#He's a dick without fully meaning to and not even wholly realizing it. Because he's p far up his own ass

[princeof-flowers]

Theron is such an ass to Jin sometimes. "Oh I'll take responsibility it's not your fault this happened I told you to do it without even thinking of the full consequences." is bullshit he says when Erica is around cause he knows she Will Not Hesitate. Instead he's always like- "Oh don't get too close to Jin or he'll get you pregnant." like??? We get it, you're bitter about "being a single mom" but you're rich and Jin co-parents when he's able to make the trip to your place despite him having 3 other kids. Like...Jin parents the kids more than you, who just pays other ppl to raise them stfu.

Mf too busy with his political schemes and does not give af about his immigrant commoner of a baby daddy smh.

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs The Forces of Evil: Is Another Mystery (Prince of Wishful Thinking) or Wasted Potetial

Happy Valentine’s Day Lucifans! And while I originally intended to cover this along with the much worse Booth Buddies I had too much to say about both to try and clown car both together so here we are. And just in times for V-Day we have a StarTom episode.. that isn’t as focused on thier relationship as I thought because I hadn’t seen this in a while because every time I think of things in this series I think of all the wasted potetial and it gives me a migrane. I’d also like to thank @jess-the-vampire for talking this one over with me as usual, and helping me think through some stuff. And as with last time we’re picking up about where we left off, so no real exposition to get through. Join me under the cut as we solve a mystery and marvel at HOW much potential from this episode the show squandered. 

We open with Marco chasing Glossaryck.. and it’s only now I realize I have not talked about this subplot at all. Or Glossaryck really. As you probably know Glossaryck is the tiny man who lives in the big book of spells, created the magical high comission and is a colossasl assshat whose likeablity plumted this season. For starters his voice actor Jeffery Tambour was outed as a massive creep, making him harder to stomach even if the show had reduced him to stock footage of one line. Speaking of which he came back from the dead... and despite it being revealed he was fully sapient the whole time and just saying Eclipsa’s husbands name without context a twist coming up int he finale that i’ll give out about here as while clever when you first hear it. makes NO sense in hindsight, as Eclipsa might of mentioned it before now especially since Glossaryck was around her quite a few times, had no reason not to, and you’d THINK Star, Marco or Moon, especially the latter two, would be curious why he can only say that and has seemingly been reduced to an infant. It’s an annoying subplot tha’ts just casually part of the series and no one seems to care about despite Glossaryck being a big deal and the spellbook revealing there IS a way to make copies, one that would be used next season. 

But what really just made me HATE him.. is how he contributed to how bad things on Mewni are, by doing nothing. Being omnicent and powerful does not mean you do nothing.. it just means you have to be VERY careful. Power is a responsivity not an excuse to say “Wheelp my kids were a mistake going to just let them overthrow the government, become far more entriched in mewni politics, and boss me around without EVER questioning them or trying to replace them”. His apathy is never really called out by anyone but Marco, and he’s treated with all this undue importance despite not doing anything but train the queens, which even then i’ts questionable how good he was at that. Just an asshole, not the worst character in the series, he’s coming up in a few episodes, but just wholly unlikeable. And I get he’s supposed to be comically douchey but after what we learn about eclipsa it just passes into unforgivable and it’s never brought up or talked about. Which is a trend for this series and I don’t know why i’m even bothering being annoyed at this point when I could easily COUNT the number of potential plot threads the series half finished, dropped or wasted and it’d probably hit 50+. 

So Marco is chasing after Glossarcyk and ends up in Buff Frog’s office. Buff Frog was Ludo’s former second in command, who reformed, and became close with Star and Marco, and who Star gave a position as Royal Monster Expert in order to have an ACTUAL MONSTER doing their job since the previous person was a crazy lady who thought of htem as less than sapient and tried to drown them all for reasons I don’t quite remember. This.. has not come up since and this is the first time we’ve seen his office since and it’s empty. 

Marco finds a note for star but accidently reads it before he can get it to her, and we do get a glimpse of the old Marco as he’s disgraught over “reading someone’s mail without their permission!” I missed this.. I think I blocked out the GOOD times with marco in my brain behind a butter-like wall of all the stupid shit he did this season and the next and the whole resolution to the starco thing that left a taste in my mouth not unlike sardine juice mixed with vinegar, aka what causes Mitch Mconnel’s face to look like delfated and to sound like the ghost of Michgian J Frogs Condederate Uncle. 

Meanwhile Star is with Tom and is distruaght after finding our her life is a lie and feels there’s no one she feels she can talk to about this, and Tom’s face when she says this just...

You can tell the poor guy is just hurt. HIs girlfirend is hurting.. and she dosen’t even CONSIDER talking to him about this or think she can trust him despite him being RIGHT THERE. This expression is only on screen for half a second but it says so much. And another thing it says is that he dosen’t know HOW to help her, as evidenced by the fact his offering to is very awkward and sitlted, that he’s clearly HURT she dosen’t think she can confide in him, but is so awkward in general and out of his depth her ehe dosen’t know how to help he just wants to.  But while Star eventually seems receptive.. Marco busts in and we get a seen of EVERYONE involved being a canoe filed with dicks and old vhs copies of biodome. After of course Marco tells Star, Buff Frog is gone. To wit

Star: Immediately plans to take off with Marco and only Marco despite tom being right there, that he could help even if he has no stake in it, and the fact that cloudy can both grow, and Tom can you know.. FLY. That’s a thing we’ve seen him do a lot. So space isn’t an issue, sh’es just forgetting tom exists. Which WOULD work if it was an intentional issue but is sadly the beggining of Star being a pretty terrible girlfriend to tom. This example is lighter since you know , one of her closest friends and his small children are missing, and this is the day after her entire world got flip turned upside down, so I can forgive her a bit since she’s probably not thinking clearly.. but it’s the start of a LONG pattern fo her forgetting tom exists when it’s not coinvent and not thinking about his feelings.

Marco: When Tom asks to take Marco’s place, Marco says, not that he’s buff frog’s friend or he’s worried again about the fact he has kids that could be in danger but “I’m her squire it’s my job”... BEFORE you know the fact his friend WITH YOUNG CHLIDRNE WHO COULD BE DEAD VIA HATE CRIME, is missing. 

Seriously it says something about how far Marco has fallen by this ponit that even in an episode wher eh’es largely his old self.. he STILL make this about him and star to her boyfriend’s face. HiS FRIEND’S FACE. There will be worse from Marco soon enough, and far worse we won’t be covering, but it does say something that they did him so wrong this season that THIS is minor in comparison to some of the other shit he pulls. 

Tom: The only INTEITONAL one of these, as Star’s neglect feels like it was an accident, as he insists on coming along as her boyfriend despite this being a fairly serious situation and him clearly just wanting alone time. 

OH and if you thought the writers you know ACTUALLY cared about STar’s anguish over finding out her whole life was a lie, her newly found grandma who actually relates to her and treats her with respect unlike her mother isn’t biologically related (Not that blood relation matters but I can see why finding out the one family member besides your dad who was anything like you in recent memory.. isn’t related to you would hurt).. 

This highlights the show’s biggest flaw, and yes folks it’s bigger than the ending with the accidental genocide and the horrible implications. That was bad.. but what really tripped the show up long before that.. is the lack of payoff. Now sure some plots get payoffs, especially the Metora one, it’s one of the series best arcs.. but TONS of other threads are just outright ignored, casually dropped or never really pulled.  Look I know that every show has things we wished they’d done more with, and most of the greats of this generation have stuff they dropped the ball on by dropping it or never really getting into it: She Ra never really had any closure with Catra and Scorpia, despite Catra hurting her the most out of anyone and that could’ve been a good thing for her character developent and Scorpia’s own character development. Ducktales had NO intention of going into Della’s reaction to Scrooge and Donald’s feud and quitely ignored or retconned the fact Scrooge clearly erased Della’s long history from the web and wherever else he could, as why else would the kids have never known. Did they just not use google? Steven Universe, if partially by design as it turns out, skipped over a LOT of things and ignored a lot of intresting characters human and gem. It’s the nature of writing seralized teleivsion: Sometimes you just forget to take care of something or simply don’t have the space to. That is fine.  The problem is star does this.. for major plot points that really CAN’T be ignored. Starting with this season they flat out ignore Star telling Marco how she felt for pretty much the entire season. They only deal with it in booth buddies.... THREE EPISODES before the season finale two parter. Despite it having massive impliciations, doing so IN FRONT OF JACKIE, who was her friend, and Jann who is both Jackie and Star’s friend and is not subtle.  We never get any fallout from this and the show weirdly acts like Marco can’t easily visit home. I mean yes he’s star’s squire but she’s not a heartless monster> The DIazes were her parents for a while too. And that’s not even getting into Marco Junior... “Shudders”. But that part of the cliffhanger was just the start after that the pile just kept getting larger. Before it was basically JUST the monster arm and it possibly being involved with the blood moon. So to prove my point i’m making a list of EVERY dropped plot point or storyline from the series, most of which are from season 3 onward. And naturally I asked jess for help with this after the first 25.. and the list DOUBLED. One or two of these are nitpicky.. but the fact the vast majority AREN’T .. yeah.

1. Jackie’s reactoin to Star’s feelings for Marco 2. Janna’s Reaction to Star’s feelings for Marco 3. Buff Frog being head monster expert 4. Buff Frog and Co fleeing this dimension and where they WENT exactly 5. Tom being a Monster 6. Star not being a Butterfly by blood 7. Moon’s reaction to not being a butterfly by blood 8. Rhombulus feeling guilty 9. Marco’s reaction to hekapoo being a terrible person 10. Marco and Kelly’s Relationship (Technically resovled but done poorly) 11. Tad not being over Kelly 12. Hornanne never getting a horn (I know minor but it bothers me a lot) 13. Eclipsa having to win over the other kingdoms 14. Related, the Johnasons being the hardest one of those to overcome 15. Related to 13 again: Why Tom’s Parent’s didn’t suppport eclipsa 16. What the Jaggy Mountains are or are like at all 17. WHy Glossaryck was worried about Globgor 18. Why Glossaryck faked being feral for a season 19. How Star had a piece of the spell book 20. What Mr. Candle’s Deal is 21. The Pie Folk knowing the true lineage of the queen 22. Was the commission conspiracy ever made public.  23. Meteora possibly having memories from her previous self 24. Lobster Claws 25. River’s reaction to moon’s betrayal 26. Toffee’s Past  and Motivations 27. Marco’s Cheekmarks 28. Any reaction by Star and Janna to said cheekmarks 29. The kingdom’s reaction to the book being stolen is never brought up again 30. The Past Queens (Never brought up in show itself, but Jess feels there was supposed to be more there and I agree) 31. The Septarian Painting in ST.O’s (While i’ts a hint at who meteora is WHY it’s there and why ST. O would even allow it and why it’s of septarians is never explained) 32. Monster Arm 33. Relicor’s Wife 34. Why the dance memory was different 35. How do people in other dimensions get dimensional scissors? 36. How Did Toffee Know of the Whipsering Spell? 37. Where did Toffe, Ludo and Rasticore’s dimensonal scissors/chainsaw come from? 38. Toffee’s Damage to Mewni (Never gets brought up aagain after silver bell) 39. Why Globgor eating Shastacan was “Complicated” 40. Upwards Waterfall Unicorn 41. Star spying on Marco and Jackie 42. Any Explination for Green Magic 43. The photo’s of star and marco’s kiss (To quote jess, into the void they go) 44. How Metora Learned Soulsucking and why she can do that 45. Metora taking Rasticores arm with her.  46. The Neverzone’s weird time dialation 47. Star’s Neglect of Tom 48. The Spiderbites reaction to globgor being freed 49. The “Big Surge of Dark Magic” 50. Eclipsa “gets into your head 51. Star learning wandless magic with no effort 52. Where did Brian Go? 53. Star and Marco Never apologize for the kiss on screen 54. “I know how this all ends 55. Why Lekmet was never Replaced and why reynadlo didsn’t replace him

55 in the span of an hour.. and that’s not even getting into the fact Jess was thinking these up off the top of her head and probbaly coudl’ve kept going, but I didn’t want to overtax her since I was asking a favor of her, and  fifty goddamn three is more than enough to say ya done fucked up. Just.. holy shit. MARVEL has less dropped plotlines than this, and that at least has the caveat of changing writers and some writers being dipshits who don’t CARE about resolving what happened before. The Star team has an excuse for maybe 10 or 20 of these.. but 55! Fifty Goddamn five! And that’s stopping as we could probably have found more and just tying this paragraph we did, hence 55. How much do you have to NOT care about your audience, your plots and your characters to miss this much? The three I mentioned before all have understandable explinations behind them: She-Ra had a set episode count and only so much space and it made more sense story wise to have scorpia be taken over by the horde. Ducktales is on a kids network and Disney isn’t at all supportive of adult plots to the point a courtroom episode was deemd too confusing for kids... which first off , no, and secondly you see what they were dealing with. and Steven Universe again did this slightly intentionally, with things happening offscreen because that’s how life works, sometimes it worked sometimes it didn’t. 

This is just incompetence on a MASSIVE scale that boggles the goddamn mind. I have seen shows do worse, but i’ve never seen a show flush most of i’t spoteital drama nad character development down a goddamn hole again, and again and again in such a consitent manner. There’s no wonder I didn’t see this at the time. This is a level of messed up you have to see from helicopter view! The show just stopped carring about finishing most of it’s storylines and just brought shit up when it was convient and threw it out on a scale that just... just.. 

It sucks. It sucks to see a show that had so much potetial squander it, it sucks the show ended up like this, as only a handful of those are from pre season 3, and it sucks that the clock is ticking on how much good I have to say about the show without having to add the button “And then this was never properly resolved.” Good. Fucking. Grief. And Jess wanted to find MORE, and probably could, but I didn’t want her to dedicate her life to this. It’s monuentally frustrating, and saddening to see waht a waste of potetial this series was by the end. All of this is one big list of what if and most of it shoudl’ve been resolved in some way. “Sigh”.... let’s move on.. for my sanity’s sake. I made myself very sad. 

So with Marco out of the way Tom and Star start investigating and Tom is a bit of a dick about it, suggesting they abandon the search for her friend and his CHLDREN to go get a corn shake and that the monsters just went out grocery shopping.. the former is just horribly out of character, as even if he would WANT to leave he woudln’t be so cavialer about it when sh’es this upset just a few episodes AFTER monster bash, where he learned you know.. not to do that. The other is just ehhh... like you think he’d react to an entire town being missing and Star’s JUSTIFIED fear mina did it , after she easily swatted both of them aside, with more than “eh maybe their doing pesant stuff I don’t know” Thankfully the “Tom is a huge dick and also star is grossed out by him liking monster food revealing she might still be a touch racist without realizing it, which itself is nver touched on, let’s call that number 54″, portion of the episode ends when dark gets a little something on him

Star gets one in her arm, and the two pass out and wake up with sacks over them. We do get the best part of the episdoe where both try to run around blind, and Tom realizes he’s claustrophbic and starts panicking, which results in him falling around and kicking in a circle, while Star takes a guy out and while she can’t see assumes she did something cool. Eventually we find out their kidnappers are related to the buff frog thing and tell her to stop looking and just to be serious are going to break tom’s horns... before Buff Frog arrives wondering what the fuck their thinking and stopping them, and he and his kids are fine. Turns out he’s leaving Mewni and Katrina, his oldest daughter who has giant legs now, wanted to make sure they got to say goodbye, so she left the note in his name knowing Star would come and find them. Before we get into all of that, just a quick aside.. okay so baiscally these monsters who threatened are either fleeing mewni or running some sort of underground railroad to cover up the monster exodus. Which begs the question... why did they tihnk breaking the horns of a crowned prince of one of their allied states and kidnapping and threatning the princess of mewni, who is PUBLICLY pro monster and thus only makes them look worse, was at all a good idea. I get wanting to hdie this but breaking Tom’s horns is only going to lead to a fight at best and two kingdoms coming down at them with their full might, putting innocent people in the crossfire at worst and most likely

But yes the Monsters are leaving.. and this is part of where the episode misteps as the scale is kind of hard to figure in hindsight. On one hand the montser villiage is abandoned , meaning that the episode implies ALL the monsters are leaving.. but not only are some left, once Eclipsa takes over plenty of monsters come back or may of never left, making nit very vauge just how many actually left, especially since the party leaving that we see is just about 10 monsters not including buff frog’s babies.. where did they come from by the way? Ludo just kinda stole them but from where? Jess brought that up but i’m not sure I got it on the list so 55. The show is entirely too vauge on if this is a mass exodus of eveyr monster at long last or just a large migration of them wanting a better life. Instead of explaining any of this when it’s a very intresting and engrossing idea, the monsters leaving the predjuicde outright, the possible hateful reactoins of the commission given how paranoid they are, how star would combat this, a possible divide in monsterkind with one half going back and the other staying put, WHERE they went exactly.. there’s a lot of great questions and stories here.. but as the list the size of my gut should make clear, none of them get answere dbecause this series just didn’t care about it.. and if so then WHY bring it up. That’s why I brought up the list in the first place.. because this is one of MANY times they bring something up and just.. do nothing with it. Then why did you bring it up in the first fucking place?! As I said I can abide by dropping a plot point for time or beacause Disney is kinda dumb or you just want to get to other good stuff and you had to make a cut. And while a portion of the list is that. i’ts mostly things like this: really fascenating stuff.. that’s ignored because htey just stopped caring. 

So before they all can leave despite Star’s best efforts, TOM steps up and calls them cowards.. and admit’s he’s a monster too. And while one.. WEIRD looking guy points out he’s rich, so should he count, Tom counters with the fact that sure he’s rich.. but when he gets in an elevator he’s a monster. He may be part of a diffrent “catageory”.. but to a stranger he’s just the same as them. While it dosen’t feel quite earned by the episode, it is a moral that needs to be taught: prilvage dosen’t insulate you completely from prejudice. You can still be discrminated against no matter how much money you have or how far you get because the system sucks.  And once again this is a waste of potetial: tom technically being a monster and being the son of a human and a demon is never brought up again.. despite you know also being a massively powerful monster child of a monster and a mewman.. like a certain someone who’se the big bad for this half of the season. It just never comes up... and I get it’s a categorical bullshit thing, that the comission werne’t worried about a lucitor doing any of this because “Well demons are okay and we have a treaty and stuff”, but the show had no trouble pointing out categorical bullshit before.. why not now? 

The ending however is good as Buff Frog.. isn’t convinced. HE admit’s tom’s speech is good.. but he’s been dealing with this stuff for too long. It also works because him leaving the job they never focused on.. isn’t framed as him being ungreatful or anything. He’s genuinely appricative of what Star is trying to do and gets her heart is in the right place.. but she doesn’t have the power to fix this. She’s just a kid, and while she has some power her mother has no real intention of making things better for them. And he has to think of a better life for his kids.. so we get some tearful goodbyes as Buff Frog promises to return when she’s in charge.. even though he does because she’s in charge in the season finale and we never see him , 56, and he has to be talked into coming back in the last season... so they leave but Tom promises her it can work out because their a monster and a mewman and they hug and I sigh a little knowing how this relationship ends and the accidental message it sends. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is DECENT on it’s own but in hindsight.. it’s just depressing, bringing up some good ideas.. that end up going nowhere and the ending REALLY isn’t great in hindsight when he leaves star so she can be with another human-type person. Also tom’s charcterization is a bit lopsided starting off worse than ever and being fine in the end, and while that COULD just be that he felt he coudln’t admit he was a monster... it honestly just feels liked they wanted the moral without having to work for it as him being a monster has nothing to do with how he acted earlier. Till the next rainbow... UUGGGGHHHh. 

[iam93percentstardust]

This isn’t really a specific prompt but something with Steve and Tony being super intimate and soft with each other, where they go from Tony sitting on Steve’s lap to chat for hours to making out/sex to chatting again and just really enjoying each other’s company please 🤗

Okay, first of all, let me just tell you how much I love this prompt. I haven’t written my favorite soft boys in far too long and this was such a delight to work on. I’ve missed my darlings.

Secondly, I never really got to the chatting part but this is still so soft and sweet and I think you’ll really like it.

I’ve given up all hope for the read more so I’m tagging this as long post if you want to blacklist

Soft, My Love ~1.8k words Explicit sexual content On AO3 here

Never, in a million years, would Tony complain about waking up next to his husband but he will admit that it’s a surprise. Usually Tony wakes up while Steve is on his run. He would think that Steve had already finished his run and he just woke up late but when he checks the clock, he sees that it’s still early.

Steve is on his side, head propped up on his hand, smiling softly at him. The sun is coming through the windows behind him, lighting him up like an angel. Tony rolls his head so that his face is mostly buried in the pillow and only one eye is peeking out to look at his husband. 

“Aren’t you usually up by now?” he mumbles, not yet fully awake himself.

Steve leans over and kisses his shoulder. “I thought we might stay in today, take it easy. What do you say, Shellhead?”

Tony stretches and hums. “No going anywhere?”

“Not at all.”

“No meetings?”

“Already cleared your schedule with JARVIS and Pepper.”

“Just a lazy day inside?”

“Yep.”

“…What’s the occasion?”

Steve laughs, full-bodied, clutching at his chest. “Only you, sweetheart. Only you would be suspicious of a staycation.”

Tony can’t help but smile as well. “You really mean it?” he asks. “Just the two of us locked away up here?”

“Is that a yes?”

He pushes himself up, Steve sitting up as he does, and swings a leg over Steve’s. He loosely locks his hands around his husband’s neck and leans in to kiss him, gently, chastely because while Steve might not care about morning breath, Tony does. Steve cups his cheek before his hand slides down to rest gently at the back of his head. They rest there for a minute—or maybe forever, who’s counting?—before Tony pulls back.

He moves his right hand to cup Steve’s cheek, who turns and kisses his palm. God, he loves this man. “Staying inside sounds amazing.”

“In that case, how does breakfast sound?” Steve offers and Tony nods. “Eggs and turkey bacon?”

They go through their morning routine automatically, brushing teeth and putting on lounge clothes, moving around each other with an ease born from many years of practice.

Steve scoops him up once they’re done, Tony’s head laying against his shoulder, and carries him from the bedroom into the kitchen and sets him down on one of the stools at the island. Tony, still a little asleep, slumps down onto the countertop, resting his head against the cool quartz. He watches Steve putter around the kitchen, drifting in and out of a light doze until a cup of steaming coffee is put in front of him.

“There you go,” Steve says gently. “Coffee with your milk.”

Tony smiles at him gratefully. He knows it drives Steve crazy that Tony likes to add so much stuff to his coffee that it barely tastes like coffee anymore but hey, he drinks it because he needs the wakeup, not because it tastes good.

He sips at the cup as Steve finishes making breakfast and sits down across from him with two plates in his hand, sliding one across the table to Tony as he makes grabby hands. Tony catches his hand before it can fully pull away and they eat like that in companionable silence, fingers loosely interlocked.

“What’re you in the mood for today?” Steve asks as Tony clears the plates, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher. “Back to bed, out to the living room, something else?”

Tony half-wants to suggest back to bed, not for sex, but just to sleep a little longer. The hour is still early, they wouldn’t be wasting time by getting another nap in. But he thinks about the book Steve has been reading to him over the last couple of weeks and he suggests instead, “Will you read to me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Steve teases. They settle in the living room, Steve in one of the armchairs with his feet resting on the footstool, Tony sitting between his legs, back pressed to Steve’s chest. Steve grabs the book from the table beside them as Tony gets comfortable.

“’And now of course you want to know what had happened to Edmund,’” Steve begins. Tony leans his head back against his husband’s shoulder and closes his eyes, relaxing into the story. Steve pauses and kisses his forehead. “’He had eaten his share of the dinner, but he hadn’t really enjoyed it because he was thinking all the time about Turkish Delight—and there’s nothing that spoils the taste of good ordinary food half so much as the memory of bad magic food.’ Hmm, reminds me of you and cheeseburgers.”

“Reader’s personal opinions are not necessary for reading,” Tony says archly. Steve chuckles and kisses him again. 

They get through four chapters, the words washing over Tony in a haze, before Steve finally says, “’Rise up, Sir Peter Wolf’s-Bane. And, whatever happens, never forget to wipe your sword,’” and closes the book.

Tony squirms, feeling a little numb in uncomfortable places now that he doesn’t have anything else to focus on. Steve coughs as something hard pokes Tony’s backside—and he bets he knows what it is. He squirms again, biting back a laugh as the something hard grows harder. He opens his eyes to see Steve’s own blue ones going dark and blown. Steve puts the book down and then puts his hands on Tony’s hips to still him.

“What?” Tony asks innocently. “I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

“Don’t mess with me like that. That hasn’t worked in years.”

“I could take care of it for you.” Steve looks torn and Tony continues, “You wouldn’t have to do any work. I’d ride you.”

Steve still doesn’t look wholly convinced so Tony turns and straddles him, rising up on his knees to shimmy his sweatpants down off his hips. Automatically, Steve looks down before jerking his gaze up and settling on a point somewhere beyond Tony’s shoulder.

He laughs. “Steve, baby, we’ve been married for a year. You’re allowed to look without asking.”

“Don’t want to presume,” Steve mumbles.

Aww, that’s sweet of him. Tony kisses him, slowly, lazily, pouring all his love and affection into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands presses against his back to keep him steady, holding him as they kiss. The other one palms Tony’s ass, fingers sliding between his cheeks to press at where he’s still open and a little wet from last night. Tony breaks their kiss and leans to the side, scrabbling for the lube he knows they keep in the drawer in the table.

“You or me?” he asks and then decides that he doesn’t really care what Steve’s answer is, he just wants something in him, so he pours the lube over his own fingers and reaches behind himself. One finger feels amazing but two is even better and when they’re joined by one of Steve’s fingers, Tony moans out loud at how good it feels. He pulls his fingers out, lets Steve take over entirely as Steve pushes back in with three fingers now. Tony rocks back on Steve’s fingers, forward to rub his cock against his stomach, whining when he can feel Steve’s cock through his pants but doesn’t have the capacity to even think let alone push Steve’s pants off.

He’s stretched and open and buzzing like a live wire when Steve finally pulls his fingers out. He pants for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts enough to take care of the pesky pants problem. Steve just smiles fondly, lifts him with one hand, and pushes his own waistband down just enough to free his dick. When he lowers Tony back down, it’s onto his cock, sliding into him, spreading him—oh—so open.

They rock together, lazy, languorous, with slow rolls of their hips, in no rush to finish. They don’t get to do this often, this molasses-slow sort of sex. The life of one superhero is busy enough but two superheroes is even worse and that doesn’t even take into account Tony’s social obligations. Times like this—unhurried, slow, sweet—are few and far between, which makes this moment all the more precious.

“Steve,” he whispers. “Kiss me.”

And Steve does, kisses him slow and sweet and lingering until Tony feels like he’s drowning in it, drowning in Steve. He’s never come like this before, just from being kissed and loved and held, but he does now, feels sensation washing over him like the tide. He sighs into Steve’s mouth as he spills between them and Steve groans as he finds his own release. Steve holds him even closer as Tony relaxes into him, come smearing onto his stomach. They sit there for a long minute, breathing the same air, calming each other with soft kisses and gentle touches.

“Come on,” Tony says eventually, when the come on his stomach is starting to cool and itch, even though he wants nothing more than to keep laying there. “We need a shower.”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve grumbles. Tony smiles fondly at the pout between Steve’s eyes. He reaches up to smooth away the little furrow.

“I know but we’re gonna regret it if we don’t.”

Steve sighs but he stands still with his hold on Tony, slipping out of his body. Tony wraps his legs around Steve’s hips, letting him carry him. JARVIS has already started the shower by the time they reach the bathroom. The steam fills the room, warm and relaxing, and Tony inhales deeply, feeling his muscles unclench from the last little bit of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding onto.

They wash each other, motions languid and sleepy. “You thinking about a nap after this?” Steve asks as he finishes rubbing shampoo into Tony’s hair. “Eyes closed.”

Tony obediently closes his eyes, feels Steve’s hand above his eyes, shielding him from the water he’s tilted back into. “Nap sounds good,” he admits. “What about you?”

“Thought I might draw some.”

“Mkay,” Tony says sleepily.

Somehow, he knows that they make it back to their bedroom and into their bed but if someone had asked him, he couldn’t have told them how. Steve sits down, back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Tony, from his place next to him, glances between his pillow and Steve’s inviting lap. After a moment, he squirms over and tucks himself up against Steve’s side, resting his head on Steve’s lap.

“Am I in the way?” he asks, already half-asleep.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs.

He drifts off to the sound of the pencil scratching against paper and the feeling of Steve’s soothing fingers carding through his hair.

[bigskydreaming]

Also its important to remember that canon has context too, and like....I refer back to canon as often as I do because IT is the context for fics and fanon.....but in the case of canon itself, the context is often the knowledge and perspective and even biases of the writer writing a piece of canon.

And that example from Batman and the Outsiders that @nightwingmyboi included for Dick’s conversation with Cass about his behavior towards her is a significant example of this because like......it has an extremely narrow context, with no sign in the narration there of any context OUTSIDE of what the writer is referencing.

What I mean by that is.....Dick actually was originally quite welcoming of Cass. He got along great with her, taught her all sorts of things, did his best to help her adjust.

The time when he wasn’t welcoming specifically, and seemed to take her adoption badly, is like.....directly about the time when Cass’ adoption first came up at all....in a story called Redemption Road.

Make no mistake, Dick very much acted like an ass to Cass there. Oh, even then not without reason, like, his behavior was characterized as him being suspicious due to the fact that Cass had recently been brainwashed into working for Deathstroke and killed again due to his control, and nowhere did Dick express that his issues were with Cass herself but rather that he was worried about taking it for granted that the brainwashing was gone and dealt with. With this particularly juxtaposed against the fact that Good Dad Bruce Wayne was very much on display throughout this story and Bruce was consistently characterized as being fully in Cass’ corner and showing none of his usual paranoia or concerns about something like whether they could trust someone who was recently brainwashed. Thus Dick kinda stepped into that role in the absence of Bruce assuming it as he normally would.

Now, personally, as much as I don’t LIKE how Dick acted towards Cass in that story, I’ve never considered it OOC....as I’ve always headcanoned it as being a bit of a prodigal son situation. In my mind, Dick was either consciously or unconsciously paralleling these circumstances with things like the time when he was brainwashed by the Church of Blood for a year....and he very much did NOT get a free pass on anything he did during that time (despite people promising they did understand it), with ‘decisions he’d made’ during that time frequently being brought up and thrown in his face afterward. 

So my read of that story was always in light of that, and the fact that Bruce was very much removed from Dick’s life at that specific time and was a non-entity in helping Dick recover from all of that......and so I headcanoned that Dick’s attitude towards Cass was at least a little bit influenced by him being resentful of seeing her get the unconditional support and understanding from Bruce that Dick got none of in an EXTREMELY similar situation, and very much could have used at the time. 

(Especially of relevance here IMO is the fact that Dick was very much in Limbo when it came to Bruce at that time, with the Church of Blood storyline happening when he was nineteen and thus no longer Bruce’s ward or legally bound to him in any way, estranged from him in every other way, and it would be years more until he was actually adopted....whereas in Redemption Road, Bruce’s actions were consistently geared towards getting Cass to accept that he didn’t blame her for what she’d done while brainwashed, that he did still very much want her to be part of his family, and here was his offer of adoption if she wanted it, as a result. Like....it was beat for beat EXACTLY what I imagined Dick wanted to happen in his own parallel circumstances back then, dreamed of happening, but very much DIDN’T happen...and here he was watching it happen with no acknowledgment whatsoever of when he experienced no similar drive from Bruce to show that he was understood, forgiven and wanted, at a time when he desperately wanted and needed all of that).

And thus Dick was acting and behaving towards Cass here in much the same manner as everyone had treated him when it was him in that position....with this not being hypocritical so much as him internalizing the idea that SOMEONE had to express this skepticism/judgment towards Cass here, in order for Dick to not raise long-dead and buried resentments of how all his friends and loved ones expressed that very same attitude towards him when it was him in this place. In order to be okay with that, he had to kinda internalize the idea that their behavior was valid and necessary and earned....which in turn made him internalize that it was valid and necessary and earned that someone express that behavior here and now.

BUT its not remotely in Dick’s nature to make excuses for his own behavior, or to cut himself slack....so its perfectly in character in my opinion for him to express the sentiments he’s expressing to Cass in that example. To focus SOLELY on his poor behavior and make the time when he wasn’t welcoming to her stand as if it was the entirety of their history together...when it wasn’t. At all. It was one small slice of their history, with a very specific context, that Dick certainly wasn’t about to bring up.....and that no one else brought up either, and thus it might as well not have existed.

So if I were writing that story, personally, I wouldn’t necessarily have done anything differently in characterizing Dick. I might have even had him say those exact same things to her about how he hadn’t been welcoming to her and had an issue with her adoption at that specific time.

BUT.....I would have contextualized this as being unreliable narration on his part, and used OTHERS, or even just him having other conversations elsewhere, to provide the context that I felt was necessary to explain WHY he’d acted the way he had, even without Dick himself offering that mindset up as an excuse.

Like, and there’s so many ways to contextualize that scene. You could have Cass herself push back against the idea that he was just wholly unwelcoming to her, and express that he had been really great at first and she’d really appreciated that, or even frame it as her expressing confusion as to WHY he’d acted that way towards her later, when he’d been so much more open with her before.

Or you could have Dick have conversations about that with others in his life, even in the form of making further self-recriminations against his behavior, like, getting down on himself for being such an ass to her there.....BUT using friends who knew him well to push back against the idea that this is just who he is rather than it being born of specific circumstances and his own issues....like maybe him talking about this with Roy or Kori and them raising the possibility “hey, I know this is a sore spot, but do you think that maybe the reason you reacted so badly to Cass there was because it brought up a lot of old stuff about that time you were brainwashed for a year?” Dick wouldn’t even have to agree with their assessment in the end, but it being raised as a possibility at ALL would at least allow readers to enter that context into their own interpretation of his actions and behavior and decide for themselves whether it played a role.

Or you could have Dick have a conversation with Bruce about it, with maybe even Bruce being the one to say, I’m a little surprised how harsh you were with Cass, as it doesn’t seem like you....and with this opening the door to Dick finally airing some long pent-up grievances in the form of him maybe only then just realizing himself that y’know what, it ISN’T like me, and now that I think about it its because it had nothing to do with Cass really, and it was more about me reacting off of how you were acting with her....and dealing/not dealing with the reality that it was exactly what I’d always wanted to see and hear from you back then, but you were nowhere to be found, and you certainly weren’t stepping in to protect me from people giving me crap for my brainwashed actions or expressing doubt about my trustworthiness/capabilities the way you were stepping into protect Cass from me expressing doubt about her trustworthiness, etc.

See what I mean? SO many possibilities there, all of which provide so much more meat and context to that particular story than Dick just being a douche to Cass because generic daddy issues or whatever.

But you gotta actually DRAW those connections in a story you’re writing, to go alongside the unreliable narration you’re having color Dick’s view of his own actions or behavior.....or else, those connections just flat out aren’t going to exist for most readers to be aware of or factor in to provide CONTEXT to Dick’s unreliable narration.

[confessionsofaromanticidiot]

Lord Voldemort - The reason why you should never ignore red flags in a relationship!

Disclaimer J.K. Rowling please don’t sue me but yes, we did give my ex the nickname of the evil villain from Harry Potter. Let’s call him Jamie. Jamie had every red flag known to man but me stupidly ignored them all as only a deluded emotionally unstable woman can. Again, I look back on this relationship and wonder a few things:

1.       How the fuck did it last five years?

2.       Why did I put up with so much bullshit?

3.       How did I ignore every red flag thrown in my face?

I guess, even though Jamie was a red flag from day one, it was not always bad. Originally when we first start dating, I was actually the one that asked him out. Mistake number one, actually going on this date with the douche bag but as I said it was not always the horrendous shit show our last year together was. We ended up in a relationship for five years, it could not have been that terrible. He did tell me he loved me first, I said it back, but I didn’t really mean it at the time, but I was absolutely obliterated drunk and it just came out of my mouth.

Lesson number one people: NEVER SAY YOU LOVE SOMEONE IF YOU DON’T MEAN IT! I have had since Jamie and I’s break up almost two years ago, had at least two men said they love me, but I was not ready probably for good reason I suppose looking back on it now. (Including an extremely sexy French Doctor but we will come back to that train wreck later).

In five years, I faked nearly every orgasm yes, I know guys we aren’t meant to this, sex was not our strong point. I always was a very sexual person, but this battered my sexual confidence in a tiny box, tied an anchor to it and dumped it off a ship somewhere near the Bermuda triangle never to be seen again or so I thought. But he was kind and sweet, so I just sucked it up. I decided that this was a sacrifice I had to make because every other aspect of our relationship was so blissful (I am laughing as I type this). I kind of saw him as a fixer upper, he had a great job, family where AMAZING but lacked something to this day i cannot put my finger on it. He was never satisfied with anything in his life was always pushing for more or looking to others to see what they where doing in order to compare his life? I guess, I made the age old mistake of thinking I could change him. Also mistake number two, if he was never satisfied with the things in his life, why did I think I would be any different?    

The point of this section is guess is not to bitch about my ex but to teach people not to ignore all the RED FUCKING FLAGS. You will notice I make this mistake over and over in relationships but to a lesser extent (I’ll get there I promise), but I have also learnt from this relationship to cut and run when it feels wrong because guess what? If it feels wrong, it most likely is wrong and you trust your intuition a little more.

So, some examples of Jamie’s glaring RED FLAGS, that I made excuses for

1.       First night he met my best friend, we went to a night club and he hit on another girl in front of us and when I confronted him, he left us there.

2.       Suffered with Anxiety, not saying that this a red flag as I suffer too but he had a dependency on alcohol to get through social events but more often than not got completely obliviated. Which meant some of the things he said or did to me when drunk where forgotten about and therefore ignored or I was told it didn’t happen that he would never do such a thing because he loved me.

3.       I have PCOS (Yes, I know I am barrel of laughs right), at one stage when I was 27, I was told I could not have children (Which also turned out to be a misdiagnoses). I was devastated it was as though part of me died but he ignored and went drinking. Came home locked and woke me up had a massive argument after I had spent the best part of a day crying as though someone died. He did not seem to care.

4.    I was on HRT (hormone replacement therapy) and I couldn’t really drink but yet dragged me to the pub every time and or was dubbed BORING because I didn’t want to go.

5.  SEX became non-existent (Not that it was that great anyway but.._). Mainly due to the fact he was getting it from somewhere else for the last 7 months of our relationship.

6. Our last valentine day together, he used his brother as excuse to go have a night out with the other me in a hotel. Sidebar Jamie’s brother suffered with mental illness and used the fact that if something was to happen to him on our wedding day (Thank Christ that never happened), I would tell him to help him to go to cheat on me the sick bastard.

7.  Point above continued, the kicker the Friday after I covered his room with tea lights and tried to make it romantic because we missed valentine’s day. He came home drunk (Feel the trend) and had a massive argument with me. Gut punch hadn’t even written my Valentine’s day card three days after the actual day!

8.  When we EVENTUALLY broke up, he compared me to sturdy house, that’s amazing but how do you know you want that house and not the house next door! (Rolling my eyes as I type this)

If I look back on it now, point one with my emotional maturity I would have told him to Fuck right off and never see him again. Right but I was 25, had been cheated on before so was emotionally vulnerable. I was stupid, I left that relationship  with a lack of self confidence and he was cute so I looked past a lot.  As we got older, we changed and became really different people but neither of us recognized it. Well, we did but neither of us wanted to be the bad guy, so it got ignored for another year.

Now, I am not excusing the fact I ignored it too, I should have cut and run on one of the above points not allowing it get to points 6 through 8 and there were others also not mentioned. But when you are in relationship that you are constantly making excuses for people’s behavior, it becomes your default. Never do this, never let something in a relationship become a default behavior. Due to the fact someone’s bad behavior becomes normalized, you begin to believe this is just the way we are but guess what it is not how you are!!

Also, I had my part to play, I am not angel let’s be honest a relationship does not go to shit from one person being a dick head. It takes two Tango! I gave up trying to have sex with him and bought a vibrator. It gave me more orgasms anyway. When I stopped trying bar once or twice, he didn’t even try. He will never admit it, but he stopped being attracted to me physically, to be honest I don’t blame him for it. I was put on two courses of steroids prior to starting the HRT, I got to my heaviest weight and my own mental health started to decline. I would not look in mirror and who wants to be with someone that is constantly jabbing themselves with needles or crying because your jeans don’t fit anymore. Plus, I am not going to sugar coat this in any way I was an absolute CUNT on HRT. Mood swings alone was enough to make some of my family members stay clear never mind anyone else.

Does this excuse in anyway what he did? Of course not, but if I was the person I am today, point one might have given a second chance not to be himself basically and when that eventually happened, I would have left. Now, at one point I was so duped that I had a life planned for us but again as we got older our plans became very drastically different. Personally, my own life experiences made me want different things and I went through a lot of stuff that no person not just a woman should go through in their lifetime. But I matured much quicker even than some of my friends, so we were naturally at odds. 

When we eventually broke up again it never really was a final argument either, I just knew I never wanted to see him ever. I realized that I cried once and it was more out of anger that he had used his depressed brother as an excuse to cheat on me. That was all that annoyed me about the entire thing, when I finally removed myself from the situation, I felt like I could breathe again. 

Learning out comes, never ignore red flags, or try to identify them enough in the relationship which can be hard to do because of the honeymoon phase. Never make excuse for someone’s bad behaviors, let them live with the consequences. Be the bad guy, if you are not feeling a relationship anymore, for god sake leave before someone gets hurt. To be honest, Jamie gifted me a get out of jail card by cheating on me to leave without acknowledging part of the fault it was all on him. But no, I gave up too the cheating was just the golden ticket I needed to get out of a toxic relationship. Never allow your emotions to be manipulated, in the manner I did it took a very long time after this relationship for me to actually fully and wholly trust a man with my heart. 

It’s sad really, that it came to this. If one of us had of been braver there would not have been so much damage not caused at all. But I guess my experience and reflection has brought me to you, my only hope is by documenting my mistakes, some of you may not go down the same path.

[peterparkerincorrectquotes]

The other day, my classmate said the first Iron Man movie sucked, and a little offended, I countered with,“But the character development was so good in that one!” 

He responded, “Well, when you start with the worst person ever, character development is pretty easy.”

Honestly, a fair point! That said, I don’t think it applies to Tony. Tony before Iron Man 1 was not a great dude, but I’m gonna go through some reasons why I don’t think he was particularly terrible, either. Certainly not the worst person ever. I’d like to take this time to clarify this is merely MCU Tony, and all my evidence will be from the movies! :) 

Here are the things people usually take issue with about younger Tony: the fact that he was a weapons dealer, a playboy, and overall, just selfish.

Now I definitely see where people come from with the first one. Being a weapons dealer isn’t exactly the most admirable career choice; it’s profiting off of war and that’s… not an ideal job. Not to mention, his weapons were being sold to the other side, too. To terrorists. Like… yikes. 

But look at it this way: ask yourself why he made weapons.

Naive as it is, he probably wanted to help people.

I really, truly believe Tony thought he was helping people with his weapons. 

You might be going, “But how could building weapons ever possibly help people?” As I said, it was a naive thing for Tony to think, but you can tell by his actions that he wants to help people, even before being captured and almost dying, like, 700 times. 

Look at the way he interacts with the soldiers in the car (before they’re attacked) in Iron Man 1. He’s a tad stiff, but he’s clearly happy to take pictures with them, talk to them, have fun with them. It’s not a bother to him. In fact, he actually goes out of his way to make them feel more at ease, to make them laugh because he knows they are working so hard to keep innocent Americans safe. And it’s not just so he can convince the army to buy his weapons, either, because these are just normal soldiers. They’re not the ones making the purchases. 

He wants to help them, to make a few moments of the war easier for them. 

Back to the question at hand; have you considered that maybe he wants to produce weapons because he wants to protect those soldiers? That’s a naive mindset to have, but come on; how many civilians can say they truly know what it’s like out there, on the battlefield? We’re all naive.

Before you point out, “You need evidence to claim that’s why he became a weapon manufacturer,” think about the weapons you see in the first movie. You see weapons that don’t require soldiers beyond initiation of the launch. You see missiles and bombs—things that are fired remotely. You hear about his most legendary inventions (in the little introduction film from 36hrs before the attack), and they’re described as using “satellite targeting,” which also means humans aren’t needed on the battlefield to launch them. These are the things he is famous for, and they’re things that keep those American soldiers off the battlefield. You don’t hear about things like guns or grenades. You hear about soldier-less weapons. 

If you’re still not convinced about his motives, I get it. 

You think he should have known his weapons wouldn’t work like that. He should have seen them ending up in the wrong hands, and he should have been less naive. Tony should have thought about war for about 10 seconds and realized that, obviously, things aren’t that clean cut. So, you’re not convinced he really cares about people. You think he only cares about money because he had to have known better, and if he cared about people, he wouldn’t have sold weapons at all. 

Sure, it seems like he would have been able to piece together that terrorists would end up with the weapons, but I truly don’t believe he did. I mean, the day he got back from being in Afghanistan, he was already ceasing the sale of his weapons. He found out innocent people (by that I merely mean people who weren’t terrorists) were being hurt with his weapons, then as soon as he was able, he shut it all down. 

If he’d really started off as an irredeemably terrible person, one only interested in making profit, he would have done what terrible people do: turn away. He would have come home and averted his eyes from what he’d seen while in captivity. 

But he didn’t. He immediately worked on righting his wrongs. Terrible people don’t do that. Terrible people don’t get that much better. Greedy people don’t do that. Greedy people ignore the facts in their own self interest. 

To summarize, you know when holidays rolled around in, like, kindergarten, and your teacher made your class write those nice letters to deployed soldiers? Tony physically went to Afghanistan, personally communicated and bonded with U.S. soldiers, and made those few precious minutes they got to spend with him memorable. It’s quite possible, to Tony, that his sale of weapons was just one of those nice letters kindergarten teachers made you write. One that could actually save people’s lives. He truly thought what he was doing was helpful and heroic. Maybe that’s his father’s voice in his ears, maybe it’s naivete, but from his actions and words, you can tell that was 100% what he thought.

Phew! Next up on that list, we have his playboy lifestyle. Now, I’m not going to take too long on this one ‘cuz it’s fairly simple. 

It comes down to this: it’s okay to be promiscuous. 

Okay, it’s not always okay, but look at the way Tony was a playboy. He wasn’t looking for a steady relationship, nor did he ever lead people to believe he was. Every person who agreed to sleep with him, did so knowing full well it would be a one time deal. No one expected a relationship, and if they did, that wasn’t due to Tony misleading them. And there’s nothing wrong with that kind of playboy-ing because both parties fully consented to that. One night stands between two single, consenting adults are completely allowed. There’s nothing illegal or even morally wrong about that lifestyle in the modern world. 

Tony being a playboy never made him a bad person.

Finally, the whole selfish deal. For the most part, I’ll give you skeptics that one. He was selfish! And I’m not gonna spew some, “But everyone is selfish,” BS because he was way more selfish than could be considered socially acceptable. Pre-Iron-Man Tony was, undeniably, an asshole. 

He had zero consideration for other people. 

I could defend that with how he was raised by a selfish man and how he probably acts selfish as a coping mechanism because he’s scared of getting close to, and then losing, other people. But I know that’s no excuse. You can distance yourself from attachment without being a dick. 

My only defense for that part of him was that he did try with the most important stuff. It wasn’t a very wholehearted try, nor a very successful one, but you can tell he does care. When Pepper revealed it was her birthday before Tony left for Afghanistan, he doesn’t really make up excuses for forgetting. He begrudgingly acknowledges that he should have remembered by simply telling her she’s allowed to buy herself anything she wants with his money. Yeah, it’s impersonal, but you can tell he values people as human beings. If only a little. 

Besides, people who are wholly, disgustingly selfish wouldn’t be able to keep friends like Rhodey around, and Tony was able to. 

In the end, being an asshole just makes you an asshole. It doesn’t make you, “the worst person ever.” Unlike being a murderous monster who sells weapons out of a selfish place in that hole where your heart is supposed to be, being an asshole can be entirely redeemed. So, unlike the other parts of Tony, I think being selfish is one of his lesser issues.

Overall, I never really saw Iron Man 1 as a story about Tony’s morals getting better because—if you’ve paid attention to any of this long piece of writing I hope you’ve realized that—his morals weren’t ever really in the wrong place. He meant well. From the very beginning, he meant well. His morals were fine.

Iron Man 1 marked nothing more than a change in Tony’s behavior. He didn’t change as a person. All that happened was he realized that the way he was attempting to help people wasn’t working, and he changed the way he was helping people, so it was actually effective. Weapon manufacturing backfired, and he moved to the invention of Iron Man instead. 

Iron Man 1 wasn’t a story about a terrible person becoming a hero. 

It was about a man who had always tried to be a hero finally succeeding.

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (13/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: If you’re reading this, I think you’re lovely. I hope this chapter makes you feel real, human feelings. (That can totally be soundtracked to this song from the credits of Pocahontas. I offer no reasonable explanation for how often I have listened to this song in my life, but the lyrics make sense and I wrote to it for this chapter) As always @resident-of-storybrooke​ @distant-rose​ and @bmbbcs4evr​ are fantastic. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

“This may be a good time to come up with a few more new and creative curses, darling.”

Emma kicks him, the toe of her shoe colliding with Killian’s ankle and she fully expects whatever he does with his eyebrows. And his mouth. She’s admittedly a little more preoccupied with the mouth thing, a quick quirk of lips and his tongue clearly swiping across his teeth and Rumplestiltskin is still smiling at them. 

There’s a dead dragon a few feet away. 

The whiplash of it all continues to be absurd. 

“How are you here?” Emma asks, not sure who she’s directing the question to anymore. It seems to be the only question she’s capable of asking. 

She briefly wonders if it’s possible that Rumplestiltskin actually has more teeth in his mouth than the average human being. 

It certainly looks that way. 

There’s not much light on the track, mostly because they’re underground and several other factors Emma isn’t willing to consider when Killian’s arm tightens slightly around her waist and there’s a dead dragon a few feet away, but she’s certain any hint of brightness reflects off Rumplestiltskin’s copious amount of teeth and the result leaves goosebumps on her arms and magic fluttering in her veins and she’s having a difficult time breathing consistently. 

That’s probably because of the arm around her. 

“Stop that,” Killian mumbles, not quite a command. It’s more like a plea. And not at all what Emma expects. 

Figures. 

She snaps her head up, eyes going narrow. “Wait, what?” “Your magic. Stop it.” “I’m not--” Killian shakes his head deftly, a sharp, jerky movement that makes Emma nearly swallow her tongue She really needs to stop thinking so much about her tongue. “No, no, it’s--” Killian argues, hissing in a breath and obviously ignoring whatever sound Rumplestiltskin makes. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s a little familiar and just as disconcerting as it was years ago. 

Gods, it’s been years. 

“I can feel it,” Killian continues, voice strained. “What it’s trying to do. I’m not--stop it, Emma.” It’s getting more and more frustrating to be as confused as she is. 

Rumplestiltskin makes that noise again. 

“If I could interject,” he says lightly, and Emma’s whole body reacts to that, a burst of power and energy that’s like several thousand light bulbs flipping on at once. Killian groans. “Oh,” Rumplestiltskin laughs, finally moving his hands away from his cane to flutter his fingers in the air. “Well, that was certainly unexpected, wasn’t it?” “Shut up, crocodile,” Killian sneers, and Emma has no idea where to look. 

Her hair is still glowing. 

She’d very much like to punch Rumplestiltskin in the face. Or kick him as well. She’s not going to be particular about it. 

“That delightful insult doesn’t quite make sense anymore,” Rumplestiltskin says, as if that should be enough to change the direction of this wholly ridiculous conversation. Emma almost feels like she’s spinning. “You’ve made sure of that.”

“It’s not yours. Not anymore.” “Ah, well, that’s a matter of debate isn’t it? And I’ve come all this way. You’ve made it so easy for me, after all. Walked right into it. Again.”

“Shut up!” “And who are you talking to, exactly?” Emma’s eyes bug, realization reaching out and slapping her. Metaphorically. It hurts anyway. She wants to kick...everything. And it’s petty and unnatural and not at all helpful in the moment, but she knows and Killian’s skin is clammy as soon as she twists, a hand on his cheek and his chest heaving against her side. 

“Me, you’ve got to look at me,” Emma says, not sure if it’s working or right, but the words fly out of her without much thought to this overall success rate. “Please.”

Killian squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing in something dangerously close to agony and every single one of the veins in his neck are obvious. 

Emma resists the urge to gag at the scent of magic around her. 

Fighting back.

Fighting her. 

“Oh, Captain, Captain, Captain, it’s not going to be that easy,” Rumplestiltskin says, the look on his face turning almost triumphant and they haven’t really done anything yet. “It’s more difficult now isn’t it? To stay on this course. With her here. Makes you wonder all sorts of things, reconsider all those things you can’t change.” Killian doesn’t answer, but Emma’s magic is still roaring, enough that her knees wobble and the few pieces of wall that are still, miraculously, standing shake as well. That seems like a fairly shitty miracle, all things considered. 

Rumplestiltskin takes a step forward, rubble crunching under the toe of his undoubtedly expensive shoes and Emma doesn’t think. As per usual. She waves her hand and tilts her head, a flash of light that may still be coming from her hair or just from, like, her soul at this point, and Rumplestiltskin jerks to a stop almost immediately. 

His lips part slightly. 

“Impressive magic,” he muses. “But that’s always been the case, hasn’t it? That’s why I’m so sure this is going to work.” Emma rolls her eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m not interested, I’m--” “--already trying to save him. Again. Always, isn’t it?” Her teeth ache. Probably because she’s clenching her jaw so hard, something actually popping and that can’t possibly be healthy, but Emma’s mind is still bouncing and jumping, trying to latch onto something that’s right and normal and neither one of those words have much meaning anymore. 

Rumplestiltskin laughs. “It’s only a guess,” he continues, eyes shifting quicker and maybe he’s just not human. That doesn’t bode well for the plans Emma’s mind is half forming already. They’re admittedly not good plans. “But from the look on our dear Captain’s face, I’d imagine your magic is doing a fairly good job of trying to fight his.” “Try and make some sense.” “I am, Savior, are you not listening? He’s spent years trying to find you. All that True Love and its ability to conquer all.” Rumplestiltskin scoffs. Emma isn’t sure Killian’s breathing. “It’s fairly simple if you think about it. He loved you. You loved him. You--well, you mucked it all up quite a bit, didn’t you, dearie?” “If you’re looking to point out all my magical failings, you’ll have to get in line,” Emma mutters, working another laugh out of Rumplestiltskin and she’s probably just going to have goosebumps on her arm for the rest of her life. “Get to your goddamn point. What do you want?” “That’s obvious.” “So say it out loud.” “I want magic, my magic. I was merely content to find you, Savior. This all could have been avoided, you know. But--” he clicks his tongue, a quick shrug that doesn’t match up with the three-piece suit he apparently lives in, “--Well, as I say, you’ve managed to muck it all up rather magnificently. I’m sure it’s a record of some sort.”

“Where the hell did you get a dragon?” “You really did not have to kill her, you know. That’s...it’s rude, honestly.” “Is it a prerequisite of being a complete dick that you can’t answer questions?”

“I think you just called your boyfriend a dick, Savior. Rude. Again.” Emma makes a wholly disgusting noise in the back of her throat, certain it does damage to the muscles there. And she’s not entirely prepared for the weight of the prosthetic that, finally, lands back on her skin, drifting towards the small of her back like he’s trying to ground himself or make sure she’s still there and she’s got so many questions she is going to burst with them. 

That will undoubtedly be very gross. 

“She was one of yours wasn’t she?” Killian asks, and he already knows the answer. Rumplestiltskin’s lips twitch. “She wasn’t...I’ve never seen a dragon like that. That wasn’t like the books at all.” “Have you read a lot of books about dragons, Captain?”

“Gods, she’s right, you’re an ass.” Rumplestiltskin shrugs again, more teeth and maybe crocodile was right. Still. Even without the magical skin thing. “You do bring up an interesting point though. I suppose that means all your research was almost worth your time, pouring over books, trying to find something, anything that would lead you back--” “--Answer the question,” Killian roars, and Emma doesn’t mean to gasp. She doesn’t. She hates that she does. She can’t help it. 

Because the walls rattle and her heart sputters against her ribcage, a burst of darkness that’s unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. It’s more than that. It’s fury and disappointment and every absolutely awful, terrible emotion one human being could feel in a single moment. 

Killian pulls her back against his chest when another piece of ceiling drops. 

His chest heaves against her, haggard breaths and air that shouldn’t be nearly that cold brushing against the side of Emma’s neck. She ignores the stab of pain when his chin digs into her shoulder, fingers tugging at the bottom of her shirt and Emma bites her tongue so she doesn’t say anything. 

She says something. 

Figures. Again. 

“It’s ok,” she whispers. “It’s ok. You’re ok. Just keep breathing. In and out. Count them.” “Gods, you know that doesn’t work,” Killian mumbles. 

“Three in and four out. Breathe out slower.” “Emma.” She shakes her head, sure she’s getting hair in his face. He doesn’t argue. “No, c’mon. Let me--please, Killian.”

It takes a moment, blood pooling under Emma’s impossibly large tongue, but she can feel Killian’s inhale and she mumbles numbers under her breath, a quiet metronome she only hopes will work. 

The rest of the ceiling stays in tact. “That’s pathetic,” Rumplestiltskin snickers, leaning his weight on the cane with his head tilted appraisingly. “Honestly. Just...worthless.” Killian exhales, Emma still flush against his chest. “Your dragon, wasn’t just a dragon, was she?”

“At least you’re almost smart.” “A woman?” “Dragon first. Woman when it was convenient. I believe she was friends with your Ursula, actually. You know you’ve really written your own demise here, Captain. It’s unfortunate, the great tale of Captain Hook and the magic he tried to keep at bay. All in the name of love. It’s not going to work. None of it. You’ve walked yourself into another trap because you were so incredibly short-sighted.”

“Captain Hook?” Emma balks, rolling her eyes when Rumplestiltskin starts to laugh again. She’s going to punch him unconscious solely so she can count his teeth. 

“Ah, yes, I’d imagine you didn’t have much time to discuss all of that after breaking Regina’s little curse, did you? He was already a pirate, your highness, for you, lest we forget all what your dear Dark One did for you.” “You don’t have magic. There’s nothing holding me back from cursing you.” “You won’t.” “And you know this…” “Because you’re curious,” Rumplestiltskin answers simply. “And your pirate is far too ashamed to tell you the truth. I’m sure Ursula mentioned it when she saw you. She, admittedly, was a little confused since she didn’t realize the worthless sot was fighting his brand-new desires, but--well, even without the darkness coursing through him, he wasn’t all that good anymore. The magic helped amplify what was already there.”

“Why did you need a fucking dragon?” Emma demands, and whatever noise Killian makes at that isn’t quite a laugh, but it does manage to do something very particular to several different parts of her and she’s, at least, seventy-six percent certain he kisses where his lips land. 

Whiplash. 

It’s exhausting. 

“I just told you, Savior, Gods, but you are dense.” “The sword,” Killian mutters, surprise coloring every single letter. “Oh, bloody fuc--” Rumplestiltskin grins. More triumph. More whiplash. Emma isn’t sure how much longer her legs can hold up. “That was an interesting move on your part, I’ll give you that.” “Generous.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Emma shouts, the light at the end of her fingers flaring. Killian groans. “If you were looking for the sword, why would you need a dragon?”

She get slapped again. Metaphorically. Again. 

Her magic is making it difficult for her to remain upright. And it can’t possibly be good for Killian to be groaning that much. 

Rumplestiltskin looks overjoyed. He doesn’t quite jump, does something more resembling some kind of twisted jig and it’s more déjà vu and memory and Emma has to take a deep breath to stop herself from glowing even more. 

“Thank you,” Killian whispers, and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

Emma hums, chewing on the side of her tongue. “A dragon,” she starts, “can find--” “Is drawn to treasure,” Rumplestiltskin corrects. “Innately. It’s part of their very soul, the one thing they’ll look for more than anything else. And what greater treasure is there than a sword that can destroy and control?” “What?” “Why do you think he wanted it, Savior?” “I don’t---” “The sword, Emma,” Killian mutters. “It’s...whatever we did, it’s even more than that woman knew, I think. It’s…” “A talisman,” Rumplestiltskin finishes. “Able to control the darkness and the one who wields it. Being in possession of that sword is a very powerful thing. Which is why I was so stunned to find that he didn’t have it on him during our little escapade in the bar.” “You weren’t there,” Emma argues, not sure what she’ll do if Rumplestiltskin shrugs one more goddamn time. Something drastic, she’s sure. 

“I’m very good at pulling strings, my dear.” “Manipulating them, you mean.” “A little of column A, a little of column B. I was very intrigued that you didn’t remember who you were though. Must have been a rather shoddy casting of the curse.” “Maybe it was just a shitty curse.” Killian laughs. It’s ridiculous, but then so is whatever emotion explodes in the very center of Emma because, that time, she’s absolutely positive he kisses the curve of her neck. 

“I wasn’t sure where you’d gone,” Rumplestiltskin continues, seemingly unperturbed by their banter or back and forth or public displays of affection. “After you disappeared from Storybrooke. I wasn’t sure where the Captain had gone after he’d disappeared from Misthaven.”

“I’ll be honest, this really makes you sound like you’re garbage at being in control,” Emma reasons. 

Rumplestiltskin ignores her. “But then there was that burst of magic. Oh, any being in a thousand-foot radius would have felt that. The power of True Love.” “You didn’t though, did you?” He pales. And Emma’s smile hurts every one of the muscles in her face. 

“Gods, but you’re brilliant,” Killian murmurs, mostly into her skin and Emma’s magic flutters again. He slumps against her back, the force of it making her stumble a bit. “Fucking hell.” “Eloquent.” “Emma, I can’t--” Rumplestiltskin’s eyes go wide, the laugh bubbling out of him. He stands up straighter. “You bring up a very good point, Savior,” he says. “I didn’t feel it. Because you robbed me of what is rightfully mine. So I am here to remedy the situation. At first, I was more than content to simply demand you reignite my magic--” “--I can’t do that.” “Please, don’t interrupt, dearie, it’s ruining the flow of this. The prophecy claims you can. A spark? Don’t be obtuse.” “But?” “There it is,” Killian grumbles, Emma reaching back to wrap her fingers around the hand hanging at his side. The plastic is cool under her touch. 

“But,” Rumplestiltskin echoes. “The pirate disappeared in Misthaven. He’d been searching and fighting. Picking battles and growing that rather sinister reputation. I’m sure it helped to have a weapon at the end of his hand.” Emma blinks. “Oh yes,” Rumplestiltskin nods, “rather unsubtle all things considered, but he probably just found it on his ship. A hook. Made him feel very menacing, no doubt.” “You cut off my fucking hand,” Killian yells, Rumplestiltskin making a far-from-repentant noise in the back of my throat.

“And your True Love stole my magic, twisted you into the worst version of yourself and you still followed her around like some puppy dog, desperate to be told how wonderful you were. You walked into this, pirate. You twisted and knotted it all, made it so I had no choice but to follow you because you sent away the one thing a dragon could find. Treasure. Tell me something, how did you get to New York?” Killian doesn’t quite freeze, which is probably a good thing, but he certainly tenses, a shift and a turn of shadows and Emma’s only going to be able to smell sulfur for the rest of her life. Her stomach has apparently taken up residence in the back of her throat. 

“It was the sword,” Rumplestiltskin says, answering his own question with a knowing smile. “That pull. The draw to be in control of yourself, even when you weren’t sure who that self was anymore. You tried to find her, I’m sure, but, in the end, the power got the better of you. And here we are. Back at square one. So,” he says, snapping his gaze back towards Emma. Her magic flares. “I have a few demands, Savior.” “You do not have any magic.” “That’s my point.”

“Make it clearer, then.”

“Gladly. I want my magic back. I want it gone from him and back where it belongs. With me. I want to get out of this Godforsaken realm and I want this pitiful excuse of a Dark One to stop trying to defend you. It’s not going to work anymore.”

Emma blinks. And licks her lips. And blinks again. She nearly trips over herself when she spins back around, not sure when Killian’s arm fell away from her waist, only sure that her hands reach out on instinct and practice and he doesn’t flinch. 

He doesn’t move. 

“What does that mean?” Emma asks softly. “Killian, what is he talking about?” There’s the laugh. 

It’s not natural or human or anything except absolutely, God awful, an almost childlike-sound of glee to it that makes the hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand up and her breath catch and her lungs pinch. It’s memories of skin that wasn’t quite normal and dead grass under her feet, of days that lost all their meaning and...mucking it all up quite a bit. 

“Killian,” Emma repeats, tugging lightly on the front of his shirt and the chains there shift slightly. There’s no ring. Liam’s ring. Her ring. She doesn’t know where that is. “How did you get here? Why...why are you--” “--Emma,” he cuts in sharply, but it’s not the hatred it’s been. It’s pleading and disbelieving, bright blue eyes that stare at her like he can’t possibly comprehend why she’d have to ask that question. He shakes his head, hair shifting towards eyebrows that are pulled low in something almost resembling incredulity and, for half a moment, Emma doesn’t think about Rumplestiltskin. She doesn’t think about the dragon or crumbling foundations or what he’d done to the retaining walls. She thinks about better memories and near-perfect moments and the feel of the blankets in the captain’s quarters of the Jolly. 

“Why? And how?”

“You’re the most determined woman in all the realms, you realize that?” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s not a good story.” “He’s not a good person,” Rumplestiltskin calls out, and Emma’s not sure which one of them moves quicker. Her wrist flips again and Killian blinks, dark ropes appearing around Rumplestiltskin almost immediately and it takes a few prolonged seconds of slightly stunned silence for him to topple to his side. “Shut up,” Killian growls. His eyes don’t drift away from Emma though, bits of blue lingering even in the darkness that clouds his gaze. “He’s not entirely wrong though.” Emma nods, not sure if she’s agreeing or, simply, accepting, but the hand on Killian’s chest hasn’t ever moved and that’s probably something. “The truth, Lieutenant. Please.”

“Ursula was right.”

She was expecting the answer, so Emma does her best to keep her face schooled, but he’s always been impossibly good at reading her and she tugs her lips behind her teeth before she can even consider all the reasons she shouldn’t. 

Killian chuckles, left hand shifting towards Emma’s side before he seems to think better of it. “She was right,” he says again. “I knew what the cretin was doing. He was trying to get you. He was...he was recruiting magic, trying to find anyone who could get him here and--” “--How did he know that we were here, though? Like this...specific part of the Land Without Magic. Did you?”

“Not at first.” “Gods, that’s not an answer!”

He flashes her a smile, not entirely him, but enough that Emma almost starts to breathe normally. “I found out,” Killian replies evasively, thumb brushing over the side of Emma’s jaw when she throws her whole head back to groan. Rumplestiltskin is still struggling against the ropes around him, one of them moving towards his mouth. 

“From?” “Does it matter?” Emma sighs, frustration and something else that she can’t quite put a name to mixing together to make the world’s single most depressing sound. She shakes her head. “Ursula was right,” Killian says again, and Emma does her best to temper her impatience. 

It doesn’t work. She knows it doesn’t. 

Whatever Killian’s expression does make it obvious. 

“I was...I told you, love, Rumplestiltskin was coming for you. He thought he could get you to give him back magic or reignite the darkness in him and I wasn’t--” He grits his teeth, leaning his cheek into Emma’s palm when she pulls it up again. “I couldn’t let that happen. No matter what.”

Emma doesn’t answer. She’s not sure what she’d even say, far too overwhelmed and glowing and it’s a mess of feeling and magic and the smell of goddamn sulfur. 

She gags. 

That’s not the best response, really. 

“Do you remember when we were younger,” Killian starts, “there was a story. We heard it...some old captain docked in one of the shadier parts of the town and he claimed there was a beanstalk on the other side of the Enchanted Forest. Where the--”

“--Ogres were,” Emma finishes, Killian humming in agreement. “That was all just hearsay though. The giant and the--oh, fucking hell.” Killian nods, the ends of his mouth tugging up into something that’s almost a smile. “It was real?” Emma whispers. “You found a magic bean?” “Not on the beanstalk.” “Then where?” Killian shakes his head, a flash of something that might actually be amusement when Emma’s frustration turns nearly palpable. “Ok, fine, fine, you don’t want to tell me, whatever. But you got a bean?”

“Aye.” “And?” “And it was dead.” Emma tires to make sense of that. And, really, it doesn’t take long for her to understand – she’d argue it only takes as long as it does because she’s exhausted and, admittedly, a little overwhelmed and she keeps trying to count how often she can see the blue return to Killian’s gaze. It’s not as much as she’d like. “So,” Killian continues, “I had to find something to revive it.” “You couldn’t?” He shakes his head, regret dripping off the movement. “No. That’s--that’s light magic, love I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I tried. You, on the other hand…”

“Is that why you needed Ursula?” “Aye, she...well, I was told she’d be able to lead me to Nostos.” “And she did?” Killian hums again, fingers tracing patterns on her side. The blue is gone again. “She wanted something in return though. Everyone always did.”

“And you--” “--Betrayed her,” Rumplestiltskin calls out, somehow twisting away from the ropes and there’s more than one patch of redness on either side of his chin. 

Emma’s eyes flicker up, dropping her hand to grab around Killian’s wrist. He presses his lips together. “What happened?” “She wanted to leave,” Killian responds simply. “She didn’t realize I had magic, but I--” “--Dark One tricks, Dark One lies,” Rumplestiltskin yells, voice turning hoarse and screech-like and Emma’s eyes bug again. Killian doesn't respond. “She told you, Savior. She told you what he did, let her take the danger unto herself, steal that squid ink and…” “Wait, wait, wait,” Emma interrupts. “When we were in the bar, Ursula said that squid ink helped with memories. Did you think that would happen? Losing your memory?”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I was trying to be prepared.” “Because you had a magic bean that could be revived at Nostos and you...needed Ursula to bring you there?” “That’s the crux of it, aye.”

“I never understood why you really needed the sea witch,” Rumplestilskin muses. He’s sitting now, only slightly absurd with his legs tugged up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. “You have magic. More magic than anyone left in that realm.” “Strangely enough that didn’t make me omniscient,” Killian bites back. “She knew where it was. How it worked. If it would work. And I--” “--You wanted to protect the Savior. From me.”

“I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

Rumplestilskin laughs, a quick wink and sarcastic nod and Emma is certain this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Keep telling yourself that, dearie. I’m sure it will make all those sins feel a little bit better.”

“Is that why you sent the sword away?” Emma asks suddenly, the question all but leaping out of her mouth. That may actually be her magic. 

“Someday I’m sure you’ll stop surprising me, love.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He chuckles, part him and part not and it’s the mix of both that makes every one of Emma’s muscles ache. “If I was going to jump into a portal to the Gods knew where, not entirely sure what was going to happen, then I wanted some backup. I’d read about squid ink. It can immobilize those with magic as well and I’d come up with some rather dastardly ways to use that if everything else went to shit.” “Has it not?” “No,” he shakes his head. “You found me.”

She does something. She knows she does, if only because the push of her toes makes noise and the flash of pain that settles into the shift of her calves makes her grit her teeth, but Emma isn’t altogether sure what, exactly, she does, just that it happens. 

And for one, nearly blissful moment, it’s fine. Genuinely. And truly. The hand on her back shifts, tugging her closer to him until their knees clack together, lips catching lips in something that isn’t desperate, but might be drifting closer to True Love. 

With capital letters. 

And the power to break any curse. 

Emma slings her arms around Killian’s neck, fingers finding the hair at the base of his head. She scratches her nails against the skin, light touches and her lips part as soon as she feels the first brush of his tongue. He’s smiling. 

She can tell. 

They rock against each other for a moment that feels as if it could last forever and still not be long enough, swaying slightly until it seems as if they’re both determined to occupy the same space and Killian’s laugh when Emma’s foot lands on his is as wonderful as it is surprising. 

She can taste it. Like joy and good and those capital letters again. 

And, strictly speaking, that should probably be at the top of the list of most disgusting thoughts she’s ever had, but it’s also almost comforting and wonderful and the burst of blue in his eyes makes her think of everything she’d forgotten. 

“I was always trying to get back, love,” Killian whispers, forehead resting against hers and Emma is loathe to close her eyes, but the weight of the words slink into her and she can’t really help it. She wonders if keeping her eyes closed will make the memory last longer. 

“I know.” Killian makes a noise, almost contentment and nearly happiness, but then Rumplestilskin laughs again and Emma’s magic flares – another burst of near-blinding light that leaves her blood thrumming in her ears and the blue is gone as soon as she looks back up. 

She can barely see Killian’s face, hidden by shadows that wrap around every inch of him. They twist and curl, hanging off the ends of his fingers and the edges of his jacket sleeves. 

Emma gets brighter.

She flashes like she’s a goddamn lighthouse, trying to fight against a variety of hurricanes and several different tropical storms and the explanation almost makes sense because the wave of emotion playing out on the man in front of her makes it feel as if she’s going to need to talk to several different governmental organizations about monetary aid eventually. 

She groans when she loses track of the metaphor. 

And Killian hisses, chin falling to his chest as if the shadows clinging to his back are too heavy. 

“Stop it,” he says, and they’ve circled back to the beginning of the conversation. Emma’s going to set a groaning record. 

The whiplash has got to stop. It’s making her head hurt, as if she herself is being knotted as well and that would probably be more comfortable than whatever Emma is experiencing, her magic shouting at her to do something, but it doesn’t seem to know what and Killian’s eyes aren’t just dark. They’re empty. 

He’s staring above her head. 

“I’m not doing--” Emma starts, but he jerks slightly and she knows that’s as much of a disagreement as she’s going to get. “Ok, ok, it’s my magic, right? It doesn’t...like your magic, because it’s--” “--Dark,” Killian breathes. That, almost, makes sense. “It’s…” He doesn’t quite scream, but it’s far too close for comfort, and Emma’s almost forgotten about the stupid sword. Killian grabs it, fingers curling around a hilt that’s far too familiar and entirely different than it was before.

He snaps back, Emma’s mind jumping to more memories and sharp folds, the crisp line of a uniform and maybe that was her first mistake. He should have stayed at the docks. He should have--”Oh, fucking hell,” she mutters, understanding rippling through her again.  

Killian points the sword at her. 

Rumplestilskin’s laugh takes a decidedly gloating turn. “Well, this is even better than I could have expected. Savior, you remember my terms?”

“I’m not giving you magic,” Emma mutters. Her fingers flutter at her side, bits of light and warmth bouncing between them. 

It doesn’t get Killian to lower the sword. 

“Stop it, Emma,” he says, each word measured and absolutely, positively not him. She closes her eyes again. 

That might be defeat, though. 

“It’s fighting him, Savior,” Rumplestilskin explains. “It’s interesting, I’ll give you that. How True Love can hold on even when you’re on opposite sides of the spectrum. And, well...as you can see, your--” He chuckles again, the noise turning to a groan when Emma waves her hand and tightens the ropes around his ankles. “Your magic is doing its best to destroy him. That’s why I’m going to win. You have to take it from him. And I want it back, or I'll send an army after you and everyone you care about.”

Emma throws her whole head back, heat racing through her veins and sparking under her skin. She glances down to make sure she hasn’t, actually, burst into flame, only slightly disappointed to find that her skin has remained in tact. 

Killian’s arm must hurt. “You can’t do this, Emma.” “I’m not doing anything!” “I’m not giving him our magic, I won’t--” “--Wait, wait, did you say our?” Emma asks, all but growling when that snaps into place as well. “The voices. The other Dark Ones, that’s what it was wasn’t it...why...” Her eyes flicker towards the tip of the sword pointed at her, dangerously close to the exact location of her heart. “Killian,” she starts, leaning forward against her better judgement, and the pinch between his eyebrows looks permanent, “Babe, listen to me. Not them. Just me. Please.” “Ah, I wouldn’t do that, Dark One,” Rumplestilskin objects, and Emma is not prepared to fight a battle on so many different and simultaneous fronts. “She wants to destroy darkness. She wants to get rid of your magic. She wants to send you back to what you were. Do you remember?” Killian shakes his head, as if he’s trying to shake away the memories themselves. Emma watches the muscles in his throat shift, a quick bob and a flash of teeth and she can’t move any closer to him. 

He’s still pointing a sword at her. 

“Magicless,” Rumplestilskin continues, and each letter feels like it cuts through Emma’s entire soul. She’s apparently very melodramatic when everything is going to shit. “Powerless. Nothing more than a charity case for a want-to-be royal.” “No,” Emma cries. Literally. Metaphorically. It doesn’t matter. It’s difficult to see the sword through the tears stinging her eyes. “That’s not true! It’s not, Killian. Never!” He shakes his head again, the tip of his tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth, and Emma can see the battle there, a one-man war against an army of magic and darkness and the desperate desire to control everything. 

After years of the opposite. 

She takes a shaky inhale, trying to steady herself and her emotions, but her magic is kind of a dick and it refuses to settle. It spikes, likely reacting to the haphazard rhythm of her pulse. Killian’s eyes dart towards her as soon as he feels it, and she’s never sure how he manages to take a step forward without actually stabbing her, but Emma assumes she should be grateful for the lack of stabbing and--

“It’s never going to end, Savior,” he hisses. “You can’t be here anymore. None of us can.” “Why not?” “Regina told us when we were in the castle. This land, this realm, it’s not meant for us. Not for the ones with magic. It’s never going to survive.” “The only reason it did, your highness, is because of you,” Rumplestilskin says, far too joyful and Emma’s having more and more trouble summoning her magic. It jumps and leaps and does several things an invisible force should never be able to do, but then it disappears as suddenly, leaving an empty void that she isn’t entirely sure how to feel. 

Loneliness. 

That’s what it is. 

All over again. 

“It was dying from the moment you got here, Emma,” Killian continues. “It lasted because you’re...well, powerful. And it sparked when you found me, but now--” He shrugs, a sarcastic tilt of his head that makes the hair falling across his brow shift and Emma’s breathing as heavily as if she’d never interacted with oxygen before. “Now, your magic won’t shut up.”

“Stop listening to them,” Emma says, hating how quickly her voice turns to pleading. Begging, really. She’s begging and hoping and it’s not easy to do the second one when she feels as alone as she ever has. “This isn’t--” “--You’ve got a few choices, Savior,” Rumplestilskin cuts in. He, somehow, works back to his feet, wobbling just a bit, but the look on his face makes it obvious he believes he’s already won. “Again. You let us all stay here, in this realm, to fester without magic because, let’s be honest, dearie, whatever your True Love sparked, it won’t last long now that the pirate remembers. You abandon him, again, leave him to the darkness and find a way back to Storybrooke with--” “--Your magical author guy?” Emma suggests. 

Rumplestilskin hums. “Clever, isn’t he? Again, I hate to point fingers, but that was mostly your pirate’s fault. He disappeared through that portal, Ursula made sure he wouldn’t remember and then, rather immediately, brought her talents to me. Willingly, I’d add. That’s how I met Cruella who, in turn, introduced me to Isaac.” “Quite a little network of assholes you’ve got going on.” “You’re distracting me from your final option.” “Spit it out then.” “Take the darkness out of him. Give it back to me. Where it rightfully belongs.” Emma scoffs, but her mind is already racing and her heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her eyes flash towards Killian. 

Instinct. Or True Love. 

He blinks. 

“You did it once,” Rumplestilskin presses. “So, let’s skip right over the part where you tell me how impossible it is. It’s beneath us, don’t you think?” Emma shakes her head – from disbelief and...not much more. She can’t believe they’ve come to this. Or that she’s actually considering it. She fists both her hands at her side, trying to contain the magic pulsing out of her and it doesn’t really work. 

Killian’s yelp of pain makes that clear. 

“No,” Emma whispers. “No, I won’t--” “--He’ll kill you, princess,” Rumplestilskin says, cutting her off and there’s more blood in Emma’s mouth. “He won’t think twice about it. I’ve heard those voices too and they are not all that interested in bartering with you. They don’t like it when you try and destroy them, you see.”

“That’s not Killian.” Rumplestilskin clicks his tongue in reproach. “It is now. You made sure of that.”

The tears that land on her cheek are hot. Scalding, even. Flush with magic and feeling and it’s all too much and not enough and Emma almost doesn’t hear it at first. 

“Swan.” She spins on the spot, breath rushing out of her and the lights at the end of her hair as bright as they’ve ever been. Hopeful. Powerful. Chock-full of capital letters. 

“Hi,” Emma breathes, and it is, hands down, the single worst response she could possibly come up with. Killian’s lips quirk up, the arm holding his sword shaking and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but there’s definitely blue in his eyes and Emma steps forward. 

He doesn’t stab her. 

So, points or whatever. 

“Swan, you can’t--” He groans, jaw cracking when it snaps open and--”That’s enough! Enough!”

He’s not talking to her. 

Emma’s eyes widen at the realization, ignoring every inch of her that hurts, far too much magic and movement, pushing up on her toes to rest her palm on his cheek again. She brushes her fingers over his forehead, moving strands of hair away from his eyes. She lets her thumb graze over as much skin as she can reach, like she’s trying to mark him or remind him of something, anything, a single reason to keep fighting and--

“I need your help, love.”

It takes her, exactly, three seconds, one genuinely disgusting sniffle and a far-too-dramatic gasp to understand what he means. 

Rumplestilskin howls. 

And the rest seems to happen in a blur, voices coming from the tunnel at the end of the track and Emma hears her own name screeched through the air. Killian’s head falls on her shoulder, a heavy weight that shouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as it is and she grips the front of her jacket to keep them both upright. 

The ground shakes again. 

It probably has something to do with the appearance of the seeress. 

“Oh God, what the fuck,” Emma grumbles, working an entirely out of place laugh out of Killian. He kisses her shoulder again. 

“She does have absolutely horrible timing doesn’t she?”

The seeress doesn’t respond, but Emma can feel her staring at them – even with her hands covering her eyes. She, as always, looks exactly the same, like no time passed at all, but there’s something slightly different, as if there’s a shift in the energy and the magic around her, and Emma can’t quite put her finger on it. 

She knows it’s important. 

The most important, maybe. 

“Are you making jokes now?” Emma asks, laugh shaky and watery. Killian grins. It’s entirely out of place, particularly when it appears the seeress’ shoulders are slumping in a decidedly defeated way, and Rumplestilskin is still making that God awful noise, but Emma hoards it anyway, trying to brand it on every inch of her memory because she knows. 

She knows what has to happen next. And the thought makes her want to collapse. 

There’s not enough time for that though, more noise coming from the tunnel, and Emma twists in a way her spine doesn’t appreciate. Ruby’s fingers are curled around her amulet, mouth hanging open. There are tears in her eyes as well. “Emma, can you--” “Yeah,” Emma interrupts. “Can you?” “Yuh huh. It was like, shit, I don’t even know, an earthquake or the first time I transformed. It was so strong. I’ve never known magic like that.”

“And you came here?” Ruby glares. “What else did you expect me to do? I--shit, you were gone again and you’d never come back, Emma. After that--” She runs a ragged hand over her face, Will wrapping an arm around her middle when she starts to wobble slightly. “It had to have reached back to Storybrooke too and--” She snaps her jaw shut, a sharp inhale as soon as her eyes pull away from Emma’s. “Oh dammit, all. Is that…” “Lady Lucas,” Killian murmurs, free hand working back around Emma and she has the growing suspicion he’s trying to touch as much of her. Before. She can’t bring herself to imagine the rest of that sentence. 

“It’s Captain now, isn’t it?” “Something like that.”

“Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on?” Will demands, and Emma can’t really blame him. His shoulders are heaving, clearly out of breath and she doesn’t spend too long wondering how they got there. Killian’s hand is still moving. 

Belle’s expression is unreadable – gaze penetrating, but she’s not looking at Emma. She’s staring straight at Killian with thin lips and wide eyes and Emma feels his magic stutter slightly under the force of it. “Ma’am,” he says. “I, um...I should thank--” “--Shut up,” Belle snaps. “Shut up, shut up, shut up. Was that...how much of what the sea witch said was right?” “Almost all of it.” “And Emma’s a princess?” “What?” Will shouts, but Belle is on a roll and if Emma weren’t so goddamn depressed, she’d also pretty impressed. 

Killian nods. “Aye. And I’m--” “--You have to let it happen, Dark One,” the seeress says, impossibly calm. That’s probably for the best since no one else is. Emma’s tears spill onto her cheeks and Ruby makes a noise that’s somewhere between a gag and a groan and Will has started shouting some rather impressive curses that Emma’s never heard before. 

Belle stays suspiciously silent. 

Killian’s fingers still. 

“Aye, I know.”

Rumplestilskin might be crying. It certainly sounds like it, soft whimpers and pained noises, and Emma’s spine is going to rise up in revolt of her and her movements and her magic. She moves anyway, hands flying back to Killian’s chest.

His arm shakes at his side. The one holding the sword. As if the sword knows. Gods, the sword probably does know.

“What is she talking about, Killian?” Will asks, and Emma is legitimately impressed that he keeps demanding information. Something about stubborn and how it’s appropriate in the right circumstances or whatever. 

Killian swallows, a quick exhale that makes the ends of Emma’s hair flutter. “We have to do it, love,” he whispers. “This is--” Emma shakes her head. It’s pointless. She knows. She doesn’t care. Her neck shifts and her muscles protest and her magic makes the rocks at her feet float a few inches in the air. “No,” she argues, well aware that she’s simply wasting time. “There’s got to--” “There’s not, your highness,” the seeress says. “There never was.” “Wait, what?”

Killian pulls Emma closer to his side, the pressure on her skin likely leaving bruises because his magic is still fighting back and it must know. It has to. This is the end. “You said we couldn’t make the same mistake again,” he mutters. “What aren’t you telling us? Emma counts her breaths. Two in, a far-too-sudden exhale. Three in, way too wobbly to be helpful, but her exhale is a bit more measured that time. She swallows and licks her lips, does it again, waits and tries not to be too impatient, but she can practically hear Killian’s eyebrows move in frustration and Ruby makes a noise as soon as Rumplestilskin tries to move. 

She’s barely more than a flash, a few quick steps and teeth that are slightly longer than normal. Will and Belle follow her, their own eyes narrow and there’s no magic, but there’s definitely something resembling fury and Rumplestilskin cowers under the combined threat of them. 

“No need to get so snappy, dearie,” he mumbles, but that only draws another growl out of Ruby and she flexes her fingers in his face. 

There are claws there. 

He doesn’t say anything else. 

“What aren’t you telling us?” Killian demands again. The seeress still doesn’t respond, eyes falling to her feet and arms hanging limply at her side, and Emma’s exhale flies out of her in a burst of emotion and understanding. 

“No, no, no, no, that can’t be right,” she fumes, anger not entirely unexpected. It’s even worse because she knows it’s still pointless. 

She can’t stop crying. 

The seeress pulls her head up, staring at Emma like she can see her and--”Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mumbles. Emma flashes him a tight-lipped smile, his own realization settling on his face. He shakes his head. “The whole time?” Emma shrugs. “If she’ll actually tell us, but--” “It is,” the seeress says, and Will actually grabs a handful of dirt to throw in understandable annoyance. Most of it lands on his shoe. 

“What does that mean?” “Us,” Emma answers simply. “We always thought the prophecy only mentioned Killian and I once. The Swan and the Knight. That was--” 

Eventually, she will be incredibly disappointed that she can’t finish her sentences. She knows she’s on borrowed time and the sword is still shaking, a faint glow around the edges that’s only slightly menacing, but Emma can’t seem to get the words to form on her tongue and it’s her goddamn tongue again. 

It’s not really her tongue. 

She licks her lips, tugging them behind her teeth and she can only imagine what she looks like. Her cheeks hurt and her muscles ache, a pounding in the back of her head that might be her magic or just... everything and Killian’s smile looks forced. 

“It was never about Rumplestilskin,” Emma whispers. “Not really. The future of magic and light in the dark. That’s us. Right?”

She turns towards the seeress, hands staying at her side, but the woman’s lips twitch slightly and her head nods slowly and--”I didn’t realize,” she says. “Not at first and that’s--” “--Not exactly doing a lot to inspire confidence,” Ruby sneers, Killian making a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. 

Emma curls herself closer to his side. She counts breaths again. And every swipe of his fingers.

The seeress nods once more, quiet defeat and an apology without actually saying the words. “Rumplestilskin believed he was the center of it all. As did we all. And he might have been at one point, but as I told you, things did not go according to plan. They were changed and the power of True Love influenced it all. We didn’t realize at first. That was a mistake, a foolish overlook of the kind of love that you and the pirate have.” “Fucking hell, we’re still on that,” Killian grumbles, and Emma can’t contain her laugh. He kisses the top of her hair again. 

“Things changed in that field. Decisions that could not be altered and it, in turn, altered the meaning of the prophecy. So, now you have a choice ahead of you Savior.” Emma scoffs. “Isn’t that always how it works?” “Your magic found me, Swan,” Killian says. “You weren’t trying to get here, right?” Emma shakes her head, and the puzzle pieces are starting to form an actual puzzle. That sucks. The picture is ugly. And she hates it. She’s still seriously considering collapsing. “Because magic was never going to be able to survive in this realm. The only way you’re going to be able to get back, to save magic, was if it got that spark.” “Awfully presumptuous of you,” she mumbles, drawing an incredulous laugh out him and she’s almost prepared for the way his mouth crashes against hers. 

It’s greedy. That’s the word for it. Like he’s trying to make up for lost time, which, really, is kind of absurd because she’d been ridiculously attracted to him from the moment she saw him in the hallway and the very first time she saw him and, honestly, fuck prophecy. 

She surges up, relishing whatever noise that makes, one hand flying into Killian’s hair and the other curling around his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as she can. 

“Something about True Love, huh?” Killian mumbles against her mouth. He kisses away one of the tears that hangs on her cheek. “It’s ok, Swan.” “Bullshit.”

“Gods, but you’re stubborn.” “I’m not--I can’t do this again,” she admits, and the words sound weak even to her own ears. She can only imagine what they sound like to the rest of the universe. Pitiful. And pointless. And everyone keeps telling her there’s some kind of choice and options but Emma knows they’re all lying to her and there’s nothing except what she has to do. 

Save everyone, apparently. 

“I can’t,” Emma repeats. “Not after the last time.” “I wasn’t actually dead the last time.”

Emma makes the world’s most ridiculous noise. Ruby is a close second. “Shut up,” Emma mutters, but she can’t quite get the right amount of venom in her voice, and Killian grits his teeth again. His magic jumps, flares around him in a burst of shadow that makes Belle gasp and Will curse again. 

“You’ve got to do it, Swan.” “No.” “Emma.” “No,” she yells, the word scratching its way out of her. It hurts, a dull throb in the very center of her that makes her limbs quiver and her heart lurch and she keeps breathing through her mouth. “I--it’ll be real this time,” she whispers. “And I--”

Killian ducks his head, one side of his mouth tugged up. He moves his hand again, drifting up and down her spine and resting on the side of her hip, fingers brushing underneath the hem of her shirt. “It’s got to happen, love,” he says, all matter-of-fact and certain and Emma knows he’s only doing it so she won’t simply wilt in front of him. She hates it. “It was us the whole time. The key to defeating darkness.” He nods towards the sword in his hand, the tip of the blade sitting between bit of rubble. “We did that.”

“Oh, fuck that.” It works another chuckle and an even quicker kiss out of him, the force of it almost bruising. He’s still trying to make sure he remembers it. Or she remembers it. No matter what happens next. No matter where he ends up. 

And, really, she’s not sure what possesses her to say the next few words, but the next few words simply start spilling out of her and Emma imagines it’s probably got something to do with cyclical forces and the universe and the power of True Love. 

“I was fourteen,” she starts, Killian’s eyes widening slightly at an understandably unexpected story, but there’s blue in his gaze and the other side of his mouth moves, “and it was the first time I’d been able to get out of the castle in weeks. It had snowed and that one passage out of the garden had been blocked. 

And I asked David for help. We must have spent hours outside, we used magic and our hands and melted the entire snow pile and it took forever, but then he--oh, shit.” Emma sniffles again, unwilling to move her hands or wipe away the tears that won’t stop falling. “Anyway, um...I got out and it was only long enough to just see you, but you said--” “--Even a few minutes were better than nothing,” Killian finishes, his own eyes turning slightly glossy. He nods quickly, lips ghosting over Emma’s forehead. 

“That was it.” “That was what?” “When I knew. I--even a few minutes were better than nothing. I’d take them all. Covet them, even. Because it’s always been you, Killian. Always.”

He leans back, expression stunned for a moment, but then it’s a bit like staring straight into the sun and there’s no shadow, nothing except how clearly and completely he loves her back and Emma’s shoulders shake with the force of her sobs. 

“Every single time, Swan.”

She nods, not sure if she’s agreeing or convincing herself or, simply, accepting fate, but maybe those few minutes are all she needs and Killian’s fingers are warm when hers curl around them. The sword underneath them is cool. 

Killian’s cheek brushes against the side of her hair, a jerk of his head that Emma knows is supposed to be encouraging. He presses another kiss to her temple, a mumbled it’s ok and it’s not, it’s absolutely not, but then he’s taking a step back and his lips are pressed together and Emma can see the determination in his gaze. 

Blue. Bright blue. 

“I love you,” she says. 

He tongue flashes between his lips. “I love you.”

She’ll do her best to not ever think about it again. She’ll try and forget it and ignore it, the pain that sparks in every inch of her, like she’s the one with a goddamn sword piercing her, but it will never actually work. 

Emma will remember every second in excruciating detail – how heavy the blade is in her hand, like it’s aware of what she's about to do, the sound it makes when it moves through Killian, the slight resistance there because he’s so human and so alive, but then there’s another noise echoing around her and it takes Emma a moment to realize it’s coming from him. 

It’s worse than it was in the field, a cry that settles in between each one of Emma’s ribs, taking up residence between her joints and her muscles and it will play on loop in her memory for days. 

He falls forward, chin colliding with her shoulder. It takes all her strength not to drop with him, knees buckling under the sudden weight she’s trying to balance. His hand moves without much purpose against her face, thumb pulling at skin and pressing against her cheek, breathing turning labored. 

There’s light. It flares and sparks around them, a surge of power and burst of heat that contradicts the feeling of absolute emptiness Emma can feel slinking down her spine. She twists her hand around the front of Killian’s jacket, pressing her forehead against his and she can already see him struggling to keep breathing. 

She pulls the sword back. 

Another noise. Even worse. 

And he looks like him, the him she’s known and loved and waited for, the one who promised a few minutes and called her Swan and believed no matter what. The sword dissolves in her hand, the hilt falling out of her grip with a soft thud. 

Killian sways, hand reaching out and Emma can barely see him through the tears in her eyes, but it only takes a moment to notice the darkness forming just underneath his left jacket sleeve and she wraps both her arms around him when his legs, finally, give up. 

He’s impossibly pale. 

“No, no, no, no,” she mumbles, twisting so he’s flat on his back and she can’t stop moving her hands. She traces over him, sure the weight she’s resting on his chest can’t be helping, but being anything except as close to him as possible is a thought Emma can’t even begin to process. 

Killian doesn’t say anything. 

His head lolls to the side, a soft exhale that feels like the end of everything and, Emma supposes, in a way it is. 

She can’t feel anything. 

“No,” she repeats, shaking at his shoulder. Nothing. No response. No movement. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Her breath shakes out of her, a stinging that might be the state of her lungs or her magic and she can dimly hear movement behind her. 

“Thank you, Savior,” the seeress murmurs, crouching next to Emma and she has a response. She does. Something about fucking off, she’s sure, but she’s far too busy crying and her neck does not seem all that interested in supporting her head anymore. Her forehead falls to Killian’s chest, more misplaced weight and white-knuckle grips, but then the seeress is moving again and she’s trying to take him. 

“No,” Emma cries, hopeful, someday, she’ll say something else. She pulls Killian’s hand into hers, holding on like that will make the difference. 

He’s freezing cold already. 

The seeress doesn’t respond. She doesn’t lift her head, just bows her neck and mumbles a few words under breath and there’s suddenly nothing under Emma’s hand. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

“Holy shit,” Will breathes, and Emma isn’t sure what’s going on behind her, but it sounds like a punch lands on skin and Rumplestilskin makes another noise of absolute despair. 

She almost understands. 

And the hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, Ruby’s mumbled words barely audible over the buzzing in Emma’s ears. She stands up without realizing her brain has decided to do that, locked knees and parted lips and Ruby cups both of Emma’s cheeks in her hand. 

She doesn’t say anything – there isn’t really anything to say – but she doesn’t blink and Ruby doesn’t stumble when Emma quickly and easily goes to pieces.  

[shattersstar]

Hi!! Would you consider doing a fic where Dick Grayson is helping the reader through an anxiety attack? I know you don't usually write stuff like this but I really love your style of writing so I figured I'd ask anyway. Thank you for your time! 💕

warnings: anxiety attack plus all the stuff that goes with it as the request suggests..a/n: i really like how this turned out and yeah its a lil corny but than again so am I. Feedback is always appreciated and tyy

Dick laid on his stomach, pillow hugged to his frame as he slept off the last few weeks. It seemed like all corners of his life demanded his complete attention. It felt like he was only home for a few seconds, pulling off one uniform and slipping it another, lips just brushing against yours before he doze into the night. And it was hard, that fleeting sense of home and routine you had come to understand, but change was good. It was normal and healthy and you would keep telling yourself that till it stopped scaring you. Till Dick stopped feeling as if he was slipping through your fingers.

Although, that feeling was ever persistent as you laid next to him, staring at the ceiling. Your blankets were bunched around your waist, you were too hot when completely bundled up, and just too cold when you fully discarded them. It was a low teeming annoyance on top of the already racing thoughts. You uselessly kicked at you comforter, a groan pulling from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. You scrub a hand over your face, a long exhale tapering from your lips as you pushed yourself up. Your bed creaked and sheets rustled as you swung your legs over the side. The wood was cool under your bare feet, sending a shiver up your spine as you glanced to the time. Your shoulders slumped as you rested your elbows on your knees, head in hands.

It was beyond late, that odd twilight zone hour were everything felt like nothing, and nothing felt too real. Yet, you were pushing out of bed, rolling your shoulders as you wondered if it would be another sleepless night. Most of those long stretching nights were on account of Dick, waiting up from him with agitated hands, and chewed lips. But tonight it was your own anxieties that stirred deep in your chest, keeping your mind melded in the land of static.

You flopped on the couch, frowning when nothing on the television piqued your interest. The only partially engaging thing to watch was the latest recount of vigilante adventures that graced the news. But you already got a first hand account of it all, and somehow seeing those you would call family in blurry, nearly cryptoid level photos flash across the screen, only furthered the frustration that boiled underneath your skin. The white noise was gone as soon as it filled your living room. You flicked the dining room light on, your laptop was charging idly. You slid into the wooden chair, scraping against the floor as you cringed inwardly. Dick always seemed to drift out of bed without much provocation.

And normally you’d love those days when he’d find you thinking too much, wrapping you up in his embrace and telling you everything you needed to hear. Yet the thought of Dick trying to mend whatever sorrows clung to your heart only bothered you more. You weren’t even too sure why, what was so frustrating that it festered itself into your day, steadily growing into the non stop thoughts that were getting too loud. You tried to focus on something, opening random files only to close them, flitting through old photos, deleting things you had long forgotten their use for. It kept you occupied for about half an hour, and soon that suffocation that was pushing up your chest was too much.

You pushed out of your seat; a photo of you and Dick smiling, so stupidly carefree, suddenly made it hard to breathe. You ran your hand over your face again, fingers curling into your hair as you stood in your kitchen. You sniffled as tears threatened your eyes, heart hammering against your ribs. You just wanted your mind to quiet down, to let you sleep as fatigue danced far off in your mind, to understand what was gnawing at your heart so heavily. You let out a shuddered breathe, eyes squeezed shut, and hands wringing together. You tried to blink back the tears, inhaling long breathes, that escaped in a frivolously puff of air.

Soon sobs pushed passed your lips, but no tears followed. You wept silently, shoulders shaking as your breaths started to stutter out your throat. You were slumped against a counter, scratching at your arms as you pleaded for something. First you were beyond exhausted and couldn’t sleep, now you cried without tears. A multitude of emotions were washing over your, beckoning you in all dizzying directions and you suddenly wished Dick was awake. You didn’t care about the thoughts that crossed your mind before, you wanted him here, needed him here.

You had slid down the counter, knees pulled to your chest as you stared at the ceiling once more. Although it wasn’t the recently painted over ceiling, the one that took way too long to finish. Most days spent painting were during those excited four a.m. moments. Yet this was was the stained ceiling that made you laugh weakly. You wanted to stay there, to curl up on the tile and cry yourself to sleep, but the man you loved had other plans.

Dick had felt the mattress dip as you slipped away, only barely awake as he told himself you were probably going to the bathroom. He woke up nearly an hour later, alarmed to find your side still vacant. Dick noticed the far off look in your eyes today, the way you smiled smally as he told you he had to run out, the way you barely shifted when he placed a kiss on your forehead; your hand lingering on his. He was pushing out of bed just as you did, feet padding along the floor, and heart wrenching when he found you sitting on the kitchen floor. “Y/n, are you alright?” He asked, kneeling in front of you instantaneous. He pulled your hands from your face, pushing back his own worries. “Hey, hey what’s wrong sweetheart?” You let him sit between your legs, hands coming to cradle your face.  

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered out, breathing getting all that more erratic.

“That’s okay, that’s alright, but you gotta take deep breaths for me.” He soothed, thumbs brushing over your cheek bone.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, come on.”  Dick smiled at your in the hazy light, and it was so hard not to get caught up in his eyes, in the true goodness that rested behind him. It was so hard not to get caught up in him. You tried to do as he said, mimicking his breathing. Dick pulled one of your shaky hands to his chest, feeling the warmth radiate and steady beating of his heart. “You’re gonna be alright, just try to focus on something, anything.” You nodded, stray tears rolling from the corner of your eyes. You hiccuped out a few breathes, trying to explain the mess of emotions that were burning through you, but Dick hushed you. “Just try to calm down.” He reiterated, shaking off any far off fragment of sleep. You nodded again, jaw clenching before you tried to steady your breathing. You focused on Dick’s eyes, swirling so deep in the fluorescent light of your kitchen. He looked at you like you held the world in the palm of your hands, like you were so beyond the limits of everything. You were ever expanding supernovas and universes exploding into existence with each smile. His eyes told you that you were so much more than a few run on thoughts that jolted around your skull.  

Dick mumbled words of reassurance, visibly relaxing as you did too. The weight that pushed on your chest started to calm, the persistent thoughts that clouded your mind settled into a dull hum. Dick dropped his hand from your cheek as he moved to sit cross legged in front of you. He kept his hand over yours that was pressed to his chest, only moving it when you shifted away. You rested your head against the cabinet, a long sigh pulling from your lips. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” You said softly, a roundabout apology. “It’s fine.” “But its not, you have so much going on, so much to do, a-and y–”

“Hey, don’t work yourself up again.” Dick chided, grinning at you as he brushed the hair from his face.

“But–”

“No buts. We both know I’ve always got stuff on my plate, but you’re also one of my priorities too.”

“Don’t you need–”

“You? Of course.” You stayed silent at that, a grin quirking at the corner of your lips. “Wanna tell me what this is about, what’s going on?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” Dick spoke softly, grabbing your twitching fingers and pulling you into a hug. You didn’t realize how much you needed to be in his arms until you crashed against his chest, fingers pressing into his shoulders. “I just, I’m scared were changing.” You mumbled into his skin, sinking further into his comfort as Dick’s fingers splayed along the nape of your next. He hummed in response, guilt low in his chest.

Dick couldn’t remember the last time you two just held each other like this, or even had a real conversation that wasn’t about work or trivial plans. It seemed like too many moons ago that you and him were truly in a relationship. You both had fallen into an odd stagnant, and complacantness with each other. Dick didn’t want that, he wanted true, gut wrenching and chest seizing kind of love that he felt each time you looked at him. He knew that the loving calmness was likely to happen, but this, right now, felt like giving up. “I know, but we’ll get through this, you’ll get through this.” “How?” “Because I’m sure as hell not going anywhere.” He spoke just above a whisper, shifting to rest his forehead against yours. 

You peered into his eyes, the conviction of his words rooted deep in there. You knew he meant it, that Dick couldn’t just like; he loved so wholly and so deeply and it left you a little breathless in the best kind of way. And suddenly even the lingering worry vanished, if just for this moment. Because Dick was here, with you, telling you that it was you and him till the sun went supernova. And somehow, that was all you needed.

[eponymous-rose]

This isn’t a post I really wanted to make, and I feel kind of shitty making it because parts of it aren’t my story to tell, but not talking about it isn’t working, so hey. Weirdly comforting internet void, please don’t reblog this. 

There’s discussion of mental illness below, but not (directly) firsthand. This is mainly discussion of the impact mental illness is having on my family. Please avoid this post if this is a topic that is likely to cause you pain or discomfort. I think I just need to have it out there.

About a year ago, my brother was diagnosed with Bipolar I. His seeking out a diagnosis was the direct result of the way his mental health was horrifically mismanaged when he lived in the US in his late teens: he was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic and, a few months later, a pharmacy error cut him off anti-psychotics cold turkey. It was absolutely horrible, and he wound up leaving school and moving back in with my parents for a time just to recover. That diagnosis was still on file for him almost a decade later, but recently his job finally had decent enough benefits that he could afford to go in for a barrage of psychiatric testing to rule things out. Bipolar I wound up being the diagnosis that fit.

And I think, for him, there was a sense of relief that came from that initial diagnosis, because a lot of things started to fit. Our immediate family is very close and very loving, but also almost comically controlled and disciplined and logical and isolated. As a kid, he would frequently spiral over something small (I clearly remember being baffled by the fact that my teenage brother would still have full-on tantrums), and my parents and I would just be staring wide-eyed in silence because strong emotion??? what do????? He was comforted and loved, and outright tells us all the time that he loves us and feels really lucky to have had such a supportive family, but I can’t help feeling like we were just... overwhelmed by inertia and kept thinking “this is probably healthier and more normal than the way we repress our emotions”.

I suspected depression was always there, and I’d reached out to him a little about that based on my own experiences, but mania hadn’t even occurred to me, even when he was sending us e-mails at 5 AM about the new opera he stayed up all night writing. It’s incredible what starts to feel like normal when you’re in denial like that.

Regardless, that’s where we were last year: he called us up when I was visiting my parents and we chatted for about an hour about what we all knew about this illness and how he’d be going forward. We all assured him that we loved him a lot and were here for him in whatever way he needed us.

And then, in typical us fashion, we repressed it. My dad yelled at a server out of nowhere for bringing the wrong drink that afternoon; this is the most empathetic man I know, who’s raised his voice maybe three times in my life that I can remember (he called the server over afterwards to apologize and tipped hugely for having to put up with him). My mom’s anxiety spiked. I stopped sleeping well. It took us a few months to realize we were all struggling because we were so worried.

My brother tried a few different meds, none of which had a really strong impact. We all got together for the holidays, and when he arrived, he was furious in a way that felt familiar, like back in high school when he’d be so angry it was like he wasn’t fully in control of his body, wasn’t hearing the things he was saying. It was weirdly a bit of a relief, because I realized then how much he must have been putting on an act before: after high school, he’d always been extremely quiet and positive every single time I talked to him (always for short visits with big chunks in between). He was finally comfortable not being perfect around us. 

The precipitating factor for this particular blow-up was one of his coworkers e-mailing him and asking for one more article even though he was on holidays: dick move, sure, but in no way deserving of flinging his luggage around and teary-voiced ranting at the restaurant we took him to for dinner. We made sure he knew he was being heard and understood, and we sympathized with him, and we set up an hour that evening so he could just sit quietly in his room and work out how he was going to reply to the e-mail. And then things were fine again. He told us stories about how great that same coworker was the next day.

My parents stayed at an airbnb, mainly because my place is a little small for four, and he and I stayed here and just had a wonderful time. I realized how much I’d built things up in my head in a worrying way: this was still my brother, who I love very much, who’s sensitive and feels things deeply and sometimes gets upset, but I knew how to talk to him and I hope I could help him feel better; he certainly helped me feel better. We watched old cartoons and played NBA on the Switch and got milkshakes and ordered in pad thai and had a fantastic time just chilling and talking about whatever crossed our minds. I never once felt nervous or weird around him in the three weeks we were here, and I very clearly remember thinking, “Hey, future self, remember how natural this felt next time you’re catastrophizing: this is one of the few people in the world you’d happily have as a roommate.” We get along so, so well, and some of the new initial tension between him and my parents (that awkward combination of “well-meaning” and “absolutely out of their depths” made for a couple of baffled moments before they hit their stride) just never bled through to our friendship.

It came out during that trip that he’d accrued some pretty hefty credit card debt (overspending being an extremely common thing when you’re in a manic phase... and also in your twenties living alone in a big city when a big chunk of your job involves socializing every night); my parents very calmly and supportively told him they’d help him pay it off on the condition that he cut up those cards and take a serious look at the gaps in his budget. He was more embarrassed than anything, but my mom’s no-nonsense, logical attitude broke through and soon they were happily sitting down and setting up a budget.

He went back home, and things started getting worse. His landlord was an asshole who wouldn’t let him and his roommate control the heating and insisted on controlling it from off-site, so he’d come home to a sweltering apartment every night and couldn’t sleep. He took a sleeping pill to help him get some rest, and that triggered a major depressive episode. Through a series of accidental events (mainly getting stuck on hold with a crisis line for 45 minutes and calling 911 out of desperation), he wound up getting picked up by the cops one night and brought to a mental hospital, which he said wasn’t his intention, but he was glad it happened in the long run (the hospital, not the cops, obvs).

He was only there for one night, after which point they set him up with a social worker and amazing outpatient care, including psychiatrist visits every week and a new set of mood stabilizing meds, and I cannot stress enough that this would have been a much shorter story if he’d lived in the US. With my parents’ help, he wrote a letter to his landlord threatening to go to the city if he didn’t fix the heating situation, and his landlord caved (thank goodness, because there’s no way he’d be able to pay rent anywhere else in that city). Things stabilized, a little.

Now, though, it looks like he may lose his job. He disclosed his illness right after the diagnosis, and after some initial missteps, they started putting in effort to work with him on it---in my brother’s e-mails to us, the HR person went from an obnoxious jerk to a determined ally, if only to avoid liability issues. But on his new meds, while he feels great in the mornings, he’s exhausted by the afternoon, and he often has minor depressive episodes in the evenings, so clearly the dose isn’t right yet. He’s up to missing a couple days of work a week, and they’re clearly trying to lean on him to switch to contract work so they can let him go without running afoul of legal protections. It doesn’t help that what started as a wide-open, exciting startup (he still says the first eight months were his dream job) has turned into an ad revenue-grabbing mechanism where all his colleagues are white homophobic tech bros who ignore him at best and resent his “special treatment” at worst.

A lot of his friends happened to move away around the time of his diagnosis as well, and now a lot of his remaining friends are distancing themselves. A common factor in his last few jobs toward the end was people telling him, “You just looked miserable all the time,” and it sounds like it’s starting to impact his personal relationships. His time online is spent in the deepest of “cancel culture” discussion, where being mostly good but fucking up once is almost more reprehensible than being wholly awful (he quit Facebook for a while, but wound up reopening his account to let people know about his hospitalization... and now he’s just back there again). He and his boyfriend broke up. His friend who initially suggested he apply for this job now ignores him at work.

It’s that awful combo of “people are being assholes about my illness” and “my illness makes it hard to believe that someone who initially reacts poorly will ever come around, so I’d better shove them away first”.

My parents are understandably so worried for him. They’re going out to visit him for three weeks starting tomorrow, staying at an airbnb nearby and occupying themselves with their own retirement pursuits so he can come visit if he likes, or ignore them if he needs space. They’ve told him that, if he’d like, he’s welcome to come stay with them for a few months (they live on the other side of the country); they’ll cover his half of the rent while he’s gone, and he’ll have a bit of an opportunity to just heal, considering he went straight back to work the day after his hospitalization. They’ll also help him strategize about whether he wants to switch to part-time on his current job and see about picking something else up. I suggested they bring up the possibility of going back for a master’s---I know it’s an absolute minefield for mental health, but in his particular case, a flexible schedule plus project-based creative work with specific deadlines has always been a pretty good fit, and he excels academically.

They’re also preparing for the possibility of moving him out to stay with them on a more permanent basis, but they obviously don’t want to disrupt his care (his current appointments are at the best mental health facilities in the country). They can’t afford to live in his city on their pension, but they’re also talking about giving up their retirement condo and buying out his roommate’s half of the rent, and just being there to help him out when he needs it. I don’t think he’d go for that unless things really deteriorated quickly, but a few months away from the city definitely sounds like what he needs.

And I’m just... so angry. I’m pissed off that so much of the stress weighing on him (and so many others!) right now comes from him being nearly 30, in debt, without a hint of a way to start saving for retirement, with these little one- or two-year gig jobs with two-hour commutes full of toxic people stretching out into eternity. I’m pissed off that this awful disease has made it so my parents probably aren’t in a place where they’re going to be able to do their big retirement trip, and they may be giving up their idyllic retired life for good. I’m angry with myself for that little burrowing resentment that, because my parents are older, I could wind up a financial, medical, and emotional caretaker for them and/or my brother at a moment’s notice, and I don’t feel ready to take all of that on. I’ll never feel ready.

(As a bonus, bipolar I has a genetic component, and now I’m thinking back to that one time I stayed up all night determined to save the world by learning all of biology in eight hours, or the time when as a grown-ass adult I started crying like a ten-year-old because I felt left out from an activity friends were doing, and I’m thinking, is this it? And then it’s not those extremes, it’s every normal human emotion that was previously muted by my own situational depression years ago. Is this it?)

I feel so, so entitled to the life we should have had as a family, and so frustrated at all these external factors that’ve brought it crashing down. More than anything, I’m scared for my little brother. I know bipolar isn’t something that magically disappears, and that things are likely to get worse, but I want those external stressors to go away and just leave him alone for half a minute so he can heal and find the right combination of meds and maybe, maybe get to think about thriving rather than just surviving. I’m so grateful to my parents for finding the right things to do and say to help him recover. And I know that, if something goes horribly wrong, I can try to fill those shoes.

I’m still losing sleep, but only every now and then. People at work occasionally comment that I don’t look so good, but that’s much rarer than a couple months ago, and the people I’ve confided in are very kind and check in on me even when things seem to be going well.

After the move this fall, I’m going to find someone to talk to professionally about this. In the meantime, just typing this all out makes me feel a bit better. I am finding better ways to cope; I had to mute him on social media because my overwhelming tendency to overthink his posts was very dangerous (turns out that famous self-deprecating millennial sense of humor is terrifying when you’re trying to work out if someone’s in danger). I have a generally positive attitude about this, and I can now usually catch myself when I’m starting to spiral. I send my brother goofy links, and he sends me funny stuff in return. I’m going for runs and eating better and playing video games and hanging out with friends... 

... and I’m genuinely very happy a majority of the time (not just content, but happy), which wasn’t true even a couple months ago.

I’m scared and angry and coming to grips with it being okay to be both of those things, as long as I’m also supportive and loving. This is my little brother. This is my family. They’re the best. 

And all we can do is take it one day at a time.

[saezurufeels]

Hi there <3 I don’t agree, I think your writing skills have been improving with every post and I’m being serious 😌 and I’m glad to hear that I’m helping you improve :) sometimes I reread my replies and realize I’ve used a lot slang.. I hope you’re not having a hard time figuring out what I mean. To answer your question about the word “agency,” it means the power and freedom to act (however one desires). That’s how I use the term at least lol. I pretty much use it synonymously with the term “free will”

Thanks so much for clarifying Yashiro’s current position! It’s so important to know these things, since as you said, Misumi evidently still has the power to control Yashiro’s moves (metaphorically and physically). I wonder why Yashiro so confidently declared he was without a group to Muraji in chapter 48. If I remember correctly, the image of his back in that panel, with his arms propped up behind him and his legs criss-crossed, made him look a little bit like a bird with its wings spread.

Was it just an act to convince Muraji to collaborate with him, or does Yashiro feel more free now that he doesn’t have his own group?

Everything you said about Misumi is really eye-opening. Now I feel like now the big question is, does Yashiro want to be fully free? I feel like Yashiro has a serious dilemma, between not wanting to be owned by anyone and still wanting that approval from Misumi, or even a family/parental figure in his life. Maybe his inability to decide on a path is a result of not being able to imagine a different future for himself. Who or what can he be if he's been told over and over again that he can’t lead a normal life, in the midst of civilians.

Also, it seems like whatever English translation of chapter 14 I read doesn’t have that line you referenced :((( But it’s such an important one, and I never knew Misumi said that :(((

I am with you on the issue of Doumeki’s current level of understanding. I wrote earlier today that I think Doumeki understands some parts of Yashiro’s personality, but that his awareness has been clouded by 4 years of time, rumination, and experience. When it comes to understanding Yashiro’s sexual behaviour… I’m also not sure how much Doumeki knows, but I agree with you on, “At the very least he wants to get rid of Inami, for compounded reasons.” And I also agree that he has selfish reasons for wanting Inami gone. Even though Doumeki is a protector, his reason for hating Inami and wanting him gone aren’t solely because he doesn’t like the way Inami treats Yashiro.. it’s also largely motivated by jealousy. Doumeki is jealous that Yashiro chooses Inami over him. He’s angry that Yashiro left him, but chose to spend time with Inami all these years. This is evidenced by Doumeki repeatedly telling Yashiro things like, “I thought you were okay with anyone,” “You haven’t changed one bit,” “Don’t you have Inami?,” “Would you like me to tie you up,” — even when he doesn’t mention Inami by name, all of his comments are references to Inami. In fact when I was rereading chapter 46 and chapter 47, I realized that Doumeki and Inami are having a dick measuring contest…. they each want to be the one to satisfy Yashiro better…. but I digress

That being said, I think it’s wholly possible that Doumeki does understand Yashiro’s sexual behaviour better than it seems, but the irrational, jealous part of him overpowers his reasoning to the point that he acts out and says/does some hurtful things. On the one hand Doumeki is remaining distant from Yashiro, but on the other hand he is acting possessive and jealous. People are full of contradictions!!!! Anyways! Love hearing that you have few demands about what will happen to the future of this story :) I am with you on that (although, I like to make predictions) :P

Who is Doumeki?

It’s so satisfying when new chapters come out and things start to fall into place. I feel like I’m finally starting to make sense of Doumeki’s actions, motives and values post-timeskip, and I gotta say, I’m really digging this more complex character that he has become.

The Woman/The Informant

I’m gonna start off the analysis with my theory regarding Doumeki’s suspected girlfriend, which will explain everything else hopefully. I honestly didn’t form an opinion on the nature of their relationship until reading chapter 48, which made me more certain than ever that the bar matron/suspected girlfriend is Doumeki’s informant. Whether or not sex is part of their deal, I’m not sure, but I’ll address it briefly:

Keep reading

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

The LEGO Batman Movie review

The LEGO Movie is one of the best, funniest, and smartest animated films in recent memory, and easily one of my all-time favorite films. It’s nostalgic without being exploitative, it’s emotional in a resounding way, and it constructs and deconstructs tropes inherent with the “Chosen One” story with gleeful abandon. It’s simultaneously smart and funny, something very few animated comedies seem to be able to do.

But we’re not here to talk about that movie. We’re here to talk about The LEGO Batman Movie and… it was kind of a disappointment. Not to say that it’s a bad film by any means, but with the bar set so high it had a lot to live up to, and it just doesn’t manage to fully deliver.

Watch your feet, we’re stepping into the story now, and there’s a shitton of LEGOs: Batman is the incredibly cool hero of Gotham who is able to beat up all the villains and save the day all the time… which new police chief Barbara Gordon isn’t 100% for. She’d rather work together with Batman as a unified force, but Batman is deadset on being a loner all the time. Then Batman accidentally adopts a kid, and THEN he tries to send Joker to the Phantom Zone because Joker’s got a scheme brewing in his crazy, mixed-up head… Can Batman stop him before the scheme comes to fruition? And more importantly, can Batman actually be a good parental figure to Dick Grayson, the little kid he just adopted?

So let me tell you what works well first: the characters. These are some of the best interpretations of the characters ever. Michael Cera as Robin and Zach Galifianakis as Joker deserve special mention. Here, Cera is almost unrecognizable from his normal self-conciously awkward and nerdy characters. Robin is very gung-ho, excitable, and while he’s just as awkward as any Cera character, he’s an adorably wide-eyed, idealistic character who just wants the love of a family again. He’s very sweet and leads to some great emotional moments… and aside from Burt Ward, he’s the best Robin ever seen in a feature film. Galifianakis as Joker is just perfect; he truly gets the romantic undertones of Batman and Joker’s relationship and helps take it to the parodic extreme. This Joker is a clever schemer, and the plan he hatches is quite brilliant, and shockingly enough he can also be quite scary when he wants to be. Ralph Fiennes as Alfred and Rosario Dawson as Barbara are just absolutely perfect choices, and not much can be said besides the fact they are excellent and that goddamn is it good to see Alfred suit up and kick some ass like he does late in the film! And now, onto the big star: Batman, as he was in The LEGO Movie, is an egotistical jerk with a heart of gold, and he’s so arrogant and full of himself he’s hilarious… and even with that rough exterior, we get a lot of truly great emotional moments out of him.

That’s another thing this film does really well: emotions. There’s a sequence of long, lingering scenes that highlight Batman’s absolute loneliness, there are scenes where Batman longingly stares at a photo of his parents and, late in the film, there is a scene where Batman is confronted by every asshole thing he has done over the course of the movie and is forced to realize he may in fact be a bad guy. These are all so effective, well-done, and genuine! And the humor, too, is great, mostly. From some very great visual jokes to some hilarious potshots at the DCEU (Suicide Squad gets quite a few jabs), this film does generally have good comedy… why then, is it so disappointing to me?

The problem is, shockingly, the same problem that Seltzer & Friedberg’s movies have, and while this movie is definitely good and I would never say it’s down to their level, it does have the problem where it just tries to shove so many references in your face at once it forgets to stay focused or give everything the attention it needs. The fight at the start is a minor example; so many Batman villains appear, including really obscure ones, but they never get personality beyond a couple of lines and a few quick cameos later in the film. Hell, they got Billy Dee Williams to FINALLY play Two-Face after all these years… and he gets five lines tops. Harley Quinn is also criminally underutilized. But the true example of this, the true Seltzerberg level screw up, is when it comes to the prisoners of the Phantom Zone.

You see, the Phantom Zone prisoners are crossover characters: We have Lord Voldemort, Sauron, theWicked Witch of the West, the gremlins, the Daleks, Medusa, the kraken from Clash of the Titans, the shark from Jaws, and KING FUCKING KONG! This is a squad and a half, and it turns the film into an ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny… or it would, if these characters were given any development or screentime. Voldemort and Sauron are really the only villains with a major precence, as Voldemort is Joker’s right hand man and casts a lot of spells, while Sauron acts as a major roadblock for most of his appearance. The other villains get shafted or relegated to a couple of quick jokes. In a lot of ways, this film is repeating the problems of Dawn of Justice: It’s cramming all these references and cameos in your face, but ultimately they’re just there to be references and nothing more. At least there’s a funny Shark Repellent Bat Spray joke used was funny.

And yes, I know a big thing in The LEGO Movie was the crossover element, but the biggest crossover was Batman who was a major character, and a few crossovers that were at best cameos relegated to jokes. Here, it expects you to accept that a lot of these crossover or Bat-mythos reference characters are both important to the plot AND joke cameo characters at the same time. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and it just makes me feel this movie lakes the same genuine charm as the first film, even if I know that’s wholly not the case. I suppose I can accept this as the child from the first film playing with the LEGOs again (and that is subtly implied at a few points), but that doesn’t totally wash my disappointment away because it doesn’t fix how slapped together the whole plot is; as silly and childish as the first movie’s plot was, it was still mostly coherent and less cluttered.

Look, when this film works, it really works. When it’s trying to parody the Batman mythos or showing us some character interactions with the main Bat-family and Joker, it’s excellent. When its trying to bite off a bit more than it can chew or just failing to utilize all the great ideas and characters it’s throwing at you, it starts to fall apart. It’s a damn shame, because this should be an awesome and fantastic parody, and a truly great Batman and LEGO film. As it stands, I can honestly only say it’s a good Batman film and a good LEGO movie. Its at its best when it’s being the affectionate parody it should be… otherwise, it’s just too bloated and unfocused for its own good.

Maybe the bar is set far too high for animated Batman films; Under the Red Hood and The Dark Knight Returns really raised the bar for animated films about Batman, after all. Still, I can’t say I absolutely hate this movie, and it has a lot to enjoy, from its great characters to its incredible animation… and hey, while it may not be as good as those films, at least it’s way better than The Killing Joke and Mask of the Phantasm.

[bigskydreaming]

Oh my GOD!! I have been stalking your blog for like hours now cause I absolutely love your take on Dick Grayson it's so real and raw. He should have never been a cop!! and his story has been slashed from the very start I mean RIC?? Makes no sense that's a white boy name and he ain't white. Sorry I was going to ask what is your take on Bruce and his relationship with Dicks parents?? It always seems like Bruce wants to take over that role without thinking of consequences. Love your blog btw!! :)

Sorry I took so long in answering this but thanks for the message!! I soooooo agree with you on the cop thing, and hahahaha about the name Ric, especially with that spelling. 

I’ve written a fair amount about Bruce and Dick’s relationship and how I think Bruce fucked up by not adopting Dick while he was still living with him, and giving him that security of knowing he saw him as a son. I don’t see any inherent conflict between Dick having a second father later in life, after his first parents died. Its not like people who lose their parents when they’re only kids like Dick was are just….meant to go the rest of their lives without knowing the comfort of parental love and guidance, you know? Someone can have a mother and two fathers. His relationship with his first father is in no way lessened, diluted or invalidated by Bruce stepping into that role when John is no longer around to fill it.

My take has always been that the bigger issue, the instance where Bruce actually steps ‘between’ Dick and his parents without thinking of the consequences, were his actions with Robin. The way he came to view Robin as just an extension of Batman, and thus his to take away and give….even though Robin was just Batman’s partner situationally. In terms of identity, Robin was wholly and completely born of Dick’s first parents and his relationship with them. This is where Bruce fucked up, and where he overstepped, and is the ‘original sin’ between him and Dick that has never been adequately addressed either in canon or in fandom IMO. 

By doing this, Bruce not only took ‘ownership’ of the one thing in the world Dick had left that didn’t come from Bruce, that was his and his alone….he also unconsciously threatened the security Dick took from his years living with Bruce before this. Basically, if Bruce could do that, and not realize what he’d done by doing so, then to Dick, how could it seem anything other than a sign that he’d never been secure in Bruce’s home, he’d never had ‘ownership’ of even his own name….he’d always lived there and kept the name Robin purely by Bruce’s goodwill, which could apparently be removed at any time?

How could Dick ever feel like he actually belonged in Wayne Manor, in Bruce’s family, rather than just it being a gift he was given by Bruce’s charity….if even his ownership of his own personal identity and history was apparently conditional and not even his to fully control? And with Bruce not offering any security to counter what he’d done here, such as by giving Dick the Wayne name to at least tell him his place in Bruce’s family was stable and not subject to whims or ‘good behavior’?

Which is why the reasoning that Bruce didn’t adopt Dick earlier because he didn’t want to insult or threaten Dick’s memories and love of his first parents, just like….completely falls flat for me and doesn’t work. You can’t juggle that reasoning and the reality of what he did with Robin, because that was literally Bruce taking away the one thing he had no right to, because it had been given to Dick, made part of Dick’s identity, by the parents that Bruce is supposedly not replacing in name because he feels he doesn’t have the right. That excuse lost all credibility the second Bruce decided that the Robin mantle was now his to do with as he pleased.

Bottom line……there’s no reason IMO that Bruce stepping up as Dick’s second father and making that clear in every way possible, like, has to threaten or compete with Dick’s memories and love of his first father. But the specific ways Bruce went about it and didn’t go about it, like….to my mind are entirely geared towards his benefit, and protecting him from his own fear of rejection and Dick expressing that he doesn’t view Bruce that way, perhaps…..when he was the parent and guardian and adult, and it was always his responsibility to make sure Dick grew up with a sense of security and stability in his home and family….not the other way around.