#like don’t get me wrong it works!! it works very well within canon!!

[officially-shannon-messenger]

Could Alina potentially be Fitz's mom? He could be a subconscious beguiler since he never got tested for it. In the first book when he was trying to convince Sophie to come to the Lost Cities, she didn't trust him but still went with him anyways. And he'd been gone from school a good amount of times, but still managed to be the most popular or 'attractive' guy in school. Everyone fawned over him despite him not even really being at school. Alden and Alina would have to cover it up, especially after she became a Councillor since they aren't allowed to have kids or spouses. Even before that, the Vacker name would be ruined if word got out that Alden had an affair.

That’s a very possible theory but probably not something I’ll ever work with

[theduckeminence]

I can’t stop thinking about Eddie Dear y’all.

First off, the probable reason behind what had occurred to him is most likely due to him being scrapped/taken off the script of the show is just both saddening and dreadful on his part. Like he exists within the realm of the Neighborhood, but considering his absence throughout the recent update, aside from him giving the viewers a decoder + clips of him throughout the Home-warming ad compilation, its safe to say that Playfellow Workshop had most likely taken off him of the show, or at the very least, lessening the amount of screen time he receive (in this case being the ads/commercials).

And now onto the actual possible reason why Eddie Dear would be taken off script. Now thinking back to the fact that Eddie & Frank being a couple is canon, it’s also safe to say that because of their connection in the show — even though Playfellow Workshop attempts to have them be distant or lack any sort of significant interaction onscreen — Eddie & Frank’s relationship, or at least Eddie’s love for Frank, could certainly be the reason why the he was taken off script.

After all, if two male characters are shown to be gay for each other in a kids show from the 1970s, chances are Playfellow Workshop would rather scrap the homosexual (derogatory) mailman character than have Welcome Home be taken off the air entirely just because of said mailman character.

Furthermore, what’s more interesting and ironic about Eddie being a prominent character who became intensively aware of his situation is the fact that he first appears to be a character who could be considerably perceived as“insignificant” or “irrelevant.” Of course I don’t actually think he is, but from the way Playfellow Workshop and the Homewarming commercials are framed Eddie, it can be interpreted that Eddie is seen as a rather character of little relevance.

It is partially due to him being taken script, but it’s also the fact that his only thing going on for him is being the mailman for the neighborhood — as well as a bit of a comedic relief. Eddie said himself in the Homewarming video from the secret site — if I’m correct, he feels that nobody appreciates him enough for his work (though correct me if I’m wrong). And that since there’s no one there to ask him to deliver something, or call, or check up on him, he feels as though that — somewhere inside of him — he feels both left out and “irrelevant.”

His one role is to be the neighborhood delivery man, and without that, then what exactly would he be good for?

(this could further be emphasized when Sally told him that they made the deliveries for him to give him a day off — even though no one told him that, and chances are this is perhaps Sally trying to reassure him when in reality, he was just scripted out of Homewarming hence why no one came to talk to him. Getting lil off topic oops—).

Recircling back to the original topic, yada yada yada Eddie just being a mailman and besides that he views himself to be irrelevant so on and so forth.

One thing I would like to mention, relating to Eddie being the probable first of the group to become aware other than Wally, is that I find it surprising that Eddie Dear IS the probable first to become aware like Wally.

To tell y’all the truth, I didn’t think he would play such a significant role in the Narrative (and thus probably doomed by it too). I would have least thought Frank or Julie would have been next to become the more Self Aware.

But Eddie Dear? Our loveable, friendly, and reliable mailman — Eddie Dear? Suddenly depersonalizing right on the spot with a pea plate and becoming aware of both his sentience, the weirdness of his setting overall, and how he could hear Home’s heartbeat? How he knew that the moment he comes to this revelation of self-awareness, he can’t go back? That everything he has ever known is most probably not real and/or all a lie?

It just has me stopping for a second on why and how him, but after thinking about it furthermore, alongside reading analysis posts, it would make sense for him to be next on why he had become Aware.

And I can only assume that from here on out, things are bound to change. And I for one fear these colorful lil puppets — particularly Eddie in this case.

Lets just hope the existential dread doesn’t drive all of them over the edge.

[tismrot]

The uwu-fication of Good Omens

I’m not saying this to piss on anyone’s parade, everyone can like whatever they want and I realize that people who are perhaps… not experienced in traumatic adult relationships and/or aren’t bitter remnants of whatever ray of light they were supposed to be - I realize their fiction will probably be (for lack of better words)… light and easy.

I also realize that due to the collective heartbreak we’ve experienced after the end of season 2, a little fluff is perhaps needed. Again, not defecating on any crowds - but, like, we did watch the same show, right?

There are some REALLY good meta out there, as well as some fics and some art that really captures the essence of both Crowley and Aziraphale, and the context they struggle within.

…And then there are fics and art/comics where particularly Crowley is reduced to this very tsundere, cranky-despite-secretly-affectionate anime character who blushes and gets ✨ve-y angy��� whenever he gets a kiss on his cheek or something and I’m like… okay? But. That’s not Crowley, is it? (Yes, you can make him into a hemipened waifu pillow for all I care, go do what makes you happy) - it’s just… You know?

Crowley and Aziraphale are (despite their celestial origins) - at their core - two middle aged, closeted, homosexual men who used to work for two equally oppressive, evil and incompetent fascist governments. That’s why they meet on the benches in the park, like all the other agents sent from other oppressive nations and agencies. The book was written during the last years of the cold war, and during the height of the AIDS crisis. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the first meds for HIV came in 1992 - being gay and being seen with the enemy could bring about equally terrifying death sentences. Yet, they do their best to thwart their Cold War, and then, the nuclear apocalypse.

After barely succeeding, they become as close as they dare to be, and they both know they love each other. Of course they do. That’s why Crowley wants them to stop pretending they don’t. He already assumes Aziraphale knows, because HE DOES KNOW.

Crowley isn’t (canonically) an uwu angy tsundere snek. He is a miserable ex-agent screaming at his closeted, gay lover for refusing to run away with him after 6000 years of war. Crowley is the opposite of tsundere, he is an open, aching wound.

Aziraphale isn’t a kawaii angel cup of hot chocolate, he is a desperate and scared idealist who is threatened into compliance by Great Leader, and who secretly wants nothing more than to let go of all propriety and just allow himself to be happy and freely experience life and love with the man he’s wanted all along, far from all oppression both from society and Heaven.

You guys, this is a story about fighting oppression for love. I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same side.

And perhaps I’m just old, perhaps my experiences with multiple failed relationships, friendships and my own fallen idealism tints my glasses… But I feel a certain way about all the uwu. I’m sorry. Do uwu if you want. I’m gonna focus on the OPPRESSION, because - apparently - that’s the wall my socks stick to.

And yeah, I know this is very old man yells at cloud. Younger people (or people who just aren’t exactly like me) seeing this show or reading the book deserve the right to play around with it, just like I do. I know, I know, I know. I just needed to say this. Slay me if you must.

End of rant. Thank you for coming to my depression.

EDIT: Yes, I made the Avril Lavigne thing further down. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I’ve made my peace with this.

[jeannineee]

Intertwined (Ⅱ)

Batboys x Reader

a/n: part two is heeeeere!! Hope you guys enjoy!! Part one can be found in my masterlist. This was quickly proofread, sorry for any errors.

Side note: my requests are still open, I have 2 smut fics in the works for Azriel. Working on part 3!!

PART THREE

warnings: canon-typical shit, misogynistic Illyrians, sexual suggestiveness

You gawked like a fish at the three men in front of you, where you still stood in Rhys’s foyer.

That…feeling had subsided slightly. But it was still there. A pulling sensation, in your chest.

No, deeper than that. In your soul. In your very being.

You didn’t dare consider what it was. Couldn’t bring yourself to—

“Y/n?” Azriel called to you, brows furrowed with worry. Cassian and Rhysand shared the same look on their own faces.

“You checked out, for a minute there,” Cassian said, smiling sheepishly. “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yes.”

Rhysand studied you, as though he were trying to piece together what just happened. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You inwardly checked your mental shields—not that Rhys would intrude, but you checked anyway.

You stepped back, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I’m fine. ‘M gonna head back to the house. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day, so…”

They knew something was wrong. Did they feel it, too? They didn’t act like it.

“Well, let one of us fly you,” Rhys offered. There was nervousness in his voice, now.

“No,” you said, the word coming out harsher than intended, judging by the way all three of them flinched. “I just mean—I can winnow. I’ll winnow myself.”

You didn’t give them the chance to reply before you followed through, finding yourself back at the House of Wind within seconds. You went straight to your bedroom, ignoring the growling of your stomach as you readied yourself for bed.

You were sure any food you ate would taste like ash in your mouth, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you woke early, dressing yourself in fleece-lined Illyrian leathers.

You didn’t dare go downstairs. Not yet.

You sat on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to ponder on what happened, yesterday. You knew what you felt. Knew what that snap was.

The mating bond.

Or was it? Was it even possible to have three mates? You’d heard stories of two…but three?

An insistent knocking at your door jolted you from your thoughts, sending you to your feet.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart!”

Cassian.

You took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants, before opening your door.

Cassian stood there, in his leathers, red siphons gleaming. He looked down at you, a lopsided grin plastered to his face. You interrupted him before he could speak.

“The next time you pound on my door, you lose your kneecaps,” you told the general, silently praying to the Mother that he couldn’t hear the way your heart was racing.

“Mean,” Cassian said, daring to dip his head even more. His warm breath tickled your face.

“You haven’t begun to see ‘mean,’ Cas.”

His grin widened. “Gonna show me?”

Your face reddened. Cassian smirked, his body almost flush against yours, now.

“Don’t back out now, sweetheart,” he murmured, tracing a calloused hand down your side. “Show me that attitude again.”

Your leathers were far too tight.

Mor’s voice echoing downstairs snapped you both out of the moment. “Get your sorry asses down here!”

Cassian moved from your doorway, allowing you through. But once you reached the top of the staircase, he grabbed your arm, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “This isn’t over, y/n.”

Mother save you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saying the Illyrian Steppes were cold was an understatement.

Icy. Frigid. Bone-chilling.

You couldn’t think of a word that would do justice to the way it felt.

The shivering, teeth-chattering cold, despite being in Azriel’s arms as you flew to Windhaven. He was warm. So warm. But even that wasn’t enough against this frozen hellhole.

Azriel’s bridal-style hold on you tightened, his hazel eyes scanning over your form.

“Won’t be much longer,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring. “They’ll have a cabin ready for all of us. A fire, warm food.”

“You’re teasing me,” you replied as you pressed your face against his chest, greedily absorbing his body heat.

Azriel’s voice was calm and quiet as he said, “This isn’t teasing, trust me.”

‘Trust me.’

You tried not to let your mind wander towards the ways the Shadowsinger could really tease you as you descended upon Windhaven.

Rhys landed next, and then Cassian, with Mor in his arms.

Lord Devlon already waited, a couple of Illyrian grunts on either side of him. He didn’t spare you, or Mor a single glance as he acknowledged Rhys.

“We’ll need accommodations,” Rhys said, sounding almost bored.

“Already done,” Devlon replied.

You tried to ignore the way the men around the camp eyed you and Mor, like prized mares. Rhysand caught on, a low growl leaving his throat as he spoke again to Devlon.

“Tell your men that if they value their hands, they won’t touch y/n or Morrigan. If they value their eyes, they won’t look at them for too long, either.”

Devlon looked inclined to protest, but thought better of it as he nodded. “You have my word.”

You doubted his word meant much as your group was escorted to the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mor stole the warm bath first, leaving you, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel to pile around the fireplace.

Those three tethers that snapped into place yesterday roared in their presence. Even more so as Rhys spoke in your mind.

There are other ways to warm up, besides a bath, you know.

So go find an Illyrian woman to warm your bed, you quipped back.

There’s only one woman I want in my bed.

Rhys looked at you pointedly.

Poor baby.

You swore he chuckled faintly in your mind.

“So, are we going to discuss what happened yesterday?” Rhys questioned you aloud.

Cassian and Azriel both perked up at that, waiting for your response.

Shit.

“After the meeting tomorrow,” you finally said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Rhys hummed. “Leaving us in suspense, darling?”

“Cope.”

Cassian snickered at that, and even Azriel’s lips twitched up. Rhysand’s violet eyes gave you a painfully-slow once-over, the gesture sending heat pooling between your legs.

“Tomorrow, then.”

[justapoet]

Random dialogue prompt list

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

Distancing themself from the other because they start to think that there is definitely something wrong with them

Stuttering

"I missed you so much, I don't know why. But, I did."

"You look perfect in this outfit." "Oh."

“Tell me you did not go to a fight without me.” “I don’t need you to protect me.” “It’s not about protection-”

"Did you forget that it was your turn to grab the groceries today?" "Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd wait for you so we can go together?"

“The problem lies within the fact that I want more. That’s what scares me the most, because I don’t want to want more. But I can’t help it.” 

“You said you loved me last night.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“I swear I didn’t murder anyone.” 

"Who are you when you're not performing?" "Fuck. Marry me."

“You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

“I just want(ed) to make you smile.”

“I was just getting my coffee, but then I fell in love with you”

"I…I missed you." "Oh."

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Maybe it’s a good mood. Maybe it’s a manic episode.”

"Don't open your eyes"

"Goddammit, don't say that!"

“Fuck it. I’m in.” 

“Too late. I’m already yours.”

“Nothing - no matter how weird or dark - could ever change the way I feel about you.”

“For once, I’m completely serious.”

“I don´t believe that you know what the hell you are doing half of the time.” 

“There isn’t a single unit of thought behind your eyes.” “Of course, not. I’m looking at you. My brain doesn’t work when I’m looking at you.”

"Are we going to talk about it?"

“I’d tear down mountains and rewrite the stars just to see you smile.”

“You weren’t part of my life plan.”

“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?”

“I’m this close to resorting to physical violence if shit continues to not work out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“Say another word and I´ll shove these fries down your throat.” 

“Could you even try to be nice to me today?”

“There are about thirty-five ways this could go wrong. I’d say that’s pretty good odds.”

"Are you seriously considering to go through with this complete absurd?"

"It's a miracle you're still alive." "Mom does say you're a miracle worker, yes."

"You're sick. Did the fever make you forget how to dial my number?"

"Just do it, you moron."

"My self-control is hanging by a thread right now. Please, don't do this to me."

“Hey, neighbour, I’ve never met you before but your dog just destroyed my garden."

“Well, I’m afraid that opinion’s going to change once you get to know me.”

"Ever thought of stepping outside, or have you become part of the furniture?"

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"I needed to hear your voice."

“Just to clarify: We are in a relationship, right?”

"You're the only thing I should be afraid of, and that fear died off years ago."

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”

“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen and I was not supposed to say that, I’m so sorry.” 

so, hi! this is just a silly prompt list, but I'd very much like to ask you to send me asks and resquest a fic from any of them!

I'll be writing for the following couples:

Buddie (9-1-1)

Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

Nick and Chalie (Heartstopper)

Aziracrow (Good Omens)

Polin (Bridgerton)

Kathony (Bridgerton)

If you have any other couples from these universes that you might want, you can send them to me, as well. Other than Buddie (that it's not canon just yet), I like best to only write canon couples.

[five-flavor-soup]

Why the endgame couples in A:TLA weren’t necessary: a frustrated ramble

Listen I’m a Zutara shipper through and through (developed after my second rewatch in 2013) but by Tui Agni and La am I glad that it never happened in canon?? Like Kataang and Maiko themselves already felt so rushed and almost out-of-nowhere and their canonisation added like nothing to the plot. Aang’s crush on Katara is a plot device; Zuko’s relationship with Mai at the start of S3 is a plot device. I can barely fathom how Zutara would’ve turned out and I also kinda don’t want to. Imagine Zuko and Katara kissing at the end of the series: it feels completely out of left field, doesn’t it? Knowing that who-ends-up-with-who was an argument in the writer’s room for almost all three seasons means that it could’ve happened.

It shouldn’t have. I don’t think the Kataang kiss or the Maiko romance-reunion should’ve happened either. It’s unnecessary to add—there’s just no need for it, and my nagging here isn’t because I like Zutara and I don’t like how Maiko and Kataang turned out. It’s because the ships and couples and whatever the fuck else are NOT, and should not, be the point of A:TLA—and the ‘couple gets together in the very last scene and all is well :)’ shot suggests that it is.

A:TLA, to me, tried to show the horrifying nature of war and all its victims: the harrowing poverty, the deep-rooted trauma, the bloody violence. I interpreted the most prominent message of A:TLA to be that what was happening during those 100 years is wrong, that war is wrong—it affects the humanity within people, affects what point we offer empathy and kindness, because horrific trauma and needless violence muddies it all up. Why would you hold out a hand for someone who would’ve murdered you if they had the chance? Why would you physically support someone who hurt you and those you care about deeply? Those of the other nations can barely scrounge up empathy for someone from the Fire Nation, because those of the Fire Nation present themselves as inhuman. Those of the Fire Nation can barely scrounge up empathy for someone from any of the other nations, because the Fire Nation presents them as inhuman. And A:TLA shows that all these people are human, good and bad and all of that in between, because that’s just what humanity is. Varied and morally grey.

THAT’S what the GAang learns. That’s what the people around them learn. It’s what Iroh, a war criminal in his own right, tries to teach every child and teen who he interacts with: not in a preachy way, but in a vague way that implies he’d rather have them figure it out themselves lest they interpret his direct teachings wrong. He got indoctrinated into this terrorising, imperialist regime from the day he was born and onwards and it took a personal loss — the death of his son during a siege Iroh himself was leading, a siege in which Iroh and Lu Ten were the aggressors — for him to start thinking that maybe it’s all wrong. Maybe what he was taught is wrong. And he doesn’t want these children to take as long as he did.

The GAang and their (teenage) enemies and small antagonists have all been touched by war, almost to the point of no return. None of the need for violence, the calm in the face of battle and death, the willingness to sacrifice innocents for a sliver of retribution, the extensive knowledge of How To Fight A Battle And Win—none these qualities that these children (!!) may or may not portray are ‘normal’ teenage behaviours. They simply have to have them, or they die or freeze. Their childhoods were stopped in their tracks early because of experiences no child should ever experience. Such is the reality of war. And yet, in spite of the hurt and harm, the GAang is still capable of kindness and empathy. That’s what it’s about.

To end the series with explicit romance — Sokka/Suki doesn’t count, their relationship is not as in-your-face as The Scenes — just feels wrong. Maybe with another season of development it could’ve worked far better (and less unexpected, especially since the previous one-on-one Kataang interaction was Katara getting cross with Aang for kissing her when she was confused; and the previous one-on-one Maiko interaction was Zuko locking Mai in a cell/out of the way and then leaving without looking back). But with the three seasons that we got, it feels odd that the romance is highlighted at the end—especially when Zuko was miserable with Mai (with her being the human representation of ‘close your eyes and pretend everything’s fine’), and there ALSO was a perfectly good ending scene with the GAang bickering right there. Right before the ending kiss.

Why end it like that, when the series isn’t about romance, but about familial and platonic love and love for humanity instead? Why not just hint towards getting (back) together? What’s the point of these confirmations other than ‘the hero gets the girl’ in both instances?

[monstersinthecosmos]

🔥 + kink in VC

(also thinking like in comparison to Anne's other books like CoSB and realizing VC is so fucking mild and antis have no business being in Anne Rice fandom)

Dsjgkalsdg comrade why are you asking me this you know I’m about to launch into a TED Talk.

So like, if we compare Anne’s Sleeping Beauty books to VC, I feel like the kink is meta in two completely different ways, like opposite ends of the spectrum. In SB, the BDSM is meta in the sense that it’s built into the universe. They are not books ABOUT BDSM, they are books about fantasy and the kinks just get to exist. It’s an immersive fantasy that takes all the ways people play IRL and makes it canon. And a lot of people who dislike them (based on like bad GoodReads reviews LOL) ONLY see them as rape books and don’t really understand the way it’s giving BDSM a space to breathe.

What vanilla folks don’t understand is that IRL BDSM is also fiction a lot of the time. Even tame shit like spanking and talking dirty—do these people actually want their partners to hit them in their day-to-day lives? Do they want to be catcalled and lewded outside of the scene? Probably not! And even going to more in depth scenes like, do you actually think you’re someone’s kitty? Do you actually want an assailant to tie you up? Do you actually want to be trafficked?

No! You dont’! You want to play pretend with your partner, with whom you’ve consented.

And I think this attitude in the bad reviews is also the attitude that fanfic writers get from conservatives/radfems/swerfs/fancops in fandom, that somehow writing noncon fic or darkfic in general is somehow making these atrocious things literal, when in fact THEIR EXISTENCE WITHIN A WORK OF FICTION AUTOMATICALLY MAKES THEM NOT LITERAL. And people need to understand that the consent for stories like this is not about the fictional people involved who do not exist and therefore cannot consent, but between the reader and the author when you open the book.

Anyway I bring that up because these books tell me a lot about Anne’s sensibility for kink. SHE GETS IT MAN. She wasn’t shy about it. So I think it speaks very broadly to the way power dynamics and monsterfuckery are expressed within VC, as well, even though these are two very opposite ends of the spectrum with her writing, I think that same confidence and kink positivity still exists. There's also a foreward to the copy of SB that I read, I think she added in 2012, and it was SO insightful about her process and her intention writing the kink & porn the way she did and I just think she really fucking understood what she was doing. And it's so telling to me because like, she mentions she used the pen name when she first wrote them because her father was alive and she was embarrassed, and one of the first scenes in SB is Beauty being stripped naked and paraded around IN FRONT OF HER FATHER LOL. So like WITHOUT GOING OFF ON A SIDE TANGENT something else vanilla folks don't understand is that so often kink is about the thing being transgressive and gross and uncomfortable; IT'S HOT BECAUSE IT'S UNCOMFORTABLE. It's not something that anyone literally wants, it's just hot because it's WRONG. And I think often about how this is like, the sex equivalent of trying not to laugh at an off-color joke, and how it's not that the joke is funny but that it's so off-putting that you laugh at the absurdity of it.

I feel like the kink in VC is meta in an opposite way, in the way it’s so symbolic and understated. Also because the vampires are asexual it gives a whole layer of like non-sexual BDSM dynamics are it’s SO GOOD. 

So I think coming from an author was not squeamish about writing immersive BDSM, a lot of those themes are in VC and I wonder if they come from the same place, even if it’s subliminal on her part. Like the power dynamics, consent around biting, THE CONSTANT MONSTERFUCKING & FLIRTING WITH DEATH AKA “THE SWOON”. And even later in TVA with the introduction of the whipping scene and all Armand’s comments about getting tied up and having his fuckin, pit hair tugged on or whatever. 

And it has some of those like sort of dubcon romance tropes that I think we can’t discard; being TAKEN! Being OVERPOWERED! It ties into vampire fiction in general with like, vampires historically being a symbol of sexuality, going back to like Dracula comin in ur window and everything. 

But VC never makes it “about” kink, it’s just like SB, just baked into the themes. And like a lot of the more obvious BDSM themes in VC are also not consensual, they’re just built into the universe. Like Armand stalking/abusing Daniel, like Marius whipping Armand without negotiating first, like Akasha’s femdom murder bender. And even how often biting gets used as a symbol for sex, and how often noncon biting gets called rape! And the characters know it! And they do it anyway! (Also I cannot neglect to mention obvious tropes like Marius/Armand just being a teacher/student trope. IT'S A PORN TROPE! Or what about Gabrielle as Mommy!Dom? PORN TROPE! Quinn/Goblin twincest? PORN TROPE! The exhibitionism/public humiliation on the TDV stage hello???? That's like an Upper Floor party come on LOL. [this type of dynamic is also SO SO prevalent in SB.])

I’m not really sure what my conclusion here is because like, I just think this is all here in the books and it’s really excellent fodder to talk about kink and character dynamics. Power dynamics is so huge in BDSM and it’s so so huge in VC, not just like, vampires being old and powerful and having that as a status symbol over one another, but even emotionally speaking like. TELL ME THAT ARMAND & LESTAT AREN’T ABSOLTUELY SOAKED IN HUMILIATION AND BEGGING. Taking inventory of VC ships like there’s ALWAYS a dominant and a submissive, it’s so rare that people are just equals with each other, and it’s always part of the appeal! 

There’s this psychologist Esther Perel, I think she’s brilliant and she’s very kink positive and has a bunch of podcasts and stuff. I read her book Mating in Captivity and she brought up this whole thing about kink and power dynamics and how like, it’s not always clear who’s in charge, and you can’t judge relationships based on who’s older, who makes more money, who’s larger, etc, because power dynamics are so much more complicated than that. She uses the example that if you’ve ever been in public with a screaming toddler, which of you is really the dominant? I think about this constantly!

And like speaking about real life kink being so deeply about CONSENT means so much to me with this conversation about VC, too, because like even looking at a relationship like Marius & Human!Armand or Armand and Human!Daniel, it doesn’t matter that one is a powerful vampire if they also feel so tenderly towards their fragile little human. TVA was very explicit about this when they have that conversation about which one of them is the other’s slave. So in BDSM even though we look at the dom as being the one in control, the consent is the thing in control and ultimately the SUB is in control by permitting all of it! 

So I just feel very strongly about all of this, it’s all over VC, and even when it’s less obvious (relationships like Loustat, like Lestat/Armand, even Louis/Claudia) there are so many of these power elements to examine. Even if it’s not written TO BE KINKY they’re still there and I think it’s all connected, because I’m kink positive and I love unpacking this stuff. 

AND ALSO LIKE ON THE ASEXUAL FRONT, I love it so much because like as a kinky ace, and knowing as many kinky aces as I know, there’s SO MUCH KINK out there that is NOT SEXUAL so I think it just translates so nicely to VC vampires being asexual, like it all makes so much fucking sense to me and it’s so fun and I adore it so much!!! 

THIS WAS PURE STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS IM GONNA POST IT BEFORE I GET WORRIED THAT IM NOT COHESIVE, ENJOY!!! 

[searchingforatrail]

complex megop opinions below!

Not necessarily positive or negative, just a very objective view of it and how fandom sees it vs. other ships with a similar dynamic. 

This isn’t ship hate, because it’s my OTP. It’s just a realistic look at MegOp spurred on by the fact that I tend to see people overlook the obvious issues for moral points. Meaning, I’ve run upon some sort of hate towards megastar shippers from  some megop shippers, usually with people accusing the former of being unhealthy and abusive, and i’m like, the latter isn’t? 

And not just the ship, but people too. 

I credit most of the great development and realistic approach towards a positive MegOp portrayal to fans, given that in most media we have of them, their relationship starts out great and disintegrates into one of the most tragic relationships of all time. Not only because they fall out, but because they hurt each other, drastically. Megatron, arguably more. Not only does he hurt Optimus, he targets him by harming those close to him. Whether it’s children or his closest friends, he personally hurts those around Optimus.  

In Prime, it’s arguably worse. Because it’s not just physical, but it’s psychological too. Especially during the Orion Pax saga. 

And the same could be said about Optimus to Megatron as well. Initially. Just in a different light. Optimus, a privilege mech, using his position and power to speak over Megatron, to dismiss his want to use violence and overthrow a government who abused him, etc., is a great example of an abuse of power. 

And I always stand by the fact that Megatron was 100% within his rights to want to use violence to hurt those who hurt him. 

In IDW both have an entire conversation about how badly they’ve hurt each other, Megatron flat out admits to wanting to hurt Optimus by hurting people around him. He knows what emotionally fucks with his closest friend, and proceeds to do it on a galactic level. Repeatedly. 

But people aren’t supposed to interact with megop shippers because they ship megastar? On the basis of abuse and/or an unhealthy relationship? 

What makes them different? A lot, i’m sure. There’s an arguably closer work relationship with Megatron and Starscream, the abuse is physical and psychological. There’s a larger power imbalance, and it’s over the span of a longer time. Starscream has less of a chance to fight back as opposed to Optimus, and the relationship between Megatron and Starscream is not always as equal as Megatron and Optimus’s. 

So it’s much easier to say “This is an unhealthy relationship”. 

But that’s canon. Shippers and artist work very diligently to change it, fix it, and write happy endings to it that end pretty well. They’ve worked to create complex endings to an abusive ship, very similar to how canon and fanon writers have done the exact same thing to Megatron and Optimus. 

But the bottom line is that both ships are very unhealthy. At least a a point. They don’t start that way, and they might not end that way, but a significant chunk of time, they are very, very unhealthy. And the even bottomer line is that fans work very hard to give it a healthier ending--both ships. 

And that said, I don’t understand the vitriol that comes from MegOp shippers to Megastar shippers, especially when both ships have similar dynamics. 

I guess the argument is that “well, one ship is more abusive/unhealthy than the other”, but you get in a weird space when you start to say one version of abuse is more valid than the other. 

And don’t get me wrong, there are stark differences between both ships. I do think Starscream is in a place where he experiences abuse more, but that doesn’t make Megop unhealthy or a morally superior ship. It doesn’t it any less hypocritical to add  “megastars dni/megastars get hit by trucks/i hate megastar shippers” on your profile on the basis of abuse or unhealthy relationships if you ship MegOP. 

I think it’s just dismissive of what both megatron and optimus go through during their time together, because their unhealthiness is acceptable. And that leaves a very sour taste in my mouth. 

So yeah, those are just my thoughts. I welcome another perspective, just be kind about it. 

And I love MegOp. Megatron and Optimus are my favorite characters. but I also know the ship is the most complex ship, imo, to date in transformers. and it’s not without it’s fair share of pain and agony. But why is their dynamic okay. why does it give is the right to be crappy towards other shippers who ship a similar dynamic to ours? 

[mammothartist]

Some of My Gripes with Teenage Mercenary/Mercenary Enrollment

As much as I love Teenage Mercenary there is some things that I just find a little odd. I love the story telling but there is some things that makes me go crazy. This is in no particular order, just by the order of what goes by in my brain.

Seokjo’s Odd Characterization

What drives me crazy is that Seokjo is just shoved to the side, dismissed as a character. Like he is just there to cheer on Yeona in her and ijin’s cute moments, to help out his friends, and is there to clean up their messes ( Literally and figuratively, did y’all see him cleaning up their food trash in episode 164?) This could very well be that this is building up to Seokjo’s character arc, which will probably handle his isolation and the control in his life, like Yeona’s arc. It will also handle the insecurity we’ve seen a little of being only 2nd best to Ijin, and the insecurity of never being good enough. Also, this is not a gripe but more of something I noticed but have y’all realized that Seokjo is the literally the only bits of fan service in the entire manhwa. All the other people, especially ijin, get badass or emotional moments and yes Seokjo gets those moments too, but he also gets a lot of moments of him literally huffing and puffing with his abs showing through his shirt while working out. To be honest, when I saw it the first time I thought it was just a coincidence, then it happened again. I just thought that was funny to mention.

2. The Girls Characterization

I noticed that with Dayeon, Yeona, Evelyn and Sophia are damsel and distress characters. Sure for Dayeon,Yeona and Seoha it could be justified that they were dealing with people they couldn’t deal with, like people that are physically imposing or have power over them. But Sophia it was justified by the fact she has trauma from being kidnapped, and I can understand that but it drives me crazy that the only way she was able to recognize ijin was by the hand signal he gave her. I had to specify that this was the Girls characterization because they are all under 18 I’m pretty sure ( expect for Seoha I think ?) All the women that are canonically over 18 are not damsel in distress’s by any means. 005, Alice, and Jiye are all women who have shown to be able to hold their own. I believe the only acception to the girls damsel in distress trope is Evelyn, because the reason she is not part of the trope is not because she herself she was getting attacked specifically but it was her whole town. Also she became a doctor, she is so awesome for that. I also realized that all the girls, except for Dayeon, 005, Alice, and Evelyn have their story based around their romance for Ijin, except for Jiye who has romantic interest for Major Kang, So that also drives me crazy. I think the romance between Yeona and Ijin and Jiye and Kang are the only ones that don’t rub me the wrong way because Yeona is a Highschool girl, she’s bound to have a crush. And Jiye can still hold her own and love Kang doing it. 3. The lack of Colored people within the story. I may sound like a broken record, but I find it odd that there isn’t more colored people within the story. I understand that Korea is not very diverse compared to places like America. But I don’t understand why in ijins past there is a lack of diversity. It seems like there is an effort to make it clear that these villages are based in places where the people have darker skin based on the newer chapters. The newer chapters were showing people like Evelyn, who has darker skin and different hair textures. I’m not going to say much more on this because it seems like this is changing based on newer episodes. That brings me to the next point,

4. It’s a VERY slow paced story

I love a story that takes its time, but damn sometimes it takes a long time to get to the development of characters, especially when there is filler arcs. For example, the whole thing with Seoha’s little brother, I personally can’t see what that arc was supposed to be about, especially since they doesn’t show back up after that. This is just something I can’t handle, it may not the same for everyone though.

5. The fact that the majority of the Problems in the story was dealt with a fight.

I get it , it’s an action webtoon, but the episodes where they aren’t fighting hit more emotionally and have more influence in the story that the ones they are. I believe the exception to this is the very beginning of the story when Ijin was beating up Dayeons bullies.

Those are all the points that I can think of now apart from some gripes with the art, but I honestly believe that it doesn’t change the impact that this story leaves in my brain. If y’all have any more things y’all want to add or If you disagree feel free to tell me! I love when y’all interact with my rants, especially you heelys4feelys, I love your responses.

[chenfordspiral]

Invading your ask box!

I suck at coming up with questions and also I'm curious of everyone's answers, so in light of manifesting season 7, what are your hopes for when we hopefully get a full season 7?

Go as wild and unrealistic as you want!

Oh boy, this is tough 😂 but thank you so much for asking! I’ve missed being on tumblr and this was so nice to see in my inbox last night 🥰

Well, we might not know what the rest of season 6 will bring but if it doesn’t come up in any of the other six episodes, I’d love to have Lucy and Tim talk about officially moving in together and then actually doing so. I know they’re practically living together already, but I’d love for them to maybe get their own new place together? Get a whole new apartment/house that’s theirs. Honestly, just gimme all the cutesy domestic moments they can fit in because I’m a sucker for that - what else is new? But also, please let them keep working on properly communicating with one another even if it’s hard because no relationship can survive without good communication. 

And, you know, if they're feeling like it, I would also not say no to a proposal.

I WANNA KNOW BABY GIRL EVERS’ NAME FFS. Obviously I’m most invested in Chenford, but it’s driving me insane that we’re 4 eps in, and still don’t know her name. Speaking of kids, I’d love to see more of all the kids Lopez and Harper have. Get rid of some of the unnecessary Bailan domesticity crap and gimme any of the other couples instead. 

Speaking of Bailey.. I’m not a hater, also not exactly a fan, but can we get her in a storyline that doesn’t involve Nolan in some way? I think if she were to interact more with the other characters, we as the audience could potentially get more involved with her character. She’s basically tied to Nolan, and sometimes it feels like a disservice to everyone (including Jenna as an actress) to limit her interactions to basically just him and quick two-sentence exchanges thrown in every 20 eps like with Lucy in 6x04. 

I know it’ll never happen, but I would love to see Chenford babysitting either Jack and his baby sister or baby Leah because we know they’d just.. well, maybe not suck at it but they’d likely struggle and lose a kid or two lol and it’d just be so much fun to watch. 

I also gotta broach the sensitive topic.. I’ve been hoping for Lucy to do a long-term UC op practically since I started watching the show and even more so since Chenford became canon simply because I want to see how she would handle not being able to contact anyone she cares about. Give her a handler that’s not Tim, not Harper, not anyone she’s familiar with so she can experience what it would be like to be completely cut off from her life and the people she loves. Maybe I’m understanding her desire to be a deep cover UC officer and she’d flourish under those circumstances, but I think if she experienced an op without any of her friends (or her boyfriend) as her handler/back up, she’d have a better idea of what her life would really look like if she chose that path. She’s a people person, and I personally don’t think she’d like it as much as I think she wants to like it. (6x02 hinted at her not being as fine about it as she claims to be, and I hope we get to see more of the topic.) If not that, I’d also just like to see an op gone wrong. They’ve all been fairly straight forward without any kind of consequences even after her cover had been blown, and I’d be very interested in seeing something just not go as smoothly. Also, Lucy could do ANY job within the LAPD and absolutely kick ass. Where are all the departments wanting her on their team that the cop offering her that spot at UC school talked about?? Where?! WHERE?!?

I’m rambling now, great. Okay, I’m gonna stop here. I may have missed some obvious wishes here but for now these are some I could think of right off the bat.

Oh oh oh! Lucy’s called Tim babe before, can we get Tim calling Lucy by a pet name? Pretty pleaseeeee 🥺 and last but not least, give us Kojo back. And bring Genny.

Now I’m done. Thank you so much for thinking of me, Suz! ❤︎ This was so much fun!

[swamplatibule]

GREETINGS it is 9:25 PM on a Sunday as i write this. My hands are shaking rn but that’s probably a result of the energy drink that gave me heart palpitations earlier </3 anyway it’s time for

Lantern Eclipse!

Lantern Eclipse takes place in a world that ended a while ago! Roughly 100-odd years ago, a combination of weird mold creatures, magic nature spirits, and good old-fashioned nuclear radiation completely took over, resulting in the destruction of the vast majority of manmade areas! Most major cities have been completely overgrown with mold and megaflora, save for a few “havens” scattered few and far in between.

Don’t @ me i’ve lost track of how many apocalypse paracosms i have and that probably says something about my psyche that I’m not ready to hear

ANYWAY. Our story takes place in one of those havens, called Guardian City, which is mostly known for its massive size, wild amount of neon lights, and also the really intense military organization called the Shepherd Division that runs the place like the navy! Or like. Half of it. There’s also the violet district that takes up maybe a fifth of the city, which is mostly controlled by various mob kingpins, drug lords, etc. technicallyyyyy the Shepherd Divison is supposed to control the area, but they generally let the violet district remain as is in exchange for all their bullshit not spilling over into the “respectable” areas.

Also I feel like i should mention that Guardian City is huge. Like the size of Montana. There’s a massive wall surrounding its border to keep the plants out, but you cannot see that wall from the center of the city

ANYWAY. This is all basic background info. Now it’s meat time baybee

This is one of those stories where there are several separate plots with entirely different casts of characters going on at once, so I’m just going to go over one of them for now because it’s getting late and as previously mentioned my hands are shaking so bad rn

The first person we need to meet is Fairywren Merlo! She was a skater boy <3 Fairywren is my darling dearest who can do no wrong. She’s also a mercenary for hire and has most definitely killed before. She has a sniper rifle, roller skates, autism and a dream!!

^ that would be her in Normal WorldTM i still have yet to decide on her canon outfit

The next person you should know about is Eddie Duncan, who i described in my notesapp as “like if colonel sanders murdered people. Charming in a gross way, like a marginally more evil televangelist with a gun.” Eddie is an INCREDIBLY influential figure within the violet district - he’s rich, he has the Shepherd Division in his pocket, and he’s also incredibly dangerous, so everyone wants to stay on his good side. Do people like him? Depends who you ask. Everyone, however, is scared of him. To be more precise, they’re scared of his “hunting dog,” the silent, nameless masked man who follows his every command. we’ll get back to these two later.

now, fairywren is Good At Her Job. a bit too good at it. she gets a job to kill some random ass guyTM who she’s never heard of, so she does it! very well! EXCEPT turns out that was the son of a very important member of the shepherd guard, and the guy who hired her to kill him has now vanished, leaving her a) unpaid and b) being searched for by the shepherds. uh oh!!

the best solution she can think of is to get out of the city, but she doesn’t have any means of surviving outside the city until she meets Eddie, who brings her and a few other mercenaries along on some Top Secret Project that he’s working on which requires them all to venture outside the city wall and search for some lost artifact he needs. fairywren and the others are mostly just there to kill mold monsters and be human shields for him.

they go the first few days without seeing any trouble aside from the usual freaky wasteland monsters, and then uh oh! they get ambushed by a group looking for that same artifact! and this is where the “hunting dog” i mentioned earlier becomes Very Important!

he is what’s known in Neon Eclipse as a “terror” - an ageless, human-appearing creature that feeds only on human flesh and is nearly impossible to kill! they’re like vampires but. worse <3 I can go into SO much detail about them but i will restrain myself for now because it’s story time. but. anyway. everyone in their party watches him absolutely rip through all of their attackers!

obviously Eddie’s hired guns aren’t too pleased about traveling out in the middle of nowhere with a guy who would 100% eat them if given the chance, but Eddie assures them that he’s entirely under control. see, each terror has a “heart,” usually in the form of some small weird looking stone. If someone else gets their hands on it, then they can use it to force the Terror to do whatever they want! and Eddie keeps the heart of his nameless follower on a cord around his neck!

turns out Eddie and his older brother used to be in the business of researching terrors about 40 years ago! they stumbled upon the one that now follows him everywhere while he was asleep, and Eddie’s brother got a bit too close and. well. oopsie!

but hey he might be down a brother but at least he has Some Fuckin Guy on his side

some shit happens, and one by one, everyone else in the party dies in various terrible ways until it’s only Eddie, Fairywren, and the terror left. Then Eddie finds his artifact! yay! buuuuut he doesn’t want any witnesses so Fairywren has to die </3 alas! She manages to escape - barely - but it’s hard to outrun a terror for a few minutes, let alone forever. Eddie catches up to her within a few days, and things are looking Very Bad for our dear fairywren, who is now face to face with death.

BUT. instead of attempting to fight the terror! fairywren shoots Eddie! she fully expects the terror to kill her after, but seeing as the guy commanding him is now dead, he takes his heart from Eddie’s body and leaves! and also starts laughing, which is the first noise Fairywren has ever heard him make. spooky

Fairywren is now completely lost in the cursed wilderness with no way back! BUT she eventually catches up with our terror friend (who can talk now thanks to not having Eddie forcing him to be quiet anymore) and they get to be friends <3 yippie <3 she also gives him the name Ford (she suggested harrison ford because he’s her favorite actor but our terror friend thought harrison was a dumb name) they’re still lost but at least they don’t have to worry if they’re attacked and she is mostly confident that he probably won’t murder her

n e way! that’s one major story thread written, who even knows how many left to go 😭 yay

taglist: @burningivy @shrimpnymph @diphtheria420 @parasdreams @dremieblur @acircusfullofdemons @daydreaming-memories (lmk if you want to be taken off the taglist pretty please!!)

[theicarusconstellation]

What are your wips?

AHHHH FJSJAKDKF MY WIPS

tl;dr you can look at my pinned post if you want, but i like to ramble about them😭🙏

okay so my big big big passion project that will probably go on for years is into the dark. it’s a canon-divergent (aka jegulus lives and gets their happy ending) au spanning from regulus’ fourth year to the end of the second war. it’s split into four acts, and act one was about 300K, so i expect to be working on this guy for a while😭

and then DHSHAKSKFJG and though i burn, how could i fall? it’s my jegulus icarus x apollo au that focuses heavily on grief, music, and how those two intertwine, as well as deep-rooted devotion literally nothing can ever break. dedicated to none other than @ninety-two-bees the light of my life, as well as a friend of mine not on tumblr named aurora

gun in my lips is my the secret history au. it’s jegulily in the sense that jegulus are in a romantic relationship, lily and regulus are in a bdsm relationship (don’t get me wrong bdsm relationships can be within romantic relationships!! jegulus in this fic has one!! regulily themselves are only in a bdsm relationship though), and james and lily are queerplatonic. regulus is very henry winter in this

i also have a paul/irulan dune fic where the hunger games take place in the dune universe called always an angel (never a god). v angsty, atreides siblings-centric

then there’s my ongoing collection of my microfics, little universes

i have a lot more that aren’t published atm because i like to get a solid amount prewritten before i post, but yeah that’s the gist of it🤭please if anyone has any questions ever about any of my works i would carve out my heart to answer them i love talking about them

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 12/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Here it is—the last big chapter of this @cssns adventure! I'm so excited to finally share it with you. Hope you enjoy it! (Epilogue to come next week.) (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl !) rated M | 6.5k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Killian was dragged from a deep, post-coital sleep by a shrill, unseasonable tune.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…”

It drew simultaneous curses from him and Emma. “Bloody hell.” “What the fuck?”

He blindly reached towards the bedside table for his phone, wanting to silence the infernal device. But once he found it—and recognized the image on the screen, fuzzy as it was with his sleep-blurred vision—he realized: Belle was calling. 

(She’d set that ringtone against his wishes. “Get it? Jingle Belles?” she’d told him while giggling—and more than a little tipsy on Granny’s rum-spiked eggnog.)

“Belle? Is everything okay?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep, once he managed to answer the call.

“No, it’s not; Dorian took Rumple.”

“What?” That woke him up immediately. “What happened?”

“He took him—right out of our room. He froze me so I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but, Killian—he had a dagger.”

An uncomfortable weight settled in his stomach. “I’m assuming a very specific kind of dagger?”

“From what I could see.” Bollocks; that likely meant whatever Dorian had planned towards taking on the Darkness, he was about to execute it—and with it, them, unless Killian could intervene. Next to him, Emma was answering a text on her own phone.

“Do you know where he was going?” he asked Belle and threw off the covers; he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep tonight.

“I wish I knew; he didn’t say anything—just poofed them both away. He’s not there, is he?”

It was a logical assumption, but Emma had long since put up wards around the yard that would let them know of any intruders.

Emma tapped on his bare shoulder. “That was Leroy; sounds like there's something odd going on outside the library.”

“Does that man ever sleep?” Killian quipped back, but that told them enough of where they were headed. “He’s been spotted; center of town,” he told Belle. “Don’t worry—we’ll handle this; you stay there with Gideon.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to worry—about all of you,” she replied. “But I trust you. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he said, something telling him they’d need it.

They made quick work of getting dressed, although Killian did linger a moment over his old pirate coat. It had long been his companion when going into battle, and this was sure to be one of some sort. 

But the bulk of those fights were on the wrong side of things. He wasn’t that man anymore—he knew for certain now. So he grabbed his newer, shorter coat, slipped it on, and then grabbed his prosthetic hand off the dresser where he’d left it.

Emma came up to his side as he snapped it into his brace, looking equally prepared for combat in her red leather jacket. “You ready?”

“As much as I can be at…2:30 am,” he answered, glancing at Emma’s alarm clock. Why couldn’t these things ever happen at reasonable hours?

“We can get coffee after,” Emma assured him, then placed a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s do this.”

He nodded, and the familiar swirl of her magic wrapped around them. When it cleared, they were standing in the town’s main intersection, facing the library and clocktower.

And, directly in front of them, were Dorian and Gold—and a whole display. Upon an easel to one side was the decrepit, cursed portrait of Dorian; to another was a pedestal with a box on it, lid opened to reveal the Crimson Heart. Dammit.

Rumpelstiltskin was tied to a stake on the other side of the portrait, which seemed more than a bit unnecessary, and Dorian stood between the two objects, casually assessing the weapon in his hands: a very recognizable dagger, albeit slightly different—somehow seeming more dangerous.

“Wondered how long it would take you to show up,” Dorian taunted. “Figured you’d be here sooner.”

“It’s only been 15 minutes,” Rumple added, but was quickly silenced as a gag appeared around his mouth after a wave of Dorian’s hand.

“We don’t need that kind of unnecessary commentary, do we?” Dorian strode closer to the former Crocodile, toying with the blade in his hands. “As much as I know we all have a flair for the dramatic, I’d rather not drag this out.”

“Sounds good; so how about you just let him go and then get the hell out?” Emma shouted at him.

“Hmmm…no,” Dorian (unsurprisingly) countered. He turned his attention to Rumple, then. “It’s funny; the first time this metal found its way into his flesh—or so the story goes—it couldn’t do anything. But when you melt it down and reshape it…” He whirled the dagger around dramatically and then, with the tip of it, made a small but deep slice on his cheek.

Rumple hissed through the gag as the blood quickly flowed. Curiously, Dorian caught some on the flat edge of the blade—which was apparently forged from Killian’s hook; bloody bastard. It was hard to see from several yards away, but it looked like he was letting it fill in the engraved design, and then waved a hand over it to seal it. “One down, three to go. Who’s next?”

“I’ll pass,” Killian said, at the same time Emma told him, “No thanks.” 

“Guess I’ll have to take it on my own, then.” His hand glowed and a rope made of magic grew from it. He lashed out with it towards them, but they split up and ran in opposite directions, evading him—and formally starting combat.

From her side, Emma shot a jolt of electrified magic toward Dorian, but he whipped it away with the strand of magic, which in turn dissipated. Killian saw his own opening and fired a jet of water at him, but Dorian threw up a shield of magic at the last possible moment; it arced over the barely-visible dome towards Emma, who ran out of the way just in time.

Back and forth they all went, exchanging bursts of power. Killian and Dorian for the most part canceled each other out—either Killian extinguishing Dorian’s fire, or Dorian rendering Killian’s water into steam. 

As a consequence, the view began to get hazy; eventually, Killian was so surrounded by fog that he couldn’t see anything—just the glow of the streetlights overhead.

And then he felt a sharp sting on his left cheek and a heartless laugh he knew too well—one that he used to use himself. “Gotcha,” Dorian mocked from just behind him, and Killian hissed as blood began to flow onto the waiting blade. “How’s it feel to be on the other end of your hook, eh?”

He jumped away as soon as he could, but it wasn’t soon enough; he could see the red pooling in the etching on the dagger, then becoming a dark red enamel as Dorian locked it into the blade, on the opposite side from Rumple’s, though only covering about half the length of the blade. 

Dorian flipped it over and swiped across his opposite palm, allowing a few drips to fill in the rest of the first side. “Almost done, then,” he taunted. “Just need some from your lovely wife.”

“Over my dead body,” Killian spat.��

“Eventually, yes—but not yet,” Dorian countered.

A stiff breeze ran down the street, clearing the smog; Killian recognized by its warm tickle along his skin that it was Emma’s magic at work. Once he could see again, he saw Emma standing behind them. “Gotta catch me first, asshole,” she shouted, then disappeared as soon as Dorian looked in her direction.

“Over here,” she called out from over near the Crimson Heart. She shot Killian a heavy look; he knew exactly what she was saying before she disappeared again. 

“Up here!” she yelled from the roof of the library, then immediately taunted again from down the street.

He saw an angry fire light in Dorian’s eyes as he attempted to track Emma around the street, and then he disappeared on his own, likely trying to follow her. Killian used his distraction to make for the Crimson Heart.

First, though, he decided to get Gold out of there. His former foe watched as he ran past the Heart to him, behind the pole he was tied to. Of course, that was the moment when Killian realized his lack of hook was going to make it all the harder to undo the (rather sloppy) knot around Rumpelstiltskin’s wrists, but he’d have to make do. 

However, he’d barely made a dent in it when a blast of heat sent him flying away from Gold, throwing him several feet away and then making him roll on the pavement. 

“Not so fast, brother; I’m not done with him,” Dorian warned from the center of the intersection. His focus was on Killian, so he didn’t notice when Emma popped up behind him—not until she was slamming her shoulder into him. “Surprise!” she teased, then poofed away again. 

Killian slowly got to his feet after having the wind knocked out of him and watched as Emma and Dorian quite literally played a weird game of popcorn over the town square (yes, he knew that game; Snow’s class had introduced him to it). As soon as Emma appeared in one spot, Dorian found her and moved to that spot just as she was headed somewhere new. 

He could tell she was trying to keep Dorian in her sight the whole time, not moving until she found him. But when she reappeared in the street not far from where Killian stood, she seemed to be coming up empty. 

She turned in her spot, scanning for their foe; Killian did, too, watching the rooftops for an aerial attack, or possibly coming from the alleyways. 

But he was able to slip past both of them. “Surprise,” Dorian parroted, suddenly behind Emma, and took advantage of the pause she made in her reaction—he grabbed her arm and slipped a familiar cuff on her wrist. 

“Shit,” they both cursed, and Emma grabbed at it with her other hand even though it was futile. 

Then she yelped in pain and tried to curl away from Dorian, but he gripped her wrist tight—and held the dagger underneath where he’d apparently just slashed the side of her hand. Her blood dripped onto the blade (the same side as Killian’s blood) and as with the others, Dorian sealed it in. 

“There we go,” he gloated. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

Now with all four blood samples, the dagger took on an unnatural, uncomfortable glow—red where the blood had been spilled, reminding Killian far too much of the way Excalibur had looked after he pulled all the Dark Ones past into it. 

That awful memory was enough to shake Killian from his momentary stupor and remember what he was supposed to be doing: getting the Crimson Heart. 

Not that he was far from it, but he sprinted towards the pedestal nonetheless. “Oh no you don’t—not yet,” Dorian warned, and shot a line of fire at Killian, but he threw up a shield of water before it got to him, fizzling it out on impact a few feet away from his goal. 

However, he wasn’t sure if it was the shield itself, or the force of the resulting steam, but somehow, something knocked over the podium. 

And everyone’s eyes watched as the Crimson Heart was tossed into the air, its crystalline exterior reflecting the streetlights. 

Killian attempted to make a dive for it—hoping he’d both save it and sacrifice his own magic at once—but Dorian reacted faster and reached out for it with his own magic, likely to prevent it from falling and shattering. 

It worked—in a way; as soon as his magic connected with it, it paused midair. But rather than gently falling back down, it stayed there—and, from where Killian stood, seemed to take control of the flow of magic. 

“What the hell?” Dorian cried, and tried to pull away—but the Heart wouldn’t let him let go. It was taking his powers, swiftly and viciously. He even dropped the dagger, attempting to use his free arm to yank the other away, but to no avail.  

Killian and Emma instinctively found each other as they watched it happen—it was like a magnet, or maybe a vacuum, forcing Dorian’s arm aloft as it pulled the magic out through his fingertips. 

Killian almost felt guilty; if he’d known that was all it took to eliminate his powers, he’d have done that straight away. As it was, though, the only thing he could do was lean on Emma. 

Eventually, it stopped, once it had apparently sucked Dorian dry, and the heart drifted to the pavement, now carrying a bit more of a reddish sheen. Killian was out of breath, but Dorian—he’d definitely taken the brunt of it. He was curled over at first, but once he straightened up, he—well, he looked like shit. Not as bad as the portrait, but he definitely appeared tired, and older, as if some of the life had been sucked out of him (which, in a way, it had). 

That didn’t stop him from holding his palms open and staring at them. Then he closed them and opened them again, as if that would help. “Come on,” he urged. “Do it. Do it!” But nothing happened. 

Emma squeezed Killian’s side. “What about you?” she asked. 

He mirrored Dorian’s gestures, attempting to summon water to his hands, but—nothing. 

“Guess we know it worked,” she said, though it was somewhat emotionless. 

The three stared for a moment, taking in the changed, though still somewhat even, playing field. 

“Whatever,” Dorian finally sighed. “The spell has already started, and I don’t need my magic to kill you all.”

He reached for the pocket of his jeans, expecting to grab something, but a look of surprise crossed his brows as he came back with nothing. He felt around some more, checking his jacket pockets and looking around at the ground (with increasing panic) as he continued to come up empty.

“Looking for this?” Emma taunted from her spot at Killian’s side, waving the glowing dagger at him with her free hand. Killian hadn’t noticed, but her fingers were sticky enough that she must have grabbed it when she was running to reach him while the boys were distracted by the Crimson Heart. A surge of pride rushed through him.

Dorian growled and lunged, but Emma was already sprinting away. However, Killian wasn’t about to let them chase each other again, so he too jumped to action—

—And tackled Dorian to the asphalt before he could get very far. It was at this point he realized that they didn’t exactly have a plan of attack, and this had devolved into something of a game of keep-away until they figured out how to actually put an end to this. (And he lamented the fact that he’d forgotten to bring his sword; a weapon would be extremely useful at the moment.)

“Get the fuck off me,” Dorian demanded, shoving Killian’s shoulders away from his chest where they had landed. But if anything, it just gave Killian more leverage to pin him down; he was able to get his knees under him and straddled Dorian’s waist, then pressed his left forearm across his twin’s chest. 

A glance up showed him that Emma was continuing his earlier efforts to free Gold, using the dagger to saw at the ropes. 

But then his world spun and he was suddenly on his back; should have known not to take his eyes off Dorian for a second. His foe fisted one hand in Killian’s jacket and reared back with the other, then punched down. Killian tried to turn his head, but Dorian’s fist still connected with his face; he could feel the bruise form on his cheekbone almost immediately. 

“That’s for last time,” Dorian hissed, then attempted to scramble up and away. Killian instinctively reached out with his left arm to try to hook his ankle, but his false hand barely touched him, so he rolled over and was just able to get his right hand around the other one as Dorian took another step away, bringing him back to the ground before he could get very far. The subsequent groan suggested he’d hit something sensitive. 

Emma was still working on the knots, so Killian again sat on Dorian to keep him down, pressing a knee to his lower back. Killian still hadn’t decided just what he was trying to do to Dorian, but anything that prevented him from hurting Emma or Gold was worth it. 

Dorian rolled under him, knocking Killian aside but not entirely freeing himself. Killian grabbed the collar of Dorian’s coat before he could get away and followed him to standing, yanking him back before he could stop Emma (perhaps Dorian would have made an excellent sailor, too, with how well he’d tied Rumple up).

He wrapped his arms around Dorian to hold him in place. “Sorry, brother; I’m not much for hugs,” Dorian spat, and tried to shake Killian off. 

“Well that’s a shame; I am,” he retorted and held on tighter. Dorian glared over his shoulder, and from the side, Killian could see blood trailing from his nose again, likely from his fall. 

Squealing brakes grabbed everyone’s attention as Gold’s Cadillac suddenly peeled onto the scene; he wasn’t surprised that Belle had shown up (and he could see Gideon’s infant seat in the back), but he wished she hadn’t. She started to get out of the car but he called out for her to stay put. She glared at him, but complied—especially as she watched Dorian shove his elbow into Killian’s solar plexus.

Spots immediately filled Killian’s vision and he gasped for air; the force of the push had also allowed Dorian to escape from his grasp. For good measure, it seemed, Dorian also turned around and kicked him in the groin, bringing him to his knees.

In the haze of pain, he heard Emma call his name; however, he was aware of nothing for a good moment but the incredible discomfort searing across his midsection and between his legs. It was a dirty move, but he wasn’t shocked at all that Dorian made it.

He was able to suck in enough air to look up and vaguely make out the form of Dorian approaching Emma, though his vision was blurry from tears. He could at least tell that Emma had put herself between his twin and Gold, and had to imagine Belle was calculating her own move there. 

Emma seemed to be holding the dagger in a defensive position, but why did she need to? She was more than capable of “punching his lights out,” as she’d once described her own method of rendering Killian useless in that fight by Lake Nostos.

But a flash of light from Dorian’s right hand caught his eye as the sharp part of a switchblade opened. Bit harder to fight against that with fists.

Dorian flipped the knife to get a better hold on the handle, raised it above his head, and rushed forward. Despite knowing Emma could probably fend him off, and despite still kneeling prone on the pavement, Killian reached towards her, reacting instinctively, and then—

A blue-tinged shield made of magic appeared in front of Emma and Gold, just in time for Dorian to be thrown back by it.

Perhaps Killian hadn’t been entirely truthful when it came to the presence of his powers. (And thank the gods that Dorian had been the one to help them figure out that the Crimson Heart didn’t affect the two of them the way they thought it might, rather than he.)

Through the buffer, Emma was staring at him, stunned—but relieved, he could tell. The shield faltered a bit as he was still requiring considerable focus just to breathe, but the ache was leaving his body enough for him to stand. 

A few feet away, Dorian was seated, rubbing the back of his head and muttering to himself. But his focus returned to Killian, probably when his shadow fell on him, and he turned his angry stare on him. “You filthy liar,” he spat as he hopped to his feet.

“Aye, well—I’m a pirate; comes with the territory,” Killian threw back tiredly. 

“It’s not fucking fair!” he roared, coming closer. “I’ve been chasing this for years and you just—you've taken everything I should have had!” He punctuated his outburst by shoving Killian. 

He snorted; what a bloody fool. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth, mate; I’ve told you that already.”

“You’ve had family, love, the Darkness—”

“Not by choice, that one,” he interjected, and was glad he wasn’t looking at Emma, knowing the guilt that would likely cross her face at that. “And I had nothing to do with whatever decision our parents made; that’s on them. But love—yes; I’ve been so fortunate as to have that, more than once, even. Which proves you can, too,” he insisted. “You knew it once; it’s possible to find it again. I’ve been in your shoes—”

“No you fucking haven’t,” Dorian interrupted again, angrily pointing in his face. “I saw you give up the Darkness. Which—first off: rude; but don’t pretend that everyone would have done the same thing in that situation.”

Killian tilted his head, confused; how could he have “seen” it, as he was implying? He’d mentioned it to him, certainly, but this suggested he’d somehow relived it (something Killian wouldn’t wish on anyone—yet something he still did more often than he’d like to admit, especially in anxious nightmares).

It didn’t really matter, though. “You just have to find—”

“—Something else to live for; yeah, I’ve heard that,” Dorian finished. “But there isn’t—not anymore. This is it for me—this is my last chance. So please, don’t try to stop me further.”

He sighed, but Dorian was right: a hope speech would be wasted breath at this point, and gods only knew how many of those Killian had rejected when he was similarly at his lowest. 

Besides, Dorian was yet again making a run for Emma, and the shield had fallen while Killian was trying to sway him. In an instant, Killian transported himself in front of her and pushed Dorian back with a small but concentrated surge of magic when he got close. He stumbled back and growled.

Killian conjured up a small wall of water to give them a moment of privacy. “Emma, get Gold and have Belle get you all out of here; I’ll handle him,” he murmured over his shoulder.

“You sure?” The worry in her voice was obvious.

“No,” he answered honestly, “but who else can?”

She squeezed his shoulder and pressed a peck against his cheek, then hurried away from him as he let the water fall and faced Dorian, instead summoning a small, whirling orb of water to his palm.

But it fizzled out when he heard the unmistakable (at least, to him) sound of Emma stumbling; she was never known for having any of the grace of her namesake. He looked over and saw, almost in slow motion, as she fell forward, having tripped on an uneven crack in the pavement.

She put her hands out in front of her to brace her fall, but in the process, released her grasp on the dagger, which was turning in the air, glinting in the light, as it fell to the ground.

Killian ran to Emma; Dorian ran to the dagger.

He knelt at Emma’s side and helped her sit up, but both were silent as they watched their foe pick up the weapon several feet ahead. 

The sick grin of satisfaction that appeared on Dorian’s face was both unwelcome and all too familiar; how many times had Killian worn his own when he was about to do something awful?

Dorian flipped the blade in his hand, repeatedly tossing and catching the hilt. And then his gaze turned on Killian. 

He quickly gave Emma’s bicep a squeeze and moved away from her. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d keep Dorian away from her and Gold, but he could at least put some physical distance there to mitigate any damage. 

“What, offering yourself up first?” he taunted, blade extended, as Killian took careful steps away from Emma and Gold. 

“I’m not going to fight you off,” Killian told him. “And I’m not going to try to change your mind.”

“Good,” Dorian sneered. “It wouldn’t work anyways.” (It sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself as much as Killian, though.)

He jabbed forward toward Killian, laughing as he jumped out of the way, but Killian tried to remain calm and continue drawing Dorian’s focus away from his loved ones (granted, that term was a stretch for Gold, but Belle had yet again ignored his advice and joined her husband, so the statement still applied).

Subtly, he twitched his hand to draw up another shield over them—but Dorian noticed right away, and looked over his shoulder at it. If Killian wasn’t mistaken, his gaze lingered on Belle, before shaking his head and turning back to Killian.

“The ladies, I understand, but why do you continue to protect that man?” he asked. “Your feud is well-documented, and from what I’ve seen around here, seems to have gone on.” He continued to close in on Killian blade-first. “So why are you trying to save him, too? I figured you’d be all too happy to offer him up as some sort of sacrificial lamb.”

“A few years ago—yeah, I’d have delivered the death blow myself,” he answered. “But that wouldn’t give me satisfaction anymore, especially when it comes at a dire cost to a dear friend.”

Dorian scoffed, but didn’t interrupt for a change, and they continued their slow circle around each other.

“I told you: everything I’ve ever done has been motivated by love,” he said plainly. “The right decisions, and the wrong ones, too. I’ve certainly been selfish and misguided over my many years, but at the heart of it—I was always driven by those I love. Liam, Milah, Emma—and now, more people than I thought I’d ever have. I don’t deserve any of it, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for them. Well, damned again.” 

His heart pounded heavily as he looked at Emma through the shield, who was staring back intently, only furthering his resolve to keep her out of harm’s way (even if he was still working out how he would; he wasn’t naive enough to think his impassioned speech would do the trick.)

Dorian’s brow furrowed and he rushed closer, the dagger now leveled at Killian’s neck. “I thought you said you were done trying to reason with me.”

“I’m just answering your question,” he replied calmly, even though he knew it was more than that, and held his hand and prosthesis up in a placating manner. He took a step back, but then his foot connected with something—the easel holding Dorian’s portrait, which nearly toppled over, but he quickly righted it.

“You expect me to believe it’s just that easy? To change who you’ve been for so long just for—for love?”

“Of course it’s not,” he argued back. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it was worth it. They are worth it,” he emphasized, pointing at Emma and his friends.

“You know what I did to the woman I loved?” Dorian hissed, drawing still closer. “I tore her heart right out of her chest and crushed it myself.” He leveled the dagger at Killian’s chest in emphasis.

“Yeah, I kno—aaahh!!” Killian cried out in pain; Dorian had quickly and pointedly jabbed the tip of the dagger into his pectoral muscle, dangerously close to his heart.

“All to continue my pursuit of the Darkness,” he went on, nearly oblivious to the blood he was shedding. “To prove to my father that I was worthy of it; certainly more than you were.”

“Yeah, probably,” Killian answered through panting breaths. “Sounds like yours at least cared how you turned out, though. Is this what he wanted for you?” he asked, “Or that?” He nodded toward the ghastly painting (at least, as best he could).

Dorian glared and grimaced at him in reply. 

“Is that what Sybil would have wanted?” he added quietly (that was his only volume).

That seemed to strike a nerve; for the first time, he dropped the manic stare he’d been holding toward Killian and looked at the canvas, but then he closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if he was listening for something.

“I should do it,” he bit out, seemingly talking to himself as much as Killian, but the blade was shaking in his grasp—much to Killian’s chagrin; every vibration was a new shock of pain. He was holding on so tight, his knuckles were white; his hair was falling in his eyes; and when he opened them again, there was an almost frenzied light behind those blue irises that seemed to be the only thing keeping him moving.

“You could,” Killian answered, “though we both know you’re at a disadvantage.” He gently waved his fingers—more specifically, the blue light dancing within them, which he was frankly astonished he was able to summon with as much pain as he was in. (Miraculously, the barrier over Emma and Belle was holding, too, and it looked like they’d finally freed Gold.)

(Emma, though, he could tell was now frozen with fear—and probably reliving the same awful memories Dorian had brought up earlier. Gods, he couldn’t be doing this to her again.)

Dorian glanced at Killian’s hand and frowned, then looked back at the group behind the shield. He shook his head and looked back at Killian. “No, I can’t dishonor her memory like that.”

“I understand,” Killian murmured. “So if you’re gonna do this, please—just don’t let Emma see it again,” he asked; he was still hoping for an emotional appeal, but he could feel the blood sluggishly dripping from his chest wound around the steel still embedded in it, and didn’t know how long he could outlast that. “She’s already seen me die a couple times; I can’t do it to her again.”

Again, Dorian looked back at them, then his focus returned to the portrait. He abruptly yanked the dagger out of Killian’s flesh, ignoring the way his twin yelped and curled in on himself, and stood directly in front of the easel.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, though who he was apologizing to wasn’t clear. 

He took a step back, sighed, and then looked up. 

He pulled back the arm holding the dagger and held it aloft. 

Then he screamed, and lunged forward. Killian was in too much pain now to get his magic to protect him; all he could do was find Emma’s eyes and brace for impact, hoping she could see how much he loved her, though he was at least comforted by the fact that he’d never shied from telling her. 

Death, though—he knew what that felt like, and braced himself for it.

But it never came. He watched as Dorian instead plunged the cursed blade into his own portrait, right in the middle of its grotesque face. 

Heat burst from the canvas, as intense and bright as an explosion. The force of it sent Killian rolling across the street, but he could still feel the temperature of the reaction. 

He thought he heard screams coming from inside the odd inferno, but couldn’t see anything but fire. Still, he forced himself to standing, in case he needed to rush in (despite the fact that he was still pressing his hand against the wound on his chest), but then he felt it—different from the throb of his stab wound; more of a twinge, deeper inside, right by his heart. 

Though it pained him, he pulled his hand away; even with the blood covering it, he could still see the blue glow in his veins, even if he couldn’t control it at the moment. But as he glanced between it and the blaze, the light in his palm started to flicker in time with that of the blaze. 

Dorian was dying—the same way he had in his namesake novel (though perhaps a bit more incendiary)—and with him, their connected magic. 

It was a bit ironic that Killian’s powers could have put out the fire; alas.

As such, there was little he could do but watch and wait. It didn’t happen immediately, but where he’d finally gotten used to the feeling of the power in his veins, he felt it slowly recede, like the tide going out.

The glow of his hand faded out before the inferno did, but the impromptu funeral pyre didn’t last much longer, eventually sputtering out with a feeble hiss. 

For hopefully the last time that night, Killian collapsed to the ground—but this time, he was spent. He was fatigued, for sure, after the whole encounter, and obviously injured, but also felt…off, somehow; as if some part of him that had kept him balanced was gone. Which, he supposed, it was, even if it was only recently that he’d discovered what was on the other end of that fulcrum. 

Emma was suddenly in front of him; the shield had probably long since dissipated, he realized, and didn’t hesitate to reach for her waiting arms. 

She pulled him into an embrace that he was all too eager to lean into. “You okay?” she asked, though it was a bit muffled with the way she pressed herself into his neck.

He almost wanted to laugh at the question; he was actively bleeding, so obviously he wasn’t, but he also knew she was asking more about his mental state than physical (she had eyes; she’d seen the whole thing). 

“Aye; I will be,” he wheezed. And he would; it would just take a bit for him to recalibrate. And then he pulled back just enough to find her lips, thankful that he got another chance to kiss them. 

He had to break away far too soon, though, as his head began to spin. “Oh, gods—hold on,” Emma said, an edge of panic in her voice. She slipped off the magic-blocking cuff—now able to, given that the person who placed it was no longer alive—and then immediately pressed her hand to the gash on his chest. He hissed at the contact at first, but then felt the soothe of her healing magic flow over it, sewing muscle and skin back together.

When she was done, he was finally able to take a deep breath. “Thank you, love,” he murmured, but this time from exhaustion rather than an inability to speak louder.

“No problem. But don’t make it a habit,” she teased.

“I’ll try not to.” Two major stab wounds were enough for one lifetime.

Emma helped him up and slowly, they made their way over to where Dorian had last stood. Gold was free of his bindings and was already standing there with Belle and a sleeping Gideon, looking over what was left of their shared enemy. 

Which wasn’t a lot. There was a rather large burn mark on the pavement, but no other evidence that anyone or anything had been immolated in the intersection. 

Incredibly, the portrait still sat on the easel, somehow untouched by the heat. However, it had changed: it was no longer the monstrous depiction of a wicked soul, but a simple portrait of a (dashingly handsome, he had to admit) man in his prime. If the story was accurate, then this was the original picture of Dorian Gray. 

Though the jagged tear through the canvas was obviously a recent addition. 

Next to him, Emma was glancing between the face in the portrait and his own; something was bothering her. He was about to ask, but then she reached up to turn his face to her. 

“That’s better,” she said as she traced the open cut that he’d forgotten about, healing it as well. “Two scars would have been a bit much.”

He chuckled this time, but it was somewhat hollow; he just wasn’t sure how to feel at the moment. 

Especially when the dagger was just laying there on the pavement before them, both innocent and ominous at the same time. 

All eyes were on Emma as she bent down to pick it up, but most of all Killian’s and Rumpelstiltskin’s; they knew best the power—and call—that weapon might hold. (Killian still got an unwelcome chill down his spine whenever he heard a distant murmur or whisper.)

She assessed its weight in her hand, and turned it over to look at it a few times. But… “Nothing,” she finally said. “There’s no magic or anything in it; it’s just a dagger.”

The other two former Dark Ones let out simultaneous sighs of relief, and Killian exchanged a knowing look with Gold. Though it would forever be part of their histories, that chapter of their lives that had threatened to be reopened was once again closed.

“Killian,” Emma started, “Do you want me to change it back?”

“Back?” He was confused.

“Your hook,” she said, nodding at the dagger. “I could probably reshape it, if you wanted.”

He stared at it for a moment, then at the space at the end of his left wrist that had been weaponized for so long. The loss of that tool had been sharply felt over the last few days, but mainly for its utility—not its symbolism. Which, if he’d learned anything these couple of weeks, it was that he was no longer the man who had hidden himself behind a hook for the sake of vengeance, following the darkest paths; he’d come out the other side long ago.

Besides, it had now been marred by Dorian’s actions; he’d shed enough blood with it himself, and didn’t need to walk around with a reminder of his twin’s transgressions, too.

“No,” he told her, after some thought. “I think it’s time I finally move past that.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, surprised, but smiled. Then she tucked herself back into his side and leaned against him.

A sense of finality gradually settled over him; it was over. He’d need time to rest, and to grieve—Dorian was still his brother, after all, bastard he may have been—but for now, everyone could exhale. 

Everyone, that was, but the man with the bright blue eyes in the portrait, who was now forever fated to bear a scowl of failure as the world went on without him.

“Come on; let’s get that coffee,” Emma said, taking his hand in hers.

“Yes, please,” he agreed, and turned away from the last remnant of his brother—and all the drama he’d brought—hopefully leaving that all in the past.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[starleska]

Beach Ken as a mint-condition boxed doll: a heartbreaking Kencanon 💔

Barbie is the kind of movie that’s going to inspire a thousand interpretations, and i wanted to play around with some of the ideas within!! don’t take this too seriously - i do think the Barbies and Kens are more like physical representations of ideas, but it’s still fun to think of them as characters 😉 spoilers for the Barbie movie below!!

so the brilliant @avatarmerida/Allisa came up with this fascinating bit of lore for Ken...that Stereotypical Barbie is not really ‘his’ Barbie, and that Beach Ken really ought to have a Beach Barbie has his counterpart. Allisa posits that Weird Barbie may well be Ken’s original Barbie, prior to her weirdification 👀 check out this behind-the-scenes picture from an apparent deleted scene:

i think this is a marvellous theory that ties up some very interesting things about Ken’s behaviour in comparison to the other Kens, and especially why the other Barbies and Kens seem to be quite comfortable with one another (even if the other Kens also felt rejected enough to follow Beach Ken on his patriarchal bender). we get a lot of Ken’s inner workings and self-loathing in a cover of a song he sings to Barbie, ‘Push’ by Matchbox 20:

'Said, I don't know if I've ever been good enough I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in And I don't know if I've ever been really loved By a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's got to give'

here we can see that Ken’s deep-seated insecurity isn’t a recent development: he isn’t sure that he has ever been good enough. he makes references to never feeling like he’s been loved ‘by a hand that’s touched me’...this supports Allisa’s idea that Ken has never been played with, or was/is neglected in some way compared to the other Barbies and Kens in Barbieland. i wonder if the ‘rustiness’ he’s referring to is actually his capacity for intimacy. 

if we run with Allisa’s idea of Weird Barbie being Beach Ken’s Barbie, we have to ask: is Ken intellectually cognizant of ‘his’ Barbie being missing, or does he experience this void in a traumatic kind of way - a deep, sinking, emptiness in his gut? the way Ken’s jealousy manifests makes me lean towards the latter, especially with the way that the Barbies and Kens are largely ignorant of how they relate to the dolls that humans play with. here’s a related thought: isn’t it curious how Weird Barbie, the Barbie who has arguably been played with the most, is the one who knows about the human world? this connection seems consistent: the more Stereotypical Barbie was thought about/’played with’ by Gloria as an adult, the more aware she became of the human world. if we take that bit of canon and work backwards, we have to ask...what would happen to a doll who has been played with the least - or was outright neglected? let’s take a look at some more lyrics from ‘Push’:

‘Said I don't know why you ever would lie to me Cause I'm a little untrusting when I think that truth is gonna hurt you And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me You couldn't stand to be near me When my face don't seem to wanna shine Cause I'm a little bit dirty, oh, well Don't just stand there, say nice things to me' it’s possible that not only is Ken only vaguely aware of why he’s in so much pain: he could be less aware than another Ken with a missing Barbie would be, because he has been played with the least. although the other Kens are about as insecure and dumb as you’d expect from dolls designed to be accessories, our Ken specifically seems to believe there’s something wrong with him: that Barbie hates him and that it’s down to the way he behaves or just is as a Ken. he moves from describing himself as ‘a little bit dirty’ to begging Barbie to do something, say anything that would make him feel good about himself. everything Ken does from his scary jealous-dancing to his upending of Barbieland shows off how badly he wants to be noticed. Ken isn’t just touch-starved: he’s intimacy-starved.

i don’t think this damage is interchangeable with the other Kens; as of the time of writing, it seems that Ken is unique in Barbieland for not having a Barbie as his counterpart. whether or not the other Barbies and Kens were designed to be together, or were paired together during play, it appears that our Ken is the only one without a Barbie who reciprocates his affections in some manner, or understands they are ‘supposed’ to be together. we see this in his song ‘I’m Just Ken’:

'I have feelings that I can't explain Drivin' me insane All my life been so polite But I'll sleep alone tonight Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blond fragility?' those feelings that are driving him insane may not be unique to Beach Ken, but i think either the size of those feelings, or Ken’s capacity for dealing with them, is. the other Kens (notably Simu Liu’s Ken, or ‘Ken 2′) seem relatively well-adjusted (for Kens) until Ken returns with knowledge of the patriarchy. perhaps it’s because we are supposed to focus on Beach Ken’s emotions, but it does seem like our Ken has a disproportionate amount of self-loathing, anxiety, arrogance, and a desire to be loved. why is he like this compared to the other Kens? well, i think that our Ken has the wrong end of the stick. he believes that there is something wrong with him - that he is dirty, defective, or broken in some way - but it’s actually the exact opposite. i think that while his counterpart Barbie - Weird Barbie - was played with and loved a great deal, that our Ken was kept in the box, and has never been played with once. 

what would happen to a doll in Barbieland whose self-esteem and understanding of relationships hinges on the way, or how much, they’re played with? when i say i think Ken is a boxed doll, i don’t mean a collector’s item; i’m inclined to believe if he was, he would be able to feel that love the way Barbie could feel how she was played with. i think it’s more likely he’s still boxed, and was forgotten about and never opened. doesn’t it make sense that Ken has so much rage and self-hatred whilst looking physically ‘perfect’, whilst Weird Barbie is more than content despite her body being so physically altered? there’s nothing to suggest that a boxed doll couldn’t exist in Barbieland, but i wonder what that would do to a doll’s psyche...we’re having a real Toy Story moment 😭 hell, we could take this a step further! the emotionally volatile, restrictive, stunted aspects of Ken’s personality could be down to his never having been played with. this could be why our Ken is so insistent that he isn’t allowed to be on a certain part of the beach. this could be why he considers himself ‘fragile’. this could be why Beach Ken wears his emotions on his sleeve and looks visibly more upset than any of the other Kens. self-actualisation was achieved for both Stereotypical Barbie and Weird Barbie because they were thought about, played with, acknowledged...and above all else, Ken craves acknowledgement from Barbie. he ‘only has a good day if Barbie looks at him’. when Ken tells Barbie, ‘I only exist within the warmth of your gaze’...he means it 💔

that’s the idea!! i hope i’m making sense with my ramblings 🙈 fanfic authors, fanartists and theory-makers, feel free to go nuts with this silly little notion...as much as i adore how terrible and arrogant and sexy Patriarchy!Ken is, i would love to see some stuff exploring this angst and him finally getting all the love and attention he deserves 😖💖

[jaybirdh]

Okay, so I have spent the better part of a year trying to write a Jayroy fic that I thought would honestly take only a couple of months. I was inspired by this other fic, and had gotten full permission, and I wrote loads for it, but nothing ever quite worked out.

What happened was I read That issue of Red Hood & the Outlaws.

I pretty much ignore the whole penguin beatdown thing (I also ignore the titan’s tower attack, but that’s another matter), I always want Bruce to be a good father and I have tended to write him that way.

Same with Oliver Queen.

However, I thought, within the continuity, it was very stupid and unfair that this incident never gets mentioned again and Bruce never encounters any repercussions whatsoever (all this assuming you want to believe that the “fight” was at all canon, which I don’t really), and I wanted catharsis. Sort of.

I wanted a reason for the main premise of the story to happen, and that seemed like the perfect opening for that, in addition to wanting to see some comeuppance.

That was the main downfall for this story. I got way too invested in the toxic familial relationships the New 52 spat out, and it kept going into all the wrong directions. I ended up disliking all but individual bits of it. It was too nasty for me to handle.

Add to that that I couldn’t seem to get a single characterisation right, and in spite of the great inspiration, the story had almost no plot, and I couldn’t figure out how to worm one in.

So I’m scrapping that effort, and starting completely from new.

The thing is, there was one bit I did really like, from Roy’s perspective, and I don’t want it to be completely lost, although I know it wouldn’t have anywhere to go in my new attempt.

It will probably showcase all the flaws I described, and may not be written terribly well, but I still liked the voice (even if it isn’t necessarily in character), and I liked some of the points I made about what I know of how they handled Sanctuary, so I’m putting it out here.

Content warnings will be tagged. If anyone thinks they can expand on this or do it better, feel free. Just remember to credit me or even piggy back on this post. If someone does write more to this, I would like to read it.

Writing under the cut.

Therapy sucks.

That was Roy’s professional opinion as a Therapizee. And his opinion about it mattered, damn it! Customer satisfaction, and all that.

It didn’t help that all his therapizers were robots or holograms.

In a way, it made it worse.

The robots could pretend to care all they wanted, but you always knew they didn’t.

And they were always recording. Roy was sure that was some sort of violation.

But seriously, you might as well be talking to a metal wall for all the good that did (a certain saying about first signs came to mind).

Add to that the fucking holograms.

They were meant to represent the people you had issues with, or who you cared about, giving messages of support and all that sappy stuff.

Roy guessed it was supposed to be cathartic, or some shit, but really it was just frustrating, bordering on maddening.

If he weren’t already in rehab for capes interacting with the stupid fuckers would have certainly put him there.

Really, there was nothing worse about yelling about a problem you had about your adoptive father to his face, then hear him say something you know he’d never actually say to you.

All it seemed to do was increase the issue exponentially, drive you crazy with the knowledge that you might be working through your problems, but the people the holograms were pretending to be sure as hell weren’t.

Roy found himself moving just as roboticslly through his day as his so-called therapists. Sleeping badly, missing his Jaybird, and finding he didn’t have much of an appetite for anything anymore.

He supposed the one good thing about it was that he was so numb he didn’t even feel the need for drugs or booze anymore.

Just…nothingness, really.

And missing Jason, obviously, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. His boyfriend was off being a hero, no thanks to Batman (may he lose the use of his stupid fortune and die alone in a ditch), and Roy had made a commitment.

He’d stick it out for his two months, and if it got better, great! If not? It’s only two months, and then he could go back to out-law-ing with Jason, no problem.

He’d never felt the loneliness, the sadness, that drove him to addiction when he was with Jaybird.

And yes, he knew being dependant on someone else for recovery was a Bad Thing, but it wasn’t that at all.

What he’d realised, almost the first day in this purgatory, was that he’d kept himself sober with Jason, so that he could be the best he could be for Jason.

Jason, who’d always told him—always showed him that he was worth more than Oliver or anyone else had ever treated him.

Jason, who’d always made sure he was okay, made sure he was managing, made sure he knew that Roy as a person was worth more than being wrecked by heroin and alcohol.

And Roy had believed it. Roy could believe anything Jason said about it, even when the other wasn’t there, because Jason was the one who said it. He’d believed it, even through that little…hiccup.

And when they had started working together, when it became apparent that this wasn’t a one-off, Jason had been scared. Scared of hurting Roy, but also scared of being hurt by Roy.

Roy had understood that, resoected that, and gone forward with all due caution, like when you approach a wild animal.

And then came Batman’s beatdown of the Red Hood, and it was only pure luck that he was in the area to save him, god knows the other bats probably hadn’t even noticed.

And that had been horrible, absolutely terrifying.

He had almost lost Jason.

They might never have had the chance to see what they could become, together.

But he survived, and they had their chance.

Unfortunately, Roy was the one with the issues this time.

He and Jason had finally (finally!) made real progress in their relationship, but this time it was Roy who was scared.

He’d gotten low again, the Titans had broken up again (after a rather disastrous attempt at getting together again), and every time he’d tried to talk it out with Ollie something else—not even something more important all of the time—always came up, and he’d left Roy hanging.

So he’d had a bit of a relapse, nothing major, just, y’know, way too many drinks at a bar, no biggie.

But he knew that tended to lead to something more.

That had scared him, badly.

Scared enough that even when he’d been feeling much better, even when he and Jason had come together againm even closer than before, he had gone to rehab.

He shouldn’t have. He should have remembered that recovery wasn’t linear. He’d had a dip, sure, but after, he knew he would have had a rise, he’d have just had to have waited.

But he hadn’t ever wanted Jason to see him that way.

He’d been told everything about Jason’s background by the man himself in an intimate moment, and he never wanted Jason to have to suffer through anything like that again.

So he’d left.

And so, he’d died.

Yeah, therapy sucked.

[thedarkone121]

Death Mark AU: Protagonist!Swap Saya Kujou

I managed to get it done on her birthday! Everyone, say hello to the hero of our Protag!Swap AU: Saya Kujou!

Why yes, that is her brother’s coat she’s wearing. But she doesn’t know that by the time the amnesia takes hold of her. All she knows that she woke up with this coat wrapped around her and for some reason, she refuses to be separated from it.

And yes, Masamune did give her that coat during his last moments of being fully in-control.

Here’s her without the coat:

Saya Kujou is a character I feel like a lot of fans could interpret in their own way since she was, ya know, dead when we first meet her and all we got for her characterization was from her being a voice in her brother’s head in the main game. So, she was dead and loves her brother; time for the Dark One to get her hands dirty.

In my previous post I had mentioned a little bit of Saya, how she was initially the one who was accidentally the one responsible for her brother’s possession since she was the one who damaged Mary’s doll body. It was here that things changed; Saya was originally Marked by Hanahiko, like in canon, but she found out just how fast the amnesia was affecting Masamune. So, with her own death close, Saya attacked Mary.

“If I go down, I’ll take you with me!”

Cue Butterfly Effect; Mary get’s so pissed off that not only does she possess Masamune when he manages to make it to the Kujou Manor, but she takes over the Mark on Saya so she essentially becomes HER victim.

Well, now the backstory is out of the way, time to get into a bit of Saya’s character within the story; she’s been portrayed as the more outgoing of the two siblings in canon, being the face for the Kujou family despite her brother being the Head at the time. With that in mind, I like to think she’s very motherly while also having the ability to kick your butt. Like I picture all the younger Mark Bearers just flocking after her like ducklings — yes, even Shou and Tsukasa even if they don’t want to admit. She’s like that fun teacher you have that tries to make lessons interesting while also being brutally honest about things.

Due to her more blunt nature and her not having memories of being a Spirit Healer, I imagine Saya to be viewed as reckless and too outgoing amongst the adults. She’s a woman who marches to the beat of her own drum, especially when she’s not putting on a polite facade at conferences. This particular character trait came about when I remember that, as the black rabbit, she literally took the FLIPPING NENJINBUTSU out of the shrine before it was fully cleansed and kept it with her when she went to fight Mary!

…Suffice to say, Saya would definitely be the person to do something random or possibly life threatening just to see if it works. She often gives her adult companions heart attacks.

For some reason, I actually view Saya and Mashita as not getting along with the other. But not like hate each other, just two people who don’t get along but are forced to work together and are slowly coming to respecting each other. Don’t ask me how I came to that conclusion cause I don’t know how I got to that point either. I think I just found it hilarious that Saya would think Mashita is a degenerate only to realize that her brother like-likes him! 🤣

Speaking of her brother, let’s talk about Saya and the possessed Masamune! During the beginning, Saya was told that Masamune was her family butler and she believed. While her memories of her brother may be gone, her heart still knows him so while it does lead to her getting manipulated by Mary, Saya easily trusts Masamune and has come to rely on him for information on spirits.

But as the Chapters go on and each of the Mark Bearers tell her their tale of Masamune’s strange behavior, Saya starts to get suspicious. She still wants to trust him but even she realizes that something is wrong with him; how he appears to be light-headed, seems to be nauseated all the time, not to mention that one time he grabbed her arm and how his eyes seemed to flash with… Something.

With that, I think I’ll leave things here for now. I’ll probably do more doodles on a future date. Until then, enjoy this picture of Saya and Masamune.

Characters: Masamune Kujou // Saya Kujou (Here)