to see him defeat the undefeatable Clover because he became romantically interested in Karkat was appropriate but you know what I would have loved to see? Karkat getting closure with his other selves. Karkat getting to realize the true depth of his path as a knight of blood player, which is all about bonds and weaponizing them for the benefit of the party. 

Sure, we’re told he’s a vital part of victory due to Echidna and that he’s destined to become troll President in the new world. That’s nice. But honestly the fact that Vriska, who apparently knows the whole ins n outs of the new session but somehow wasn’t aware of the Ghost Army being disbanded before Meenah’s debriefing was just .... weird. Along with the fact that she never considered to contact Karkat to even ask for advice on how to reband it even though she herself  is canonically on record for admitting he was almost too great at bringing the two troll parties together during their session, is also just bleh. Like why the fuck wasn’t Karkat even a little involved in this plan just bewilders me because in accordance with his entire role of Hivebent, he would have been by far the most capable of it. Like yeah, he had given up on the idea of leadership and his being more concerned with just being involved as an equal to the rest of his friends was a great development, but then actually let him be involved. All the other kids got to do these grandeur things like take on the two Jacks, Condy, even Jake got to take on the entirety of the Midnight Crew. 

Sure, Karkat got to defeat Clover, but the thing is, Karkat’s whole situation was never about HIM fighting or beating anyone, instead it was about surrounding himself with actually strong players and helping them work cohesively enough together to reach a common goal. Sort of sounds like bringing together a bunch of disinterested ghosts to form an army, right???? 

Lastly why the heck was the last convo he ever had with himself from the first intermission in Act 6 when so much of Act 5 was taken up with it and was built up to be one of the biggest failings of his personality? Like we have good junks of conversations just referring to how much he hated himself and how ridiculous it was of him to think he was his own kismesis. Why did that all get dropped like a steamy hot shit instead of being later on used to show how much he matured and changed? fucking y’all, I have to stop here cause I will and can go on. Anyways

How I wish things would have gone down.

Ok, now that I’ve set up some context for why I wish things were different, here’s how I’d actually go about doing it.

Have Vriska on the lilypad mention Karkat refusing her offer to build the army together, include Karkat giving his big spiel about not being a leader anymore.

Jump to when Meenah and Vriska meet up and have the debriefing, and when Meenah asks what they’ll do about it, just have Vriska says not to worry about it.

Jump to Kanaya and Karkats visit to Echidna, but instead of the conversation they had happening, we see her flying to Derse as she’s messaging Rose about how her mission was complete and she was heading to the Batterwitch battle, and have her reveal what Echidna said there, last panel jumping to show a knocked out Karkat. (Not only does this work with my idea but fuck yes one last private Rosemary pesterlog, where hopefully they say “ I love you “ at the end.)

Anyways Karkat wakes up in the dream bubbles but instead of meeting Meenah he instead!! meets GO karkat!! You could even make the panel parallel with that panel of Vriska and Tavros meeting face to face after their sprite exploded, GO Karkat just waking up too, after his death.

(cut it off there to the strider reunion just for pacing sake)

When we see them again they’re arguing, GO angry because of course this is what his death would look like and wow YOURE the alpha karkat what the fuck, why are you asleep your whole group is in a battle rn and Retcon is just like BITCH PLEASE WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU DIED when suddenly enter in Tavros (you could also throw in sollux and the girls in the bg, sollux reasoning for not coming closer to say hi being he wanted to avoid himself arguing with TWO karkats and how embarrassing it would be) 

anyways Tavros enters into the conversation and surprisingly these two karkats are a lot easier to calm down and auspicize than when Jade did it during Beta session. Tavros mentions that he’s glad he could be useful and feels like he’s done a good thing, even if its really small like this. 

Upon which the Retcon Karkat mentions he had thought about Tavros during his three year trip and how he wished he had given him more special attention as his teammate (since they were both on red) instead of allowing him to get so close to Vriska and how Vriska was the real problem in that whole situation (sort of explaining his exaggerated hostility towards her) and how he wished he could tell his Tavros that. GO speaks up about how he never thought of it himself cause he was too distracted during his trip but that he actually agreed with it and passes that onto Tavros since technically that’s his tavros (lmao pissing off retcon for stealing his idea)

This leads on to the other conclusions Retcon had come to over the trip about his failings in being a leader and how he would change, (GO disagreeing with some of them, leading to more explanation, and GO agreeing, along with giving his own perspective to the disaster that was the Beta timeline) they have the conversation about Abraxas during this too and how they both wish they could still do something to help the alpha session.

Tavros speaks up about the Ghost army, which GO remembers but Retcon has no clue what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Shoot back to Vriska who is still talking to Meenah, and when the army comes back into convo checks her phone and says it’s taken care of, showing one last memo created by both the karkats calling all other karkats in the viel to gather the ghosts. All the karkats bring their session trolls along with alphas and other ghost friends they made along the way.

Vriska and Meenah arrive at the army and Vriskas glad her plan work (she had no way of knowing this would happen but she’ll take credit for it)

She sees Tavros in the crowd and calls to him but he ignores her and instead is seeing meeting Aradia. She assumes he just didnt hear her.

GO and Retcon are seen together on the outskirt of the army and they say goodbye, GO saying he much rather find some ghosts from his session instead of fight (he died today he is tired) and Retcon surprisingly respecting his decision, and GO admits he doesn’t know how or why this Karkat got to live but that a part of him was glad he did. They give a heart warmingly flip eachother off and seperate, Retcons convo with Meenah is slightly different but takes the same course mostly.

During Collide we briefly see GO Karkat while Retcon gets obliterated (with Jade and Dave) losing his mind.

THE FUCKIN END