#apologies for the delay!!! I'm never sure when to post things

[outeremissary]

I hadn't shared (faux pas!!!)........... Tiny little Balthazar from @arrow90-art 🥺🥺🥺 He's so adorable and soft and this was such an unexpected and beautiful gift, thank you so much 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[tinytinyblogs]

Hii!!!

I saw that your requests are open and I wanted to request something with yandere skz?

I really love your Chan and Minho one's!!

Feel free to ignore this if you want!!

Tutoring Session

Your gentle tutor appears to be growing increasingly agitated, signaling that there's more to be taught.

(Yandere theme) 1,1k words

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest

Stray kids masterlist

💬Hey there, apologies for the delay. I've been having an incredibly exhausting month, and it's not quite over yet. However, I wanted to express my gratitude for your request. It's been a while since I've written, and you've given me a reason to start again. I'm aware it's not perfect, especially considering my current mental state, but I'm doing my best. I hope it meets your expectations.

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The pen hitting the table echoed in a tense silence, stirring unease without clear cause... or perhaps there was. The idea of you being admired by many, with one confession and one secret admirer, left him contemplating: how many more should he weed out? Glancing at his watch, he counted each passing second, eagerly awaiting your arrival for the tutoring session. Once he catches sight of you, once he senses your presence, he swears he wants to keep you all to himself. He admits he's a bit crazy, but if it means having you, he's willing to do whatever it takes. He's always doing that, and don't forget how he made that guy scream in pain when he tried to flirt with you. During the tutoring session, his mind isn't on the lessons; instead, he's consumed with thoughts of how to make sure you stay with him.

He doesn't even entertain the idea of letting you go home afterward. He's meticulously watching your every move, knowing that every tiny detail drives him even crazier. If he releases you now, he'd consider it a loss in this game, wouldn't he? On your end, you might be oblivious to his schemes or perhaps you're in denial due to his innocent façade. As you pause, setting your pen down and sliding the paper over, he eagerly takes it, pretending to make corrections when he's really not. With his gaze fixed on the paper, he noticed your phone lighting up with text notifications from another guy. Jealousy gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling. As he set the paper down and glanced at your distracted attention on the phone, he observed you for a few moments until you finally noticed. "Finished? Am I doing it right?" you asked, and he simply nodded in response.

As you gather your things, starting to feel a slight panic over him, Felix blocks your attempt to reach for your phone. His hand intercepts it, sliding it out of your reach. "It's not over yet," he asserts in his deep voice. "We could have completed learning those topics from the book, but there's still another matter we must attend to." You gaze at him with an apprehensive expression, noticing a certain aura of danger emanating from him, though you can't quite put your finger on it. "The thing is," he begins, pausing before continuing, "you and those around you seem too close." His eyes now fixate on yours, his demeanor shifting from the sweet tutor you once knew. "And I detest the notion that others believe they can lay claim to you... They could never even fathom such a thing. Why? Because you belong to me, whether you realize it or not."

Slowly withdraw your hand from your phone, feeling a creeping sense of unease. His presence looms larger, his demeanor more intimidating as he leans in closer, causing you to instinctively retreat, your back pressing against the couch, a memory of feeling trapped flickering through your mind. In his deep, resonant voice, he declared, "I could lose everything, but never you." His words, once admired, now sent shivers down your spine. "Oh God, not you," he continued he raises his voice, unleashing all the emotions he feels, causing you to flinch., his gaze piercing into your soul. "I won't allow you to slip away from my life, never." As he drew closer, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Is it time to push away and flee? He seemed far more menacing than you had ever imagined. Your hand continues to push him away, trembling with fear as panic surges through you.

His grip tightens harshly around your hand, overpowering your feeble attempts to break free. His eyes blaze with anger, as if seeing nothing but red. The fear of losing you completely consumes him, evident in every tense muscle of his body. "Do you even realize the lengths I've gone to just to have you here, under my arm?" His intense gaze pierces into your soul, rendering you unable to look away, trapped by his commanding presence. His firm hand confines you to the couch, while his deep voice resonates throughout the room. "I've done everything, absolutely everything for you." His voice grows increasingly fervent. "I've removed obstacles, shadowed your every move, earned your trust until you relied on me for even the most trivial matters, all for a sliver of your attention." After a moment, he exhales sharply, his breath gradually returning to a more steady rhythm, a hint of calm seeping into his demeanor.

Yet, he remains rooted in place, unwilling to retreat. "If you believe you can simply walk away to another man, think again," he asserts, his voice carrying a weight of warning. Pausing briefly, his hand glides to your cheek, tenderly stroking it, offering a semblance of affection that, instead of melting you, sends shivers down your spine. "You belong to me, and me alone," he declares adamantly. He refuses to entertain any alternative, steadfast in his conviction that you are destined solely for him. It's a truth he's ingrained in his mind, and he implores you to understand and accept it as well. His smile, once so angelic, now fails to evoke the same warmth it once did. Instead, it sends a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the unsettling truth beneath the façade. His loving gaze, once cherished, now fills you with a sense of dread, a realization of his true, unsettling nature.

"Did I startle you, my love?" he inquires with a voice dripping with sweetness, a stark contrast to the darkness lurking within. "Forgive me, but perhaps it's for the best that you see me for who I truly am," he continues, planting a kiss gently upon your forehead. "Because this is the reality you'll be facing for the rest of your days – your devoted tutor, boyfriend, or whatever role you choose to assign me." From today until who knows when, you find yourself uncertain about how long you'll remain under his control, consumed by his obsession. "The tutoring session isn't over yet, my darling," he remarks, forcefully moving your phone out of your reach, almost as if discarding it. "There's still so much more for me to teach you." His gaze returns to you, his favored individual in this world. "I'm going to educate you further on what it means to belong to me. Pay close attention, because in my world, there's no room for forgetting. Not when it comes to me," he asserts, his words cutting deep into your heart. "I won't allow you to forget a single thing about me, your beloved." He wore a smirk.

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

********

Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly  @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s  @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12   @anmylica   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee

[dbnightingale24]

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

~~

~~

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had. 

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you. 

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside. 

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it. 

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent. 

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you. 

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room. 

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else. 

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all. 

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now. 

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking. 

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table. 

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes. 

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart. 

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all. 

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod. 

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind. 

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you. 

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud. 

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment. 

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled. 

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you. 

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps. 

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner. 

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

~~

[youhavetosmile]

Karedevil (Taylor's Version)

Thanks @kdheaven for the prompt! Apologies for the delay.

The most Karedevil song on each Taylor Swift album, with rationales, according to me:

Debut: Tied Together With A Smile

I think this song encapsulates how both Matt and Karen present the image to others that they have their sh*t together, but on the inside they're really hurting. The second verse really gets me: "I guess it's true that love was all you wanted / 'Cause you're giving it away like it's extra change / Hoping it will end up in his pocket / But he leaves you out like a penny in the rain / Oh, 'cause it's not his price to pay." You can think of Matt's relationship with Stick and Karen's relationship with her dad this way. I like to think that by the end of the show they each have a more real vision of the other.

Fearless: Come In With The Rain

This feels very post-Defenders/early Season 3 from Karen's POV. At that point, everyone but Karen thinks Matt is dead. She doesn't get any proof of this until several episodes into S3, but she always has that hope. She's also dealing with a lot of complicated emotions toward Matt - she still loves him (obv) but she's also really mad at him and grieving the fact that he's not around. I'm sure even Karen questioned whether Matt was still alive at some point. I can see her going to bed with her window open just in case.

Speak Now: I Can See You

I love @kdheaven's pick of "Sparks Fly" but this one is so spot-on in my mind. I love the irony of the title because Matt is blind but he can "see" Karen in a way no one else can. "And we kept everything professional / But something's changed, it's something I like" fits them, as well as "I can see you being my addiction / You can see me as a secret mission / Hide away and I will stop behaving myself." I love this one for them!

Red: Forever Winter

I think this song is a great musical representation of S3 Karedevil. The facades have fallen and they've gotten to see each other's self-destructive tendencies and said "I love you even at your darkest / And please don't go." "He seems fine most of the time, forcing smiles and never minds" is an apt description of Matt.

1989: You Are In Love

Again, love @kdheaven's pick of "This Love." But the chorus is what really does it for me: "You can hear it in the silence / You can feel it on the way home / You can see it with the lights out / You're in love, true love." 'Nuff said.

reputation: New Year's Day

To me, this song represents Matt and Karen's commitment to support each other, no matter what. Again, all the cards are on the table, and they're still willing to show up for each other, "When you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away...When it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes." The second verse seems particularly applicable as a message from Karen to Matt: "I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe / Or if you strike out and you're crawling home." Daredevil is morally gray, and I'm sure lots of people have lots of different opinions about him. But Karen has always stood by him. Also, New Year's Day is a day typically associated with New York here in the U.S.

Lover: Cruel Summer

This entire song screams Karedevil to me. I think it's particularly applicable to their early relationship, when they're still figuring each other out. There's a lot of feelings there, but it's fragile because it's new and they're hiding so much. "Breakable heaven" indeed. And then there's "He looks up grinning like a devil." ;)

folklore: peace

I'm 100% with @kdheaven on this one. The only thing I can say that they didn't already is that Matt and Karen both have chaos in their souls. This song is basically them saying "Here I am. This is me. Is this enough?" I also really love the "sit with you in the trenches" line for them. They're both willing to get their hands dirty for each other.

evermore: willow

I think this song follows the arc of their relationship really well. The first verse makes me think of their first meeting, when Karen is "rough on the surface" because of the charges leveled against her but Matt "cut through like a knife" and believed she didn't do it when no one else did.

The second verse coincides with when they start dating. They're idolizing each other, seeing each other as "a mythical thing." "Head on the pillow, I can feel you sneaking in" always gives me the image of Matt coming home after a long night of Daredeviling and crawling into bed next to Karen.

Then the last verse: they know the truth and have shown each other "the places where the others gave you scars." I also love the legal references throughout the song: "open-shut case" and "every bait-and-switch was a work of art." I can imagine Karen sitting in the gallery of a courtroom with a huge smile on her face as she watches Matt absolutely kill it.

Midnights: Karma

"Karma is my boyfriend" propels this song to the top of the list. Is there a more fitting description of Matt from Karen's POV? I will die on the hill that Karen was never mad at Matt for being Daredevil. She's always been a fan, even before she knew who Daredevil really was. And after that, her issue was that he didn't tell her. She's always been and, in my opinion, will continue to be proud of him and what he does on both sides of the law.

TTPD: The Albatross

In an effort to not end this post on a super sad note, I'm picking this song (though MBOBHFT is, unfortunately, also fitting). This one has a similar vibe to "peace," though I see this one a little more from Matt's POV than Karen's. Stick taught Matt that relationships are dangerous--for him and for the other person. So he tries to keep everyone at arm's length. Karen ignores all of that. She still loves him, even though she knows who Matt is and that being associated with him is potentially dangerous for her. I hear Matt in the lines "The devil that you know / Looks now more like an angel / I'm the life you chose / And all this terrible danger."

Thanks again to @kdheaven for the opportunity to combine my two obsessions!

[dwimmerlaiks]

hello! good evening! my train was delayed and then I missed my connecting tram and while waiting for the latter I had one of those moments where I felt queasy just because I was so tired. then when I finally arrived at home I had some pistaccios and rosehip tea and went straight to bed. "pistaccios and rosehip tea" sounds so fancy now when in reality it was me standing at the kitchen counter working my way through the first snack I could find and the only thing that would count as a "fun beverage" I had available.

Pistaccios (the roasted, salted kind) are also so nice to snack on because of the haptics. it's like a little project, every single one. gourmet stim tools, maybe.

also, I am nearing the end of my train book (the book I read on the train). I've been reading to kill a mockingbird, I've never read it before. I think for many US-americans it's one of those standard high school reads, yeah? the type you feel some ambivalence towards maybe because you've spent some of your formative years overanalyizing it in a school setting? Or maybe not - I think that's what I heard. It wasn't for me, not being from the US, and the year I went to High School in Maine as an exchange we read Beowulf lol. Oh and!!! Macbeth. I haven't reread either since and don't remember much now. Beowulf was DENSE, for me, tough to read. That year though I was deep in my "russian literature" phase (this sounds ridiculous but to explain I was 17 and tragically in love with my friend, she talked a lot about the books she read.. which naturally became the books I read lol) and that's why I once held a 40 minute presentation about anna karenina in front of my highschool class which I would like to apologize for now to everyone involved. that was probably NOT EASY to have to experience. again, 17, gay, pretentious... my environment had to go through it. but you know, the books I read during that time were a real gift and opened worlds to me. so yay.

Maybe let's take a moment to be thankful to our 17 year old gay pretentious, obsessive selves for opening up worlds, whatever they might have been.

ok weird direction for this post to go in. anyway, trainbooks. I'm glad I read this one (to kill a mockingbird), it offered a lot to me. Next up is handmaid's tale which I also haven't read yet (obviously). am a bit anxious about it.

during summer I read dracula, finally. I'm a little sad I missed the first dracula daily run when everyone was reading it, I'm sure it was fun. but it was fun also to just read it by myself. I've watched and read sooo much vampire media and literature and then to read this finally was... so odd. I kept thinking, wow, actually - this is much more scooby doo in genre. It's like ... much closer to buffy the vampire slayer than like, nosferatu (the new one) lol. anyway that's what stood out to me, just some twenty-somethings forming connections and experiencing life and solving crime!! the vampire bits was just set dressing. (I know that's a simplification but that's the vibe I got and what I enjoyed the most! also why nosferatu (new) was such a let down for me personally. ergh). also van helsing was so. annoying. sorry but can anyone back me up? I started sighing out loud when he started talking hahha. like pleeeease can you hurry up. can you keep it a little shorter. the point, can you get to it!

oh this post is so long now, again. I can't believe I just told van helsing to zip it. I go on and on just like he does!

ok good night! I'm going to doodle and watch youtube and fall asleep.

[cirrus-grey]

Hello! I'm the person who asked you about episode 169, thank you so much for replying! I especially loved hearing your opinion about Jon's paranoia, and how he's probably still recovering from it, because it never crossed my mind that it might still be relevant to this situation - but you're totally right!

He genuinely doesn’t realize that Martin might want to find another way to go until he asks (“You’re sure there isn’t another way?”) and then literally the first thing Jon says is “I’m sorry,” because it doesn’t hit him until that moment that he’s just assumed Martin’s willingness the entire way without asking him. - you said this and later part of the conversation was probably what people had the most divided opinions on, and I can see why.

Though I don't think I read Jon's "I'm sorry" as apology, but more as sympathising? Kind of like:

"Well, it’s the best I can do!" - Jon, still under the impression Martin will be glad to see Jude killed

"You’re sure there isn’t another way?" - Jon says nothing to this, so I thought this was the first moment when he thought something might be wrong and didn't know how to answer. But then Martin says, "Yeah, I know, the journey will be the journey, blah blah ominous blah."

Now, after your reply, I think Jon takes it as "burning building doesn't sound good, but obviously any other choice will be just as bad, so it's fine", but the first time I listened it sounded like Martin was saying "yeah, I know we have to go through certain places", and that's why I was so surprised Jon didn't correct that misconception. But looking at the next lines, I think he only understood that Martin was thinking they have to go through after Martin's next words. His "I'm sorry" now feels like sympathising that they have to do something unpleasant either way - I kind of can't imagine he'd be so cagey about there being another way if he understood how distressed Martin really was.

"It’s fine. I know you wouldn’t take me through if we didn’t actually need to go through, so…" - it seems like this is when Jon realises he and Martin have been having two different conversations, though he has not yet realised that Martin really doesn't want to go. It's clear from some of the next parts of the conversation he already sees that Martin is conflicted, and that knowing there is another way is making him reconsider things ("You said you were onboard." / "I was! I am. I just thought-" / "It wouldn't hurt?"), but he still doesn't understand just how much.

"John, is there another way?" / "I mean – sort of? Maybe?" - I wonder if this just residual caginess resulting from having to have a difficult conversation and knowing he'll have to admit some difficult things, or if he genuinely didn't look at other options before. Since he took a hard turn after the roots, I'm thinking the former, but. who knows?

Sorry if this is too much dissecting for you, I just had so many thoughts after you replied, but I don't want to overwhelm you so please let me know if you're not up to this! And thank you again for replying to my previous ask!

Previous post here.

I always appreciate extra analysis! I don’t have much to add though, because… yeah! You make a very good point, and I could definitely see this being the arc of Jon’s perception - slightly delayed from what I was saying before, taking just a bit longer to catch on to the fact that Martin thinks this is the only way through.

Though, on a slight tangent, I’ve never really been certain that they can go around? Jon’s “Sort of, maybe” combined with the fact that they bring up Arthur Nolan has always had me suspecting that the “other way” is still through fire, just… not Jude Perry’s section of the fire. They have to pass through the Desolation at some point, and I’d imagine there aren’t too many sections of it that aren’t burning.

Anyway, that doesn’t really effect any of the analysis here, but it could be another level of Jon’s hesitance - he really doesn’t want to have to tell Martin “yes, there is another way, but it’s also on fire.”

[definitely-rubbish]

Hi!! I was wondering what are some of your favourite Clint interviews (radio, print, tv show...) or in genereal your favourite media about him that can help someone get a bigger perspective on Clint's personality over the years and such!

Because I've been a long time clintnoel shipper but in reality I know very little about Clint outside of Noel related stuff, and even though I actually like and listen to the Inspirals, I have never delved into any of the band's stuff outside music.

As I love how you write Clint in your fics I wanted to ask you this! I always get the fear I write too ooc or something. And also I'm just utterly and truly fascinated by that guy and want to know more. Noel... I get you

Hello! apologies for the delay with this!!! once again wanting to make sure it's got thru everything I can as thoroughly as I can! thank you for your lovely words too :]

@jeevey has some really wonderful stuff on their blog, so id recommend going through their Clint Boon/Inspirals tag. most of it will contain other things i place on here or are where I found them! more under the break!

his interviews with Liam and Noel in recent years are real treasure troves at the dynamic he has with them and how he slots into the 'normality' of their life. for example, when he says "Peggy would kick the shit out of ya". you dont say that if you're not sure of it and can joke about it!

this fairly recent interview with Graham was really fascinating to me! some lore drops i never knew before and have since incorporated. and this old interview with Graham where hes visibly asserting his dominance is fun.

id also really recommend giving his solo stuff 'The Clint Boon Experience' a listen. you can really learn a lot about his speech n stuff but also delve into his mind from it. also, it's so so so good. hes a genius

im currently making my way thru a "Manchester to britpop" book which has some interesting stuff, and anything pertaining to clint i will make sure to post!!! I think mostly though hes an incredibly confident person. he knows hes a great musician and that people love him and he knows what he can do. he has a strong presence! dont be afraid to write it

[coldercreation]

(Anon from before)

Your work was actually my first dip into original stuff on ao3, I was a purely fandom person before and was so nervous to read original work because I was scared it would be the most freaky shit to exist. But LINK set the bar in the sky and I’ve never found anything better, and honestly I sometimes replace other book characters with one of the boys just to make them more enjoyable for myself 💀 (sorry other authors 😬)

You write so thoughtfully, even the sexual content feels like it has purpose; and lemme tell you, I cried reading Nathan’s inner monologue when it came to intimacy ✋ just the thought that someone showing such easy love was so INSANE for Nathan really just hit me hard. I don’t even know how to articulate how much I adore your work. If I could, I would show you my heart and how full it is even just from reading the snippets.

Anyways sorry, I’ll start rambling for real if I don’t stop now. I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU DO, no pressure to write, just keep being you 💜💜

Reading this means so much, you have no idea<3 Seriously, thank you for taking the time to message again and share this.

It often takes me forever to catch up with my ask box, so apologies for this being delayed! I always read and re-read any messages I get, even if I don't have the time to respond right away (or I don't post them on the blog as they include prompts; they go in my well loved prompts document). I have read this one (along with others<3) every now and then when I've needed some motivation or just wanted to get an extra lil !!! for the day heheh!

I'm so glad you've liked LINK, and that they weren't any bad kinda freaky shit hahah! It's actually really nice to hear that bit about how you've felt like there's purpose to the writing, even for the more spicy chapters in the series. Nothing wrong with just purely physically sexual content, there's room for that too I'm sure, but generally I like to have the emotional side in there as a leading 'main plot'. Writing/reading anything just makes sense to me more that way, and if that emotional intimacy and feelings are missing from something I'm reading, it can leave me feeling a bit cold and distant from the characters? (Maybe that's why I struggle with reading/watching a lot of pure action lol? I need my feels!)

CYE is pretty much my love letter to all Nathan's in the world, who deserve the best, from themselves and from the people around them<3

I'm so happy he and CYE have made you feel good things xx

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

hi, i just wanted to preface this with I know you're taking a break from writing fanfic, but you're my favourite fanfic author and I'm trying to start writing fanfic again after a very long break, so I was wondering if I could ask some questions. Firstly, I'm working with a friend, we've rped together and we both agree on the characters and the development but this is our first time writing a fic together - any advice on how to do that successfully? Secondly, in the past, I only had each chapter have one character's point of view, but in this, I'll need two characters pov and sometimes in the same chapter, but I'm not sure how to switch it smoothly? Thirdly, how did you maintain staying power with actually finishing your multi chapter fics, as I've never actually finished one and I still feel guilty about ones that I abandoned?

Hello dear, my apologies for the delayed response, I was stuck on mobile and despise typing out long stuff on my phone.

I'm so flattered you enjoy my writing so much! I have done collaborations before with @extasiswings which went very smoothly and were a lot of fun, and my advice as far as that goes is:

plot the story out ahead of time - it doesn't have to be in a ton of detail but you need to know where you're headed

don't be afraid to critique each other if you think something isn't working (not little things like grammar, I would let that stuff slide - everyone's writing style and preferences are a little different - I mean plot or character development)

share chapters beforehand, don't post without showing it to the other person first

be open to plans or ideas changing

the friendship is more important than the story - if it stops being fun, stop doing it

As for the second question - who says you have to switch POVs in chapters? I might do it but that doesn't mean it works for everyone. Maybe it makes your chapters shorter, but so what? That means you can post multiple chapters at once or post more frequently.

If you feel that you need it to be multiple points of view, then I would switch based on "when is the point of view change going to be the most dynamic or reveal the most to the audience?"

I love doing a point of view switch where Person A says something like "B could never love me!" and we switch to Person B who is thinking, "I'm so fucking in love with this person." I love the inherent comedy in something like that. Switch when you feel the contrast in points of view will be fun or revealing to the audience - or create more tension.

It's something that takes practice to figure out, and again, I don't see why one has to do things a certain way. I just kind of flowed into it naturally. Like all writing, it takes a little trial and error. But if it's something you want to do, then go for it, and be open to revising, too! One of the best things you can do for your writing is let it breathe for a few days, then come back to it with fresh eyes.

As for finishing... honestly it's only been hard for me a few times. My last couple of Timeless fics were hard for me to finish because my brain was chasing The Witcher and then the 9-1-1 shinies. It took a bit to persevere. I struggled with finishing another fic once because I had come to be tired of a character who featured in it prominently and didn't want to write their point of view anymore. Usually the story is so busy screaming at me to be written that it's easy to write it down and finish it because dear god if I don't purge this from my brain it'll kill me.

When it did get hard, honestly, what kept me going was remembering my own disappointment, sadness, and even yes anger, at works in progress that never finished. I know life happens, for sure, and I try not to judge anyone. Everybody's got shit they're going through and they give us fic for free in their spare time. But it is hard not to feel like a promise was broken, at times. Remembering how it would feel for my readers and also sheer fucking spite because I'm a stubborn asshole are what got me to finish those few fics that were a bit hard at the end.

However, for anyone else who isn't just a spiteful little gremlin like myself, I would recommend honestly... just not posting until the fic is finished? I know several people who do that. It takes the pressure off. For some people, sharing chapters as they go is motivating. It helps them finish because they're getting responses from their audience. For other people, however, it can be unwanted pressure, since they might write more slowly, or be busy with real life. Many people will finish the fic and then post chapters on a schedule, which can be great for readers - they know when each new chapter will come out and can anticipate it and build excitement. If you've got a habit of leaving fics unfinished and feel bad about it, then who says you have to post as soon as each chapter is written? Write the story and have fun with it, and if you finish it, then you can post it. If it doesn't get finished, you won't have guilt, and you'll have still gotten something out of it - you wrote it for yourself. And all writing is practice, so it's not time or energy wasted.

I hope that this advice is helpful, and I wish you all the best in your projects!

[thequeenofsastiel]

So I need people's thoughts. I started messaging a friend, asking if she could set up a kink scene for me. She agreed, and also suggested that maybe we could pursue a kink relationship. I had always liked her, so I said yes. We made plans to get together, but the night before, I started a new medication, and it gave me horrible insomnia. When it became clear I wasn't going to get any sleep, I messaged her a couple of hours before we were supposed to get together and canceled, because I didn't want to be only half there. She was understanding, and we agreed to have a video chat a few days later. But then I had to work a bunch, and overslept. Which was impressive, because I set two alarms and placed my phone across the room so I couldn't easily snooze it. I felt very guilty and sent a text apologizing. She didn't text me back for a day, and, when she did, she was clearly deeply displeased, but agreed to try to get together again, which we finally did. We had a good time, and planned to meet a couple of days before a kink party she was hosting which would have some of the people I was hoping to involve in the scene.

Come the week of the party. I started feeling ill Sunday night, and felt worse the next day. I texted her to let her know that I might not be able to come over on Wednesday. She appeared to understand. Wednesday came, and I was feeling even worse. I texted her that I couldn't come, and might not be able to come Friday either. On Thursday I texted her to let her know I was feeling slightly better, but still didn't know if I could make it, and I'd let her know in the morning. Again, she appeared to understand. Friday morning, my symptoms had finally mostly abated(I had a cold), but I had been struck with my post cold hacking cough that I always get, and I was still quite fatigued, so I told her I couldn't come. She appeared to understand once again, and I spent all of Friday on the couch coughing and trying to distract myself. By Sunday, I was finally feeling better, and took a sexy photo and sent it to her. She didn't respond for five days, and when she did, she said that she wasn't sure if she wanted to be with me anymore, because she had lost faith that I would show up, and had wasted the time of her and her crew. But that she wasn't going to close the door entirely, she just needed me to be in a better place with my sleep and know what I'm seeking.

I was furious. Both because she had waited five days to text back, after assuring me that she didn't delay texting back as a punishment(also for context it was starting to seem earlier like that was a thing she was doing, because any time I said anything that was contrary to what she wanted she would delay texting me back for a while), and because she was blaming me for being sick. I composed a very angry reply in my notes app to get the fury out, and waited a day to text back. When I did, I told her that I was going to close the door for her because I wasn't interested in dating someone who was going to blame me for being sick. I also said not to text me back because I wasn't interested in speaking to her again.

But just like. What the fuck. I honestly don't get how she justified holding me responsible for getting a cold. The only thing I can guess is that she thought I was lying, which doesn't make sense because I've never lied to her.

Thoughts?

[pebblysand]

Are you working on any new projects that you feel like sharing with us

Love castles and you

Never gonna give you up never gonna turn around and dessert u

hey anon! apologies for the delay here. this is a very sweet anon that made me smile when i got it, so thank you ❤️.

regarding your question though... i suppose: not really? i don't know. it's complicated. to be fully transparent, i've not written a word since the end of castles. i know that for you it might feel like a long time because objectively, it has been five weeks, but for me, i just haven't had that much downtime since then. i spent almost four weeks in france post-publication, most of which were holidays where i wasn't working (at my IRL job, i mean). this was so peaceful and restful and nice but also so outside my usual routine that i didn't have much time to think about writing (or to really let the end of castles sink in, for that matter). i wrote 23 in about a month, and 24 over a weekend, so looking back, it all feels like one big feverish dream i haven't really had time to digest, yet. i came back to ireland just over two weeks ago and i don't know, i guess i've been... crashing - a bit? 😬

it's not bad. like, trust me, you don't need to worry about me - i'm alright. i've been distracting myself with going to london a couple weekends and have loads of other trips planned between now and christmas, which i am very much looking forward to and should keep me busy. i've been doing a lot of podcast-y things, i'm getting reacquainted with my friends who i've sadly neglected for far too long (hopefully they don't hate me too much, haha), and with life in general (i've been going running more consistently, i've done embroidery - lol 😅 - i'm thinking about signing up for pottery classes - the works, you know).

if i'm honest, on a deeper level though, i've been finding that i'm not quite sure what to do with all the time that is now on my hands. my anxiety skyrocketed early last week, which i know is just my brain slowly readapting to this new, post-castles normal, but which still very much sucked. i am worried about my dog's health and my mum's health, and loneliness in my thirties. i'm worried about my plans for next year, i am worried about whether i'll be capable of writing original fiction, and i am worried that now that castles is finished and that the post-completion around it has stopped, everyone will forget about me and no one will read my works anymore. again, 🙄 ugh.

having said that, here are my plans for the short, medium, and long term:

SHORT TERM (BETWEEN NOW AND DECEMBER)

i don't want to start any "big" project between now and december, tbh. i need to sit and breathe and recharge (see above). i could however ever see myself doing one or two short-ish things (under 10k), that i could get done over a weekend or something. in that list are:

the aoife one-shot (follow-up to the fault in faulty manufacturing) (likelihood: 90% - i've been meaning to write this for age, it haunts me. my only issue is that i'd love to write it for paddy's day but since the beginning of the year will probably be busy with other things - see below - it might be my winter project)

maybe a fic about pansy parkinson's side of the amycus story, possibly tying into chapter 22. (likelihood: 50% - i literally just had the idea for this this afternoon but i kind of like it. i've been fascinated with the concept of pansy parkinson lately, so we'll see.)

for reasons that i don't want to explain yet, i'll probably need to have a really good 3,500 words original fiction story written by march 2025. i should probably get started on it this autumn. (likelihood: 35% - i know me and i will probably be procrastinating this as much as i can because it's not "fun" and feels like a chore)

MEDIUM TERM (JANUARY TO SEPTEMBER)

there's literally an endless list of stories i'd like to write. some of them might be written next year, some of them might never get done. the current list includes:

HP Harry/Ginny Muggle College AU (likelihood: 20% - i love the idea of it but idk about the execution)

HP Harry/Ginny FWB AU (likelihood: 40% - this one i'm more interested in. could be a sort of AU of castles but could also stand alone)

Peaky Blinders Ada Character Piece (likelihood: 70% - i need to rewatch the show, but i really like that one. i already have a few paragraphs of this i'd written somewhere)

Peaky Blinders May Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - same as above, i also have it already started somewhere. i do feel like i'm more interested in Ada than i am in May right now, but we'll see)

The Good Wife Will Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - i've been meaning to write this for, like, 10 years. i just need to brave a full rewatch which, ugh)

HP Malfoy Character Piece (likelihood: 25% - idk. same as the college AU. i like the idea, but no idea about the execution. just marginally more interested in this one cause it's a character i've not explored before)

HP Harry/Pansy AU (likelihood: 10% - i've found a fantastic fic for this pairing already in existence, so that has satiated my need to write it, i think.)

Silk Martha/Clive Children AU (likelihood: 10% - it's a beautiful fic... in my head)

HP Hermione Character Piece (likelihood: 40% - i know you all want this one but honestly i'm not sure what i would have to say. it's a hard one because i would love to write it, i find hermione a very interesting character, but it also needs to narratively bring something that isn't already in castles. like, i don't want to repeat something people already know. so, we'll see. i will write it if i find an angle for it. i was going to write it as an ode to friendship - like: the long-standing nature of she and harry's friendship, the way everyone always focuses on romance when actually, platonic friendship is also very important to us as humans - but i think i already sort of blew that angle with Lily and Naran now. so, again, we'll see.)

Black Sisters Piece on Female Rage (likelihood: 20%. i had a very, very specific idea for this back in 2023 and i never wrote it. i'm thinking of revisiting)

having said that, i also know that January - March 2025 will really be the moment i'm planning on easing back into writing more frequently, but also the moment when i'll have to focus on original writing for a while (again, reasons i can't explain). so, write that 3,500 words short story, and outline a larger project. so, not sure i'll have much time for fanfic at the start of the year.

LONG TERM

there will be a book. i have an idea. i have characters. i need... an outline, and a plot, and all that stuff. i would love to outline january 2025-march 2025 (as said above), then to slowly start writing it as life allows. i think fanfic will remain my outlet, my "fun" thing, the thing i "cheat" on my main project with haha. we all need those.

i will keep you updated on all this as it happens, and i hope (hopehopehope) you stick around ❤️.

[darkanddirtyknb]

Important Notice

I want to give a warm hello to all of my beautiful like-minded freaks, creeps, and horny little toads. We have had quite the journey together. It's hard to believe I started my blog and Patreon so long ago. Sometimes it's painful to reflect on because I was in a much better place when I started my blog. But we learn to live with the hand we receive in life, and that's what I'm doing. Which brings me to the reason I'm posting this today. This has been a long time coming, and I suppose I've been putting it off because I haven't wanted to admit it to myself. I've been in such a period of stasis. But I kept trying to convince myself that I could return to how I used to be—putting out content like the wind, writing commissions, having deep discussions and long conversations with my supporters, and so on. But the truth is, I just can't do it anymore. My body has taken a toll on me, and my fire has burned out. My physical health (and sometimes mental) has taken its course, and this is the path I have no choice but to follow. However, despite the war I'm waging with my body, there is good news. I won my disability claim. I'm not making much, but it's enough that I can support myself monetarily. So, I will be closing my Patreon. I'll also no longer be writing commissions for the foreseeable future. I've been delaying this part of my announcement because I hate letting people down. My Patreon aside, I made a lot of promises to people that I couldn't keep. For that, I'm sorry. I never accepted any money for work I didn't start, so I owe no one anything in a monetary way. But I will be letting people down, and that truly bothers me. If you were in line for a story, I give you my sincerest apologies from the bottom of my heart. If you feel like I let you down in any way, I'm sorry for that too. That said, to be fair, I didn't know this was going to happen to me. I hold no control over the turns my health takes, and if I could change it, I would. I will still post from time to time. I'm not giving up on writing. But what once took me one to two days now takes me weeks, sometimes months to finish. I will still be around, and I will still engage with my followers. I'm not disappearing. My health may have won this round, but I won't let it take me down. I've come too far to give up what I love. I actually have a very detailed story in the works, and come hell or high water, I will finish it. I want to thank everyone who has stuck by my side. To everyone who has supported me, shared talks with me, read my works, liked my stories, and left comments—thank you. These things have helped me through some of my darkest hours. As for my Patrons, hopefully, by closing my account this month, you'll be able to have some extra money after the holidays. I want to give a special thank you to you. You kept me afloat by helping me pay for necessities like my medication, food, gas for medical appointments, and more. Without you, I truly don't know how I would have reached this point in my life. I hope there are no hard feelings. I'm doing what I need to for myself, but also, what I feel is best. If I get a second wind, I might write those stories still jotted down on my whiteboard. You never know. Lastly, I want to share another piece of good news. My parents surprised me with a new friend. I will post pictures of her below. Her name is Luna. (Not after Luna Lovegood, but our Lord and Savior, The Moon.) She has certainly kept me on my toes, and I'm not sure she's been the best thing when it comes to my disabilities, considering I can barely keep up with her. But I'm in love, and I know that ultimately, she'll be well worth the hassle—which she most definitely is right now. She's a right pain in the ass. I'm pretty sure she's a quarter Gremlin, a quarter Audrey 2, and two-quarters Piranha. I'm sending all my love to everyone. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. If you have any questions or just want to shoot me a message please don't hesitate. Please take care of yourselves. It's dangerous business out there. Much love, Kai

[kartaylirnaak]

Oh I missed your wip game post from like a week ago, but can I still ask about Waxer/Boil/Wooley Discord Rambling?

Of course! I think I rambled on about this in the W*B discord so apologies if you've read this before. This is loosely set in the vampire clones AU where Boil is a vampire and has just finished feeding on Wooley. Never figured out what Waxer was so that's open to interpretation. I wrote this ages ago so it's very rough and I'm not sure I'm ever going to finish it so I'm just going to chuck the whole thing under a cut and let people enjoy the smut >:3

Warnings: D/s, Vampire!Boil, Dom Waxer and Boil, Sub Wooley, vampire feeding during sex, orgasm delay/denial, anal sex, cock warming, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, butt plug

Context Wall of Text Waxer is leaning back against one end of the bunk, lazily stroking himself as he watches Boil feed. Wooley is in Boil's lap and is sitting on Boil's cock, being filled and stretched as Boil is balls deep in him. Boil has his legs over Wooley's and is keeping them spread wide, so Waxer can see how deep Boil is in Wooley and how much he's stretching him. Boil has Wooley's hands pinned behind his back as Wooley leans back against him, so they're trapped between his back and Boil's chest. Wooley's head has lolled back onto Boil's shoulder and to the side and Boil has his head turned and his teeth deep in Wooley's neck as he happily feeds away while his cock throbs and twitches in Wooley's ass. Boil is keeping Wooley spread out and pinned so all he can do is writhe pointlessly and moan as he's kept in place to warm Boil's cock while he feeds. This whole time Waxer's talking to him, telling Wooley that he's not allowed to come until Boil's finished feeding. When Boil's done, he pulls his teeth out of Wooley's neck and laps over the bite mark. Wooley whines in response, half at Boil's teeth no longer being in him and half pleading in hope that they'll let him come now. Boil huffs in amusement at this as he kisses up Wooley's neck and nibbles on his earlobe.

Fic "I might've finished but Waxer hasn't and good boys don't come before they're told, do they?" he growls into Wooley's ear. 

"No Sir," Wooley whimpers in response, tears leaking out of his eyes at the thought of having to wait longer. 

Boil shushes him and kisses away the tear that's run down Wooley's neck. 

"Now you're going to be good and watch Waxer enjoy himself, aren't you?" he says behind Wooley. 

"Ye–Yessir" Wooley manages to croak out with a little nod of his head that sends his curls bouncing. 

Boil looks over at Waxer and arches his eyebrow in response to the amused smile he gets from across the bunk. 

"You've got him spread pretty wide," Waxer comments idly, hand still loosely wrapped around his cock as his eyes flick down to where Boil's cock is disappearing into Wooley's ass. 

"Reminds me of when we plug him," Waxer adds casually. 

Boil feels the rough moan that rumbles out of Wooley's chest as their sub shivers on his cock. Smirking, Boil growls in Wooley's ear "You like it when we plug you, don't you? Keep you all nice and stretched for us." 

Wooley moans again and nods but that just won't do so Boil tightens the grip he has around Wooley's hands and pulls them up higher in admonishment. "Don't you?" he repeats as Wooley arches and lets out a high pitched gasp. 

"Yes Sir," Wooley replies in a rush, as he desperately tries to clutch onto what’s left of his control. 

"Yes Sir what?" Waxer prompts with calm amusement. 

"Yes Sir, I like it when you plug me," Wooley replies, any sense of awkwardness long thrown out the airlock. Besides, it's true. He does like it when Waxer and Boil finger him loose and slide a plug in him. The weight and stretch reminding him who he belongs to throughout the day.

 "Good," Boil croons in his ear. "Now be a good boy and sit still on my cock while you watch Waxer enjoy himself." 

"Yes Sir," Wooley replies, as he tries to focus on Waxer, who has returned to idly stroking himself. 

A slow smirk stretches across Waxer's face as he looks Wooley straight in the eye while giving himself an exceptionally slow stroke. Far too late, Wooley realises he's doomed and is going to be trapped on Boil's cock for much, much longer.

[imaginesbymk]

MARSTON. ━︎━︎ ZSAKUVA STRICT PROFESSOR !

chapter four - ❝with love, y/n.❞

← previous chapter: chapter three - "boo!" next chapter: chapter five - "the letters of abelard and heloise." →

fanfic info / read it on wattpad

SYNOPSIS / Y/N is given the next assignment before the Christmas holidays.

──────── ✧ ────────

Y / N

AS THE door swung open with Professor Marston entering the room, two minutes passed schedule, I think about how this was the first time he has ever been late to his own lectures. Not that two minutes was even a big deal, but I guess it was to Professor Marston, as he was always, and obviously, the first person you see right when you walk in; laptop on, projector screen lit, powerpoint slides ready, his hands so calm when he undoes one button on his vest. If it wasn't a vest or those business casual blazers, it would be a turtleneck that fits through his average-built figure like a glove. 

Fifty of us sleep-deprived students watch him type something into his laptop. Without even looking up from the screen, his voice projects the entire room. "Apologies for the delay, everyone. It happens every once in a blue moon, but I'll be sure to not let that happen again, especially during final exam season."

Two minutes must feel like two hours for this guy.

So far everything was beyond anyone's interests, but I was invested without force. I observe the answers shared with the class, some that clearly meant they never cared for analyzing what was written, for instance. 

Yet despite the boredom, Professor Marston made it much more interesting. If he had taught Academic English in high school, students would be getting high grades out of appreciating literature, and Sparknotes would be the last thing they would think of using. 

It made me appreciate him as a professor.

"I hope you all enjoyed Halloween and reading week. I was able to get a head start on curating the final exams with Jeremy and Chris, and I was given the opportunity to grade everyone's midterms that is now posted on Moodle. If not by the end of this week, you are more than welcome to e-mail me, but everyone should have theirs by now."

I cringed.

"DO the citations have to be in alpha?" the student whispers to me from my right.

I made a scrunching face. "Most professors expect that, but I doubt Professor Marston would care, honestly."

"No talking," Professor Marston sternly says from his desk.

Nothing feels more relieving than seeing a decent grade on Moodle, like an elephant taking it's feet off your lungs. But at this moment, I'm starting to have doubts. Though I fantasize being alone with this young Professor who most of these students on campus know of, I will never forgive him for unintentionally distracting me while I wrote my thesis. Even though he never stared at me while I was writing it, just feeling his presence made me tense up and hook a leg over the other.

I must have read my work like twelve times by now. One grammatical error and that's an Introductory English writing level and not academia I strive in profoundness. If we were in the near-future, Grammarly would be installed in a microchip planted somewhere in my brain, and all students who desperately give up their limbs to have it would be scholars but with a cheat code. 

I looked back down to read the title of my midterm.

The Stimulating Growth of Pre-Socratic Philosophers

Such a broad title for a minimum two page essay. 

I submitted it, anyway...

With a heart drawn beside his first and last name in the MLA formatted four-line header.

HE LOOKED over at me for half a second, and I quickly looked down at my binder. It wasn't just out of guilt, but out of sheer embarrassment. He looks at dozens of students and not think of it, but after submitting my in-class midterm that I practically slaved over last week, it was hard to fight the urge to run out of this lecture hall. Reading week was for us to prep for that 15% worth our final grade. But of course, due to the dauntless act I committed, the content in my midterm isn't why my mind is racing right now.

"Don't fucking kill me! Are you trying to get yourself expelled?!" my friend Brittany exclaimed with laughter, nearly choked from her vape pen.

"Withdrawn, but no." I shrug, hugging myself from the fall-winter breeze outside on the courtyard. "What? You think he'll notice?"

"No, Y/N. Your hypercritical British professor is definitely not gonna notice the heart drawn beside his own fucking name in black ink. It was nice knowing you."

"Professor Marston is not hypercritical," I say defensively. "He's strict but he's fair."

Brittany hummed. "Right, defend your man. You're swarmed with anxiety, I can see it." She offers me a toke from her pen. I shake my head in decline. She then playfully shook me by the shoulders. "So, what are you gonna do now?"

I took her hands off me. "I haven't checked my midterm mark, but I will tonight. He doesn't give back our assignments so he just posts our grades and feedback online. Oh, and I have to work on the second long assignment he just gave us. It's due before Christmas."

Brittany gasps. "Oh my God, sign it With Love, Y/N in your concluding paragraph, and put a lipstick stain. I will buy you a fucking Ferrari if you do it."

Brittany had a love for me like any close friend would, but I know I'll only be able to see her on weekends once I'm summoned to Andrew's office or possibly the Dean's, followed by emails bringing up the severity of what could happen if a professor in any way obliged to my persistence, with genuine reciprocation or not... he could get fired, I could be called the worst names that'll sting like hell until I could switch to a different school. 

"Oh don't give me ideas," I joke. "And for the record, you would buy me a Tesla instead."

That night I got the chance to check. I was stalling, giving myself lame excuses not to check. It's too early, I'm not finished with this episode I'm watching right now, my laptop is acting up. 

I took in a deep breath and dove in the high tides of the Moodle gradebook. 

84%. 

Excellent work. Focus on making your arguments less verbose and more concise. Avoid contractions. 

Your citations must be in alphabetical order.

Regards

Professor Marston. 

An elephant took its feet off my lungs, and I was able to breathe again. I flew back on my bed, before sitting back up and planning the next long assignment.

The Dynamics of

...of what, exactly? I'm not sure just yet. I have until the last two weeks before the Christmas holidays to figure it out. 

I was walking on eggshells. Why am I suddenly planning my next attempt to get my professor's attention? What good will come out of it?

My little doodle was something childish, I'm aware, but is he not going to talk about the giant elephant in the room? Just like the other students, I became attracted to Professor Marston since syllabus week in my first year, but I went through trouble, and still am, just so he could take the hint. Despite all my attempts, he was smart to ignore my excess compliments and friendly waves down the corridors, or at least not even think of it as me coming onto him at all... and I wonder what he must be thinking about me right now. 

The frustration comes as I open a new tab, logging onto the virtual university library and came upon the dozens of search results. The Letters of Abelarde and Héloïse.

I return to the open document page with the cursor still blinking at the unfinished title. I type.

The Dynamics of Controversial Relationships in Fictional Literature.

──────── ✧ ────────

[royrockstone]

Some of these ig :)

Roman + 😃 , 🐈 , 🎡 , 🎭

Kendall + 📿 , 🧡

Shiv + 🐈 , 😨 , 🌘

I hope I'm doing this right, I usually don't do these hc/ask game things but I just finished honesty and it was delicious so...

(also sorry for making you think about roman being happy)

Roman

hc + 😃 for a happiness-themed headcanon

omg this is tough... ty for apologizing bc this is a hardship...

i think roman thought of logan as the font of all happiness. i think, after logan's gone-- it's not that roman stops being able to feel happy or that the world has gone grey or whatever-- it's more that he can no longer trust the feeling of happiness, if it doesn't come from logan. i think logans death so subtly but completely unmoored him that happiness would start to feel wrong or traitorous.

hc + 🐈 for a pet/animal-themed headcanon

i mean why write a hc in a tumblr post when could've had a dog exists.

buuut i think roman probably shouldn't have a pet because he is just not responsible. BUT he would be capable of lavishing tremendous love on one periodically, if there were one in his life. i could see him being in a semi-sham relationship with a woman where neither of them is at all happy, and delaying the breakup bc she has like. a cute cat.

i can also very clearly imagine roman being incredibly emotional and irrationally angry about his pets. like he told shiv to feed his fish while he was away at military school and then he gets back and he's like "you clearly didn't feed my fish every day they look all pale and sad this is why you'll be a terrible mother"

hc + 🎡 for a hobby-themed headcanon

i think he's mostly a passive hobby person. going to the movies, etc. i think active hobbies feel embarrassingly earnest and also middle class to him. i could see an older roman having some kind of rich person conspicuous-consumption based hobby (collecting amusingly ugly but expensive paintings, maybe?)

hc + 🎭 for an arts-/crafts-themed headcanon

i think a lot about the 'roman wrote a screenplay' throwaway line, and my final judgment is that roman probably has the capability to write cleverly, but lacks all the work ethic and compassion and interest in others that would make a good screenwriter. i am also a 'roman secretly wishes caroline had put him in ballet lessons' truther. i think that's for aesthetic reasons plus the vague sadomasochism of a ballet master with a troublesome student being very gerri-esque and appealing, and i don't think roman would have ever acted on that wish.

Kendall

hc + 📿 for a faith-themed headcanon

im sure he had a TM phase, a Buddhist phase, maybe a Kabbalah phase back when that was a thing, but he also can't help but subordinate any belief he has to his larger belief in, like, The Market, and he lacks the commitment to stick to any one belief about the nature of the universe or his own spiritual practice.

he clearly believes in God, but not in any helpful or constructive way. he needs God in the sense that he needs the domineering presence of a belief in something overwhelmingly bigger than himself, which is why logan was able to be his godhead for a while. but he also clearly wants to believe that sins get punished and expunged, that he can have a clean slate and a clear conscience again, and he's yet to find any force that can really offer him that.

hc + 🧡 for a friendship-themed headcanon

kendall is the only sibling who lets people get somewhat close to him, for better or for worse, and that puts people like stewy close enough to see everything that's wrong but never close enough to help him (and maybe stewy just isn't interested enough to attempt to help anymore) when kendall tried to get stewy in bed with waystar, im sure every single one of stewy's instincts were like Do Not Do This and kendall was like "dude. name one good reason why you shouldn't be i the kenny business" and stewy was like "well you have half an eating disorder and an entire coke habit, and your rickety aging family business is held together with debt and duct tape"

(i kind of want to extend my kendall pov chapter from eat what's rotten into a full fic one day, because i like thinking about stewy's view of the roy dysfunction/the collective family ed.)

Shiv

hc + 🐈 for a pet/animal-themed headcanon

im team shiv resents mondale. i think she doesnt even like the image of having a dog-- nothing appeals to her about the christmas card with a big, handsome purebred. i think she internally sentenced herself to doing something nice for tom because she felt bad about something or other and next thing she knew they had a dog. i think shes disgusted by them being dumb, and undiscriminating, and messy. see again couldve had a dog

hc + 😨 for a fear-themed headcanon

i think shiv is mostly afraid of germs and her father. there's a lot of talk in the show that infantalizes shiv-- the pretend post office story connor tells, 'she sees monsters from piles of laundry on the floor' or whatever, 'he built you a playground and you think it's the world'. and it feels like it's just rank misogyny, and in many ways it is, but also that language suggests something that is true. shiv has a polished adult exterior, and hides it all well, but she is, as much as her brothers, still a petrified child who perpetually thinks she's in trouble with daddy. and i dont think the people around her completely see or acknowledge that, but they are dimly aware of it.

hc + 🌘 for a night-themed headcanon

insomniac shiv is very close to my heart. i like the idea that she thinks shes stronger than other people because she functions with very little sleep. like she was that person in college who was like 'ive slept five hours in the past three days and im going to a party tonight and ill have my midterm turned in before that'