#fallen london persona

[gabrieldrawsstuff]

I've come to make an announcement: Poor Edward is a bitch-ass motherfucker, he keeps buring me alive. That's right, he took his masked-fuckin' ass and his quilly truncheon out and he buried me fucking alive, and he said "I did warn you to stay away," and I said "This is the seventh time this week," so I'm making a callout feuilleton in my own newspaper: Poor Edward, you've got a low nightmare quality. It's the size of this coffin except WAY smaller. And guess what? Here's what my nightmare quality looks like.

That's right, baby. All anguish, no relief, no sleep — look at that, it looks like a prolonged vacation with The Manager. He buried me alive, so guess what, I'm gonna light him on fire. Except I'm not gonna just set him on fire, I'm gonna go higher; I'M BURNING DOWN THE ORPHANAGE! How do you like that, Edward?! I BURNED DOWN THE ORPHANAGE, YOU IDIOT!

You have twenty-three hours before I dig myself outta this fucking grave, now get fucking going, before I set you on fire too!

[thegreatyin]

two of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[2ds-titties]

🙏Please donate a small amount that may save my father's life, only 38€ left to buy my father's treatment, his doctor's appointment is tomorrow, please do not ignore my message and do not hesitate to help me❤️‍🩹

Account No. 9 due to repeated deletion😭💔

🛑I am having difficulty communicating, please donate or share.🫂

✅My campaign is verified by: @gaza-evacuation-funds

🙏

.

[myaddraws]

BUNCHA SKETCHES!

So, since I now am using Tumblr for the first time in years I might as well update it with some of the art I've done over the years! But anyway, here's a batch of recent sketches!

[theerurishipper]

Something I've noticed is that the show goes out of its way to portray Adrien's trauma as romantic.

In Kuro Neko, Adrien is exhibiting a trauma response wherein he invalidates his own feelings and tries to be whoever the other person wants him to be, and Catwalker is explicitly based on the mask Adrien puts on to please his abuser, which is also the persona Ladybug develops an instant crush on. What the show tells us, however, is that Adrien as Catwalker telling Ladybug that it's his own fault for being sensitive because he was hurt by her actions and following that up by promising to take care of her is romantic and wonderful.

In Strikeback, Adrien is once again downplaying his feelings and hurt in order to come to Ladybug's support because she needs him. He is once again invalidating his own hurt and absolving her of all blame. What the show tells us is that it's so romantic that Adrien was willing to push away his hurt feelings and come to her aid like a loyal partner even though she never apologized to him or promised to change her behavior.

In Protection, Adrien's tendency to want to be perfect for everybody and cater to their needs is depicted on screen, with him assuming the full blame for Marinette's confidence issues. He has a whole conversation with Kagami about how he needs to change himself for her. What the show tells us is that Adrien is so romantic and so sweet for essentially assuming blame for Marinette's inability to tell him her feelings and saying that he has to be the one to change and cater to her needs.

In Collusion, Adrien's reacting to his father sending him to London by saying "Marinette and I will last forever," is him clinging to the very little good that is going on in his life. It is him once again centering his identity around this girl and his relationship with her because he has never been allowed to be his own person. What the show tells us is that "Adrien loves Marinette so much uwu."

In Confrontation, Adrien writing "All I know is that I love Marinette Dupain Cheng," is him once more centering his whole life around his girlfriend because he has been conditioned into defining himself around other people because he has never been allowed to an individual in his own right. What the show tells us again is that Adrien loves Marinette so, so much, you guyz.

In Conformation (credit to this post by @youremarvelous), Adrien telling Plagg he's angry at himself for falling short of Marinette's love is also him downplaying his own feelings and placing more importance on her, and him believing that he has fallen short of her love stems from him belief that he has to earn love. He's just shifted from defining himself based on Gabriel's wishes to defining himself based on Marinette's wishes. What the show tells us is that Adrien is such a good boyfriend for wanting to be perfect for Marinette.

The discrepancy between what has been portrayed and what the show wants us to think is concerning, to say the least.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Certainties & Mistletoe | Ch. 3

Summary: Mistletoe, the only decoration the old bastard could bear to stand during the winter-months. You thought it harmless, simple and almost forgettable… but the events it causes, is anything-but.

Ebenezer Scrooge & F!Reader | 5929 Words | Prev.

Tags: Slow-burn, humor, banter, internal-thoughts, boss/employee relationship, maid!Reader, some world-building, pining (?), denial of feelings, confrontations, drinking, historical inaccuracies, canes, Scrooge being a Bastard

The gift of observation was a talent every proper servant of a house or business should be incredibly well-versed in. A requirement, necessity to perform the many duties of the house, and you thought yourself well-practiced, and quite subtle with your own gift of observation...

Then Mister Scrooge turned, leaving the cowering shopkeep to sag with relief at the lack of attention, and now fixed his cool-blue gaze sternly on you instead, completely catching you in your unabashed staring.

You didn't flinch. But you found the subtle threadwork of your winter-gloves suddenly very, very fascinating to study.

"That is thrice now," Lowly he spoke, though his stride was in high-spirits, as the pouch of fresh-collected coat clinked within his coat as he marched past you. "One would think you would learn to be more subtle by the second-time."

You followed after him into the snow-laden breeze upon the streets of London, protest on your frost-chapped lips, "I wasn't-"

"You were, and it is as much unnecessary, as it is unwelcomed." The sharpness in his voice is second-only to the tapping of his cane on cobble. "Manners, miss. I would expect you to remember them, even when not performing in the confines of the building you work in."

Murmuring your assent, you swallowed back a sigh, and silently-chided yourself on your foolishness. Both for your conduct, and for putting yourself into this bloody, unnecessary mess in the first-place.

The hours upon the streets were long, cold, and whatever stark-change had overcome the persona of Ebenezer Scrooge, seemed to have long-dissipated the very instant he marched out onto the streets.

You were falling, yes, but into uncertainty no-longer. Because while you were falling back, as rapidly as you had fallen-out, of normalcy, Scrooge had fallen back into his old ways.

And you felt the fool for thinking anything different.

Militaristic as ever, the Master marches to a tune that is entirely his own, and at least twice as stern as even the most uptight marshal could be. Undaunted by few, and not hesitating to barrel his way past many others, Mister Scrooge was a force of unforgiving nature all on his own.

And you - silly, foolish, far too-caring you - were stuck half-sprinting to keep up with the path of destruction he left-behind.

Prudence was sweet enough to trot a pace or two behind her master's heels, offering a sympathetic woof further-back to you whilst legs burned with the effort of keeping-speed with the man.

"Thank you, dear girl," You whispered breathlessly as you - at last! - passed her to come stand at the gentleman's side. Ebenezer Scrooge was darkly glaring forth at the driving-lanes before him, thick and crowded with enough carriages to at-last stop him in his tracks.

You were sorely tempted to kiss the hands of all the drivers-present, in gratitude, but instead gathered enough frigid air into your lungs to speak, "h...Holiday-rush, I suspect! Plenty of packages, plenty of gifts-"

"Humbug!"

"Oh, it's only traffic, Mister Scrooge-!"

"No, the lot of it!" He declares, scowling as he raises his cane to gesture upon the line of horse-drawn vehicles. A purely venomous expression was affixed on his face, teeth grinding and eyes flashing as he snapped, "Wasting countless -  and for what?? Dying joy, fleeting happiness... it all only lasts a single-day, a wonder any would want to bother with it at all!"

You said nothing. Merely taking advantage of your gift of inspection, eyes trailing from the sharp-cuts of fury, creases of annoyance lining his face, with his knuckles tight enough to tremble on his cane-handle.

Mister Scrooge looked, in all seriousness, like he was bracing to pounce-upon the drivers and all their festive contents. Something that simply would not do.

Carefully, you reached out to place a palm on the dark-wood of his cane. "Indeed, such a season can be quite a headache, when one considers all the work that must go into it..." A slight pressure, a bit pleadingly so, but the gentleman eventually followed the motion of your hands, blessedly lowering his cane back to touch the ground.

"Tis no must, about-it." He grunted once more, clapping one still-shaking hand over another on the handle of his walking-stick. "Though I can't think of any good-reason. A waste in all aspects, not excluding financial."

"Well," You started, tone still treading-carefully, for the last thing you needed was to restrain the man if he truly threw a fit at the drivers. "I cannot speak for the gifts, but as material as they are, I like to think the meaning behind the effort is where the true-gratification lies."

"Humbug." He said once-again, but it's a little less heated, quieter.

"It shows one cares," You state with a simple shrug. "However minimal, however much coin, or whether it is something that can even be held, it matters little. There are a thousand-ways one can display their care, adoration for another. Gifts just happen to be the most physical, and most popular in that regard."

This only earns you a scoff, and round of fingers tapping along on the cane-handle as the miser turns-cheek from you, apparently to study the line of carts on your opposing-side.

"This isn't the only season that one is inclined to give gifts, you recall?" You add, almost curious, as to whether his hate extended beyond the world of winter's festivities, into all holidays of giving.

The tapping grows louder, more rapid with his grunt in the affirmative, but the confirmation is distracted, distant, and only makes you frown. Your hand, seemingly disconnected with your body, reaches out towards the edge of his coat with fingertips brushing on the somber-cloth.

"Mister Scrooge-"

"Hurry along," And now, he is gone. A length cloud of black, his coat billows behind him as heels pivot, with Ebenezer driving himself from your side and down the walking-street, with a force that could rival the hurricane.

And, much to your chagrin, Ebenezer Scrooge was also inclined to rival a hurricane in speed.

Mayhaps he sought to kill-you through exhaustion, you ponder as you weave through thickets of crowds, ducking between shops as you reach the marketplace, and muttering apologies all the while for yourself, and your wayward employer.

"What haste!" A Madame scoffs, looking as ruffled as her fur-lined coat, glowering after the repeating black-clad figure. "I pray it's an emergency, or else, I...!"

"My apologies!" You assure her quickly, smile sympathetic, and strained from lack of air. "Tis is indeed an emergency... one of his coin purse," You add under what-little breath you had left. It truly felt like a three-way chase was being conducted: the bloodhound of a man sniffing out his borrowed gold, with Prudence trotting at a leisurely-pace behind, and you left to chase after them both.

And all the while, you could only think why?  

Why on earth, did you fool yourself with the notion that something was amiss with the Master in the firstplace? That you thought something had gone wrong with the man, when instead there was surely something wrong with you.

Not simply because you kissed the man, though surely that was a first-sign to your newly discovered brand of madness.

But a form of concern? For the welfare of none other than the one and only Ebenezer Scrooge?

Yes, a maid was gifted with skills of observation, and a special-sort of empathy for those they work for, and in your near two-years of employment, you offered a certain sort of care for the man. This went far, far beyond what you were normally capable of providing.

A walking-companion! You thought, finally allowed to slow when seeing the abrupt-halt Scrooge makes before an ale-stall, the bottles gleaming in the lamp-light nearby. I could've offered tea, or simply asked the cause of what thoughts and worries had come to offer change to his personality... not subject myself to such brutal exercise, with nothing to show for it!

Other solutions would have been simpler, especially when it seems any change, shift or departure of normal-attitude of the old-bastard seems to have long-since fled - besides the hasty ‘good-morning’ offered upon your entry, spoken without eye-contact.

Besides that singular incident, now becoming a habit, seemingly nothing had changed in old Ebenezer Scrooge.

And you, panting and leaning delicately at the stall as you staggered to meet your employer already engaged in snarky-discussion of his client, felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

There was no shift, no unsteadiness, nor uncertainty that required the closer-examination you sought, when you requested to join Mister Scrooge in the first place.

Ebenezer Scrooge was exactly the same as he was, and as he always would be... a single incident under a sprig of mistletoe, would surely not be enough to change him otherwise.

As proven by his harsh-speech to his very-late client.

"An additional-week, you've cost me," He says, through unclenched teeth as he looks over the curve of his nose at the ruddy-faced brewsman behind the stall-counter. "You're poor at math, as evident by your financial-prowess, but in layman terms, it means you now owe me double."

"Double!" Sputters the man, clasping a hand over his heart like the news caused the organ to sputter-too. "Mister, come now! Tardiness is most unforgivable, I can attest-to, but surely double is a bit harsh-"

"What would be harsh, is if I were to call to those fellows that-a-way," The menacing lender of Cornhill spoke flatly, but there was an almost malicious glint in his pale-eyes as he pointed down the lane, towards a lazy, unoccupied assembly of constables. "And inform them of a thievery, two-weeks in the making."

"You wouldn't-!"

"I would be well-within my rights to," Scrooge points out, no shortage of cold smugness in that sharp-toothed smile. "One-week's tardiness was mercy. I allowed this second-week to commence, moreso out of morbid-curiosity, rather than leniency. I was quite-fascinated to see how long this charade would go on, but it has stopped being entertaining."

"Mister Scrooge, I-"

"Pay. Or, I'll round up the police."

Despite your lungs still aching from your hours-long jogging, your breath caught and was rendered unusable as you looked between the paled-salesman, and your employer. He's drawn himself up practically on his toes, head-high and the glare in his eyes nothing short of deadly, in seriousness.

It's a look you would easily cave-at.

And it's a glare the stall-crafter can only bear a moment longer, before the stalemate ends with his sigh, and reaching beneath the counter.

"I only just gathered it today, Mister," He informed Mister Scrooge quite glumly. "Honest, swear on Her Majesty, 've only just made-back on profits-"

"My deepest, most heartfelt sympathies for your plight." Scrooge responded with a voice completely void of emotion, but the sharp, cruel smirk he soon offers is anything-but. "I'll inspect every coin. Drunkards and thieves are known to paint irons into gold, and I would so enjoy getting the entire sum I am owed back."

"Of course!" Nearly insulted at the insinuation, the man still winces as Scrooge opens the box with a nearly-careless air, catching a wayward coin before it can roll away from his grasp. “Here, now!? Must you-?”

“After a fee two weeks late? I indeed must.”

Smartly, the brewer doesn’t complain, though looked particularly irked when Mister Scrooge oh-so-casually begins to clink and shift his way through the boxed-collection, clearly enjoying the theatrics with a loud hum or low-whistle when he selected one worth bringing up to closer-inspection.

Toying with the brewsman, to the point where even Prudence snorts along with something curiously akin to an eyeroll.

Pity overtakes you for the stranger - many already offered the infamous-man a wide berth, but by association, now the marketman suffers a loss in all-interest from local pursuing clients, who are eager to quicken their step past his stall.

Having reassociated yourself with full-lungs of air, and pity, you quietly lean forth to ask: “Pardon me sir, but what finities do you offer?”

“Oh!” At-last taking notice of you, he’s eager to turn his attention from your employer onto you. “Only the finest , ma'am. Finest in all of the district, perhaps in all of London-!”

“I would think even the Thames ferments better than whatever you have in stock,” Scrooge drawls, frown exaggerated as he lifts a coin between thumb and pointer to bring to examination in the light. “This shade finds more kinship with marigold, rather than gold, wouldn’t you say?”

“I... I wouldn’t know, Mister Scrooge.”

A dismissive scoff as the sovereign was carelessly tossed back-in, while you faintly recalled that the man had recently spoken - and was provided a long, unwanted lecture - from a local florist, likely where a man such as Scrooge learned such precision for shades of flora.

Dismissing that thought yourself, you leaned forth with a more disarming smile, words far more friendly, “I admit, I'm most-curious to know what you offer, and quite the novice to private-brews. Anything of high-remark I should be aware of?”

“All of it, madam, all of it,” He assures you, smiling in relief to have a distraction in the form of a polite lady, though his eyes still glint over to the far less-welcomed gentleman at your side. “Mayhaps... a lady as lovely as yourself would be keen to see for yourself? A sample to soothe the temperaments, yes?” He asked, suddenly eager with his offer, and already ruffling around his stock for a mug.

“Oh,” You leaned back, your own gaze flitting to your employer, who was now actually-engrossed in examining his payment for fraudulent-gold. Even out on the streets, you were still on the clock. “Oh, I don’t know if I should...”

But it’s too late, a cork is already popped off, and a generous amount of amber-liquid poured into what you hope is a clean mug for tasting. “Not a worry, ma’am! Tis the season for relaxation and joy, both of which are assured in th’ brew,” Turning to you, there’s a wink offered as the finity is pressed into your hands. “Not to mention the warmth will keep you a-going in these winter-winds for hours more to come!”

“Well...” Another glance, uncertain as you seem to often-be these recent days.

But Scrooge remains occupied with the gold he pinches between-fingers, squinting down hawkishly onto his payment, seemingly without any care for the rest of the world. Least of all his maid taking a quick sip of a privately-made brew.

And, well... it is bitterly cold this afternoon.

“I suppose,” You murmur, partially into the cup with a final hesitation, before tipping it back to allow the liquid to touch your lips, reach your tongue, slip down your throat-

Oh!

By Her Majesty, you quite-nearly keel over as the pure fire that races down your windpipes like a rifle's bullet, and seemingly finding comfort in lighting a blaze within your lungs. Nearly spilling the mug in your attempts to immediately put it down - more importantly, put it away from you - you gloved-palm nearly slaps over your lips, in an effort to keep from coughing sharply at the sheer strength in a single-sip.

Tears welled in your eyes at the effort, and at the burning...!

A large, furry head presses against your skirts, whining-concerningly as you rasp a prayer from salvation to the almighty around your thick-glove. Apparently, He hears your weak exclamations, as a foreign-hand comes up onto your shoulder. A comfort, though the source of it seems uncertain, jerking slightly upon contact... as if its owner is surprised to have made it himself, or perhaps shocked at willingly-touching another human-being.

“Perhaps I wasn't wrong to proclaim the Thames as the better craftsman.” The snarl cuts though your awareness like a knife, with Ebenezer Scrooge’s tone just as sharp as a blade. “What in the heavens did you give her, fool, arsenic?!”

“'Course not!” The salesman's eyes are wide, as he glances between your overwhelmingly adverse reaction, and whatever your employer's expression contains... based on the poor-man’s rapid pallor, it’s clear Scrooge looks the furthest from pleased. “It's my best-seller 'round these parts! S’got a bit of a kick, yes, but I thought she would appreciate the aftertaste-”

“Indeed, it’s clear that she doesn’t .” There’s a harder press of fingers into your shoulder as you swallow back the urge to cough, before a sharp-slam, and click of a lock falling into place of a coin-box, is heard. “I do hope you fancied borrowing my coin, for you’ll get nothing further from me. Except perhaps a bit of a kick for yourself, should you have the courage to try a stunt like this a second-time.”

Your vision clears, enough to see the salesman holding both palms up in surrender. Looking far from pleased, from what you manage to witness with your blurry-eyes, but far more fearful than to fret over his loss of lender.

Meeting your own, slightly bloodshot gaze as you struggle with the harsh-liquor, the gentleman winces with some sense of guilt, before murmuring his intentions, “I do apologize, truly, sir! I only considered that you might be inclined to forgive m'late pay. P-perhaps further support my lil' business, if your dear-wife showed favor with my wares.”

Your throat still burns, but everything else freezes.

Not excluding the now corpse-stiff hand upon your shoulder. And indeed, Mister Scrooge rasps like he is the wrath of Death itself as he frigidly-growls, “She is not my wife."

The fingers dig through the layers of fabric into your shoulder under his tense grip, one unyielding as he sharply turns you away from the stall, and whatever sputtered apologies the marketman has to offer. You would sympathize if your esophagus didn’t feel aflame, like hell-itself had come to light your throat into a smolder...

Your cheeks are equally heated, in the sheer embarrassment of the whole situation, and no small amount of self-anger at propping yourself here.

What foolishness! Priorly, you thought injecting yourself into the affairs of your employer was enough of a mortification, yet now you see that your own limits to humiliating-displays know no-limitations.

Of course, this should’ve been evident, the moment you chose on a whim and on fool’s tradition, to kiss the very-man who pays your wages. A humiliating display, but certainly not the end of your streak of such exhibitions.

You lower your glove to apologize - the minimal of what you can do in such an ongoing predicament - but the very-instant you attempt to speak, you burst into a coughing fit as the heinous warmth races back-up upon contact with fresh-air, forcing you to a stumbling halt as fresh-tears spring in your eyes.

You’re largely unaware of being ushered for some-semblance of privacy in a nearby alleyway, but entirely aware of the hand still resting upon your shoulder, soon traveling... lower.

It's all very-proper, of course, and... admittedly, a bit clumsy. The hand that comes to rest between your heaving shoulder-blades in your pants, is moreso like one of Prudence's paws with how lamely it attempts to soothe your breathing, providing easier passage of air back into your burning-lungs.

Sadly, it doesn't work.

But the gruff, barely-audible words that somehow manage to reach your ears between the coughing, help ease your coughs more out of shock than anything else, "That's it... In. Out..."

Guidance. It's gruff, rusted and, and certainly lacking much bedside-manner.

But the gentleman is guiding you, urging you with slow, grave words that seem long-since out of practice, in order to get you breathing-clearly once more. And that fact alone is enough to assist in smoother-breathing through your airways, taking-in easier, and easier-breaths as result of Mister Scrooge's guidance.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING CHAPTER 3 ON AO3

And the shock, that he would be so-willing to do so.

[we-die-like-x-tag-tournament]

Propaganda for Crowley (my submission, I'm so pleased!):

"Fall like" is pretty obvious: he's a demon, he fell from heaven

"Sauntered Vaguely Downwards like" is a reference from the book, which starts with a Dramatis Personae section; and after a handful of demons listed as "Fallen Angel" we come to Crowley whose listing is

"An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards"

which pretty well sets up his entire personality as the demon who is not quite so bad as the others and happens to rather like people "which was a major failing in a demon" and is one of the reasons he wants to save the world from Armageddon. The other of course being it's the only place where he can be with Aziraphale.

He prefers to create low-grade mass-scale annoyances (like taking down London's phone networks for a day) rather than working to really target and corrupt one human. He thinks that gluing coins to pavements is proper demonic activity. And then just takes credit for all of the human-made atrocities to keep his standing with Hell.

In the show he characterizes his fall as "just hung around the wrong people" (ie "Lucifer and the gang" lol whoops) or "I only ever asked questions". He wanted God to install a suggestion box.

Between all of that and being the Serpent that tempted Eve he is basically the champion of Free Will and the poster-being for disproportionate retribution

I love that Crowley made it this far despite being one of the few submissions who never died

[panoralis]

❝  I  CAN’T  SEE  MYSELF  THROUGH  YOUR  EYES  ˒  𝐢.  astre’s  anatomy

STAGE  NAME  :  chiara  ❪  키아라  ❫

BIRTH  NAME  :  yoo  hyejin  ❪  유혜진  ❫  ,  legalized  to  chiara  ainsworth

ENGLISH  NAME  :  chiara

BIRTHDAY  :  december  22  ,  2000  ❪  capricorn  ❫

BIRTH  PLACE  :  london  ,  united  kingdom

ETHNICITY  :  korean

KNOWN  FAMILY  :  adoptive  parents

LANGUAGES  :  english  ,  korean  ,  french  

⸻  𝐚.  darling  ,  how  do  i  LOOK ?

FACE  CLAIM  :  lee  gahyeon  of  dreamcatcher

HEIGHT  :  one  hundred  seventy  point  eighteen  or  five  feet  seven  inches

BODY  MODIFICATION(S)  :  standard  lobes  ,  stacked  lobe  ,  orbital  and  helix on left ear &  forward  helix  and  inner  conch  on  right  ear

⸻  𝐛.  watch  myself  bloom  through  the  DOWNPOUR .  

FLOWERS  :  one  of  the  most  prominent  mood makers  ,  she’s  capable  of  lighting  up  the  room  with  her  bubbly  persona  .  she’s  the  type  of  person  you  can  depend  on  during  sticky  situations  ,  even  if  you  can’t  give  her  anything  in  return  .  girl’s  got  too  big  of  a  heart  for  this  world  .  late  arrival  ?  she’s  never  heard  of  it  —  always  be  worried  if  she’s  either  not  on  time  or  early  .  

SHOWERS  :  misinterpreted  as  attention-seeking  due  to  how  she  leans  on  her  members  in  front  of  cameras  .  she’s  terrified  of  confrontations  so  she’ll  fold  easily  ,  even  if  she’s  not  the  one  at  fault  .  and  while  not  obvious  to  outsiders  ,  she  has  a  bad  habit  of  picking  out  her  flaws  ,  lowering  her  self  -  confidence  .  the  third  workaholic  of  the  group  ,  she  pushes  herself  too  much  so  she  can  be  “  on  par  ”  with  the  others  . 

⸻  𝐜.  you  will  always  be  my  CELEBRITY !

LABEL(S)  :  jyp  entertainment  ❪  2013  -  2017  ❫  &  astre  entertainment  ❪  2017  -  present  ❫

PROFESSION  :  idol  &  actress

GROUP  :  pandora

POSITION  :  vocalist  &  rapper

YET  YOU  NEVER  FAIL  TO  WEAR  MY  SMILE  ˒  𝐢𝐢.  and  her  history  ❞

❪  tw  :  bullying  ,  insecurities  ,  possible  abandonment  ❫

VINTAGE.  an  adopted  daughter  ,  chiara  knows  that’s  who  she  is  .  while  thankful  that  her  parents  were  transparent  with  her  about  this  matter  ,  especially  due  to  the  glaring  fact  that  she  looked  different  ,  sometimes  she  wishes  they  weren’t  .  kids  can  be  very  curious  ,  and  that’s  what  led  the  little  girl  to  wonder  things  like  why  did  her  biological  parents  give  her  up  ?  did  they  take  a  look  at  her  then  decide  they  don’t  want  her  ?

and  why  were  other  kids  so  ruthless  about  things  they  don’t  understand  ?

CURRENT.  in  terms  of  dreams  ,  she’s  a  late  bloomer  .  she  didn’t  even  think  about  becoming  an  idol  until  she  came  across  k-pop  artists  like  wonder  girls  ,  2ne1  and  girls’  generation  .  it  was  getting  scouted  by  an  agent  under  jyp  entertainment  that  pushed  the  envelope  for  her  .  the  eleventh  and  final  member  introduced  to  the  public  ,  chiara  was  terrified  yet  excited  to  see  where  this  could  lead  her  .  she’s  fondly  known  as  one  half  of  the  cherubies  because  of  her  squishy  cheeks  and  doll  eyes  .  more  often  than  not  ,  those  mochis  have  fallen  victim  to  her  members’  hands  .

[gabrieldrawsstuff]

*wakes up from a college stress induced coma* i forgot how to draw

[thegreatyin]

to be entirely fair, the scoundrel is uniquely gifted at being uniquely unsubtle about their not-so-secret bat alter ego

y'know that. that actually tracks. that tracks a lot.

[letthemhateme]

eugh it's so hard to find people to roleplay with these days, everyone is in private cliques and discord servers

so anyway here's my last attempt at screaming into the void to find interactions, these are all the canon characters I write in all the different fandoms. I write para/multipara, just about any genre (esp angst and fluff and smut) m/m ships only and 18+ for various nsfw themes, and I'm open to canon compliant threads and AUs. I'm a lil slow on replies sometimes because life sucks and so does chronic pain, but I'm also down to just hang or play games or whatever idk. I don't always feel like writing every muse on the list, and I have my favorites, but I also have pretty niche interests so don't be afraid to reach out if something catches your eye. I'm a lil picky in who I write with, I don't care for drama and I require at least basic literacy, but other than that just be nice :3

I don't write on tumblr because I have no idea how to work this hellsite tbh, but I'm open to trying

Right now my biggest muse is probably Goro Akechi (P5R) and I have the worst akeshu brainrot rn hehe I would die for akeshu interactions

Games

Cyberpunk 2077 — Johnny Silverhand, male V

Persona 5 — Joker, Akechi

World of Warcraft — Anduin Wrynn, Mathias Shaw, Sabellian, Neltharion/Deathwing, Koltira Deathweaver, Azuregos

Warframe — Tenno

Genshin Impact — Childe

Witcher — Jaskier, Iorveth, Gaetan, Detlaff, Regis

Nier Automata — 9S, Eve

Dishonored — Daud, the Outsider

Hades — Zagreus, Thanatos

Morrowind — Nerevar, Nerevarine, Dagoth Ur

The Legend of Zelda — Link (SS, TP, TotK, BotW)

Haven — Yu

Nier Replicant — Brother Nier, Emil

A Date With Death — Casper

Anime/Manga

Jujutsu Kaisen — Satoru Gojo, Toge Inumaki

To Your Eternity — Fushi

Natsume's Book of Friends — Natsume Takashi

B: the Beginning — Izanami

TAL — Baek-Jeong

Hozuki's Coolheadedness — Hozuki, Hakutaku

Bungo Stray Dogs — Akutagawa Ryunosuke, Chuuya Nakahara

Attack on Titan — Levi

Castlevania — Alucard

D. Grayman — Allen Walker, Lavi

Kara no Kiyoku — Tobi

Dororo — Hyakkimaru

The Case Study of Vanitas — Noe, Vanitas, Louis

Kara no Kyoukai — Mitsuru Kamekura, genderbend Shiki Ryougi

Talentless Nana — Jin Tachibana

Night Head 2041 — Takuya Kuroki

Shows/Movies

Every Hugh Dancy character ever tbh

The Witcher — Jaskier

Hannibal — Will Graham

Books

Animorphs — Tobias

Skulduggery Pleasant — Skulduggery, Nefarian Serpine, Lord Vile

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde — Jekyll and Hyde

Other

Fate/ series — Robin Hood, Cu Chulainn, Andersen, Gilgamesh, Zhou Yu

YouTube — Jameson Jackson, Antisepticeye

Forgotten Realms — Bishop, Artemis Entreri, Jarlaxle

Fallen London — Mr Eaten/Candles, Mr Veils, Mr Stones, Mr Pages, Mr Wines

[forabeatofadrum]

It's not El WooWoo time, but Out of Touch time. Thank you @artsyunderstudy, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersworld and @facewithoutheart for the tags yesterday.

I, uh, have really gotten addicted to Persona 5 Royal, which is why I haven't written a lot and also why I didn't post yesterday. My initial plan to update Ljubili se tomorrow has really fallen into the soup, as we say in the Netherlands.

I also, ALSO really want to contribute to this year's @februaryfridayevents, but I already missed last week. But better late than never. Here's some tentative writing for the first week aka Voice | Freedom | Expression:

"Hello, I hope somebody's listening." The static voice has been heard by thousands of people around the world. Sometimes it still boggles Aled's mind that his podcast has become such a big hit. So big that it's brough Aled to Live!Video in London. It's his first in-person appearance as Radio ever, and it's nerve wracking. Frances tells him it'll all be alright. She's here, somewhere, backstage. Today's performance will be about Radio, so Tolouse won't be on stage with them. Aled doesn't want to regret that decision. He's chosen to do this by himself, because he can do this now. He's broken free from his mother's grip on him. Still, it's a bit weird that this thing that started out as his only way of expressing himself has become this big. A staff member of Live!Video mics him up and Aled can already hear the chatter of his audience.

Yeah. Don't know what to do next. I have, like, a vague idea for all the prompts. One might call them vibes. I just have to actually turn them into something. AH WELL.

Speaking of podcasts... And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @that-disabled-princess @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla ​ @wellbelesbian ​ @martsonmars ​​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @whatevertheweather @theotherhufflepuff @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @esilher @kurtsascot @blackberrysummerblog @nightimedreamersghost

[fiabex]

Dreamwidth Roundup

Nominations are now closed, and our closing posts are up! We have final clarification posts, and we have the post about tag set clean up!

Mods will be going through the tagset, but we also welcome your input! If you see an issue with tags already in the tagset, please comment on the tagset cleanup post, but if you think that a tag you nominated didn't make it into the tag set, please send that comment to clarification post 4!

More details about the fandoms that are parts of the clarification posts below the cut:

Nominations Clarification Post 3

Nominations Clarification Post 4

Tagset Cleanup

Nominations Clarification post 3:

Fandoms with Queries

+Anima (Manga)

Crossover Fandom

DCU (Comics)

Dimension 20 (Web Series)

Dredge (Video Game)

Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)

Elden Ring (Video Game)

Fairy Tail

Gary and His Demons (Cartoon)

Gundam 00

Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie

Magic Kaito

Nantucket Trilogy - S.M. Stirling

Original Work

Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)

QSMP | Quackity SMP

Red Dwarf (UK TV)

Ride Kamens (Video Game)

Shadow and Bone (TV)

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

Transformers Generation One

Westworld (TV)

Xenoblade Chronicles (Video Game)

Xenoblade Chronicles 3 (Video Game)

少年白马醉春风 | Dashing Youth (Live Action TV)

Fandoms with Rejections

A Date With Death (Visual Novel)

Crossover Fandom

Disco Elysium (Video Game)

Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)

Earth Girls are Easy (1988)

Exordia - Seth Dickinson

Gothic (1986)

Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Persona 4

Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

Warframe

방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS

人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

少年白马醉春风 | Dashing Youth (Live Action TV)

Additionally, we have some updates about In-Universe tags and the umbrella tags that reference them (example: "Medium Opt-In: Any - Any Nominated In-Universe Medium")!

Nominations Clarification post 4:

Fandoms with Queries

Barely Lethal (2015)

Batman Beyond

Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly

Books of the Raksura - Martha Wells

Chicago Fire

Crossover Fandom

Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02

Doctor Strange (Movies)

Fallen London | Echo Bazaar

Fire & Blood - George R. R. Martin

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

In Nomine

Mapp & Lucia Series - E. F. Benson

Monster Prom (Video Games)

Murdoch Mysteries

Original Work

QSMP | Quackity SMP

Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Schmigadoon! (TV)

Stellar Firma (Podcast)

Stellaris (Video Game)

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

Thor (Movies)

What If...? (Cartoon 2021)

僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Manga)

英雄伝説 閃の軌跡 | Sen no Kiseki | The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel Series (Video Games)

龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)

Fandoms with Rejections

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Biggles Series - W. E. Johns

Chicago Fire

Chicago Med

Children of Time Series - Adrian Tchaikovsky

Compilation of Final Fantasy VII

Crossover Fandom

Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02

Fallen London | Echo Bazaar

Friends at the Table (Podcast)

John Wick (Movies)

Ladyhawke (1985)

Original Work

Stranger Things (TV 2016)

The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey

The Fall of the House of Usher (TV 2023)

The Long Earth Series - Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter

The Saint of Steel - T. Kingfisher

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Welcome to Night Vale

[mad-voidling]

Redoing my pinned post time yippee!! Hello! I’m Void and welcome to my blog! Here’s a few things to know about me

- 18+

- Agender (It/Its)

- AroAce

- Disabled (Autistic + other stuff I don’t feel like mentioning)

- Born and raised Catholic (baptized by my own grandfather actually!), currently something akin to agnostic but I still have Thoughts and Feelings about the Bible/Christian mythos so that’s liable to show up around here on occasion

This is my more horror-focused blog alongside being my Fallen London one - it’s likely you’ll see me reblogging spooky stuff. I don’t usually tag things because I’m forgetful but if you want/need me to tag something feel free to dm me or send an anon, I promise I don’t mind in the slightest!

Speaking of Fallen London! I have various FL OCs, but my primary one/the one I have an account for is Idris Nightlocke/Mr. Trinkets! They have their own post here if you want to see their ref sheet (made by my wonderful partner) and learn more about them, and if you want even more info they also have their own tags in #idris nightlocke and #mr trinkets

I have other OCs too but they don’t have associated accounts and I post about them a lot less (anxiety is a bastard haha) but I’m working on doing so more! They are, in no particular order:

- The Cloth-Clad Weaver (She/Her, Tomb-colonist, alive since the Third City and keeps on living out of spite. Runs a small tailoring business in which she does everything by hand, her work being of a high quality despite her very advanced age)

- The Grieving Rebel/Marion Red (He/Him, Human, Urchin turned Revolutionary who was left disabled after the Constables raided the base of his small revolutionary sect and killed all his friend/comrades - him only surviving by sheer luck. Taken in by the Jovial Contrarian and currently works as one of his staffers/employees)

- The Viric-Glazed Assassin/Jessie King (Any/All, Human [Fingerking Possessed], Originally from the Surface before an accident led to them falling into Parabola and becoming a servant of the Fingerkings. Has little to no memories of their past, and due to the influence of their masters is extremely loyal to them)

- The Bejeweled Captain/August Riva (He/Him, Human, Originally from the Surface before his "best friend" (see above) was in an accident, due to a combination of denial + strange dreams he set out for the Neath to try and find them. Has been looking for them for years, but in the meantime has also become a zailor/pirate as he struggled to find any leads)

-The Altered Deviless/Belladona (She/They, Devil, The subject of a red-science experiment, she now grows Exile’s Roses and other hellish flowers from her own body, allowing her own colony of Lamplighter Bees to develop Prisoner’s Honey within London. The procedure has had other effects on their body as well, such as having to maintain their blooms lest their body become overgrown, and draining themself of the honey that builds up within them)

- The Rental Bridegroom/Silken Socialite (They/It, Clothes-Colony, An ambitious being determined to make a name for themself in the Palace despite their species. While it presents itself publicly as the Silken Socialite, behind the scenes it works as the Rental Bridegroom - willing to partake in sham marriages for the young upper crust facing pressure from their families to settle down, but not actually wanting too. While it provides a variety of services, marriage is the primary one, in exchange for money and favors to help further the status of its public persona)

And that’s all of them (for now)! Thank you for taking the time to read all of this - feel free to ask me any questions about them, and enjoy my blog!

[takadasaiko]

Burn the Worlds Chapter Twenty-Four

Story Summary: Rumplestiltskin had everything set up just as it needed to be for his curse and to find Bae, but when an enemy bent on destroying him makes his way through to Storybrooke as well, he may find that his cursed persona isn't a match for the cleric. Pre-S1. AU. Rumbelle. Swanfire. Eventual OutlawQueen.

Chapter Summary: Magnus makes a dangerous discovery, Regina finds herself saddled with the Charmings, and Emma and Bae have a talk.

FFN II AO3

---

Bae had lived through more terrible experiences than he liked to look back on. Falling through the portal, starving on the streets of London, Neverland, his father becoming the Dark One… The strange thing about it was that almost every terrifyingly terrible event in his life had followed on the shirttails of some kind of happiness, or at least hope for happiness. His childhood had been happy despite the poverty and the fear, and it had certainly been a bright light he could look back on after his fourteenth birthday. He'd thought he'd get his papa back before the portal and he thought he'd found a new family that loved him before Neverland. Now, despite everything life had taught him, he'd let his guard down. He'd fallen in love and he'd let his father back into his life. Much like his childhood, danger was lurking in every shadow, but they could fight it. They could fight everything except for the darkness that his papa let in.

And with magic came the Curse. Papa hadn't said it, but Bae knew. With magic came the end of all the bright lights in his life.

Rumplestiltskin had always liked to keep his hands busy, and that was even more true when he was uncomfortable. Bae had watched him tame that after taking on the Dark One's curse, but he'd seen hints of it around Mr Gold. Now, as his father explained that magic had come to Storybrooke, he moved around the little cabin, rummaging and looking for who knew what as he spoke.

Yes, he'd felt it as soon as they crossed the town line.

No, he was not responsible for bringing it.

No, he wasn't sure how Magnus had managed it, but if there was one thing he knew about the old cleric, it was that he was equal parts resourceful and determined.

Baelfire pushed down his own creeping fears for just a moment to risk a look over at his father's True Love. Belle had taken a seat on a sofa, her clear blue eyes watching as he moved, and she was very, very quiet for her curious nature. Her silent observation only seemed to make Rumplestiltskin more nervous. His dark eyes darted between Belle and Bae, finally taking a breath.

It was Emma who piped up though. "Okay, so isn't magic just magic? You can use it, right?"

He pursed his lips together thoughtfully before taking a careful knee next to a low set of drawers to work his way through them. "There's light magic and dark magic," he began, his tone surprisingly patient on the subject. "This is… something else."

"Grey?" she offered, looking at Bae for confirmation. He shrugged and his father opened another drawer.

"There's certainly magic that doesn't lend to either extreme, but this is not that."

There was an inflection at the end of the sentence that caught both Bae's and apparently Belle's attention, but if Rumplestiltskin realised it, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Light magic has many more rules to follow for its use, and while the clerics claim to only use light magic, Magnus has been known to bend those rules to the point of breaking."

"How?" Emma asked, moving to plop down into the chair that Bae had propped himself up against.

"Like using light magic for torture," Belle murmured softly, drawing all eyes - even Rumplestiltskin's - to her.

Brown eyes flickered immediately back to the drawer. "Indeed."

"I'm gonna guess you have a theory on how he dragged magic into a world that's known for not having any?" Bae asked quietly. He was certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Likely that he attempted to manipulate the curse."

"Wouldn't he need something to do that? Whatever scroll or…." Person that cast it. Oh. That's what his father wasn't saying. What he was avoiding.

"Or what?" Emma pressed.

"How he did it doesn't matter nearly as much as how to use it myself. That's goin' take time."

Bae quirked an eyebrow at his papa. "You opened the door just fine."

"That's small. Something I could do in my sleep. Simple movements, teleportation… that's nothing, but if I'm going up against Mangus, we better be sure that I know the threads to pull together for the spell."

"And there's no way to defeat him without magic?" Belle asked softly, even if she sounded like she knew the answer. Someone had to ask, though.

"No."

Bae shifted his weight, trying to find the best way to ask the question that he knew he needed an answer to, but didn't want. His father closed the drawer he'd been looking through. "I need some items from the shop." He turned, meeting his son's gaze as if he were waiting for him to ask. "So if you've got a question, now's the time."

Baelfire swallowed hard. "Can you hear it?"

Whatever his papa was expecting, that hadn't been it. He started and stopped a couple of times, fidgeting and looking away. "Of course I can hear it, son."

"Can you fight it?"

"It - it's not so much fightin' it," he answered softly, the discomfort rolling off him in waves. He had hated discussing anything regarding the curse in front of anyone else when Bae had been young. Apparently that quirk still stood. "It's about striking a deal with it. The Dark One's curse, as the name would imply, feeds off darkness. That comes in many a form. When this is over, it'll come in Magnus' destruction and that… well, that's something I imagine you and I can agree on needin' to happen."

"And everyone else?"

"Are safe from me as long as they don't get in my way."

"What about that dagger?" Emma asked. "You said that someone holding onto it could control you. Is it -?"

"Safe. Soon as I felt magic, I put it away where only I can reach it."

Bae's eyes narrowed a little as he could practically see the wheels turning in Emma's head. That was the look that had produced the very best and the very worst ideas she came up with. There didn't seem to be any middle ground there.

"So what if Neal holds onto it?"

Rumplestiltskin turned sharply to look at her. "And why would he need to do that?"

"Well he seems kinda freaked out by whatever you get your power from and just because you believe you can control it doesn't mean you can." She held up her hands, palms outward almost immediately. "Doesn't mean you can't. I'm the last person to know that, but I do know your son. He's a good guy and he loves you. Seems like the best person to trust with it."

And apparently those rare moments when it was both the best and the worst idea at the exact same moment. Bae felt like he couldn't breathe as he watched his papa turn the idea over in his mind, Belle sitting quietly just out of reach. She didn't move, didn't try to sway him, but watched and waited. When he glanced her way, she offered him a reassuring smile.

Rumplestiltskin loosed a breath in the form of a sigh, flicked his fingers, and the Kris Dagger appeared in his hand. Bae did his best not to recoil at the sight of the evil thing that had done its damndest to destroy his father. It hadn't won, though, at least not yet, and his papa flipped the dagger over to hand it to him hilt-first.

"Are you sure?" Bae found himself asking.

"I chose it once," he answered, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Now I choose you. I trust you, Bae. I love you."

Baelfire reached out and his fingers skimmed along the handle and, as they closed around the hilt, his eyes met his papa's. Without warning he reached his free hand up and around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug that the older man readily returned, burying his face in the crook of Bae's neck. "I love you too, Papa. I'll guard it with my life."

"Don't you dare. Any sign of trouble, you call. You call me and I'm right here to protect you." He reached up to make sure Bae met his eyes. "Not it. You."

He shook his head, not willing to trust his own voice and Belle cleared her throat from where she'd stood. "Well then. We should get over to the shop, Rumple."

"We?"

She tipped up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. "We. Let's give the kids some time alone while it's still something like quiet."

His father nodded and Bae felt a small smile tug into place as he adjusted his grip on the Dark One's dagger. Belle had been good for him, that much was clear. And maybe, when this was all said and done, they could find a way to free his father from the curse for good. Until then, they'd make the Dark One's curse work for them.

----

There was a shift in the air, and for a moment Magnus mistook it for Reul Ghorm's death. The fairy lay dead at his feet, her dark eyes wide and hollow, her sacrifice in vain even as her precious Snow White grabbed her cursed prince by the wrist and ran. There was no escape, not from Storybrooke. He was even willing to give them a head start - to play the game fairly, of course - but a fraction of a moment later his mind registered that it had not been the death of an Original Power in the Land Without Magic that had rattled the fabric of the curse. No, she had nothing to do with its casting or even bringing magic to this place. Her death - tragic as its necessity had been - made little difference to the fabric of this world. The author of the Dark Curse had returned, and not just that. He had already begun experimenting with the magic he found here. Magnus could feel the power radiate out, and if given just a moment, he could pinpoint where…

And then he was floating, disengaged from his own physical form with a view few would ever know. Rumplestiltskin had not stolen every form of sight from him. He could see the woods, the dirt, and tracks through it where a vehicle had driven. He moved through the space in search for the epicentre of the magic used until he came across a cabin. There. That's where he was, at least for now.

"... going?" a voice cut through, ripping Magnus from the vision and he blinked sightless eyes, sweeping magic over the physical landscape to find Snow and her prince still trying to make their escape. The second flush of power froze everything in place. The birds silenced mid-air and the fish in the pond stilled as they swam. On the banks, desperate to get around and away, were the savior's parents.

Magnus moved unhurriedly towards them, his footsteps powerful and his sightless gaze fixed on them. He could feel Snow squirm against his spell that had locked her in place. "I won't let you touch her!" she growled, every inch the fighter that he'd heard of from the edge of his battle with the Dark One.

"I have no wish to hurt her," Magnus said and the emotion flooding through the strings of magic he had in place gave him a visual of her wide, green eyes and jaw that had gone a little slack in surprise.

Then, all at once, surprise was replaced with fortified determination. "You killed Blue for standing in the way of getting to Emma. Why do you think I'd believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"Mary Margaret," her prince managed, "I can't move."

"You are not alone," Magnus said as he stepped aside, pulling his phone from his pocket, the only number that he kept on speed dial ringing as he set it up against his ear. "He has returned to Storybrooke. Gather the twins and the thief up. We will not leave this to chance." Caiden confirmed from his end and Magnus ended the call, turning back towards the royal couple.

"I have no wish to hurt Emma," he repeated. "I also have no choice. Once the Dark One is dead, she is our only way home. I know it comes as no condolence for a mother whose child was stolen away from her by a madman with only his own endeavours in mind, but her sacrifice is her destiny. I will save us from this evil and she will take us home."

"Rumplestiltskin isn't the one threatening my daughter," Snow snarled. "I won't let you touch one hair on her head!"

"The decision is not yours to make." And with that, magic swirled around them as Magnus transported them to the only place deep enough below ground that the curious and cursed townspeople steered clear of.

-----

Her ears were ringing and somehow she found herself on the floor. She didn't know how she'd gotten there or even where there was. The ground was hard under her and when she finally managed to curl her fingers under her she could feel the rocky flooring. Slowly, painfully, she pried her dark eyes open to find the space washed in green light and a pair of small boots appeared, running directly at her. Their owner dropped and one little hand shook and shook her. "Gina. Gina!"

Regina groaned and shifted. Her head was killing her. What the hell was this kid - "Roland?" she managed, finally putting a name with the little voice that hadn't called her by name until that very moment. Or maybe a handful of moments before. She wasn't sure. Something told her she wouldn't have known if he had.

"Well isn't that interesting?" a familiar voice hummed as heeled boots sounded against the hard ground. That's right. Maleficent. She'd thrown a curse at her hard enough to pick her fully up off the ground and slam her against the wall. If Regina had had her magic, it would have been easy enough to deflect, but as it stood…

The Mistress of Evil squatted down, her jacket's long train that was much more suited to the Enchanted Forest pooling on the ground as she got a closer look at the downed, powerless Evil Queen. "Laugh it up," Regina growled, forcing herself to her knees. Everything screamed at her to stay down in painful jabs and sharp pricks of pain, but she ignored them. At the very least she could start healing her pride by getting to her feet and taking a physical swing at the sorceress.

"What did he do to you?"

Dark eyes blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness that her movement was causing, and she looked up to find a strangely concerned look on Maleficent's features. Would wonders never cease?

A small hand took hold of her sleeve and she looked over to see a very worried little boy next to her. For some reason, her irritation and embarrassment took a backseat and she tried for a smile. "I'm alright."

Roland's dark brows drew together and he turned a glare on Maleficent as he moved between the former fairy and the downed queen. There was a beat of silence as the little boy thought he was protecting Regina from the powerful sorceress that had attacked her, but it didn't take long for both women to crack and their laughter echoed through the tunnels. Regina could feel it through her bruised ribs and in every strained muscle, but she couldn't stop herself, and as the laughter continued - the little boy getting more and more frustrated by the second - it was the first truly familiar thing that she had known in nearly two decades.

"What did you do to garner such loyalty?" Maleficent chuckled as she sidestepped the child to reach a hand down to her old friend.

In the moment, despite what had just unfolded, Regina took it, her quip drowned out by the child in question. "She's my friend. Don't hurt her."

"No, I think you've protected her quite well," Maleficent murmured, real amusement finally in her voice. She turned her pale gaze back to Regina. "It's clear what happened, but I do confess to being curious as to how."

"Magnus. The Blind Cleric."

"I presumed as much. His little acolytes have been scurrying these mines like rats for years now. There wasn't much to do about it other than give them reason to avoid me…. Until magic came."

"As brief as that was for me."

"Might have saved your life. I was very put out with you."

"Why?" Roland asked and Maleficent smiled toothily at him.

"Aren't you precious? See, Regina? I told you pets are comforting." She turned that curious expression she wore back on Roland. "Because your friend Gina locked me away. And not just that, she locked me away as a dragon."

Roland's dark eyes went wide. "Why?"

"Because I dared to tell her no. She doesn't like that very much."

"Like you're any better," Regina groused as she finished her personal inventory. She was relatively sure nothing was broken. She turned back to her - former? - friend. "But magic's back, even if Magnus has cut me off from it. Why haven't you left?"

"He had everything set up for the day he'd bring it here, I suppose. All the right wards in place that activated the moment magic came sweeping through. Imagine it. The best I get is this form, but if I try to leave? I'm thrown right back to where I started. He was ready for this, not that anyone would expect any less from him. The man does know how to plan."

"Not like Rumple."

"Ooh. Now there's the battle of the millenia. How long's it been since those two actually went head-to-head? Was it before your time?"

"I don't know. Rumple didn't like to talk about him."

"Rumplestiltskin playing things close to the vest? Shocking."

The corner of Regina's lip tugged up at that, only broadening as an idea stuck her. "You could piggy back out of here. The moment you feel that shift, you can use the brief rupture in the containment spell to teleport out."

"Only if I took the person coming in with me. No. I have no interest in landing on the Blind Cleric's map."

"How're you gonna get out then?" Roland asked sincerely.

"Oh, sweet child. When you've been alive as long as I have you understand that curses don't last forever. Not even ones Regina here casts. Sooner or later it'll be broken and we'll all go catapulting back to our own world… or what's left of it. This isn't forever."

The jab struck deeper than Regina cared to admit. Her curse was as airtight as any curse could be. "Isn't it?"

"I'm in no rush, dear. I don't have a cleric breathing down my neck."

"So send us out. You don't want to fight him, fine. Rumple and I will wage our war, and when we win -"

"Bold assumption."

"- I'll free you."

That dangerous smile returned. "You'll still owe me that fight."

Regina matched it. "I wouldn't miss it for either world."

The smile faded and Maleficent tilted her head. She felt something moving. Something Regina could only hope she'd feel again someday. "He's coming?"

"Maybe. They don't always join."

"Send us."

"Both of you?"

"I promised the kid I'd help him find his father if he helped me get out. He led me to you who may just get us out."

"Look at you becoming a woman of your word." The mirth washed away. "It may not be Magnus coming, but it may well be. I have no way to know for sure."

"I understand." Regina looked down at Roland. "If I tell you to run, you run. Don't look back. Don't stop. Do you hear me?"

"But -"

"Do you hear me?"

He nodded and Regina turned to Maleficent. The older sorceress gave her a crooked smile. "Tell Rumple I said good luck. He's going to need every ounce of it."

"We all will."

Without warning, they were pulled away, Maleficent's magic shoving them through the crack in the containment spell and hurtling towards the unknown.

----

He had thought the world he had woken up to was crazy enough. He couldn't remember his name or his life or what had happened that had put him into a coma for… no one seemed to be able to tell him how long. Storybrooke was a strange place, but he'd done his best to convince himself that it was because he was limited to the hospital grounds. The few people that he saw regularly from the outside seemed normal enough.

Mary Margaret had seemed normal enough. At least until that morning. Now he didn't know what the hell was happening. Some towering blind man had killed a woman - a nun - by ripping her heart out of her chest and was talking about hurting someone else. Mary Margaret's daughter? None of it made sense. Not the shift in the woman he was beginning to fall for or the unexplainable events that looked like something out of one of the movies he'd watched while passing the time in the hospital. Part of him knew he didn't remember enough to know it wasn't real, but another part of his mind screamed at him that it couldn't be. This was a dream. Maybe he was still asleep and none of this had really happened.

He was jolted out of his desperate attempt to piece something that made sense together as they were ripped from where they were standing. He thought he saw some sort of smoke swirl around them and his grip tightened on Mary Margaret's hand as he felt like he was being dragged through the air. His feet were under him when he landed though, catching only the briefest of glimpses of what looked like a cave before the smoke turned green and he was right back where he'd started: standing by the lake with Mary Margaret's hand clutched tightly in his and the dead nun a few yards away.

He blinked hard, feeling like he'd gotten whiplash from the sudden movements, and found that they weren't alone. A woman stood with them, dressed in a torn pantsuit with short dark hair, and at her side was a little boy that couldn't have been older than four. His face was set in a determined sort of way like he was desperate to hide just how scared he was and he looked up at the woman whose dark gaze swept the terrain to settle on Mary Margaret. Her mouth dropped open as if she were looking for something to say, but Mary Margaret beat her to it, loosening her grip on his hand to step in front of him. "Regina. Of course you're behind all of this!"

Somehow the woman - Regina - managed to look even more startled than before. "Snow?"

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would you be aligned with Magnus? I thought you and Rumplestiltskin were -"

Regina's expression darkened immediately. "I would never align with that cleric." She paused, glancing down at the boy who was watching with wide, dark eyes, and she let her hand drop so that he could take hold of it. He did without hesitation. "Magnus had us trapped in the mines."

"The lady with the green smoke got us out," the boy piped up.

Mary Margaret's dark brows drew together. "Who?"

Regina bristled irritably. "Doesn't matter. Hello there, David. You look… confused."

The man that finally realized she was referring to as David blinked. "I don't…. What the hell is going on?" He looked to Mary Margaret. "Who's David?"

Mary Margaret turned back to him. "You are. It's okay. It'll make sense. We just have to find a way to help you remember." Slowly, an idea seemed to dawn on her and her pretty green gaze slid back to the other woman. "And Regina can help with that."

Regina snorted. "Oh. And why would I do that? This -" she motioned between them - "is better than I could have dreamt. You remember everything and he remembers nothing. Your prince is gone, Snow, and you have to look at the empty shell wearing his face every day." A smile broadened, but it was anything but pleasant. "I won. And now you'll live through the hell that you put me through for so long."

Frustration bubbled up at her vicious expression and the way her words seemed to slice through Mary Margaret. David took a step around the petite woman. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do, but he felt the sudden urge to do something. To protect her. Somehow.

Mary Margaret reached a hand out and it touched David's arm gently, but when he glanced back she was looking at Regina. There was something in her eyes that said she had a plan. She knew exactly what she needed to do. "You're going to help us because our goals are aligned. Because we can help you take down Magnus."

Regina snorted. "How did that work out for you just now?"

The little boy gave a tug on her hand. "Papa says we help friends."

"They are not our friends," she countered.

"But they wanna help!"

"We do," Mary Margaret pressed, turning her one-hundred watt smile on the little boy. "And we can. If Regina will let us."

He turned those big brown eyes up to the woman whose hand he was still clutching and David could have sworn he saw her hardened expression ease a little bit. "Please, Gina! Please can the nice lady help?"

Regina bristled at that and shot Mary Margaret a look that was one part distrust and the other loathing. "We don't have time for this. If you just can't stop yourself from tagging along, I won't stop you, but we can't just keep standing here in the open," she grumbled after a long moment.

"Are we gonna go find Papa?"

This time David was sure it was the little boy that softened her. "We're going to go find a way to find him."

He lit up at that and David looked over to Mary Margaret. There was a strange, distant look in her eyes, like she was caught up in an old memory. So caught up that she didn't start moving even as Regina and the boy did. "C'mon," he coaxed, taking her hand. "Otherwise I'm pretty sure she'll leave us behind."

She nodded and offered him a smile as she tightened her grip on him. "Don't worry. We'll get your memories back. I promise."

There was something in her tone that made him think only a fool would bet against her.

-----

Emma wasn't sure how long Belle and Gold had been gone, but the deafening silence that had settled in as Neal turned the weirdly shaped knife that was somehow linked to his father's magic powers - okay, that was all still so weird, even after she'd seen him toss around small flickers of magic as casually as he breathed - was about to drive her insane. There was so much at stake right now with so many unknowns. Not just the people she'd come to care about and the ones she thought she might want to care about a little more, but the question that she'd pushed to the back of her mind since the hotel. She was young, but she wasn't stupid. That's why Belle had wanted to give them time. She thought Emma should talk to Neal about it. Sure, talk to him and blow everything up. If he even thought there was a possibility that she was pregnant he'd grab her by the wrist, throw her into the car, and they'd be gone before they ever helped anybody. And Gold wasn't there to help with that beaten-puppy look that he'd given his son the last time that had helped to keep him there.

So she'd let him brood and Emma scoured every inch of the small cabin. Every bookshelf and nicknack. Every coat closet and quilt rack. She'd even gotten desperate enough to act like she was interested in the mantle over the fireplace. It was a small cabin.

The longer time stretched on, the more stir crazy she was becoming. They hadn't come all the way back to Storybrooke just to sit on their asses, and while it might be smart to wait until the one guy who could actually use magic came back to risk running across Magnus, eventually Neal might ask what Belle had been referring to.

With a huff, she turned towards the door. That, apparently, was enough to catch her boyfriend's attention. "Hey? Where're you going?"

He hadn't moved from where he'd curled himself into a chair, knees bent and knife in hand, but those dark eyes of his were fixed on her in a way that always made her feel like he could read her mind. When she'd first met him, it had left her feeling exposed, but the longer she knew him - the more she fell for him - those eyes had become home. A focused look like he had on her would, in most circumstances, calm any nerves. This was definitely not most circumstances.

"We came back to help Regina and apparently my parents are still out there. We don't know what's going on or what Magnus and his creeps know. I can -"

Then he was on his feet, his expressive features pulled in worry. "Emma, no. He knows you're with us. He -"

"Might come after me? Yeah. I got that part. Does it have something to do with the curse? Does he think I can help him or -"

"Pop thinks he might try to kill you to send everyone back home," Neal blurted she finally stilled.

"What?"

Neal dragged in a breath that didn't seem to calm the fear at all. "Papa doesn't think you can break the curse now, but he said he put a failsafe in to keep… anyone from going after you before you had a chance to come back and break it. If you die, everyone that's here and that's from the Enchanted Forest goes back."

"Does that mean you too?"

"I don't know. Maybe, but I think you're missing the point." He stepped forward, reaching his free hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her closer. "I'm not going to lose you. I get that you couldn't just run from this, but we have to play it smart. Promise?"

She couldn't help but squeeze his fingers between hers and she risked a look up into those dark eyes. Damn the man. Yeah. There was no way she was telling him about a kid until this was all over. "Yeah," she said quietly and saw at least a little of his tension ease. A corner of his lips twitched upward and he leaned in. Emma felt her eyes close as he pressed his lips against hers and she reached her own free hand up to the side of his face, guiding him a little deeper into the kiss.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

Hazel eyes fluttered open. "You too."

His expression turned a little more mischievous. "You know, they could be gone for a while."

Blonde eyebrows danced upward. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean -" He stopped abruptly, his gaze sliding towards the back door.

Emma snorted a laugh. "You were saying?"

"Did you hear that?"

"No…."

The door blew open like it'd been kicked in and revealed a lanky man with sandy hair and a dangerous smile curling his lips. A startled sound escaped Emma as Neal dragged her around, putting himself between her and the clearly unfriendly new guest. His opposite hand settled behind him, presumably to keep her from darting the other direction, but Emma saw the knife clutched carefully between his fingers.

"We don't want to hurt the girl or you," another voice said from the back door and both Emma and Neal's attentions jerked around to see a blond man in some kind of costume. With him was another man that looked identical to the one that had barged in the front door.

The second twin sneered. "Give up the dagger, boy."

Neal squared his shoulders, backing Emma up a couple of steps to reposition himself to jump in either direction. "Like hell I'm gonna -"

And then he was being thrown like someone had tugged hard on invisible strings. Neal crashed hard into the wall, but didn't let go of the dagger. Instead he grit his teeth, anger rolling off of him in waves, and he turned that determined gaze on his enemy at the front door. "Rum -"

There was a flick of the man's wrist, much like Gold had done to open doors and cabinets and the like while searching through the cabin. This didn't open doors, but instead sent out a strong gust of something powerful enough that Emma thought she saw it glisten through the air. The streak of power sliced through her boyfriend like knives that had been thrown, tossing him back harder than the first time and dragging a cry of pain from him.

A hush fell over the cabin as he crumbled to the ground, the fight over before it had really begun and Emma wondered if that's what magic really was. No wonder Neal didn't like it. She didn't think she liked it either.

And then all eyes fell on the dagger that had been driven loose from the groaning young man and as quickly as everyone had frozen in their place, they sprang into action again.

-----

"I'm very proud of you."

Belle's voice drew Rumple's attention from where he'd been carefully mixing a potion that he'd prefer to take whole rather than in its more combustive individual parts back to the cabin. "What for, dear?"

Her smile was soft and kind, and Rumplestiltskin felt the fluttering in his chest that it always elicited. "For trusting Bae with the dagger."

His curse stirred dangerously at the reminder that it wasn't in control and Rumplestiltskin pushed hard against it as he turned back to his potion-making, his skilled fingers tipping one ingredient into the waiting beaker to see it darken and begin to bubble angrily until he pinched the root he'd ground down into dust and sprinkled it in. The mixture gave to that, the colour shifting again and smoking wafting upward. "Of course I trust Bae," he murmured, risking a quick glance in her direction to find her smile hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown.

"Is it ready?"

"Just about," he answered, relieved to shift the topic away from his own vulnerabilities. "Another minute or so and it'll be stable enough to go back with us."

"Do we not need to protect the shop?"

"Oh no. There're enough wards in this place to keep even Magnus out now that they've got magic to pull from."

As if in response to the statement, the bell above the front door gave a sharp, abrupt jingle like someone had rattled the door without getting it opened. He met Belle's sharp look and motioned for her to stay where she was, grateful that she didn't argue the point. If Magnus' people were trying to come in through less-than-magical means, she wouldn't be in the direct line of fire.

Rumplestiltskin pushed through the curtain and towards the front door where he could hear muffled voices and the sound of someone trying to jimmy the lock.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this!" the familiar and irritable voice of Regina Mills growled from the other side of the door.

"It's been a while," the more surprising voice of Snow - Mary Margaret in this world - answered in what she likely thought was a hushed tone. "And why can't you just magic it open?" Interesting. Somehow Snow had woken up.

Rumple flicked his fingers, the lock flipped, and the door swung open to reveal three surprised faces. "Because Regina, for all her talent, never could break my wards." He flashed them a sharp grin.

Snow White gaped a little as she stared at him. "Rumple…stiltskin? Is that you?"

He heard the light sound of footsteps and the curtain opening behind him as Belle joined the more or less friendly crowd. "Indeed it is," he answered without bothering to curb the amusement in his voice. "And my my…. There must be quite a story here. Tell me, Regina, how did you come by your step-daughter and her charming husband in all of this?"

The prince in question gave him a strange look at the statement while the Evil Queen's lips tugged downward. "What do you think? Magnus."

"It's good to see you're alright," Belle offered.

"Of course I am," she answered briskly and movement caught Rumple's attention. Hiding behind her torn pant legs and utterly unnoticed up until that point, a little boy with a mop of dark hair peeked around.

Rumplestiltskin may have finally noticed him, but it was Belle who greeted him. "Hello there. Who might you be?"

The little boy moved just a bit more out into the open. "Roland," he answered, never straying far from Regina. Rumple didn't miss how she reached down and the boy instantly grabbed her hand. "Are you gonna help us find my papa?"

The Dark One snorted, ready to wave the child off and tell him they had bigger issues to worry about, but Belle shot him a look like she just knew what was going through his mind. "We'd love to help," she said firmly.

Rumple snorted as he turned to limp back into the shop a bit further. "Well c'mon now. Don't just stand there in the doorway. Wards work best on sealed walls. We'll need to -"

And then he felt it. The jarring pull of his curse as the summoning slammed into him by way of his name being called and his own magic snapped him out of the shop.

----

They stood there, the pawn shop suddenly short one obnoxious sorcerer, and Regina's gaze snapped to Belle. "Where the hell did he go?"

To the side, the amnesiatic David looked like he'd finally hit his quota of unexplainable events. His eyes went wide as he turned to Snow. "What just happened? Did he… disappear? What -"

"Magic, David," Snow said quietly, her expression strained as she reached out in a comforting manner.

Belle's blue gaze remained fixated on the spot where her lover had just been standing, but instead of that irritatingly determined look that seemed to be a steady fixture on her features, the younger woman looked… worried. Afraid. She swallowed hard and seemed to try to steal herself. "Baelfire has Rumple's dagger."

"Who's Baelfire?" Snow demanded.

"Rumple's son," Regina answered dismissively.

"Neal?!"

The fear in Belle's eyes shifted and there was that damnable look. "Regina, we need to go. If Bae summoned Rumple, then he and Emma will be -"

"Regina, she's right. We have to go," Snow said, her voice strangely unsteady and when Regina turned she found those large green eyes fixed on her and pleading. "I know you said you couldn't teleport us because Magnus would know, but he already knows. We can't waste any more time!"

Dark eyes remained fixed on the younger queen. "Why do you care what happens to Rumple's son and his little girlfriend?"

Snow's jaw dropped like she was going to answer, then snapped shut. Again and again she tilted between whatever two options she thought she had and David finally slowed his own spiral into panic long enough to step forward, uncertain but desperately trying to return the comfort he'd just received. "I'm sure she'll be alright."

And then it clicked. It all made sense. "Emma. Your daughter."

"Regina please…"

"She can't help you."

Everyone in the room spun to see that the open doorway had been filled by none other than Magnus' right-hand cleric. Caiden stood with his usual sombre expression, blocking their exit. Regina grabbed Roland and pulled him behind her while Snow took a protective step in front of Charming. It was the only movement they could make before magic washed over them and every muscle froze in place.

---

TBC

Notes: Every time I have a long delay on a chapter I just have to think "well, at least it hasn't been a decade :') " As has become my habit, I need to apologize for the delay on the chapter, but at least it's a long one and a TON happens. Between wrapping Snow and Charming into the group, Regina finding out Emma is the savior, Rumple choosing to trust Bae with his dagger... it's a wild chapter. On that latter one, I was so freakin' pleased to be able to weave in a piece of Rumple's original speech to who he thought was Bae. It always broke my heart that he was so open and honest when August was fooling him and how closed off he was when he really did find his son. I think that thinking he'd found Bae and, in a way, losing him again when it turned out to be a scam broke him all over again. So yeah... very pleased with that :) 

Next time: Rumple finds himself in uncharted territory, Caiden finds himself facing a difficult question, and the meeting of OutlawQueen. 

[exoni]

Ok, so I figure I need to make a proper intro to this blog at some point.

Hello, I'm Exoni!

He/him, fine with they

Games and media I enjoy: Hollow Knight, Outer Wilds, In Stars and Time, Fallen London, Homestuck, Vast Error, several other mspfas, Super Paper Mario, Minecraft, Sky: CotL, and obscure browser games.

I post photography of Sky on my sideblog: @aeriesky

Link to general info about my Sky OCs:

Tag I use for stuff I made/did that's worthy of not being buried under tons of reblogs:

#exoni

I won't post on here too often, I'm more likely to reblog others' work. I do make pixel art occasionally, but I'm not great at it. I like writing and also may occasionally share stuff about my ocs, but likely in a mostly text-based format.

Anyways, if you're new here, welcome! Feel free to stick around!

That's all for now, though, so bye!