#kind of feel like at this point we’ve talked it near to death with no new information so

[dwtdog]

going to start adding george situation tags to all the posts i make about it from here out btw <3 inspired by a few other ppl who are doing it

[darksturnz]

SNOWED IN

CONTENTS:・smut-heavy plot ・shypervy!matt ・pillow riding・unprotected p in v ・oral (m! & afab! receiving)・creampie ・fluff :3 + more WC: 5.1k

The blizzard outside was relentless, the kind that swallowed the streets of Boston in a suffocating white blanket and made the idea of stepping outdoors laughable. The windows of the apartment were fogged over, and every now and then the wind would whistle against the panes like it was testing the limits of the glass. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that trailed onto the floor, flipping through the channels with little interest.

Behind you, Matt stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. He had that slightly disheveled look about him, like he’d rolled out of bed without fully shaking off sleep—messy hair, hoodie wrinkled, socks mismatched. You didn’t mind. Matt was always a little like that: casual, a bit quiet, but solid and easy to be around.

“You know, I feel like we should be doing something,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Something like what?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“I don’t know. It’s a snow day! Aren’t snow days supposed to be fun?”

He took a sip of his coffee, giving you a small, lopsided smile. “They’re also for staying inside and not freezing to death. I think we’ve got that part down.”

You sighed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Come on, Matt. Live a little. We’ve been roommates for, what, three years? This is like our… fifth snowstorm together. We’ve gotta mix it up.”

“Mix it up how?”

You sat up, turning to face him with a spark of determination. “We could have a movie marathon. Or play a game. Or—wait, hear me out—we could build a pillow fort.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A pillow fort? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“Never.” You grinned at him, sliding off the couch and padding over to where he stood. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to. You’re just scared you’ll get out-engineered by me.”

Matt scoffed lightly, but his ears turned pink, something you didn’t notice as you rummaged through the hallway closet for extra pillows.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his mug down and rubbing the back of his neck. “But don’t blame me if this thing collapses.”

“It won’t collapse if you do what I say.” You shot him a playful wink, which only made the flush on his cheeks deepen.

The two of you got to work, pulling cushions off the couch and draping blankets over chairs to form the roof. Matt quietly followed your lead, handing you supplies and occasionally mumbling things like, “That’s not gonna hold,” or “You’re gonna need more support there.”

At one point, you stood on the coffee table to adjust a blanket, and Matt reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your back like he was afraid you might fall.

“Careful,” he said softly.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

His hand dropped, and he turned away, pretending to busy himself with straightening a pillow, though the faint redness creeping up his neck gave him away.

When the fort was finally done, it was a masterpiece—cozy and lopsided, with string lights you’d fished out of a storage box giving it a warm glow. You crawled inside first, sitting cross-legged on the floor and patting the space next to you.

“Come on, it’s not a real fort until you’re inside and it manages to stay up.”

He hesitated for a second, then ducked under the blanket and sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours in the cramped space.

“See? Isn’t this better than nothing?” you said, looking over at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It is.”

You handed him a bag of popcorn, your fingers grazing his, and he froze for just a moment before quickly taking it, his eyes fixed firmly on the string lights above.

The two of you spent the evening talking and laughing, the snowstorm forgotten as you swapped stories and debated over which childhood cartoons were the best. Every so often, Matt would glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his heart thudding a little harder when you laughed or smiled at him like he was the only person in the room, which he was but that’s besides the point.

Eventually, though, exhaustion started to creep in. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said, crawling out of the fort and standing up.

Matt followed you out, watching as you gathered the blanket you’d been using earlier. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Matt,” you replied, giving him a little wave as you disappeared down the hall.

He lingered in the living room for a moment, staring at the now-empty fort before heading towards the bathroom for a shower.

As you settled into bed, wrapping yourself in the familiar weight of your blankets, you heard it: the faint hum of the shower turning on down the hall. The steady rush of water filtered through the quiet apartment, a soothing yet distant sound that seemed to amplify the stillness of your room. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the sound wash over you like white noise.

But the second your head hit the pillow, the restlessness crept in.

You sighed softly, rolling onto your side, then your back again, punching the pillow as if fluffing it would trick your body into cooperating. But it was no use. Insomnia—your unwelcome, all-too-familiar companion—was already settling in. This was how it went most nights, the routine so predictable it almost felt like a cruel joke.

The weight of exhaustion was there, heavy in your limbs, but your mind refused to follow. Thoughts you couldn’t quite name flitted just out of reach, intangible but persistent, keeping you from slipping into the oblivion of sleep.

Another sigh escaped your lips, quieter this time, like you were trying not to disturb the silence. You could still hear the water running, muffled now, but constant. Matt was probably rinsing away the day, oblivious to the small storm brewing in your head. You wondered absently how he always seemed so calm, so unbothered by the little things that left you tangled up and wide awake.

You rolled onto your side again, clutching the blankets a little tighter, hoping the rhythmic hum of the shower might somehow lull you to sleep. But it wasn’t working. If anything, it was having the opposite effect. Your mind wandered, unbidden, to the thought of Matt in the shower—steam rising, water trailing down his skin—and suddenly, your cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around you.

It was no secret, at least not to yourself, that Matt was incredibly attractive. Add to that his quiet sweetness, his unshakable respectfulness, and it was a combination that left your head spinning more often than you’d care to admit. It wasn’t just you, either—your mutual friends seemed baffled that the two of you had managed to live together for years without any “accidents” during late nights out. But then again, Matt was Matt. Respectful to a fault, impossibly shy, and so unaware of the effect he had on people—especially you—that it almost made you laugh.

Almost. Because right now, the thought of him was doing anything but making you laugh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that might somehow chase away the thoughts swarming your mind. But it didn’t help. The image of Matt—droplets clinging to his collarbone—lingered stubbornly. You shifted restlessly, the blankets suddenly too warm, your heart beating just a little faster than it should.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, burying your face into the pillow. He’s your roommate. He probably doesn’t even think about you like that.

And yet, some part of you couldn’t ignore the moments. The tiny, fleeting glances. The way he always seemed a little nervous when he stood too close. The way his ears turned red whenever you teased him, like he wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention.

You groaned softly, flipping onto your back and staring at the ceiling as if it held some sort of answer. The truth was, you’d been toeing the line with Matt for so long that even thinking about crossing it felt dangerous. But tonight, with the sound of the shower still running and your mind painting pictures you shouldn’t be entertaining, the line felt thinner than ever.

The water finally shut off, breaking through your thoughts. You held your breath, listening as the faint rustle of movement came from the bathroom—Matt grabbing a towel, maybe shaking out his hair. Your cheeks burned again at how vivid your imagination had become, and you pulled the blanket over your face like it might shield you from your own embarrassment.

Moments later, you heard his footsteps padding softly down the hallway. He paused outside your door, long enough that you wondered if he might knock. But instead, he moved on, his door creaking open before clicking softly shut.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the apartment quiet once more. But now, sleep felt even further away, your heart racing with the knowledge that Matt was just down the hall, freshly showered and unaware of the effect he had on you.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, rolling over for what felt like the hundredth time. But as you closed your eyes, his face was still there, vivid and unshakable, lingering in the quiet of the night.

Your body betrayed you completely, heat spreading across your skin as the thoughts grew harder to push away. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in the stillness of your room. It wasn’t just your cheeks burning anymore—your entire body felt warmer, the blankets suddenly suffocating as you kicked them off in frustration.

Your breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as if even the thought of him—his damp hair, the curve of his jaw, the way he’d probably look utterly at ease in the privacy of the bathroom—was too much to process. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to quell the restless energy pooling in your stomach, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Your hands clenched at the sheets, gripping them tightly as you stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to think about anything else. But it was impossible. Every time you tried to distract yourself, your mind circled back to him, to the sound of the shower and the way you imagined droplets clinging to his skin, how he’d towel his hair dry in that effortless, boyish way of his.

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you turned onto your stomach, pressing your face into the pillow. Your body refused to settle, every nerve ending feeling far too aware, far too alive. You hated how easily he got to you, how the mere idea of him could make your body react like this, even when you knew it was pointless to dwell on it.

Still, the thoughts lingered, stubborn and insistent, leaving you flushed and restless in the dark. You lay there for a moment longer, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing minute. The image of Matt fresh from the shower was seared into your mind. His scent, cedar wood and vanilla, seemed to linger in the air, taunting you with its closeness.

Unable to bear the torment any longer, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced as you tiptoed towards your closet, retrieving your old pillow - one you'd secretly come to associate with these forbidden fantasies.

Returning to your bed, you positioned the pillow just so, imagining it was Matt beneath you. Slowly, you straddled it, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you began to grind against the soft surface.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode the pillow with increasing fervor, lost in the fantasy of Matt's strong hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. In your mind's eye, his piercing blue gaze locked with yours, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

"Fuck," you whispered, the word escaping through clenched teeth as the pressure built within you. The fabric of your thin cotton panties grew damp, adding to the delicious friction against your most sensitive places.

Meanwhile, just outside your bedroom door, Matt stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been about to knock on your door, to check if you needed anything before he seriously drifted off to sleep, your insomnia was always something he tried to find little tips and tricks on google to help you with it. But then he heard it - a soft, needy whimper that sent shivers down his spine.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the door, straining to hear more. And then he heard it again, unmistakable this time: "Matt." Your voice, breathy and laden with desire, calling out his name.

Unable to resist, he slowly turned the knob, cracking open the door just enough to peer inside. The sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. There you were, riding a pillow with wild abandon, your face contorted in pleasure as you chased your release.

Matt's mouth went dry as he watched you, transfixed by the erotic display before him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants, already half-hard from the tantalizing sounds spilling from your lips. He knew he should look away, give you privacy, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the mesmerizing sight of your hips undulating against the pillow.

Unconsciously, one hand drifted to his crotch, palming himself through the thin fabric. A low groan escaped him as he imagined it was his body you were grinding against, his name you were moaning so sweetly. Lost in the fantasy, he began to stroke himself in earnest, his breathing growing heavier with each pass of his hand.

As you continued to ride the pillow, lost in your own world of pleasure, Matt watched with bated breath. His hand moved faster over his now fully erect cock, the wet sounds of your arousal mingling obscenely with his own harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled to maintain his silence, desperate not to alert you to his presence.

As your climax approached, your movements became more frantic, more urgent. Your fingers dug into the pillow, anchoring yourself as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Matt!" you cried out, his name a prayer on your lips as you shattered completely.

At the same moment, Matt felt his own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. With a final, strangled groan, he spilled into his hand, his vision going white as intense pleasure consumed him. For a long moment, he remained rooted to the spot, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Then reality came crashing back in. What the hell had he done? Guilt and shame washed over him as he realized the depths of his betrayal. You trusted him, and here he was, spying on you in such an intimate moment, using you for his own twisted gratification.

As the last tremors of your climax faded, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling deliciously spent and satisfied. It was only then that you noticed the faint crack of light seeping in from the slightly ajar bedroom door, illuminating the shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold.

Your gaze snapped up, locking with Matt's wide, guilty eyes. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a marathon. And there, plain as day, was the unmistakable wet patch darkening the front of his sweatpants, the outline of his still-prominent erection clearly visible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both stunned into silence by the weight of the revelation. Then, as if in slow motion, Matt's hands emerged from his waistband, his face twisting with a mixture of shame and residual lust. "I..."

"I'm sorry," Matt managed to choke out, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express the depth of his regret and self-loathing.

He took a step back, ready to flee, to escape the condemning judgment he expected to see in your eyes. But something stopped him - perhaps it was the way you looked at him, not with anger or disgust, but with a hunger that mirrored his own.

"I saw you," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the pillow still clutched between your thighs. "I heard you saying my name, and I... I couldn't stop myself." His hand drifted back to his crotch, cupping himself almost involuntarily. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Matt's raw confession, desire warring with trepidation in your chest. This was dangerous territory, crossing lines that could never be uncrossed. Yet the aching need pulsing between your legs urged you forward, drowning out the voice of reason.

Slowly, deliberately, you sat up, letting the pillow fall away as you met Matt's heated gaze. "Show me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what I do to you."

Matt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Your pulse raced as you drank in the sight of Matt's impressive length, your cunt clenching around nothing with renewed desire. Part of you wanted to reach out, to touch, to taste, but you held yourself back, waiting to see how far he would take this forbidden game.

Matt's hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow pump from base to tip. A shudder ran through him at the contact, his head falling back as he let out a low moan. "Fuck, y/n," he panted, his voice strained with need. "The things I want to do to you..."

His hand moved faster, stroking himself with purposeful intent. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and bitten-off curses.

Emboldened by Matt's brazen display, you rose from the bed on trembling legs, closing the distance between you with deliberate slowness. His eyes widened as you drew near, his hand faltering in its rhythm as he took in your small frame, your old band t-shirt brushing against your bare thighs and your face flushed and glistening with sweat.

"Touch me," you demanded softly, guiding his free hand under your shirt and to your breast. "I want to feel you."

Matt obliged eagerly, his calloused palm molding to the supple flesh, thumb grazing over the pebbled peak. Electricity zipped through your veins at the contact, stoking the fire burning low in your belly.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, wrapping slender fingers around his throbbing cock. Matt groaned gutturally, his hips bucking into your grip as you began to stroke him in tandem with his own movements.

Lost in a haze of lust, Matt surrendered to the exquisite sensations assaulting his senses. Your soft hand on his aching cock, the press of your pert breast against his palm, the intoxicating scent of your arousal filling his nostrils - it was almost too much to bear.

With a growl, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hungry gaze raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve like a man starved. "So fucking beautiful," he rasped, reverent and awestruck.

Lowering his head, he captured one perky nipple between his lips, suckling greedily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Your answering moan spurred him on, his free hand sliding down to cup your ass, kneading the firm globe possessively.

Matt's demeanor shifted abruptly, his usual shyness melting away like snow under the summer sun. In its place was a raw, primal dominance that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice a deep, authoritative rumble. There was no room for argument, no trace of the hesitant boy you knew. This was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, he wanted you.

Obediently, you sank to the floor, your heart pounding in your ears as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. Matt towered over you, his cock jutting proudly.

"Open your mouth," he growled, fisting a hand in your hair and guiding you closer.

Your lips parted automatically, a thrill of submission coursing through you at Matt's commanding tone. He wasted no time, feeding his thick length past your lips and onto your tongue, groaning at the slick heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, setting a punishing pace as he fucked your face with abandon. One hand remained tangled in your hair, holding you steady while the other braced against the wall behind you, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you struggled to accommodate his girth, your jaw aching with the strain. But the depravity of it all, the sheer wrongness of being used so roughly by your roommate and best friend, only heightened your arousal.

Your muffled moans vibrated around Matt's cock as he continued to use your mouth for his pleasure, his balls slapping against your chin with each brutal snap of his hips. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you didn't dare pull away, submitting wholly to his dominance.

"That's it, take it all," Matt snarled, his voice guttural and rough with lust. "Bein’ such a good girl f’me, aren't you?"

His filthy words sent liquid heat straight to your core, your neglected cunt clenching around emptiness for the umpteenth time tonight. You needed more, craved the feel of him stretching you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

As if sensing your desperation, Matt suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping and bereft.

"Need you so fuckin' bad, been waitin' years for this shit, kid," Matt rasped, his voice dripping with pent-up hunger. Before you could even process his words, he had you lifted off your feet, strong hands gripping your thighs as he tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

You bounced slightly on the mattress, the springs creaking under your combined weight. Matt was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath his larger frame as he forced your legs apart, exposing your dripping sex to his ravenous gaze.

"Christ," he panted, his eyes dark with lust. "fuckin’ dripping baby, look at that, already making such a mess on your bed and i’ve yet to touch you."

Matt wasted no time burying his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds without preamble. “Matt! oh-“ You cried out sharply at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as he lapped at your essence like a man possessed.

"Mmmph, so sweet," he mumbled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. His nose nudged your swollen clit, inhaling deeply as if savoring your unique musk. "Could eat this pretty pussy all day long."

Two thick fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering hole, pumping in and out at a relentless pace. They curled just so, rubbing mercilessly against that sweet spot inside you, coaxing you towards the edge with ruthless efficiency.

"Oh god, Matt!" you keened, your voice high and breathy with need. Your fingers scrabbled desperately at the sheets beneath you, seeking stability as the intense pleasure threatened to consume you whole. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Your hips bucked wildly, grinding shamelessly against his talented mouth as he worked you over with single-minded focus. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural groans of satisfaction.

It was filthy, debauched, everything you'd ever fantasized about late at night when you were alone with nothing but your imagination and your trusty vibrator for company.

Matt's tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you saw stars. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault, curling and twisting inside you, stroking along your inner walls with practiced precision.

"M’gonna...gonna come!" you sobbed, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy. Every muscle in your body pulled taut, quivering with the force of your impending release. "oh my god"

With a triumphant growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his fingers pistoning furiously. That was all it took to send you hurtling over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

As the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, Matt shifted his position, moving to hover over your trembling form. You could feel the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance, smearing the copious juices seeping from your tight hole.

A small puddle of your combined fluids had formed beneath you, staining the sheets with irrefutable evidence of your mutual desire. The musky scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Matt groaned low in his throat as he rubbed the swollen tip of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself liberally in your essence. The drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive flesh drew another desperate whimper from your lips, your hips canting upwards in silent invitation.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he rasped, his voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Bet this tight little cunt is just dyin' to be stretched wide on my cock, isn't she?"

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice hoarse from screaming his name mere moments ago. " need you inside me, been wanting this for so long..."

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders and back, mapping the planes of his muscular body. You could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed control he was exerting over himself.

"Please, Matt," you whimpered again, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles at the small of his back. "Don't make me beg."

“As much as I’d love to hear that shit,” he huffs out and with a guttural moan, Matt surged forward, bottoming out in one powerful thrust. Your velvety walls clenched greedily around him, drawing him deeper into your welcoming heat.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to maintain some semblance of restraint. "So tight, so perfect. Like you were made just for me."

He began to move then, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in with bruising force. Each snap of his hips drove you further up the bed, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall in a lewd counterpoint to the obscene squelch of his cock plundering your sopping wet cunt.

The pressure built steadily within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each punishing thrust. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red welts in their wake as you clung to him desperately, urging him deeper still.

"Harder-please," you demanded breathlessly, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly erratic strokes. "wanna feel you for days."

Your plea seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his control. With a feral snarl, Matt flipped you over onto your stomach, hauling your ass up into the air. He kicked your legs apart with his knee, opening you up completely to his hungry gaze.

"Gonna ruin this sweet little cunt," he promised darkly, delivering a sharp smack to your upturned rear. "Fill you up 'til you're leakin' with my cum."

"Yes, yes, fuck!" you chanted deliriously, pushing back against him with wild abandon. Each brutal thrust sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing up your spine, stoking the inferno building in your core.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the room, punctuated by your loud cries and his grunts. Sweat dripped down his brow, plastering stray locks of hair to his forehead as he rutted into you like a madman.

"M’close," he bit out through clenched teeth, his movements growing increasingly erratic. "Come with me, baby. Wanna feel this tight pussy milking me dry."

With a strangled cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you like a tsunami. Your walls clamped down vice-like around his pistoning length, rippling along every inch as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

The sensation proved too much for Matt. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your cunt. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you irrevocably as his.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply basking in the afterglow as you struggled to catch your breath. Finally, Matt rolled to the side, gathering you close and tucking your head beneath his chin.

"That was...fuck," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your sweat-damp temple. "Best damn snow day of my life."

The two of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined as you slowly drifted back to reality. The world outside continued to rage, wind howling and snow piling up, but here in the cocoon of Matt's arms, all was warm and peaceful.

As your breathing evened out, you felt a strange sense of contentment wash over you. This was more than just a casual hookup born of opportunity and circumstance - there was a connection here, something real and profound.

Matt seemed to sense it too. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent. "Let me stay tonight," he whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable but this time in a way you'd never heard before. "wanna hold you 'til morning."

A sleepy smile curved your lips as you nodded against his chest. "Stay," you mumbled, already feeling yourself slipping towards slumber. "Wanna wake up with you."

Matt pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his strong arms tightening around you possessively. "Sleep, sweetheart. I got you."

As consciousness faded away, you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so safe, so cherished. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new uncertainties - but for now, wrapped up in the warmth of Matt's embrace, everything was exactly as it should be.

And you could finally sleep.

AUTHORS NOTE: i’ve said it before but thank you guys again so so much for 200+ followers :,) i hope you enjoyed.

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[mariespen]

Who? ˳༄꠶

jealous!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ༄꠶ summary: “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man." warnings: very very mild sexual concepts, jealous Rafe

based on this request!

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe Cameron was looking right at you with a death glare, the kind of look you’d pin on horrible people who were only doing horrible things. You’d think your boyfriend would understand that being in college requires unavoidable group work, which leads to unavoidable conversations with people you would much rather not know at all. Naturally, you were wrong. Devastatingly wrong.

“I don’t get it.” He said plainly for the fifteenth time that night, “You don’t even need this class if I’m honest.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus more on packing your things rather than the hole he was staring into your back.

“Don’t do that shit.. c’mon baby..” Rafe said, getting up to stand closer to you, a persuading hand on your hip, “M’working so hard to give you a life where you don’t gotta work and-“

“Rafe, we’ve talked about this too many times.” You cut him off in hopes to finally shut him up.

“Well why don’t we talk about it again,” He said, a tiny smile on his face, “Like right now? Over dinner?”

“Baby you know that my group members will kill me if I don’t pull through.” You shrugged past him, walking to put your shoes on.

You weren’t wearing anything near special. Sweatpants and one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies were all that you were planning on showing off. But in Rafe’s eyes, HE would fuck you in that, so who’s to say that no one else would? Naturally, he carries a heavy bias considering that Rafe would fuck you in anything, but he says ‘that’s not the point.’

“So what, you’re gonna spend all night with people you don’t even like?” He asked with a scoff.

You gave him an annoyed nod, trying to prove your point.

“That’s gotta be like.. bad for your uh.. mental health. You should stay in.”

“Rafe stop-“ You started before getting a ping on your phone. You groaned to finish the sentence, storming off to get your shoes on.

“What?” Rafe called after you, quietly shuffling behind before picking your phone up and looking at the recent notifications.

Connor: When r u getting here?

“Who’s this?” Rafe asked, pointing to the phone with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“One of my group members, love.” You said, trying to stifle a giggle over how protective he was over you.

“Another man? Absolutely not,” He said, turning away from you to block the door out of your shared apartment before continuing his rant, “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man. Who do you think-“

You pushed past him, backpack already slung over your shoulders as you made your escape to the front door.

“Nope.” He said plainly, grabbing the back of your bag and making you look at him, his fingers tracing your jaw and holding your eyes to his.

“Rafe..” You whined, but his touch was strict.

“You’re mine, baby. Not Connor’s, a’ight?” He said, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m yours.” You repeated, standing on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes softened and he thought he got you wrapped around his finger, pulling away to look at your flushed face. Instead, you darted to the door when his touch weakened, hand on the knob before Rafe could get another word in.

“Love you!” You said, closing it before everything caught up to him.

The group work went fine and almost exactly like you thought. A long session and a gut wrenching feeling of exhaustion afterwards. It’s never your favorite event but there were worse things that could happen. Things like walking back into your apartment after narrowly escaping your boyfriend’s possessive hand. 

You opened the door quietly, which was already unnecessary. Of course he was still wide awake, waiting for you like a father punishing his daughter for sneaking out. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and scowling at you.

“What the fuck?” He asked, getting up to meet you at the front door.

You shoved your shoes off, setting down your backpack and walking closer to Rafe. “M’tired baby..” You said, making every attempt to walk past the intimidating block he made in the hallway.

“No, no no.. this isn’t how it’s gonna work,” Rafe said, using both of his hands to hold your shoulders and forcing you to stand right in front of him as he lowered his voice, “Can’t just do that baby.. a’ight?”

“Sorry..” You whispered, breaking free of his hold on your shoulders and instead pulling yourself into him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

You could feel the slightly annoyed laugh that bubbled from him, but you could also feel the chaste kiss that he left on the top of your head. Rafe’s soft spot for you would always shine through his anger. You let yourself melt into his arms while you contemplated falling asleep standing.

“C’mon..” He whispered into you, equally as tired from staying up and waiting for you to come back to him.

You felt him pick you up cautiously, kissing your cheek as you let your eyes start to close.

——————————————————————

The next morning was a beautiful Saturday, which of course was the day you woke up to about 15 messages from your project’s group chat. Somehow you managed to squirm away from Rafe’s death grip over your body to check your phone. Casual conversations relating to different parts of the project and other things that you wanted nothing to do with flashed across the screen.

Over your shoulder you heard Rafe groan and felt him reach for where you weren’t. He looked around for you, watching groggily as you typed out a response on your phone.

“Baby..” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry.. group project.” You whispered, giving in and letting yourself melt back into his arms.

“At 9 in the morning?” Rafe mumbled into you, an annoyed sigh died in his throat when you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sleep clouded your mind as the two of you held each other close again. He wasn’t trying to show it, but his possessiveness and jealousy were leaking out of him like a faucet.

“G’morning princess..” You heard Rafe whisper from above you, brushing the lazy hair from your cheeks.

You groaned and shifted, trying to find the warmth in the bed now that Rafe had gotten up.

“Let’s get lunch, hm?” He asked, gently moving you to face him again.

You nodded, trying to nod away the urge to dive back under the blankets.

Getting ready wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, just because Rafe had already bought you the perfect outfit and you didn’t have to fight off your hair as much as you normally did. Whenever you got ready, Rafe would always finish before you and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks would flush up and you could never get your blush right anymore because he somehow always had your face a pink shade of red.

Rafe grabbed your bag for you, a small purse that fit your pretty dress. He also went to get your phone from its shameful place at the bedside table because of course you had forgotten to charge it last night.

One text had lit up your screen and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw it was from Connor.

“Baby, why is Connor texting you?” He asked, walking to your spot in the bathroom and shoving the phone in your face to quickly get your attention.

You took the phone, opening the notification while Rafe watched from over your shoulder.

Connor: Hey, I have some ideas for the paper. You want to meet up to talk? I was thinking a Cafe or something.

You could feel the angry red heat of jealousy seeping out of Rafe’s body.

“I told you.” He said, taking the phone from you and staring at the message again, almost dumbfounded at Connor’s audacity.

“M’not going.” You said plainly, looking at him with a lightly apologetic look.

“Damn right you’re not.” He replied, throwing your phone onto the bed and looking at you with an angry glare staring down at your face.

You watched an idea form in his head. It was easily not anything good considering the way his lips turned up in a thin smile and his gaze moved between you and the phone in a heartbeat.

“Y’know.. I really don’t want my girl missn’ anything..” He trailed off, walking to where he threw your phone originally.

“Rafe..” You tried to protest, not fully understanding where his head was at.

“No.. I think I gotta be a good boyfriend here.” He nodded to himself before looking at you with an unforgettable smirk.

“Baby I don’t want to go.” You said, walking up to him and trying to read his cocky expression.

“You, go?” He asked with faux confusion, cocking his head to the side, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong.” 

Rafe stood up, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles before looking back down at you. Now it was your turn to be confused, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You think I’m stupid, baby?” He mocks, kissing your up jaw and stopping by your ear, “M’gonna go in for you.”

Whatever hint of a smile you had on your face slowly disappeared as realization dawned on you.

“I think I’ll text him right now and let him know I’m on my way. Give him a nice surprise when he realizes it’s not the pretty little girl that he wants.” Rafe said slyly, pulling back with a malicious smile.

“Then he and I can really talk, hm?”

The next day, Connor dropped the class.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[bengiyo]

Peaceful Property: There’s Nothing Noble About Being Poor

Coming off of episode 6 of Peaceful Property, I am feeling some consternation because once again GMMTV has given us a poor character who’d rather be poor than take the money. I’m also frustrated about the baiting of this show, because I don’t like TayNew enough to forgive Home his greed or his cowardice. 

From GMMTV we’ve had Akk having to work his ass off to get to Paris to be with Theo, Mork working his ass off to eventually get back to Day, Sailom not taking money in Dangerous Romance, Sand not taking the money in Only Friends, Kang upending his entire life for Moo in Only Boo! When I looked into stories that seemed to consider the perspective of poor people, only Dark Blue Kiss really seemed to consider the class dynamic of Pete and Kao, and Cooking Crush with Prem taking the needed money. 

This problem isn’t unique to GMMTV, and it’s been something that has annoyed me in global media for decades. We get these kinds of storylines where poor people would rather be poor than take the money of a rich person because rich people fund the media. For them, not taking their money is the harshest punishment they could envision because it’s their primary mechanism for solving problems. However, I come from the Brian Kinney school of thought that “There’s nothing noble about being poor.” On top of that, we know that Pang and Peach have no money, because they’re living in a goddamn bar that Home owns because they have no money. How could they go back to the apartment they got evicted from for lack of payment if this was so? Sure, it’s a TV show, but damn is it annoying that I’m asked to empathize with Home being sad about losing his friends over freaking out about housing security for the people whose lives he ruined.

Now, let’s talk about the lives he ruined. It’s actually so, so much worse that Home was completely sober when he hit Peach and fled the scene. He’s lived a pleasant life this entire time, when he had every reason to believe he killed someone and let his uncle cover it up. I care a lot about the future of cities, and car violence is one of the biggest violent killers of poor people in cities. The fallout of this accident led to Peach’s ongoing terror of ghosts, screwing up badly at work, and his sense of culpability in the death of his mentor. Peach and Pang’s lives are measurably worse because of his injuries, and it baffles me that the show would have Peach take zero compensation from the people who hurt him when he and his sister are struggling. I get Peach being proud in the moment, but I just don’t see a person faced with scarcity of that level choosing to walk away from money that he’s more than owed.

Speaking of Peach, I am so confused by the plotline that has him trusting Home with the food safety of a man he almost killed the last time he worked in a restaurant. It feels like this show just doesn’t take its own violence seriously. The drama of this episode is about Home losing his friends because he wasn’t forthright about the violence he inflicted on them, and they risked Chai-un’s safety to prove that Peach could trust home? Please be serious. They should have tossed out both of those bowls and started over rather than risk that man’s life again. Peach wants to become a chef again, and this is a huge misstep!

I just don’t think I really enjoyed this last episode much at all. I liked seeing Peach not crumble in front of ghosts, but that’s about it. I feel like the show is relying on Newwie’s charm (and TayNew shipping) to have the audience root for his redemption, which I am on the side of Peach wanting nothing to do with that man ever again. He deserves to be angry, and it felt so weird to me that the one lashing out at the end was Home as our focus point. Next week they’re going to be working near each other, and I’m just gonna be irked that once again we have a story about the inherent nobility of poor people who can afford to turn down much needed money to make a rich person sad.

[haikyuubby]

a burning hill ; k. bakugo

“i’m tired of wanting more, i think i’m finally worn.”

❆ - angst, gender neutral reader, italics = flashback.

✩ 𝐌𝐇𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃! ✩

↳ note: this will take place during s7, ep11.

It was warm.

I felt a warm gush of blood puddle on the side of my body.

The crunching sound I heard from my ribs filled my ears, causing my face to contort with both pain and cringe.

Shigaraki landed a pretty good hit on me, throwing my body onto the ground.

We had to have been fighting for almost an hour now, everyone was relentlessly tired.

Mirko, Best Jeanist, Mr. Aizawa, Monoma, and Bakugo.

We were all doing our best to try and stall Shigaraki until Midoriya could come and help us.

The scenery around us was gorey, blood covering the natural colors of the Coffin in the Sky’s makeshift ground, small pieces of skin and ripped hero costumes also decorating the scene.

The place just reeked of pure blood and sweat; the situation was awful.

Shigaraki’s body wouldn’t stop producing these arm like things, causing the room that we once had to fight and move around to shrink.

Bakugo was laying down beside Best Jeanist, looking damn near like a corpse.

I was immobilized, any movement I chose to make hurt my body and made blood come out of the various open wounds i had.

I see Bakugo slowly get up and make his way towards Shigaraki.

At this point, I am mentally begging him to just stop, to just back down for once in his life.

I attempt to yell at Bakugo to stop, but my pleads comes out as mere whispers.

“Gotta…defeat him…” I hear Bakugo mumble.

He stops for a second and looks at me, lips turning upward ever so slightly— but not turning into a full smile.

Bakugo continues to walk towards Shigaraki, preparing to fight.

No…

In a flash, multiple explosions appear before me, watching Bakugo work himself to death.

I knew that his death was inevitable at this point, but there was no stopping him at this point.

I try to move my body closer towards the scene, inching closer to Bakugo and Shigaraki.

Everything hurts badly.

I might die if I push my body even a little bit more, but I don’t care.

As I’m inching closer to them, I watch Shigaraki punch a hole right through Bakugo’s body.

My entire body runs cold.

I look up, seeing Mr. Aizawa and Monoma’s eyes tear up.

Bakugo’s limp body was launched onto the ground, no sign of a rising chest or moving limbs.

Bakugo was dead.

I can’t yell, I can barely move, Mirko and Best Jeanist are worn down, and there has been no sign of Izuku Midoriya nearby.

This was awful.

My body falls back onto the ground, suddenly weighing me down.

The shock that ran through my body caused me to panic.

The gravity of the situation fully weighed in on me, which caused me to remember what Bakugo said to me just a few days ago.

ੈ♡‧₊˚

As I’m walking, I feel someone’s presence come up from behind me.

“Hey, Y/n. Can I come in?” Bakugo asks.

Currently, we were moving into our temporary dorm unit, preparing for the incoming war.

I nod my head yes, getting up to face him.

“Hey Bakugo, what’s up?” I ask while setting my box of things down.

Bakugo then grabs both of my shoulders, turning my body to directly face his.

“Bakugo? What’s going on?” I ask, surprised by his sudden display of physical touch.

“Look, I know that this isn’t the time right now to be talking about this kind of stuff, but I promise that after all this is over, I’ll take you out on a proper date.” Bakugo says.

My mouth parts slightly, eyebrows raising with his statement.

“W-Wait, where is this coming from?” I ask.

“We’ve liked each other for a while, it’s only right that I take you out after this whole “war thing” is over, right?” He responds.

Bakugo’s grip on my shoulders tightens slightly, worry coating his face.

He knows that I wouldn’t reject him, right?

“I’d really like that, Bakugo.”

ੈ♡‧₊˚

That moment flashed in my mind as I watched Bakugo’s body fully die out.

I see Edgeshot travel as fast as he can towards Bakugo and Best Jeanist.

Remembering Edgeshot’s quirk, I silently pray that he can do something to help Bakugo.

For a second, I forgot that I was at risk of dying, too.

Shigaraki uses one of his arms to break up the ground, causing me to tumble away from the scene.

I have no control over my body right now, and I feel my vision growing foggy.

I felt blood seeping from my wounds, I knew that I have neared the end.

If there’s a god out there, please keep Bakugo safe.

[glade-constellation]

Another thing I want to add about this post just because I’m thinking about it, I think Lunar has a hard time getting along with Sun due to his trauma with Eclipse. I mean, we’ve already seen it at play during Sun’s whole “murder” rampage, it’s not super far fetched.

I’m not blaming Sun for this. This is 100% Eclipse’s fault, another thing he did that just put Sun in a hard spot. This isn’t me saying Sun and Lunar don’t get along or are bad brothers, this is me saying Eclipse did irreparable damage to Lunar while in Sun’s body. Lunar probably has a hard time looking at Sun without remembering the times around October.

@socksandbuttons has a post that I think shows this really well, where Sun uses his glow feature at one point after October happens and it triggers Lunar into a panic attack (I can’t seem to find the post so I apologize for the @). Lunar sometimes probably has a hard time looking at Sun without seeing Eclipse, and simply keeps his distance to keep himself safe. I’m not sure how much this theory is going to hold up in newer episodes, but it did seem possible in earlier episodes. I say it could hold up since we haven’t seen Lunar visit Nice Eclipse yet, and they were close before Lunar’s death.

Speaking of Good Eclipse, I feel like Lunar was able to bond with him more than they were able to bond with Sun because Sun’s body used to be Eclipse’s as well. Nice Eclipse may have looked like Eclipse, but Sun had the physical body, if that makes since. Plus, we know Eclipse didn’t always use the glow feature. There were times where he looked exactly like Sun. One of Lunar and Eclipse’s bigger fights happened while Eclipse wasn’t using the glow feature. The fight happened over the glow feature! Lunar has trauma of being hit by Eclipse who looked exactly like Sun at the time.

The irony of their currently situation, though, is that Sun is probably the person Lunar needs to talk to the most. If Sun could open up and they both talked through things, they might realize they both have similarities. Both have dealt with abusive brothers, near death or actual death experiences, and are currently dealing with the loss of a brother. Even though there were moments where Moon was abusive to Sun, we all know Sun still loved him. There are clear signs of grief, even though Moon isn’t technically dead. There was still a loss, and Sun is feeling that. He was heavily hurt by Moon during the beginning of their relationship, even during parts of the show, but that was his brother. Sun doesn’t miss getting hurt, but he misses the shared memories. We can see that he get frustrated sometimes when he has to explain things to Moon. He knows Moon doesn’t know most things that happened in the past year, but he still remembers Moon being there. That Moon is no longer here.

I think, even though Eclipse was abusive, Lunar still loved him. He was still his brother, in some small way. Lunar wants to hate him so much but there’s some small part of him who still wants to love him and that hurts. That tends to be the problem when it comes to abusive family. You are supposed to love this person but they are hurting you so bad and those feelings sometimes get muddled and so confusing. Lunar probably isn’t feeling nothing, he’s probably feeling everything. It’s just too hard to pick apart what he’s feeling, so he feels numb in the sense that he has no idea what he’s actually feeling. We can see that he’s obviously feeling emotions by the way he’s reacting to everyday things. His brain just can’t figure out what that feeling is. Instead of that depressive kind of numb where you want to lay in bed all day, Lunar seems more manic. He’s reactive, easily angered, borderline hysterics at moments.

Every single person in this family needs extensive therapy. No, this is not excluding Earth, she needs it to. Sun needs help with his avoidance tendencies, Moon needs help with his self hatred, Earth needs help with her self worth, and Lunar needs help figuring out his emotions. Sun and Lunar need time to grieve, both for Moon and Lunar also for Eclipse. It’s okay to grieve for what could have been, especially in Sun’s case where he almost had that. I just wish they would talk with each other so they wouldn’t feel so alone.

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Broken Souls Mend Hearts -- Chapter 97: Going Home Again

Read on AO3 or ff.net.

Chapter notes:

Warning: Character death imminent. Sorry....

So this chapter is Enchanted Forest heavy and very Emma light. I was planning on the CS reunion being chapter 100 but so much of chapter 97-99 would have to be filler and I think I've kept y'all on the hook long enough. Season 3B here we come.

Also, Rumple is taking a lot of Neal's role. I just don't like Neal or writing for him. Rumple's easier and this is canon divergent enough that it flows better for Rumple to be more active than Neal.

Also next chapter is the CS reunion.

Chapter 97: Going Home Again

They appeared near the castle, which was kind of Zelena to send them so close to home, so she definitely wasn’t heartless. 

August’s own heart was racing and his mind a mess of thoughts. Zelena wasn’t completely evil; he could see it in her eyes. She wanted to open up to him, to come to their side. He wasn’t sure why she rejected his offer, but they’d been so close to convincing her. August needed to see her again and talk. If only he stood up for her after the fire; if he did, maybe they wouldn’t be on opposite sides and she’d be with him. 

August swallowed. Did he want that? Be with Zelena? Did he even know her? What if everything she ever said to him was a lie? He wanted to find out for sure, but actually being with her, pursuing a relationship, was something for him to think over.

“We have to go back.” Grace said. “I don’t think she’s evil, Uncle August.” In fact, Zelena seemed wrecked over the whole situation. It was clear to Grace at least that Zelena felt something for August, and she truly was upset that they hadn’t believed her about the fire. 

“I don’t think so either, Gracie.” August sighed. “But we can’t go back. She doesn’t want us there right now.” Zelena gave him a lot to think about and he needed time to process. He figured Zelena also wanted to be alone for a reason. 

Grace opened her mouth to protect, but August quickly cut her off. 

“You know how sometimes you’re feeling bad about something and you don’t want to talk about it?” August asked. 

Grace nodded. After all, she went through her lack of contact with her friends and losing Henry. Those were some rough months. 

“Well, I think Zelena is struggling with something.” August said. “I think she needs time, okay?” Struggling with being good, maybe? Or was there something else? Zelena was so close to coming back with him, but something changed her mind. 

“I just don’t want to give up on her.” Grace said. Zelena was her friend and friends were supposed to be there for support. Maybe August had a point, but Grace still didn’t like it. 

“Grace!” Jefferson called out, catching their attention. 

Jefferson and Belle walked closer to them.

“We’ve been looking all over for you.” Jefferson said. “Where have you been?” His expression was a mixture of concern and sternness. He definitely wanted answers. 

Grace looked to August at a loss as to what to say. 

Great, it’s time to be a responsible adult. August thought, though he hoped Grace wouldn’t be mad at him. He wasn’t going to lie to Jefferson. “Don’t be mad, but Grace wanted to talk with Zelena, and I went with her.” 

Grace winced. Okay, so no lying this time. Papa was going to be mad. 

“What?” Jefferson glared. “You took my daughter to see the Wicked Witch?” What the hell was August thinking? Didn’t he have any idea how dangerous that was? 

“No, Papa.” Grace said, stepping in to defend August. “I ran off and Uncle August followed. He tried to bring me home, but I wanted to get answers. Zelena was my friend.” 

Jefferson regarded his daughter for a moment, before sighing. Grace struggled since their return to the Enchanted Forest, and Jefferson knew that Lena, or Zelena, really bonded with Grace and helped her get through it, but she was still evil and was plotting against them. “I understand that, but you can’t run off and confront someone with the magic she has. I’m glad August was with you, but neither of you have enough means to defend yourselves against her.”

Grace looked down at her father’s disappointed tone. “I know. I wasn’t thinking about that. I didn’t think she would attack us, and she didn’t. She sent us back here.”

Belle and Jefferson shared a look. That was interesting. At least, they were both safe, but why wouldn’t Zelena harm them? 

“She just sent you back?” Belle asked. Holding them hostage would’ve been incredibly beneficial to Zelena. Grace said she hadn’t attacked them either. Belle wondered what that meant. 

Jefferson was curious too, and seeing August’s contrite expression, he figured that maybe Zelena had a heart after all. He’d talk more with August later, and they’d have to discuss not letting a twelve-year-old convince him to run off to a witch’s lair. “Be that as it may, we still need to talk about your independent streak. Come on, let’s go find your mom and we’ll talk about your punishment.”

Grace pouted but understood it. She hugged August tightly. “Thanks for going with me, Uncle August.”

August returned the hug. “You can always count on me, Gracie.” 

As Grace walked over to her father, Jefferson sent a look which told August that they were going to talk more later. August nodded in response. It wasn’t a lecture he was looking forward to having, but he understood. He was the adult after all. 

Belle walked over to him after father and daughter headed into the castle. “How are you doing?” 

August shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Belle was the one who’d been through recent trauma. What he was going through with Zelena didn’t hold a candle to that. He’d eventually deal with his own issues, but whatever Belle went through, she needed all the support she could get from them. 

“I’m…doing better.” Belle said uncertain. “Slow progress, you know?” She grimaced at her words, unsure of how to discuss her own situation. Not talking about it was too much, but talking about it at all wasn’t something that she was ready for and she doubted she’d ever be ready for it. 

“That’s good.” August sighed. His heart wanted to reach out to Zelena, to get her side, but his head couldn’t trust it. He wasn’t sure he could trust her, even though she hadn’t attacked them and seemed so uncertain about her own villainy. After a moment of silence between them, August voiced his thoughts. “When we went to see Zelena, it was like she didn’t want to be our enemy. Do you think she has changed? I just…I don’t want to be played again.”

Belle considered his words. It was odd that Zelena seemed so unwilling to attack August and Grace or use them for her own gain, but could it be that Zelena had a change of heart? “I don’t know, August. I wasn’t around. I do know that villains are capable of change. Look at Killian, Rumple, and Regina. They all changed for those they loved.” Rumple tried so hard for her. Even when he had his setbacks, he still attempted to be a better man. It wasn’t until his passing that she realized that three-hundred-years of being the Dark One was a hard habit to break. “Rumple even sacrificed his own life for us.”

August froze. Didn’t anyone tell Belle about Rumple? Crap. “Uh, Belle, did…did anyone tell you?” Why did it have to be him? 

“Tell me what?” Belle didn’t like how August paled. 

“We think Rumple is alive.” August said carefully. “He sent a note about Zelena and Regina recognized his handwriting.” He braced himself for her reaction, knowing that it wasn’t going to be a good one. 

Belle’s blood froze, a chill settled over her. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be unless…had Neal succeeded? Had he resurrected his father? If he had, then…a price was paid. Did that mean Neal was dead? 

“Belle?” August worried about the shock on her face. Great, I broke her, again. 

“If Rumple is alive, then…” Belle swallowed. “Neal resurrected him, which means Neal is dead.” She shook her head. “I need to find Regina.” She hurried off, leaving a shocked August in her wake. 

*****************************

David considered Snow’s words for a long moment. She told him everything Regina said about the Land Without Magic and the Dark Curse. Worse, how the Dark Curse was there only option to bring Emma and Henry home. He wasn’t sure what to think other than, of course they’d have such rotten luck.

Why did there always have to be a Curse?

“If the Curse is the only way to open up the realms,” David started. “Then someone is going to have to sacrifice themselves.” It wasn’t something they could ask anyone to do. It was their daughter who was the Savior. Could they rightfully ask Jefferson or Ruby to sacrifice each other? Aurora or Mulan? Marco or August? It wouldn’t be right. 

Unfortunately, that would mean… David swallowed. He’d have to be the one. 

Snow sighed. “We have to figure out who. It’s a lot to ask someone.” Though it didn’t seem fair to ask anyone to do it, but after everything their family had been through, she didn’t want to lose David. Was that selfish? Absolutely, but she’d had enough loss for a lifetime. Emma grew up without them, they missed out on raising Emma, but Snow would not allow this baby to miss either their mother, father, or sister. Their family would be whole. 

David paused, knowing he needed to broach this carefully. “Snow,” He started, kneeling in front of where she sat in an armchair. “We can’t ask anyone to make such a choice for us.” He hated it; hated the very idea of dying. But they needed Emma. They needed her a lot more than they needed him. 

“No.” Snow shook her head. “I’m not going to crush your heart.” She wouldn’t, couldn’t, do it. “Our baby, Emma, Henry, Liam, and Killian need you. I need you. We missed out raising Emma and our family being together. I won’t have our next child missing out on anything.” Snow pushed herself up out of the chair, slowly, but she got to her feet and walked away from David. Her feet carried her to the open window. A hot breeze blew in, the August heat would normally be stifling if the castle wasn’t always so cold. 

There was a silence before David walked over to her side. “We can’t ask our friends to make this kind of sacrifice. I know it’s not fair to us, but it wouldn’t be fair to them either.” David said. “I know we’ve been through it, the Curse, losing Emma twice, losing Henry, you losing your parents when you were so young, everything Regina put us through, it’s been so much. But we’ve also been so lucky to have our epic love story, and two children and grandchildren. We’re well ahead of everyone else we know. Shouldn’t they be able to have those opportunities?” 

Snow sighed, tears forming in her eyes. Though he had good points, sometimes Snow hated how noble her husband was, even if it was also one of the traits she loved the most about him. “Well, I know where Emma gets her selflessness from.” She shook her head. “Why is it always us, Charming?” Why did it have to be again? 

“I wish I had an answer for that.” David wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as her tears fell, hating himself for making her cry. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Snow sniffed. “Crushing your heart would be like killing myself.” 

David held tightly, not sure how to comfort her. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to be there for their baby, wanted to reunite with Emma and Henry, wanted to see their child and Liam grow up together, but this was their path. They couldn’t let anyone else cast the curse, no matter how unfair it was to them. “I know.”

Snow cried into his chest as their decision was made. 

*****************************

“Regina.” 

Regina winced hearing Robin call out to her. They hadn’t talked since he kissed her, which was by Regina’s design. She refused to be alone with him again.

It wasn’t a bad kiss; in fact, it was incredible. It awoke long dormant feelings that scared the shit out of her. Regina knew she was undeserving of love and Robin, and Roland for that matter, deserved better than her. She didn’t want Robin to get ideas. 

“Regina, hey.” Robin caught up with her. 

Surely he wouldn’t want to discuss this while they were walking down the hallway where anyway could hear their conversation. “Hi, Robin.” Regina greeted, keeping her eyes forward. What excuse could she come up with to avoid him? “I was just on my way to gather ingredients.” Not entirely a lie.

“Could we talk a moment?” Robin implored, his expression pleading. 

“I really should…” Regina stopped herself. What could it hurt to hear him out? So long as she shot him down, then they could put their kiss behind them. “All right,” she stopped and turned to face him. “What is it?” 

Robin felt triumph. He knew she’d been avoiding him since their kiss; he’d take the small victories. “I wanted to talk.” 

Regina’s lips twitched. “Yes, you mentioned that.” 

“About our kiss…” Robin started. Come on, Locksley, be brave. He took a breath and spoke his truth. “I just wanted to tell you that it meant more to me than just being a kiss.” 

Her heart skipped. What exactly did he mean by that? Regina shook her head. “It can’t be more than just a kiss.” She couldn’t let him think there were feelings there. There were, of course, and Regina knew she’d come a long way after all these months back in the Enchanted Forest, but there were people who still feared her or suspected the worst. She didn’t want Robin and Roland affected by her reputation. 

“Why not?” Robin asked. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same as I do. I know you do.” Robin stepped closer to her. 

Regina sighed. “Robin, I just don’t think us being together is a good idea.” How could she convince him that she was bad for him?

“I think you’re just trying to protect yourself.” Robin said. “You’ve shut away your own heart for so long, you’re afraid to trust someone else with it.”

Oof. Well, he was hitting the nail on the head. Regina truly did want to protect Robin and Roland from her reputation, but was that all? After Daniel, when Tink came to her to help her find her True Love, Regina let her anger, grief, and fear rule her decisions. She lived in her bitter emotions for so long. She remembered standing outside the tavern, seeing the lion tattoo, her heart in her throat, thinking how could her True Love ever love her? 

She tried to earn her mother’s love, only receiving cruelty. She tried to be a good wife to Leopold, only to be ignored. Even Snow, while kind, was more often with her father. Regina was all alone. 

Her father showed her what love he could, though he cowered to her mother’s power. Daniel showed her love and a taste of freedom, but her mother proved that love was a weakness and it certainly wasn’t meant to last. 

How could she explain all of that to Robin? As much as she felt for him too, what would happen if her True Love ever showed up again? She couldn’t hurt Robin like that. What if Marian hadn’t been Robin’s True Love? What if someone better was out there for him? 

“I’m poison, Robin.” Regina sighed. “I destroy everything I touch. I ruined Henry’s life, my first love died because of me, I took away everyone’s happy endings…”

“You’re not that person anymore.” Robin said, hands coming to her forearms, gently pulling her to him. “You’ve changed for the better. You’ve worked so hard. Don’t let your past decide your future.” 

Regina looked down at her feet, shaking her head. “You might believe that, but not everyone else is as kind.” As her eyes moved up to look at him, they caught sight of something on Robin’s wrist. Regina turned her head slightly to get a better look and froze. 

On Robin’s wrist was the same lion tattoo of her True Love. Her soulmate. In the exact same place.

How many people in the Enchanted Forest had that lion tattoo?

Regina swallowed, finding her voice. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A little confused about the abrupt change of subject, Robin looked at his tattoo. “Yes, it’s a simplified version of the Locksley family crest. A reminder of where I come from and why I left my titles and noble life behind.” 

His family crest? Regina took a step back, Robin’s hands dropping from her. If it was his family crest, it was very unlikely anyone else had the same tattoo, which meant… Her heart raced. 

Robin was her True Love. 

Holy shit. 

“Regina!” Belle ran towards her, thankfully interrupting any further conversation with Robin.

Shaking away her shock, Regina turned to her best friend. “Belle, what’s wrong?”

“August just told me that Rumple might be alive.” Belle was a bit out of breath, red-faced from running. 

Regina grimaced. “After everything you’ve been through, I was hoping to prove Rumple was alive for certain before telling you. I mean, he sent a note and I believe it was his handwriting, but that’s not foolproof evidence.”

“Neal planned to resurrect his father.” Belle said. “We haven’t heard from Neal since he left for his father’s castle. I can only assume that if Rumple is alive…”

Regina’s expression turned grim. “Then Neal must’ve succeeded.” 

“What does that mean?” Robin asked. “Is Neal all right?” Though he didn’t really care for Neal after the stunts the man pulled in Neverland, but he didn’t wish ill on the man…okay, he didn’t wish death on the man. If Neal paid a price for magic, then perhaps he deserved it.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so.” Regina admitted. “Resurrection magic is dark magic. The darkest and most impossible magic. If Neal succeeded then the price was very likely his own life.” 

Her words only distressed Belle. “I should’ve stopped him.” Tears came to her eyes.

“Belle, Neal made his choice.” Regina put her arm comfortingly around her friend. “Neal was a grown man. If he wanted his father back, I doubt you could’ve stopped him.” 

“Regina’s right.” Robin reassured. “Neal’s choices were his own.” Damn him for making Belle feel at fault. After everything the poor woman suffered, she didn’t need unnecessary guilt on her conscience. 

Belle wanted to take comfort in her friends’ reassurances, but she couldn’t help putting the blame on herself. She was with Neal. She should’ve stopped him. That was on her.

“Hey, stop thinking like that.” Regina saw the guilt weighing Belle down. “You couldn’t stop him, okay?” Wanting to distract Belle from thoughts of Neal, Regina changed the subject. “Come on, I need some ingredients for the Curse. Some help would be nice.”

Belle reluctantly nodded, still lost in her thoughts. 

Regina turned to Robin. “We’ll talk later.”

As the women walked away, Robin sensed that later wasn’t going to come unless he kept confronting her. Though should he? Should he keep pursuing her or give her time? His heart told him to go after what he wanted, but he didn’t want to pressure her. Regina was a one of a kind woman and he didn’t want to push her away by wanting more than she was ready for; perhaps patience was the best course of action. He could be patient for her. 

He only hoped that he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer. 

*****************************

“Hey.” Jefferson appeared at his side.

August winced. Time for that talk then. “Hey, look, I know I should’ve been the responsible adult and brought Grace back, but…”

“But you wanted answers.” Jefferson said. He understood that much. August felt something for Zelena and her betrayal stung. While he was mad, after a long talk with Grace and Ruby, in which it was agreed that Grace was grounded for a month, meaning helping Granny with any and all chores, Jefferson came to understand how affected Grace was by Zelena's ruse. August's moping clued him in to how much it bothered his friend. At least August was sorry for being an idiot. Jefferson couldn't fault him for wanting to see Zelena and find out the truth. “I get that. You really like her, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure.” August admitted. “I liked Lena, I liked her a lot and thought...but I don’t know how real Lena was, or if everything was a lie.” He turned towards Jefferson, quickly changing the subject, not wanting to lament his love life. "I still shouldn't have gone along with Grace. I wanted to drag her back to the castle." He would never let Grace walk all over him again...he hoped. 

"You shouldn't have." Jefferson agreed. "But I'm learning my daughter is a strong-willed, independent girl. I'm already terrified of what the teenage years will bring if the preteen ones are this difficult." He shuddered slightly at the idea. Grace was going to make him go grey before he reached his forties. "To be honest, I'm glad you found her. Even though you don't have magic, you being with her was better than her being alone." Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest, a stern expression in place. "That being said, if Grace ever attempts something like this again..."

"I will take her to you, Ruby, or Granny kicking and screaming even if she hates me for it." August nodded in agreement. "Mostly because I don't want to be werewolf chow."

Jefferson smirked. "Good man." He relaxed his stance and patted August on the back. "Now let's talk about Zelena." His friend wasn't getting out of this talk that easy. 

August grimaced. What was there to talk about? Zelena lied and August was confused as hell over it. 

"Come on, man." Jefferson said. "You can't keep moping. Talk it out, and let's figure out what you want to do." After a pause, Jefferson added, "Don't make me get Killian involved."

"You're going to rat to my brother?" August huffed. "What are you going to do? Get Regina to magic him back here from his mission to reunite with his soulmate to solve his brother's small problems?"

"Maybe." Jefferson said. "He's good at advice, particularly with love. I'm lucky I managed to get Ruby's attention." Jefferson leaned against the window frame. "I mean would you rather me get David? He's more accessible, but he's more..."

"True Love must be fought for?" August sighed. "Killian would probably tell me to figure out if I want to find out if Zelena wasn't entirely lying. If she was, forget her, lean on your family for support. If she wasn't, and she feels something for me, then..."

"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets." Jefferson quoted, hearing that phrase many a time during intense pool matches at The Rabbit Hole. Really, he said it often enough, Jefferson figured they needed to make t-shirts and sell them. Not a bad idea for extra cash. Maybe after the next Curse, he could start a graphic tee business with all of his friends' annoying quotes. "Well, I guess you need to figure out if it's True Love or not before you pick which advice to follow."

August looked out the window, wondering the best course of action. When he and Grace confronted Zelena though, he could've sworn that she wasn't acting. "Zelena said that maybe she was playing us at first. I think it became real for her at some point." His heart hoped it was real for her. He really liked her and before the fire, he was going to ask to court her. He wanted so badly to see her again. 

"Then fight for her." Jefferson said. "At least if you convince her to be with you, then we won't have to worry about casting the Dark Curse and getting Emma back to defeat her."

"Ah, so that's why your pro-Zelena?" August joked. "Love conquers all, even wickedness?"

"I wouldn't say that." Jefferson shrugged. "But hey, Regina changed her stripes. Rumplestiltskin pulled a heroic sacrifice, though he's back now. Hook is one of the biggest heroes around. Villains can change. Though it also would be nice to not have one of our friends die for the Curse."

August nodded. "Did anyone volunteer?"

Jefferson sighed. "Not yet, but the meeting is in a couple of hours. I'm sure someone will and we can argue with them all we want, but if Zelena still plans to act against us, then what choice do we have?" He stood straighter. "I'm going to leave you to brood. Though careful about how much you do that, otherwise your really will start looking like Killian."

"Killian doesn't own the trademark on brooding." August huffed, though he couldn't help a small smile appearing on his face. 

"Ha, right." Jefferson said. "Tell him that. You two really are brothers." He shook his head, walking away, leaving August to his thoughts. 

August wondered about Jefferson's words. Could he really convince Zelena to side with them? Could he be the one to stop her and save someone's life in the process? 

It was quite a burden to carry, and August wondered if Emma felt like this when acting as the Savior. It wasn't fair to do all of this just to bring her back because of her destiny. It should be done to bring her back to their family. To bring back just Emma and Henry, not the Savior. 

August needed to figure out what to do and fast. 

*****************************

Zelena kept replaying August’s words over and over. Had he meant it? Did he really want her side of the story? He said he wanted another chance, but did he mean he wanted to be her friend or something more? Her heart fluttered at the thought. Did he feel something for her? 

She scoffed at her own thoughts. Why would he want something more? He couldn't feel more than possibly friendship for her. She was the Wicked Witch, which meant she was entirely unlovable. Her adopted father hated her, Cora abandoned her, Regina rejected her. No one loved her. It didn't matter that she loved August, he could only ever see her as a villain.

Zelena froze mid-stride, almost losing her footing, her entire being jolting as if struck by lightning. Did she just think that? She loved August? No, no, she couldn't possibly...

Her heart raced at the thought. Did she love him? Thinking about him sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. He made her smile and laugh so much when they'd spend time together. But love? Was that love? Zelena smiled widely. She did love him. She loved August Booth. Pure giddiness filled her being. She was in love. Oh, this is why love was so wanted. It felt so good. 

Crap. Zelena shook herself. What was she doing? She was the Wicked Witch. She terrorized Oz for years. She...oh who was she kidding. Being Lena was the happiest she'd ever been, and part of that was due to the friendships she made and the man she loved. 

What was she still doing here? 

Zelena turned around, determined to leave this castle and go to August, only to come face to face with King George. Scowling, Zelena crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to deliver news." George said, looking none too happy. Whether it was because of his news or Zelena, she didn't know. "The heroes think that only the Savior can stop you." He watched her reaction carefully. 

"So what?" Zelena shrugged. "The Savior is in the Land Without Magic. There isn't a portal they can use to get to her." Though she figured eventually they'd figure out that getting to the Land Without Magic via Neverland was a workaround, but they'd need a pegasus sail without Pan's shadow and fairy dust was dying out, so she doubted the fairies would offer it. 

"They plan on casting the Dark Curse." George said. Her lack of concern irritated him. He knew she was weak; why did no one understand that love was a weakness and power was all that mattered? He was glad he planned for this. After seeing her interactions with the puppet and the Mad Hatter's brat, George just knew that Zelena would be too weak to aid him further. It was time to get her out of the way. "They want to return everyone to Storybrooke. We can use this to our advantage."

"Oh, you think so?" Zelena arched a brow. Just what was he playing at?

“If we intercept the Dark Curse, we could make it our own.” George said, ignoring the shadowed figured moving silently behind her. “You and I can have all of the power.”

“You’d share power?” Zelena asked, unconvinced. “Please, you and I both know you’ve been using me for my magic and to get to the Dark One. You’re a pathetic, bitter old man, who can’t get over losing your throne.” 

George reined in his temper. How dare this witch speak to him that way? He was and will always be a King. “All I need from you is to alter the Curse. Let them do the work, but change it so that we're in charge of the town and they are nothing more than our slaves.” Nottingham needed to hurry. He didn't want Zelena to realize the ambush.  

“No.” Zelena said. “In fact, I think you’ve been enough of a thorn in…” Something hard hit her head and Zelena fell to the ground, unconscious. 

Nottingham dropped the scepter he found lying around. “Now what?”

George held his tongue of criticism. He didn't need Nottingham going against him too. George smirked. “Now, we find the Dark One dagger.” 

*****************************

David entered the Council room, gripping Snow’s hand. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to die. However, he couldn’t in good conscience let anyone else make the necessary sacrifice. Even if it meant never meeting his second born, or seeing Emma, Henry, Killian, and Liam again. Leaving Snow alone to raise their child made him sick to his stomach, but he knew she’d have the support she’d need. 

He just missed out on so much already. He wasn’t ready to die. 

Everyone was sitting, waiting for him and Snow to join, all ready to discuss the plan. He pulled Snow’s chair out for her. He looked around at his friends, his family. 

Jefferson and Ruby sat across from him, ready to draw up battle plans if necessary. He adored his dearest friends and hoped they would back his decision. 

Next to Ruby, Granny looked both stern and worried. Marco was next to her, his expression contemplative. Both were the supportive parental figures they all needed as most of them were orphans just trying to figure out their lives. 

Then there was August, who David couldn’t help but grow to like as August did all he could to make up for leaving Emma. 

Regina was grim yet determined. Her turn around truly amazed David and he was so proud of her.

Mulan was stoic as ever, though she glanced worriedly at Aurora, who appeared exhausted and rather frail. They helped everyone so much, opening their homes to refugees, even though it resulted in them losing so much. 

Robin, who’d become such a good friend and counsel with Killian away, looking ready to follow orders. 

Belle, who’d been through so much, but who was still determined to give her aid. 

David took a breath and started. “So we all know that we need Emma to stop Zelena and that means casting another Dark Curse…”

“No.” Ruby interrupted. “You are not sacrificing yourself.” Her green eyes pierced him. There was no way she was letting David be a self-sacrificing hero. 

Damn her for knowing him so well. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh great, you’re being noble.” Jefferson groaned. “Someone go get Killian to knock some sense into him.” Though Killian would probably yell first and then punch David. Jefferson seriously considered punching David if it meant knocking out the self-sacrificing part of his personality. 

Regina was sorely tempted to do just that, but first, maybe they could convince David without resorting to Killian. “David, there’s no way we can let you do this.” 

“Who else can?” David snapped. “I’m not going to ask any of you to sacrifice yourselves or your loved ones.”

“You shouldn’t assume you’re the only one willing to make that sacrifice.” Regina huffed. “I would if I was the person someone loved the most, but I don’t have anyone. You have a baby on the way and how do you think Emma would feel about you dying just for her to be able to come home?”

“She’s right.” Ruby said. “David, you’re an important part of this family. We can’t lose you. We can figure this out together.”

“I don’t want anyone else to die for us.” David said. Why couldn't they just let this go? He'd made his decision. 

Snow, unusually quiet today, spoke up. “David, they’re right. This should be a family decision. Jefferson also has a point. We should tell Killian what’s going on.” Snow knew Killian was probably still angry with her, but he’d come home for this. She knew he would, and he wouldn’t let David sacrifice himself either. 

“Someone still needs to die for the Curse to work.” David protested. “Who else would be willing?”

“Me.” Marco spoke up, surprising everyone. 

“Papa…” August started, but Marco cut him off. 

“No.” Marco stood, shoulders set. “I have lived a long life. I’ve raised my sons. I’ve had grandchildren. I found love.” He looked to Granny then, taking her hand in his. His eyes moved back to David. “It’s my fault that Emma grew up alone. I’m to blame for that. Let me do this for our family.”

Everyone sat silent, considering his words. 

David felt gratitude and relief for Marco’s offer, but could he really let him die?

“Papa, are you really sure about this?” August asked, quietly, tears in his eyes. 

“I am.” Marco said. “I will die a lot sooner than any of you anyway. To die for my family, so they can be reunited? There is no better death than that.” 

“I’ll do it.” Granny said, saddened by Marco’s impending death, but pride for the man she loved shining in her eyes. 

Marco squeezed her hand tightly, knowing she was doing it, not just for him, but to save August from the pain and guilt of killing his father. 

“Marco,” David choked. “Thank you.” Because what else was there to say? Marco was giving his life so that David could live and be with his family. 

Marco nodded. “There is no need for thanks. I’m happy to do it.” He sighed deeply. “I only want to see Killian and Liam one last time.”

Regina stood, her own eyes wet. “I’ll go get them. Killian needs to know what’s happening anyway.” With that, she teleported away. 

“Now that it is settled,” Granny spoke, her voice thick with grief. “We need to prepare everyone to return to Storybrooke.”

*****************************

Killian gathered his crew, his family really, on the deck of the Jolly Roger. 

Eric leaned against a barrel with Ariel in his arms. Alice and Tink sat on crates, Liam sitting between them, the eight-month-old happily playing with his aunts’ hands. Will and Blackbeard stood by the mast, both eyeing Killian with worry and curiosity. 

He internally laughed at how much father and son looked alike in that moment. 

“So fearless leader, why are we having a family meeting?” Will asked. 

Killian chuckled at the title. "Well, to be honest, I think it's time to go home." He sighed. "I'm not giving up, but I was thinking over it last night. We haven't been back to visit the family, and perhaps consulting with Regina might give us fresh insights." More than that, he knew something was coming. Anticipation buzzed in his veins. 

"Are you sure, brother?" Blackbeard asked. "They might not let us go off again."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Killian said. "Besides, I still feel like something is happening. I think they have answers." He couldn't explain it, but his gut knew that this was the right decision. 

Blackbeard narrowed his eyes, still not entirely convinced Killian's powers weren't trying to break through. He needed to ask Killian if he ever died and was resuscitated. Then he'd know if the binding was still mostly intact or not. 

"It might be good for us to take a bit of a break." Tink said. "After eight months of traveling, it will be good to stay in place for a little while."

Purple smoke startled everyone as Regina appeared. 

"Regina!" Killian yelped in surprise. 

Regina smiled brightly, hugging her friend. "It's so good to see you, Killian." She pulled away, taking in the others. "It's good to see all of you."

"You have perfect timing." Alice said. "We were just headed back to the Enchanted Forest."

"You were?" Regina asked, shocked. Did they know about the Curse? No, they just now made a decision about the Curse. There was no way they'd know already. Her dark eyes looked to Killian for an answer.

Killian shrugged. "I just had a feeling something was happening. That it was time to come home."

Regina scrutinized him, wondering, not for the first time, if the pirate was precognitive on some level. "You're not wrong." Taking a breath, she prepared herself for the negative reaction she was about to get telling Killian her news. "We have a way to get to the Land Without Magic."

"You do?" Alice asked. "When did you figure it out?"

Seeing Regina wince, Killian's blood ran cold. There was only one option that he knew for sure, and Regina's reaction told him all he needed to know. "No." 

Perceptive pirate. Regina sighed. "It's the only way." 

"No." Killian snapped. "I'm not letting anyone die."

"That's not your choice." Regina crossed her arms, prepared to stand off against him. "We're casting the Curse. Then magic will be back in the Land Without Magic, and you can get Emma and Henry."

"Wait, hold on," Tink spoke up. "The Dark Curse? The one where you have to kill the person you love most? That Curse?" 

"As I explained to the others," Regina began. "It's not called the Land Without Magic because there isn’t magic, there's just not enough there to make it accessible. The whole reason the Curse was created was for Rumple to bring over magic so he could remain the Dark One. Casting the Curse will weaken the barriers of the realm, and since you have Ariel here, she could open a portal to the Land Without Magic." 

"So the Dark Curse gets cast," Ariel started. "Storybrooke and magic would return to the realm. If you teleported me and Killian far enough away, once the Curse is cast, then I can get us to the Land Without Magic, no problem."

Killian still didn't like the idea. "Who's volunteered to die for this cause?"

Regina grimaced. "Look, let me transport everyone to the castle and we can finalize plans. Then, like Ariel said, I can teleport the two of you away from the range of the Curse. If you get caught up in it, you won't be able to leave Storybrooke to find Emma and Henry." 

"Regina, who's dying?" Killian demanded. "David's not being a noble idiot again, is he?"

"He tried." Regina admitted with a watery chuckle. Killian knew his best friend so well. “But no, David isn’t pulling the noble sacrifice card. We wouldn't let him."

“Okay, let’s get back to the castle then.” Tink said. “We can debate and argue over the details when we’re there.”

Killian wasn’t happy about Regina withholding details and being rather shifty about the plan, but Tink was right. They needed to get back home. The sooner they did then the sooner they’d figure out whether or not the Curse was worth it, and then he’d find a way back to Emma and Henry.

*****************************

While he wasn’t too happy about George and Nottingham roaming his castle, Rumple had work to do. The memory potion for Miss Swan was almost ready and he needed to send it off before George and Nottingham discovered his whereabouts. 

Having overheard George’s plan, Rumple only hoped that the heroes would cast the Curse before George could find the dagger or worse: find the dagger and control Rumple into altering the Curse. 

When he defeated his father and sacrificed himself, Rumple was at peace with his decision and knew Belle and Neal had a support system to get them through their grief. 

His sacrifice felt like an apology to Neal for everything that he did as the Dark One. More than that, death freed him from the Darkness. He never imagined his son would go as far as to resurrect him considering they never truly resolved all of their issues. Even now with Neal in his head, it was only a matter of time before one of them took control permanently. There couldn’t be two of them. Resurrection magic came with a price and that price would be the death of one of them. He just had to figure out how to make it so Neal lived and he died.

But that would be for another time. The memory potion was ready.

Rumple worked quickly to bottle the potion and hide evidence of his actions before heading to a window and summoning a bird. Of course it was a messenger pigeon. Rumple quickly wrote a note explaining what the potion was for and tied it to the pigeon’s leg. “Take this to Killian Jones.” 

As the bird flew off, Rumple felt a pull in his gut. The Dark One dagger had been found. Answering the summons, Rumple disappeared in a puff of scarlet smoke and reappeared in another room of the castle in front of King George and Nottingham.

The dagger was in George’s hand. 

George smirked. “Hello, Dark One. I have a job for you.”

*****************************

Regina first teleported all of them and the Jolly close enough to her castle so that the Jolly would get caught up in the Curse. She knew how important it was for Killian and his family to keep the ship. After that, they teleported to the castle, appearing in the war council room where only David and Snow awaited them. 

“Killian!” David beamed at the sight of his best friend and quickly moved to embrace him.

“What are we?” Will whined. “Chopped liver?” 

“Hello to you too, Will.” David said as he pulled away from Killian. 

“He’s just sore because everyone likes me best.” Killian chuckled. As David hugged and greeted most of the others, Killian walked over to where a very heavily pregnant Snow sat. “I see that congratulations are in order.”

Snow’s smile fell, and she immediately bursted into tears. “Oh Killian, I’m so sorry. I was so horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.” 

Startled at his friend’s tearful outburst, Killian sat next to her and took her hand in his. “It’s all right, Snow. Emotions were still running high.”

“No, it’s not.” Snow sniffled. “There is no excuse for how I acted and the words that I said.” 

“Would it make you feel any better if I was still angry?” Killian asked. “Or if I said I didn’t forgive you?” 

“No.” Snow wiped away her tears. 

“Exactly.” Killian squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Let’s just leave it all in the past. Fair?”

“Okay.” Snow sniffed a final time before throwing her arms around him. “We’ve missed you so much.” 

David walked over with little Liam in his arms. “Look how big he’s gotten. Is he crawling yet?”

“Oh all over the ship.” Killian grinned. “Teleporting too. Likes to give us a scare from time to time doing that.” His eyes lit up with pride taking in his son. 

“He looks so much like you.” Snow reached up to brush Liam’s hair away from his face. 

“Aye, but most of his expressions are pure Emma.” Killian said. “Particularly when he’s mad.”

David laughed at that, knowing the exact expressions Killian meant. 

“I know this reunion is overdue, but we have a Curse to cast.” Regina spoke up. “I’m going to get started.” She gave David a significant look as she left. 

David winced. Why did he have a feeling Regina didn’t tell them who was sacrificing themselves? How kind of her to leave the hard part to him…

“So who’s the ritualistic human sacrifice?” Will asked. 

Alice smacked him on the shoulder. “Will, really?” 

Will shrugged as if to say that his description was rather accurate. 

“Uh, yeah, about that.” David grimaced. He turned to Killian. “Look, I was going to do it, but everyone was against it…”

“Rightfully so.” Tink said. “You have a baby on the way, and a full life to live.” 

“I know.” David said. “I was trying to be noble. I didn’t think it was right to ask anyone else to make this kind of sacrifice.” He sighed. He really thought his sacrifice would be for the better until everyone set him straight. Marco made his points clear as well. 

“So who’s is?” Alice asked. 

Snow squeezed Killian’s hand again. “Marco.”

Killian whipped his head towards her. “What?” He couldn’t have heard that correctly. Not Marco. No, Pop needed to be around to watch Henry and Liam grow up. He needed to see Killian and Emma get married. What about August? Marco needed to be here for his milestones too. 

“That’s why Regina went to get you.” David gave Liam to his father. “Marco wants to say goodbye to you and Liam. He and August are in the garden.” 

Killian sat there a moment, stunned by the news. “Wait, hold on. There’s still got to be another way. The Dark Curse can’t be our only option.”

“We’ve already been over this with Regina.” David said, giving Killian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Regina consulted with Blue. The Curse is all we have, Killian. It’s our only chance to reunite with Emma and Henry. Marco wants to be the one to do this for our family.”

“Go say goodbye.” Snow urged softly. 

Killian swallowed, not sure what else to say. He got up and glanced at the rest of his family. None of them knew Marco as well as he had, but their sympathy for him and the situation was clear on their faces. He looked away, not able to stand it, before he left the war room with Liam in his arms. 

The garden was in bloom despite the August heat. Killian found his father and brother sitting on a stone bench across from a black marble fountain. He approached quietly as Marco and August were deep in conversation. August clearly upset o er whatever his father was saying kept shaking his head. 

“Papa, give me a chance to go to Zelena." August said. "Maybe I can get her on our side."

"If you can't?" Marco argued. "Besides, this is the only way to get Emma and Henry back." 

August ran a frustrated hair through his hand. "Then let someone else do this. I know why you want to do this, but can’t you reconsider?” August pleaded. 

“No.” Marco’s tone was resolute. “This is my choice. You won’t change my mind.” 

“Could I?” Killian asked, surprising the two men. 

“Killy!” Marco stood up and pulled Killian, Liam still in his arms, into a hug. “My boy, it is so good to see you. Welcome home.” 

“Hi, Pop.” Killian returned the hug as best he could with the baby. 

Marco pulled back and took in little Liam. “Look at how big you’ve gotten, little one.” Carefully, he took the baby in his arms. “Oh, you’re a heavy one now, aren’t you?” He tickled the baby’s tummy earning a giggle from Liam, who wriggled in his hold. 

“Pop, can we talk about this?” Killian asked. “Why do you want to die?” 

“Killy, I have lived a full life.” Marco said. “Fuller than most. Everyone else here still have long lives ahead of them. It would be unfair for any of them to die instead. As I told everyone, it isn’t just about that, but I feel it is necessary to make up for past mistakes.”

“Past mistakes?” Killian asked, but the answer came quickly enough. “You mean Emma? Pop, Emma forgave you for that.” 

“That’s what I told him.” August said. “He’s not listening to reason.” 

“I haven’t forgiven myself.” Marco said simply. “Killian, I love you and August. I love all of our family. Did I want to see you boys married and raising your families? Yes, I did. But for you, Killian, it won’t happen unless I do this. Please, let me do this for our family.”

Killian swallowed, pushing back tears. He looked to August, who appeared as defeated as Killian felt. “There’s nothing we can say to change your mind?” 

"You can't be serious." August stood and began pacing the garden. "We can find another way to Emma and Henry. I know if I get a chance to talk to Zelena, she'll come to our side. Then we can all scour the realms until we find another way."

"You heard Regina." Marco said. "There is no other way. Even if we tried to look, Henry and Liam could be grown. I am an old man. My time will come soon enough." Marco patted Liam's little head as the baby watched his uncle pace. “Now, let me say goodbye to you boys properly, yeah?”

Breathing shakily, Killian nodded. “Okay.”

August reluctantly agreed as well, tears falling down his cheeks. "Okay, Papa."

Marco knew they would grieve, knew he’d miss out on so much, but he was at peace with his decision. To die was only the next adventure after all. 

*****************************

Her head pounded as she came to awareness. Zelena slowly opened her eyes, finding herself facing metal bars. She pushed herself up finding that she was in a cage of some sort. She remembered George speaking with her then...someone hit her from behind. 

“You’ve got us into a bind, dearie.” Rumple said from behind her. 

Turning, Zelena found the Dark One scowling at her. “What happened?” 

“King George and his crony Nottingham happened.” Rumple said. He was leaning against a table covered in gold straw. “They knocked you out and found my dagger.” His teeth clenched in a snarl. “I’m under his control now.” 

Zelena swallowed back her fear. “Does that mean you’ll kill me now?” She needed to get out of here. Her magic reached out to unlock the cage, only to bounce off of more powerful magic. 

“No.” Rumple said. “Luckily for us both, George thinks you’ll be useful as a hostage.” Rumple walked closer to the cage. “Your magic won’t work either. He ordered me to create a cage that you couldn’t magic your way out of, so that he could keep you in his possession.” He leaned down to whisper. “But this could work in our favor. You figure a way out without magic, get my dagger, and then we can kill George.” Rumple’s teeth baring grin held mania behind it. 

“You’re more sane for the moment.” Zelena said. “Or have you been playing me this entire time?” She wondered about his outbursts and why he was so calm now. 

“I can silence my son when needed.” Rumple said. “He’s asleep for now. No doubt he’ll wake up soon enough.” Though Rumple knew the real reason. The Darkness and past Dark Ones didn’t like his son holding him back. They wanted to expel Neal and get back to full power. Rumple silenced him as much as he could to protect him. He needed to figure out how to save Neal before the Dark Ones grew even more impatient. 

Zelena couldn’t tell if Rumple was lying or not. She’d take him at his word for now. “How am I supposed to escape?” 

“That’s for you to figure out.” Rumple snapped. He stiffened. Anger flashed in his amber eyes.  If Zelena hid the dagger better, they wouldn’t be in this situation. “I’m being summoned.” 

Once left alone, Zelena turned her focus to the cage. She couldn’t use magic to get out, but he didn’t say anything about picking the lock. Though Zelena didn’t know how to pick locks, it couldn’t be that hard, could it? 

Combing through her hair for a hairpin, Zelena decided the sooner she escaped, the better. 

*****************************

The Curse was ready. 

Regina teleported Killian and Ariel to the Southern Isles, where they’d be out of range of the Curse, but still able to keep an eye on the Enchanted Forest’s coast. 

Most everyone else was somewhere in the castle hunkering down. Only David, Granny, Ruby, Jefferson, Marco, and August elected to stay in the room. August wanted to be with his father as he died, especially since Killian couldn’t be, and Ruby and Jefferson stayed to support Granny. David stayed for support as well, but he was ready for a fight in case Zelena or Rumple showed up. 

“Okay, it’s time.” Regina said. She beckoned Marco and Granny over to the cauldron. “I’m sorry for this.” She genuinely felt horrible for Marco’s fate, but this was the only way. 

“It’s all right.” Marco assured with a sad smile. 

Regina reached out, hand plunging into his chest, and pulled out his red, beating heart. Gingerly, she gave the heart to Granny. “All you have to do is squeeze it over the cauldron until it turns to ash. Once the ashes fall in, then the Curse is enacted.” 

Granny nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She walked over to the cauldron, Marco at her side. August and Ruby joined them. August put an arm around his father, ready to catch him when he fell. Ruby stayed by Granny’s side. 

Granny looked into Marco’s eyes, and with a final nod from him, she held his heart over the cauldron and squeezed. 

Marco gasped at the pain, staggering a bit as August held him firmly. 

Granny closed her eyes, unable to watch, squeezing harder, hoping for it to work faster to end Marco’s suffering. 

As Marco’s knees gave out, August helped lower his father to the floor, holding him tightly. Marco whispered a final “I love you” as his heart turned to ashes. 

August hugged his father to him as Marco took his last breath. 

A sob escaped August, unable to hold it in now that his father was gone. 

Once all of the ashes fell into the potion, purple smoke seeped out of the cauldron. As the smoke creeped along, Granny, with Ruby right behind her, went to August’s side. Granny hugged August, who refused to let his father go, his body wracked with sobs. 

Regina stood off to the side with Jefferson and David, all of them tearful. 

“How long will the Curse take?” Jefferson asked quietly, turning away from the grieving family. He hoped they’d be taken soon so that Marco could have a proper funeral. 

“It will take some time.” Regina said. “It’s not a fast curse, so we should be in Storybrooke by morning.” 

“Do you think Zelena or Rumple will interfere?” David asked.

“Even if they did, I spelled the cauldron to only respond to my magic.” Regina said. It was foresight on her part, sensing that either or both would want to manipulate the Curse in Zelena’s favor. That is, if her sister still held possession of the Dark One dagger. Her sister. Perhaps if she received the news better that she had a long lost sister, then they wouldn’t need the Savior and Marco would be alive. Then again, they’d likely never seen Emma and Henry again, and a very selfish part of Regina was glad for the Curse. She’d get her son and a woman she considered family back. As horrible as it was, in the long run, this truly was best for everyone And Marco’s sacrifice would be remembered. 

“Will the spell hold against them?” David knew Regina was a powerful witch, but Zelena and Rumple were more powerful. It wouldn’t surprise him if they broke through it. 

Regina’s silence was telling. “Let’s hope not.”

“Hope not what, dearies?” Rumple’s high-pitched voice startled them. The imp appeared out of the smoke. “That I won’t change your Curse?” 

“Rumple.” Regina stepped forward. “I know you’re under her control…” 

“Not hers.” Rumple said. “Someone else controls me now.” He grinned without humor. “Unfortunately, I’ve been ordered not to say.” He waved his hand, magically tossing Regina back into Jefferson and David, knocking all of them to the stone floor. 

“You bastard!” Ruby snarled, pouncing for the Dark One, only to be pushed back with his magic, disappearing into the smoke of the Curse.    

Granny screamed out Ruby’s name, rushing to her granddaughter. 

August couldn’t see through the smoke as he sat clutching his father’s body, though the tears didn’t help his vision any. 

Regina used the smoke as cover to get behind Rumple. Lightly twirling her hand, she knew a vial of squid ink appeared in David’s hand. “Rumple, you don’t have to do this.” 

“On the contrary,” Rumple snarled. “I have my orders.” 

Calling upon her magic, Regina threw her hands out, pushing Rumple into the far wall, away from the cauldron. “Fight it, damn you! You know if you alter the Curse, there’s no Savior to break it.” 

“True Love abounds now.” Rumple said, hiding in the smoke. “Plenty of givers and receivers of True Love’s Kiss.” He came up behind Regina. “My master,” His tone was laced with disgusted sarcasm, “craves power and revenge. I’m to help him achieve that.”

Good, good, give me clues. Regina thought. Master of loopholes as always. “You can still fight it. I know you can.” They just needed to stall him long enough for the Curse to finish. Come on, David. She knew the squid ink wouldn’t last too long on Rumple, but it would last long enough to get past the point of no return for the Curse. “You’re stronger than the dagger.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Rumple walked slowly in front of of her, eyes piercing. “Play time is over.”

Okay, he can’t fight it much longer. Regina thought. Where was David? “Rumple, wait…”

The Dark One froze. 

Regina glanced down to see David on the floor, having army crawled under the smoke to hide, an empty vial of squid ink poised over Rumple’s foot. “Finally.” 

“Sorry.” David said, pushing himself up. “I wanted to make sure he was fully distracted.” 

“He was fighting it.” Regina said. “His new master is a guy out for revenge. Any idea who?” Since they were back in the Enchanted Forest, it could be a number of people, not just ones who were victims of the first Curse, though it wouldn’t surprise her if it was a victim of the first Curse. 

“Depends on who he wants revenge on.” David said. “You, me, Snow, Rumple, we all have a number of enemies.” Whoever controlled Rumple now was the most dangerous enemy they’d face yet; they needed to get the Dark One dagger back and soon. “How long will this hold him?”

“Maybe a few hours.” Regina said. “The Curse can’t be altered after a couple of hours, so when he gets free, there’s nothing he can do.” 

“That’s a relief.” Ruby said, appearing out of the smoke with Jefferson. She favored her left arm, having landed on it, breaking her ulna. 

“Here.” Regina waved her hand, healing Ruby quickly. 

“Thanks.” Ruby said. “Now we wait?”

Regina nodded. “Now, we wait.” 

*****************************

With his spyglass, Killian could see the Curse off in the distance. Purple smoke and lightning creeped through the Enchanted Forest as the deep inky sky started greying along the horizon. They hadn’t slept, worried that the Curse would reach them, though he hoped Regina’s calculations were correct and that the northern most coast of the Southern Isles was out of range. 

“Do you see it yet?” Ariel asked from her perch on the small cliffside. She stretched as she yawned, eager for the Curse to be over and done with so they could all be reunited again. 

“Aye.” Killian said. “It’s still far off, so it will take some time for it to finish.” He sat next to her, worry gnawing at his gut. He know leaving Liam with his brother and Tink was the right move, since he didn’t know how long it would take to get to Emma and Henry, but he hadn’t been away from Liam more than an hour or two in the boy’s entire life. Leaving him for who knows how long with villains amok ate away at him. “Once it’s finished, we’ll try your portal. Likely we’ll end up in Storybrooke, so I’ll need your help to get to the edge of the town and escape.” 

Ariel nodded, stifling another yawn, when she saw something. “What’s that bird doing?” Ariel asked, squinting off in the distance. 

Killian watched the pigeon flapping it’s wings vigorously, almost as though it was outrunning the Curse. “I don’t know. Is there something attached to it’s leg?”

The bird drew closer, clearly intending on them being its destination. It landed next to Killian, practically collapsing onto the ground. 

Gingerly, Killian picked up the bird in one hand. There was a note and potion attached to its leg. “Here, take the potion and note.” He maneuvered the bird so that Ariel could untie it. Once that was done, he released the pigeon and took the note from her. 

“What is it?” Ariel held the blue bottle carefully. 

“A memory potion.” Killian said. “For Emma.” If the Curse didn’t return their memories, then why didn’t Regina give him the memory potion earlier? Why send a bird? Unless she hadn’t realized the Curse wouldn’t return their memories and someone else sent it, but who? Killian looked over the note, but it wasn’t handwriting he recognized. Could he trust that this potion was a memory potion? He pocketed the note and took the potion bottle from Ariel, eyeing it despite not being versed in potions to even know what he was looking at. Shaking his head, he pocketed it too just to be on the safe side. 

The sun slowly ascended above the horizon. 

Killian took out his spyglass once again to see the progress. A thrill crawled up his spine when he saw the purple smoke clearing. “I think it’s done.”

“Okay.” Ariel said. “Let’s see if I can make a portal.” She removed her bracelet, her legs quickly joining together, creating her fishtail once more. She handed it to Killian. “Hang on to this for me.” Then she pushed herself the ledge, diving into the water. Once she hit the cool blue waters, she stretched out her hand and twirled it in a clockwise motion. A blue portal opened and Ariel darted through. 

As Killian awaited her return, he pushed himself up, preferring to walk down the cliff to a more level space, not wanting to risk shattering a bone. As he walked, the memory potion and who might’ve sent it nagged at him. Uncertain as to its origins, Killian decided that it would be a last resort when he found Emma. He’d do what he could to make her remember him and their life. 

Ariel was waiting in the shallows when he reached the beach. “It’s there.” She said excitedly as he approached. “I came out about fifty yards from the coast. It looks just as it did before.”

“That’s a relief.” Killian said as he waded through the shallow waters. “Did you figure out where the edge of town is along the coast?”

“Yeah, it’s two leagues south of the docks,” Ariel said. She took Killian’s hand. “Ready?”

“Aye.” Killian said. “Let’s go home.” 

*****************************

“Killian.” Emma gasped, waking up, looking around the room. She could’ve sworn…

Wait, something happened. Her bedroom looked and felt the same, but everything was off. Or she was off kilter. 

Emma saw nothing different in her bedroom, but her instincts were screaming that something was different. Egged on by her gut, Emma hurried out of her bedroom, anticipating finding something changed. After scouring her apartment, finding Henry still asleep, Emma was at a loss. 

This was certainly all the fault of her silly, stupid dream. 

She dreamed that Killian was here. That they were so close to touching and being together. Her nostrils filled with the smell of him, leather, sea, and his Opium cologne. 

God, she was going crazy wasn’t she? Killian wasn’t real. Or was he? After all, there was no such thing as Storybrooke, Maine, but she’d been there. She raised Henry, yet there were adoption records. She worked as a bail bonds person in Boston, then disappeared for over a year. 

There were things that didn’t add up; things that couldn’t be explained. Storybrooke had the answers, and she planned on going. However, now, everything in her was telling to stay put and wait. 

But wait for what? 

A live-wire crawled under her skin. Life as she knew it was changing. Something big was coming. 

Her bones, heart, head, and soul knew that before long, she’d be seeing Killian Jones. 

[twilightmalachite]

Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Hmph. Because if I am to be motivated, I need you to be too."

⚠️ Content warning: Contains mentions of suicide.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Apartment in France

Mika: (But… When one partner can’t contribute, the other’s gotta stand strong!)

(I gotta do my best!)

(But, uu~, I seriously feel like runnin’ away!)

(I’m lyin’ to Oshi-san…)

(Turnin’ away from reality, coverin’ it up, glossin’ it over…)

(Even though I always wanna be honest to Oshi-san.)

Shu: Ka~ge~hi~ra~?

Mika: Nnah? Whats it this time? I, I-I, I’m not lyin’ ‘bout anythin’!?

Shu: Hah? Your attention was distracted again, wasn't it—I was telling you that lunch has been prepared and it’s time to eat. What’s with this overreaction?

Mika: Nnah, yer right, it smells real good…♪

Shu: Your extraordinary ability to concentrate is a virtue, but it’s not good to become so absorbed in one thing that everything else gets neglected.

Don’t be the kind of idiot that gets hit by a car because they were in thought.

Here. This is not genuine foie gras, but I attempted to recreate the taste and texture to the best of my ability using the ingredients I had on hand. You wanted to try it, didn’t you?

Mika: Nnah… T-Thank ya kindly. Yer bein’ so kind, Oshi-san, it’s creepy!

Shu: Hmph. Because if I am to be motivated, I need you to be too.

While the Funeral Contest has no definite deadline, the other contestants are going to outwit us at this rate.

So we need to hurry up and decide on at least a concept for our funeral soon.

Mika: Ahaha.

Shu: You laugh out of context sometimes.

Mika: Nnah~… It’s jus’~, ya said “our funeral”, so it sounded like we were gonna do a double suicide together.

Shu: I understand where you’re coming from, but I do not understand why you would laugh at that.

Mika: ‘Cause wouldn’t that be wonderful? If we die together, we’d go to hell together fer eternity~…♪

Shu: Even I said that I do agree with you, it would be imprudent to talk about death so lightly! Well, I suppose it is a little late for that.

Actually, I wonder if that’s the case… I’m not able to come up with any ideas, because I do not typically talk about death.

I had been opening that by deciphering the diary and nearing my Grandfather’s past would at least give me a start on things.

Mika: An’ we struck out there, didn’t we? Right…

Shu: But it wasn’t completely for naught. Hence, why I am still here in Paris.

According to the landlord, who knows my Grandfather’s past well, it seems the past as described in the diary is more or less accurate.

The sole thing that appears to be a fantasy is only the existence of the fictitious woman named “MADEMOISELLE”.

That, and the other things the historian who translated them pointed out; since some of the entries contain facts that anyone including my grandfather could not have known at that time—

I can conclude that while not a pure diary, it could be a recently written novel.

One with facts portrayed that, according to the landlady, are astonishingly accurate.

Of course, the landlady is quite old, so her memory appears to be a tad hazy in several areas.

In fact, she seems to have quite the rough time simply reading through it… Well, it is a diary written in a language that is not of her mother tongue, so that’s understandable.

Mika: Umm, did’ja have the historian translate it into French, or somethin’?

Shu: Yes. As we’ve been doing things so chaotically, time has only been flying by.

Myself aside, as I live in Paris; Kagehira, you must have work to do in Japan.

Your visa is reaching its expiration, so how about you return to the country for some time?

I’m sure Nito and Kiryu, who are assisting us for some reason, are concerned as well, so I’d like you to meet them face-and-face and fill them in.

Just a brief summary, of course. I just feel that genuinity is lost over the phone.

Mika: R-Right… What ‘bout you, Oshi-san?

Shu: I intend to continue to look into things through talking with the landlady, and by paying my Grandfather’s acquaintances and properties she has referred me to a visit.

Even if those diaries are nothing but fantasies, the depictions of my grandfather spending his youth here are fact.

I would like to believe that there is still significance in experiencing and finding meaning in it.

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

[kurtmustdie]

God finally I finished the 1992 Spider-Man 2099 comics—

SPOILER WARNING BTW IM JUST SPITTING OUT MY THOUGHTS RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW GET OUT IF YOU DONT WANT THE COMICS SPOILED FOR YOU PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Overall, writing wise I liked it. Most of it, at least. I wasn’t a huge fan of the art style at some points but that’s just personal preference, I guess. I know how much work and how little time goes into comics so that is just a tiny thing to me. Biggest complaint about the art style was how the women were drawn. Uh…. Yeah, it was the 90s. I’m not shocked we’ve barely grown and it’s 2023. Side note but this comic really did predict some modern stuff didn’t it /hj

The downsides…. Oh boy. I don’t like how most of the female characters were relegated to the damsel in destress or…. Miguel lover. Ig??

Conchata was sort of out of the ordinary with that and that’s why I liked her (Xina too, both of their personalities stuck out to me and I liked them. Xina sort of reminded me of Red from TLOTFK National Anthem for some reason) but I mean… she was the main characters mom. Kinda makes sense that she’d go against the grain

That and the representation of Mexican culture.. my god did I hate it. As a Latino, specifically as someone who is Mexican, I was not a fan of how Day of the Dead was portrayed specifically. It isn’t just Mexican Halloween. But in the comic… yeah that’s what I got from it and I think if a kid who didn’t really know what that is might end up being ill informed but just— they should have done more research. That’s all I’ll say.

I can give them a little leeway and say “oh it was the 90s”. So I will. It was the 90s. What am I gonna expect from a comic book in the 90s. This was actually pretty progressive for the time so why am I complaining 💀

Oddly enough though, I did enjoy the representation of suicidal tendencies and ideation from Miguel. You don’t see that a lot. At least not in the way this was depicted and from what I’ve seen. It was relatable. Every time he got into a near death situation he still fought through it and didn’t give up. Which like, yeah, I wouldn’t want to be killed by some guy with wings or drown because fish man or something, but as he spirals I feel like it was depicted well. He knew that he couldn’t take his own life because not only did he have a job to do (save the city, work at alchemax) but also he found that other people did end up caring about him. At some points that didn’t matter to him, sometimes it did. It’s a fucking roller coaster, realistically.

With the scene right after the reveal of Tyler stone, Miguel’s really awful boss who groomed him into his position at alchemax, being Miguel’s father. We see a shot of either Miguel attempting or thinking of killing himself. Personally I interpreted it as an attempt. Felt like it was a spur in the moment kind of thing, which is realistic, as far as I know. Reading his dialogue and thoughts just felt real. It felt like someone was maybe directly talking to me about their thoughts or that i was reading someone’s journal. There was no filter. Miguel has no filter. I fucking love him for that.

Everyone in the story was just kind of an asshole in some way. There was no morally good or morally evil. I’d say everyone in some way was morally grey.

Miguel is kind of a dick, but he cares about the people around him even though he may not properly show it (whether or not that’s because of trauma or, in my personal interpretation, him being possibly autistic is up to you. I think it’s a little bit of both). He feels guilt when he hurts people, when he kills others, on accident mind you, but he does. He shuts down. He trails off. He’s not evil or malicious, he’s just very very emotionally damaged. Which by all means isn’t an excuse for how he treats some of the people in his life throughout the comics but they serve as a good explanation.

Dana generally seemed to… kind of care? She did sleep around and was bouncing between literally all 3 of the OHaras (Miguel her fiance, Gabriel her brother-in-law, and Tyler her father-in-law), but she also treated them more like trophies than anything. We didn’t see a lot of her backstory or motivations because she really just… was only there when the plot needed to mention “oh by the way Miguel’s fiance cheats on him”. I wish we got to see more of her, tbh. I wanted to see her line of thinking (maybe I will once I eventually reread but rn my brain feels like it’s about to explode and I need to eat something before it does. T minus 8 minutes /ref)

Gabriel. Just Gabriel. I do not have the right words to unpack him. Holy fuck.

Xina was a bit of a hothead, ig? She bounced off of Miguel’s character pretty well because she directly went against him. Not like she was a villain at any point but she did end up being at odds with him at some point, so.. she does, however, still care about other people and just like Miguel she feels so much regret about the past. I’d argue everyone in this story just kind of sits in a puddle of “oh god this unending agony”. I’m happy she seemed to be blazing her own trail at the end of the comic. Cool of her. Very cool.

Tyler…. Yeah I didn’t like him and technically speaking he is a villain, but he wasn’t entirely evil apparently, he liked Dana. Even though i don’t believe him. He’s a greedy shit who basically only values his role in a billion dollar company so uh.. fuck him. He’s not cool. I wouldn’t say he’s morally grey but if we take his word at face value he can feel love. I guess. But I don’t think he does. Nuh uh, Tyler Stone, Nuh uh.

Lyla was great. I love her. She’s funny, witty, her timing is great, she’s fucking insane sometimes but yknow what that’s fine. I saw a post describing her as “the weird fairy that haunts Miguel” (paraphrasing) and I cannot help but see her that way from now on. Especially movie Lyla. Because she’s just FUNNY in both and she’s so much fun I wish there was more of her in the comic and I WISH WE HAD MORE OF THAYT RANDOM PUNK VARIANT OF HER WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT—

Overall, I found the comics charming regardless of my few critiques. It was written well to reflect that not everyone is picture perfect, everyone is just a bit cynical, and relationships are rocky sometimes. Especially if trauma and literal actual grooming is involved. Also I smiled and cheered a little bit when Tyler stone died and when alchemax fucking exploded.

That was great

(Sorry if this was a little incoherent like I mentioned before my brain hurts and I’d probably have to reread over and over to get my full analysis, this is just my final thoughts after my first full read through)

Will I read the other Spider-Man 2099 comics?

Um

[freddiemercurydaily]

12 November 1977, Queen performed @

This is almost certainly the longest show Queen ever played, clocking in at nearly 2 1/2 hours. They play thirty songs in all, including eight from ‘News Of The World.’

“A Royal Quartet Rules The World of Heavy Metal Rock”

Boston — By New York or even Philadelphia standards, Boston is a generally sedate town, although an an outsider on hand last week at the Boston Garden would be forced to reassess any such generalization. Indeed, the more than 13,000 young rock fans who packed the Garden on the evening of Nov. 12-provided. an awesome example of mass hysteria, as the British rock group Queen unveiled a new stage show of such epic proportion and sustained excitement that there seems no way to adequately describe its impact.

It was only the second performance of the quartet’s current 27-city American tour (which touches down here at the Spectrum for shows Wednesday and Thursday nights), but it was a clear enough indication that Queen has blossomed into the leading practitioner of heavy-metal rock drama, With British kingpins Led Zeppelin temporarily out of the touring picture (due to the sudden death this past summer of singer Robert Plant’s young son), Queen literally reigns, thanks to ah impressive new album — “News of the World” (Elektra Records) — and the sort of non-stop, three-hour, no-opening-act show pioneered by Zeppelin in the early 1970s.

Queen’s triumph — after about five years of increasing popularity and one smash hit single (“Bohemian Rhapsody”) — derives from a wise and welcome change in musical/theatrical direction. Originally a busily theatrical “glitter” band reliant on a multitude of costume changes, smoke, strobe and fire effects, Queen has considerably toned down its flashy excess. With the exception of one major costume change — from stripes to sequins — on the part of lead singer Freddie Mercury, a modicum of smoke and flare, and a massive, 5,000-pound lighting rig in the shape of a queenly crown, the group’s theatrical impact is almost exclusively tied to its music. Noticeably phased from the current repertoireare the rococo, operetta-like tunes of an earlier period, and in their pIace is a masterfully paced program of eruptive yet polished hard rock

With such boldly articulate new, recent and old Queen songs ” We Will” Rock You,” “Keep Yourseif Alive”, “Liar,” “We Are the Champions”, “Tie Your Mother Down,” the group brillantly sates the mass appetite for the surefire basics of modern pop rock: soaring tenor lead and harmony vocals, pungent electric guitar lines, driving yet sophisticated rhythms, evocative Iyric:s and rich melodies.

“I suppose we’ve been leading up to this all long. It certainly feels like the breakthrough we’d never quite made” admitted Freddie Mercury after the Boston Performance. Mercury is tall, dark, muscular yet lean, retiring yet intense in terms of eye contact, and possessed of a rather pronounced overbite. He’s a gifted showman of genuine grace and relentless energy, a first rate vocalist and songwriter, and quite lucid on the subject of Queen.

“I think it got to the point with us where the theatrical tag began to take over our image, but it was only a matter of time before the musci began to come into its own. That’s what’s making the difference on this tour”, he reflects. In a near chair, bassist John Deacon – quietly amiable – nods in agreement.

“What bothers me so often when people discuss rock ‘n roll is their tendency to label it,” continues Mer­cury. “Either it’s ‘glitter’ or ‘punk’ or progressive’ or whatever, and these tend to obscure the fact that you’re really talking about a kind of entertain­ment that often touches on a lot of styles. The last thing l’d want to do is limit our music to a label.”

Speaking of labels, though — and of “punk” rock in particular — one can’t help but note that one of the group’s new tunes, “Sheer Heart Attack,” affects the piledriving intensity of today’s “punk” sound.

“I suppose it does, now that you mention it,” agrees drummer Roger Taylor, who wrote the song. Blond and blue-eyed, Taylor is very much the pretty boy of the band. “But even so, I wrote it a few years back and we only just got around to recording it. I do think, though, that the punk rock scene is still very nascent, and you’re going to see a lot of these young bands making a lot of crappy music before the good stuff comes along, i suppose it has to be that way”.

The nucleus of Queen — Mercury, Taylor and guitarist Brian May — met up in London in 1969 and rounded out in 1971 with John Deacon. Previously, Mercury had been with a group called Wreckage, while May and Taylor had been members of one called Smile. All four are in their late twenties, and each has a college degree, Mercury in graphic design and illustration, Taylor in biology, Deacon in electronics and May in astronomy.

The most accomplished academic of the four, May not only taught astronomy but published a few papers in British scientific journal before forming Smile with Taylor in 1968. Tall, leather Jacket and sporting an abundant mane of curly black hair, May could hardly look less a scientist.

“I was doing research on cosmic dust”, he explains, ” and I really did enjoy my work, in fact I still keep up with the latest developments”.

By now, the party has thinned down and it’s quite late – 3 A.M. – as May and I share an elevator to respective floors. he shakes his head, dazed and happy. “You know”, he odfers, “we’ve played a lot of places, but everytime I hear an audience roine crazy like they were tonight before we even got onstage, I get such a feeling inside, and I know I could never feel that way doing anything else…”

Source: The Sunday Bulletin

[adamwatchesmovies]

Civil War (2024)

Civil War is made with such skill and its tense scenes make you sweat at a level that makes you think “This movie must be saying something!” but ultimately, I’m not sure it is. That’s not necessarily a flaw. Many films don’t have great insights or lessons to teach. It’s just that this picture by Alex Garland makes you think it’s going to be more than it is, which may leave a small part of you feeling slightly disappointed.    In the near future, the United States are torn apart by a civil war. Secessionist forces led by Texas and California are moving towards Washington, where the President of the United States (Nick Offerman) serves his third term. Everyone knows the conflict is near its end. Jaded veteran war photographer Lee Smith (Kirsten Dunst) and her colleague, Joel (Wagner Moura), are determined to make it to the capitol before the Western Forces win the war. Joining them across the divided nation is seasoned journalist Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) and aspiring photographer Jessie (Cailee Spaeny).    You can understand why someone would expect to learn something from Civil War. This conflict isn’t between North and South, it’s between East and West, which must be a deliberate choice to avoid commenting on the way history might repeat itself and talk about something else. The Capitol riots were only a few years ago. Maybe this is an escalation of the violence children see in schools. Could it be that we’re taking something that “only happens over there” and bringing it here? I’m not sure. If I were to guess, I’d say the film might be a commentary on war journalism, or journalism in general.

We see Lee flashback to things she’s seen while out in the field. Executions, blasted homes and people being burned alive. In her home country, she sees war crimes and the destruction of national monuments. She hardly blinks at any of it. When confronted by Jessie, she explains that documenting without interfering is her job, that she takes photos of people who would've died anyway and that trying to step in the middle of it would only put the journalists at risk. She even confesses that if Jessie was killed, she wouldn’t think twice about taking a photo of her death. I couldn't do that. I’m not sure how I feel about her confessing she could. Maybe that’s the point but the film seems to contradict this idea when Lee and the group are put in extreme danger (it’s one of the film’s best scenes, the one with Jesse Plemons you saw all over the trailers) and during the conclusion.

Maybe I’m just a dummy and I’m not seeing it. Maybe the point is that there isn’t a clear-cut answer, that Civil War is merely supposed to start a free-form conversation. The fact that no one may be sure is likely what writer/director Alex Garland was aiming for. 

Some movies like say… Southland Tales may seek to jump-start a conversation but are so loopy, incoherent and shoddily made that the questions it asks (or seems to ask) feel like insults. That’s not the case with Civil War. No matter what the intention may be, a scene where Jessie asks snipers who they’re firing at and they tell her that they don’t care is striking. We’ve seen films show us the inhumanity of war many times. Putting that war in a familiar setting, with people you recognize as both victims and perpetrators makes you uneasy, it frightens you. The situation is deliberately outlandish but the emotions generated are real. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so crazy a scenario. How would people behave if their home was torn apart by war? How would you fit in?   Civil War is not the kind of movie you'd watch over and over again, though individual scenes will play in a loop in your head. Its intentions aren’t clear but this makes it even more memorable than it might’ve been if it did spell out exactly what it wants to say. I’m “only” going to give it a 3.5/5 because when you see the trailer, you expect a game-changer and it isn’t. That score is meant to skew your expectations so you come back to me later and say “No way, this was better than that”. Maybe that’s unfair to Civil War, but I feel like it’s fair to you. (October 4, 2024)

[ciaossu-imagines]

A couple more hours in the day would be awesome, along with the ability to postpone feeling the need to go to bed. Thank you so much. I’m just not used to being a super late replier so couldn’t help but bring it up 😅 It’ll be interesting to know how right or wrong you were and I’m looking forward to talking about it when the time comes and we’ve both read those chapters in English. We haven’t talked about it any more but yeah, I hope so. She’s now watching something called ‘Sign of Affection’ and recommended it to me so I hope to watch that at some point. And that’s so nice that you can do that with screencaps of the manga. It really is great and powerful in another way and I’m so happy to hear that’s the case. Those screencaps are so beautiful, in all kinds of ways 😭

Of course. Your rambles are always a great read. I most definitely am and even though I haven’t read what you posted yet the previous days, I do hope to at some point because they do seem interesting. And that sounds so great. I’m so happy to hear that. And I do like your plan of distributing everything evenly since it lets you try out all kinds of things. That’s nice 😃 I’m looking forward to hearing your opinion on it (the Black Butler manga) when the time comes. Yeah, like we’ve discussed in our private conversation. Like I used to use this website called ‘Anime Filler List’ that would say to what extent every episode was filler or non-filler and it really was so handy for when I didn’t feel like watching certain episodes, though sometimes the wikis also have that on the main episode page. Reading Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun! sounds like a great idea since you do deserve some light-hearted stuff after all that heavy business. And that’s great to hear, that you’re catching up and rereading everything at such a good pace 😃

Of course I like reading your textwalls / novels since they really are so great and interesting to read. Yeah. Like I have WhatsApp downloaded on my computer so it’s another app and it makes it easy to send long texts to my friend but I can indeed imagine it being quite overwhelming for her at times. And it most definitely is when it comes down to word count since there is no maximum so it could all go in one block and the image sharing is pretty good but one of the things that I don’t like about it is that when you send a bunch of images or receive them and go out of the conversation for a bit and then go back into it, they’re no longer under each other so I can’t as easily respond to them one by one like I usually try to do. It most definitely was and even though I know we’ll never see that animated, by the gods that would be amazing to see. Though of course I’m happy that I got to read more about them. That’s such a shame to hear and so strange since Haikyuu is quite a popular series. Hopefully by the time that you’ve watched everything there is to watch about it, it’s back on the app. Yeah, it’s because of that growth that I became so much less normal about my two absolute faves. Different I’ll say. Like he appeared twice before (so once in the first proper time-skip chapter near the end and after that in the first special chapter) and both times he was wearing the same kind of clothes and I was just like ‘In my mind he only wears these kinds of clothes and I love that about him because the thought is just so funny’ and then that chapter appeared and he’s wearing something else and it’s just casual so I love that. That image has become the death of me in more ways than one. But like I’m still convinced that he still mainly wears the clothes that he wore before, this is just a special occasion. And thank you so much for that 😭 Okay. I’ll send it later then and it’s nothing since editing pics like that doesn’t take a lot of effort. I see.

Thank you. There might be some more Nanbaka chapters translated past that point but I don’t think it’ll be that far but yeah, I’ll tell you where I am when the time comes and we can work with that. Oh, that does sound awesome and really handy. Okay, I’ll add it along with the image. I’m glad to hear that you’re healing slowly but surely and do hope that it doesn’t last for much longer. It’s a godsend for me as well since sometimes I forget to close the code for the italics and then I see that there’s something off in the preview so then I just have to go back and check where I forgot to do it. Also, you can save things as drats and I think it’ll remain there for two weeks, it does tell you at the top I think so you don’t have to post things straight away either. Ah yeah, I see. Luckily since I copy from Word I don’t have to use those breaks but yeah, now you know what’s possible and I think there is some more info on the FAQ or anything more that you might need to know. That’s nice 😄

C

I am definitely starting to think I need more than a couple more hours in every day! I got so caught up in writing yesterday that I ended up pulling an all-nighter, relying on coffee to keep me going when I started nodding off. I mean, I’m glad I got a good chunk added onto the queue and it’s going to be increased to twice a day now, but just a couple more hours in these days would be lovely so I can sleep and still do all these things! The ability to postpone needing to sleep would be amazing as well, not going to lie. I’m definitely going to need to tuck in early tonight to catch up on that sleep but I hate it. It sucks to feel like you’re wasting productive time passed out. And I’m looking forward to finally getting that reply to you via dm so we can chat about it but yeah, I called one of those twists, but I still can’t figure out why! Just…WHY!! And I know you normally answer super quickly, a stark contrast to me, who is always running behind on replying to people. I make a kind of lousy pen-pal that way, but thankfully everyone is really kind and understanding about it 😊 I’ve never heard of that one before? Sounds like a romance though, so it would make sense for me not to have in that case. I hope if you get around to watching it that you thoroughly enjoy it though! And yeah, I am horrible – every single panel that has information I want to remember or just has my favourites looking really cool gets screenshot and put into a folder on my phone. I have an SD card the folder is on because it takes up much more room than I would like to admit. I keep saying I’m just going to transfer them on over to my laptop so I can do comprehensive ‘Dee reads’ style reviews of chapters of things I’ve recently read or am reading but I never do get around to that. And thank you for saying that – to me, they genuinely do capture the theme of the manga and are just beautifully done art wise! I hope maybe they’ll get even one more person into the manga, because it truly is a wonderful one!

Aww, you make me smile and blush saying that! I’m glad they’re fun to read though and thank you for wanting to get around to reading all the daily posts I’ve been spamming everyone with. Again, I can’t say it enough, but I really do appreciate all of you lovely readers allowing me to have so much fun with the unrequested prompts so that I can write for all the fandoms I love! I haven’t gotten to the Black Butler manga, though it’s definitely on the list. My manga app is really handy in that it allows me to save all my favourites one place and then to save the ones I still wanna read in another list and I’ve just been working my way through that list bottom to top, which is why there’s really not too much consistency with how I’ve been reading and watching things, haha. I hadn’t known websites like that existed but that sounds so frigging useful, honestly. I’m not a huge fan of filler episodes, which is why I don’t normally love going anime only if a series has a manga, other than the obvious fact that I read a lot quicker. Finding ways to skip that filler would make anime watching a lot better for people like me. I really enjoyed finally reading the manga for Iruma-kun! It’s a lot of fun and the story is great, but I’m also not going to lie…I actually do prefer the anime for this one. The voice acting and especially the music really do add so much to this and I actually prefer the art of the anime more. That being said, having read the manga, I know we’re in for some amazing seasons of the anime!!

I honestly hadn’t know WhatsApp had an app for the computer as well! I know it has one for my phone, but I’ve honestly never tried it out, since I just text or use SnapChat. But having it on the computer would definitely make it easier to type out the long messages and I still maintain that I am sure she loves them, even if it might take her some time to read them all! Ouch on the images doing that though. That would kill my OCD, not even lying. Am I going to be missing out on a lot, by the way, just watching the Haikyuu!! anime? I did find somewhere I can read the manga, but it costs me $2.99 a month and I can only read 100 chapters a day, which will slow me down on my days off where I will sit and binge read. It’s the only thing that really bothers me about my manga reading app – they’ll take stuff down or off the app completely for no discernable reason. All I can guess is licensing issues? And I find being normal about characters overrated, haha, but I get very attached to all kinds of characters myself, haha. And I am going to be very interested to talk Haikyuu with you once I do get all caught up! I’m balancing it around another anime, that way I get to watch something heavily shounen when I’m in that mood but also get to watch something more easy watching and sports themed when I’m not in the shounen mood. And thank you again 😊 You’re very kind!

I keep holding off on reading the Nanbaka manga, just because of all the spoilers I have seen make me really think that I am going to hate the way it wraps up. But at the same time, I want to read it and say I caught up and see what happens with the characters I love! Thank you for that, by the way! I am finally all healed from the cold and hoping I manage to avoid any more like that. Dangers of working in a pharmacy. I legit had one lady sneeze straight in my face, not even bothering to cover her mouth, when I went to hand her her medications. Thank god my work is good about keeping our sink stocked with jay cloths and lots of antibacterial soap because I had to go and scrub my face after that. I love any site that thinks to put in the preview feature. Every writing site, in my mind, should have that feature just automatically built in, because I think it’s easy to forget, but how a story is formatted and presented can really affect how well people receive it, on top of the actual story itself. Thank you so much for the heads up about the draft files too! I love that and will probably make good use of them, knowing me!

[russeliarat]

Don’t you ever fucking suggest the idea that you are worth dying Russ. In what world are you making everyone around you miserable? If I am miserable talking to you than why am I even here?? If I was miserable I would walk away.

If you would like to know, I have before had the thought process that maybe it would be okay if I wasn’t here, it would be better for everyone. And then I woke the hell up and realized that offing myself would only hurt others. Not even just personal relationships, it affects a ton of people.

We feel intense emotion when someone has to do something drastic: rob a bank because they need money, run away because of their home life, or kill themselves because they either find it better for themselves or others. Suicide hurts the most because there is nothing you can do beyond that point to help because the person is dead.

And don’t even get me started on the PERSON SUFFERING THEMSELF.

I cannot describe to you what I entirely think about this in the limited language we have, the word I’m looking for is more specific than that one German word that specifies an old lady walking across the street with a fish or something like that I don’t know.

I have a Bo Burnham mindset when it comes to the world, an existential terror at what monster we’ve created, at what horror is to come, that there is no hope for a better future and one day we’re going to destroy this planet. But I’m still here, I’m still living my life, I’m still having fun and smiling and experiencing new things. Sometimes I mess up, sometimes I’m around people who belittle me, or who dislike me, or who infantilize me (it happens to me so fucking much) , but I don’t let those things drag me down.

I’m too busy loving existence, and finding joy no matter where I am (except anywhere near that one teacher FUCK HER-) . There is something from a podcast I listen to that describes my thoughts perfectly - no matter where you are, no matter how bad things may be, I think you can find joy. I found joy simply talking to you, and I took that joy as another reason to wake up the next day.

Most actions are selfish yeah, and maybe you’re right and it is selfish to crave death. It doesn’t matter how selfish you are, not to me at least, in my bed at five a.m. So don’t you ever say you are worth dying or I’m coming over to your ass and dunking your head in cold ass water until it clicks in your head that you are not the root of all suffering, that’s Hitler’s role.

Anyway, I just woke up and am about to keel over and sleep, timezones amr?

Being honest here, I'm not even sure why I posted that. I made it at like 3am when I spiralled hard and didn't know what else to do. I regret it deeply to be honest, I don't really want anyone to see me in that state ever, it's more than embarrassing.

I think it's been more than an understatement to call the last few weeks rough, it's been tougher than ever. You and others who visit frequently help me a lot to deal with this kind of shit but I never want to pressure anyone into feeling obligated to stay here. My feelings on this kind of thing is really complicated - I yearn for comfort and support but at the same time, I don't want anyone to become troubled because of my behaviour (something I've had to learn the hard way).

[neoarchipelago]

I can't believe this… the pot is yet again being stirred. I keep repeating myself. I made an essay!

Here, hoping that you fully understand.

THIS MENTIONS SA, SH AND OTHER DARK THEMES! PLEASE AVOID READING IF YOU FEEL TRIGGERED

I- dub-con, non-con and CNC kink in fiction.

A- the place of these themes in fiction and how it separated from reality.

I think the line has to be drawn. A line people seem to forget too easily. Obviously, rape is a horrible thing. This fact has never been refuted in any fics or novels or books. No writer will ever tell you, ‘rape is awesome and soooo romantic’.

Fiction is absolutely fiction. We are aware of it. There's a big difference. This obviously something readers choose to read being aware of fiction. Being aware that the real thing is horrible. Warnings and tags are always there to avoid readers unaware of it.

B- the differences with other themes

One thing I've been asked is what kind of difference writing rape is from writing dub-con or even pedophilia?

On dub-con, the line is blurred. Softer, protagonist may be in a path where the sexual action is wanted but blocked by the mind or pushed to it by the other protagonist, forcing their own need to give in. It is still seen as rape as consent is not fully given. There's not much difference from non-con. Writers usually use this tag to avoid any triggers to people.

For pedophilia, let's see this in a more details. I think we can all agree that all these themes, dub-con, CNC, non con, always involve adults. Whatever it is the kink, or in stories, it’s adults. Adults who are aware of what sex is and what this kink it. Children should never be near any of those themes. It's not about kinks anymore, children don't have kinks.

II- the reality of voicing your opinion on internet

A- SA victims and SH victims, sexual shame

Now there's something we need to talk about. Writing theses themes are used by many as a coming mechanism. SA victims may often use these writings to help the aftermath of these events in their own life.

In the kink itself it's something that obviously causes a lot of shame towards people who are not part of it. But many things need to be said. It's a need for a control of a situation that is dangerous and traumatizing. It's a sign of truth with your partner. Fiction is a way to live that fantasy in full safety as they are clearly aware of the truth of that situation in real life.

Now the thing that has started this whole conversation was the ‘don’t forget to tell rape kink writers to off themselves’.

It is not a small detail. Not at all!

This is where fiction is separated from reality. You are telling a real person to commit a real act that could lead to fatal consequences.

Obviously I think we’re all aware that many people on this website suffer from depression, self harm tendencies and bullying. I do too. Your words matter. Trust me. We’ve seen it with Inquisitor’s death while a live TikTok.

Many other tiktokers who had helped not only spread rumors but bully the creator only realized their mistake once he killed himself.

This is a no turn back situation.

Do you think you have the guts to wake up in the morning, knowing someone killed themselves because they wrote something you were against? That you are the reason they died? Their families are grieving?

You can find an article on the CNC kink here:

-https://www.choosingtherapy.com/consensual-non-consent/

B- respect even through anger

We have established one thing. The internet is a wild, free universe. Anyone can say or write or post whatever they want.

You are free to voice out your opinion, anger amongst these binary and servers. But one thing that is not ok is the way you say it.

A point doesn't need to be full of hate or threats to be said. Especially when serious consequences could be blown by it.

Everyone has their opinion, things they don't like. You are free to avoid tags, not read, block people. Protect yourself first. But attacking isn't protecting yourself. You’re simply causing another kind of harm.

People need to own up to their words and actions.

If you tell someone to kill themselves, it's horrible. It's an actual crime. A full crime.

-_-_-_-_-

Please stop stirring something that was dying.

People were blocked opinions voiced. Not only was it hypocrite of her as dub-con is not massively different but she also ended up insulting horrible actual SA victims in the comment of her post. She didn't write, she reads. Been fully following a series on this and being tagged in future chapters.

Voicing out 'they should go to therapy' or even 'it's not my job to see if they need therapy' after she actively tells people to off themselves is irresponsible and literally trying to take off responsability for words that will cause terrible things.

People have fetishes. Rape, bdsm, kidnapping, poop and pee, blood, pain. There are particularly hard to accept kinks. But none deserve to be told to kill themselves. You're shaming people. Inciting hate and self harm.

If you aren't understanding that. You're just as bad as her. Uncomprehensive and trying to avoid responsability.

very funny silly for a blog called "ladygoth" to be anti dark content

you know goth. known for being very innocent, prudish and not at all founded on the fascination of death, morbidity and cult like symbolism

I know right?!

Also, and the WORST PART:

They were on a tag list for a dub-co' series of @greatstormcat ...

Like... The audacity? The BS?

[inacatastrophicmind]

Suptober, day 2: Pillow Talk

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’ve gotten together sooner?” Dean asked as he ran his fingers through Cas’ dark hair.

They were in bed, exhausted from spending the majority of their day working on their lake house. It was almost completed, but they still needed to go through some details that would fully transform the house into a home, like adding pictures, finding the perfect shelves for their books, Dean’s movies and Dean’s records, getting all the indoor plants Cas loved, buying stuff for hobbies they wanted to try… It was a hard work, but it was worth it, because they were building their home together and on their own terms.

Cas looked at him with a thoughtful face. He looked a bit more tired than Dean, probably because he still was learning about the limits of the human body, but just like Dean, he was happy and relaxed by just lying on their bed, face to face, hands on each other, sharing a few kisses every now and then, having some pillow talk. They always loved doing that. Even when they were sleepy, they always did some pillow talk because they could now, because they weren’t scared of anything anymore, because it was just the two of them in love, happy and safe.

“Sometimes,” Cas answered after a beat. His hand was cupping Dean’s face, his thumb moving soothingly over Dean’s freckles. “But I try not to dwell in the what ifs of the past.”

Dean hummed. “Yeah, I get it, the past’s the past, we can’t change anything about it. It’s just— I dunno.” With his other hand, he grabbed Cas’ free hand and caressed his knuckles. “Sometimes I keep thinking about all the times I could’ve just told you that I loved you. It would’ve saved us both from the heartache.”

“Perhaps,” Cas sighed, looking at their joined hands. “I also wish I could have been able to tell you that I loved you sooner, but…”

“Yeah, there was always something. A monster, an apocalypse, a life or death situation…” Dean finished, and their eyes met, speaking a language that they both no longer found foreign. “But in the end, you did tell me.”

“I did.”

“And you chose the worst time and place to do so.”

“At least I found the courage to confess my love for you first.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He also found Cas’ cocky stare amusing.

“Okay, fair point,” Dean admitted, bringing Cas’ knuckles to his lips and kissing them. “Anyway, aside from the shitty and near-death experience we were in—"

“I did die, Dean,” Cas interrupted, frowning.

“Please, don’t remind me that, sweetheart.”

Cas’ eyes softened and looked sad for a moment. He leaned and pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s lips, and then said, “I’m sorry, beloved.”

“Okay, so,” Dean cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the memories of that night. He had managed to save Cas from the Empty in the end, but remembering Cas’ last death was something that still hurt Dean. Just like Cas still suffered some trauma from his time in the Empty. That night had affected them in different ways. “Apart from the situation we were in that night, weren’t you fucking terrified about confessing your love? Coz I’m pretty sure you didn’t know how I truly felt. Even if I thought I was fucking obvious, I’ve never been the best at expression my feelings. I’m still working on that, though.”

Cas smiled softly at him. It was the kind of smile he only did for Dean, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat, like it always did.

“You do express your feelings, Dean,” Cas said, making Dean frown in confusion. “Perhaps you don’t do it often with words, but you do express your love in gestures. I just didn’t know that back then.” He maneuvered their hands until Dean’s palm was free and he pressed it to his lips. It wasn’t the first time Cas kissed Dean’s palm, but it still managed to make Dean blush, which Castiel found lovely. “But to answer your question, I wasn’t terrified.”

Dean arched his brows in surprise. “You weren’t?”

“I wasn’t. I wanted you to know how much I loved you, and how much love drove you despite of your beliefs. With every word that I was saying to you, I felt happier and freer, a feeling that culminated once I told you that I loved you.”

Dean just looked at him, processing the words.

“I thought it was going to be a goodbye and that I wasn’t going to have time to face the consequences of my love confession,” Cas explained. “I was fearless, because I was finally able to tell you how I felt, I was able to tell you how much you meant to me, how much you changed me, and how wonderful you were.” He smiled at that, and his eyes got slightly glassy, probably feeling the emotions he had felt that night. “And I think a part of me knew that you felt the same, because I could see love in your eyes, even if I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of love I felt for you. But once you saved me, I found out that you loved me in the same way I loved you.”

Unable to say any words, Dean kissed him, hoping that Cas would get the message. Dean still was trying to connect his heart to his mouth, but it was still a work in progress. Thankfully, Cas was getting better and better at understanding Dean’s many languages.

When they pulled away, they looked at each other with shaky smiles and eyes full of love.

“I was gonna confess that night too,” Dean admitted in a whisper.

“Were you?” Cas asked, almost shocked.

Dean nodded. “I wanted to do it. We were probably gonna die and I just— I just wanted you to know. I was trying to find the courage to do so, but then you said that maybe there was a way to defeat Billie, and well, you know how it all went down.” He sighed. “But I wanted to tell you so bad, Cas. I wanted to just tell you, but in the end, I just— there was so much going on that I couldn’t say it back.”

“But you did say it back when you saved me,” Cas assured him, pressing their foreheads together. “And you still say it to me every day. That’s what matters, Dean.” He pressed a brief but lovingly kiss on Dean’s lips. “Better late than never; isn’t that the saying?”

“Yeah, surprisingly you remembered the saying.”

Cas rolled his eyes, albeit fondly. Dean grinned.

“The past is done,” Cas said, ignoring Dean’s comment. “We both made good and bad choices along the way, but in the end, we ended up here. And I think that is a good thing.”

“It’s a fucking awesome thing,” Dean admitted with a soft and happy smile that Cas soon mirrored. Then, he removed the distance in between them and kissed Cas one more time. “I love you.”

Cas kissed him one more time and with as much love in his voice as Dean, he said, “I love you, too.”