#there are so many ways to inflict it and to experience it and to see it in another...

[actualaster]

I know media does it to most easily showcase how much pain a character is in, but you don't actually need to be in so much pain you're screaming from it for a limb to give out from pain.

Sometimes it's just a white-hot flash of agony so sudden it takes your breath away and the next thing you know you're on the ground/bed/back in the chair/whatever.

It's so abrupt and intense and quick that it's over before you have even a chance to make a sound and all that's left is the deep, lingering ache of it.

And sometimes it's not even pain! Sometimes a limb can just... Stop working and down you go. The pain comes after.

(That's what happened to my knee where I ended up needing to be wheeled around because I couldn't walk--just gave out and hurt after it stopped working)

There's pain you cry out from, for sure, but there's plenty of pain--pain that can be literally debilitating--that you don't scream from, either, but that doesn't make it less of an impediment. Depends on the person themselves a lot, as well as the type of pain itself.

[psychronia]

I've been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender because why not and I'm losing my mind at Zuko's proper introduction. I don't know if it's hindsight, shifting characterizations, or just me not watching this in a long time, but this was amazing.

We start off showing he's an impatient and very angry kid. Reasonable, and the sort of flaw we might expect to see in a villain. Kinda funny that he expects to go up against an adult and fully 4-Element realized Avatar, but the kid is desperate and Iroh clearly expects his nephew to get the banishment-denial kicked out of him.

What's important here, though, is Zuko's introduction to the Southern Water Tribe.

Here, we have a very intimidating entrance where his entire ship just sails through the ice right up to the village's front door. It's quite ominous and this is our first proper introduction to how the Fire Nation interacts with a foreign people.

Sokka charges, I'm assuming fully prepared to die, and Zuko casually knocks him out of the way. Okay, so clearly the Water Tribe are entirely outgunned.

He asks "Where are you hiding him?" and the people of the Water Tribe go silent. I assume they're either just too scared to talk or actually protecting Aang.

Whatever the case, it's important to note that the Southern Water Tribe know the terror the Fire Nation can inflict. We have a whole episode dedicated to tracking down a division of raiders. Sokka was able to not only identify the ash-mixed snow as signs of an incoming attack, but estimate how many ships the amount of ash measures to. These are a people who have experience being terrorized and are probably expecting something terrible to happen.

And then, after they don't answer, Zuko grabs Gran-Gran. There was a horror sting to it, and everything the tribe knows about the Fire Nation suggests that Zuko is about to threaten or straight up hurt her to get answers. Classic "terrorize the elderly" bad guy stuff.

And then...

He goes "He's (the Avatar) be about this age and is a master of all four elements!?" and lets her go.

And all of a sudden, the tension that was built up is shattered as Zuko went "I know, I'll give them a reference for the person I'm looking for because clearly they're confused and I wasn't specific enough."

This went from a show of villainy to a show of Zuko being totally socially awkward and misreading the situation entirely. Not helping is that when he does try to menace them a moment later, his fire is slow and angled quite safely.

It still worked on the Water Tribe because they're understandably scared, but all I could think of is that this was the equivalent of a playground bully trying to make someone flinch with that fake-out lunge thing.

Because the fact-and something we'll come to learn-is that Zuko is TERRIBLE at being a Fire Nation oppressor. He's capable of doing morally dubious things and is a competent fighter. But he's lousy at terrorizing people and cruelty-that's kind of the point of his banishment.

And while we can see the story paint this picture of Zuko's true character as the story goes on with hints of good and conflicting loyalties, here we get to see just how bad he is at being "the bad guys". He's still unambiguously being the villain of this scene, and it makes no real difference to the oppressed themselves, but there is a comical gap between where Zuko thinks he is, where he actually is, and somehow it still puts him on the same page as his victims just because of how terrible the Fire Nation's influence is on everyone involved.

[bandgie]

Hidden Kinks - SKZ (Ot8)

BANGCHAN! | DISCIPLINE

(def). - discipline is a form of roleplay where certain acts are framed as "corrective" or as "punishment." 

It's not often that Channie likes to be hurt, but if the mood is set and you mix some pleasure with pain? He's there. Chan likes to be good and he is, but there are times he'll be a little bad and won't listen just to see your eyes turn predatory. Tell him he's not being a good boy, that he could be better, and deprive him from what he really needs. You may not even touch him, but just clicking your tongue condescendingly and dragging a whip/your nails down his skin makes his eyes roll and cock leak after care? needed and a lot of it

LEEKNOW! | IMPACT PLAY

(def). - sex that involves the use of hands, paddles, whips, flogs, or crops on a partner's meatiest, or most nerve-dense, parts. 

Complete control. Complete trust. Minho loves being rough with you and how much you're willing to give him. Wooden paddles for your ass and silicone ones for your swollen cunt. The wet smacking, the yelps, your begging for mercy...he thinks he might have something wrong in his head with how much he loves it. He likes bondage too, but because he wants you to struggle in it. To see your body tighten and fight against the restraints when his heavy hand comes down on your face. He's sweet with it strangely, kissing your saliva-slicked lips and soothing over your red marks. after care? obviously! he has ointment too :)

CHANGBIN! | CHASTITY

(def). - to prevent the wearer from engaging in certain types of sexual activity without the permission of the dominant.

Lock him up! That thick cock looks so good in a cage and looks even better when his balls are swollen. This kink pours into daily life if he chooses to wear it to work. But it best when you two are kissing, tongues sweeping deliciously into each others mouth naked. He's so shy, covering his leaking cage with his strong thighs, but all it takes is you opening his knee to see it all. It's twitching in the restraint, begging for any type of friction, but all Changbin gets is your soft tongue. Sometimes, you'll suck on his sack just to see him cry. He pouts so cutely. You think you'll never open the cage again. aftercare? A MUST. changbin experiences subdrop so you need to cater to him even days after.

HYUNJIN! | AMAUROPHILIA

(def). - kink or sexual preference in which an individual is aroused by or attracted to the experience of reduced visibility or blindness, either for themselves or their partner.

It's just super sexy, he doesn't care who wears the blindfold. If it's him, he loves the excitement that pools in his stomach. He tends to drool from anticipation and he'll feel your gentle fingers swipe the salvia and stick it back into his mouth. Not knowing what you're going to do when you're going to do it is so exhilarating. He's on edge, yelping at every touch and caress. Cums a lot this way. When you wear it, he's always touching you. Using one hand to stroke a dildo with lube while the other plays with your folds. He likes seeing you shake your head helplessly. Loves hearing you ask what he's doing he'll just giggle and say "you'll find out." It's all so cute and loving with him. In the end, he always takes off the blindfold and kisses you sweetly. aftercare? always with hyun, no question about it

HAN! | COCK & BALL TORTURE

(def). - a fetish marked by the desire to have pain inflicted on your own penis or testicles.

This may also involve a chastity cage, but he wants to feel you hurting him. Your hands, specifically. Flick the underside of his cock one too many times. Squeeze his tip until his voice turns high-pitched and whiny. If you're feeling extra mean, you'll have him on his knees humping your feet, crying out when you press down too hard. Always a good boy. He might have a potty mouth, but he always listens to you. Han wants to see his cock red, wants to see it throbbing from pain and overstimulation. If you have one of those wands that shoot electricity, even better. Put that on his balls while sucking/licking his tip and he'll be shedding tears in no time. aftercare? yeah. just gentle pecks to his cock to help him come down and a final one to his mouth.

FELIX! | GROUP SEX

(def.) - any sexual act involving more than two partners.

His dream, honestly. He wants to feel hands on his body. Wants to be pushed forward to choke on a cock and then pushed back to bounce on another. Felix doesn't have a preference for gender, he just wants sex that feels like he's being devoured. Maybe you're sitting on his face while he's being fucked. Or maybe he's keeping your legs open, his chest to your back, while someone fucks you. He loves the sweaty bodies, the never ending cum and slick. When one person finishes, another one steps in to take their place. If Felix finishes too soon, he likes turning over and watching them fuck you. Your breasts bounce, your chest heaves, and your face is flushed. Your poor pussy must be so swollen, your mouth so abused, but those hazy eyes want nothing more than utter bliss just like him. aftercare? mostly between you two! it's so sweet. Felix also likes kissing the guests goodbye when they leave.

SEUNGMIN! | PETPLAY

(def). - a form of roleplay where humans take on the persona of non-human animals or their handlers.

He's weirded out by his own kink, but you're so good at making him feel safe. He wants to wear the leash and follow you around on his knees. It takes a while to get into this headspace, to act like a dog, but with you taking the lead and encouraging Seungmin makes it easier. He likes some humiliation too. Tell him things like "does my puppy want to hump?" or "what game does my puppy want to play?" He doesn't answer with words, but with whines, barks, and yips. Sometimes you'll plug his ass with a tail, other times your strap on, but Seungmin does just fine without it too. If he comes too early or disobeys, you call him a "bad boy" or say "I thought my puppy could listen" and though he isn't wearing ears, your swear you see them go down. aftercare? yesss it takes a while for him to come out of his headspace and he may feel embarrassed when he does. needs lots of reassurance (and treats)

JEONGIN! | OBJECTIFICATION

(def). - the act of treating a person solely as an object of sexual desire (a sex object). Broadly means treating a person as a commodity or an object without regard to their personality or dignity.

He just doesn't want to have sex with you, he wants to use you. Complete domination to the point that you're almost not there for you own pleasure (but you always cum anyways). Jeongin chokes you, slaps you, twists and turns you into so many different positions like you're a doll. The fact that you listen so good, obey so well, is also a massive factor in his pleasure. He fucks your cunt so hard you can feel it in your throat. Fucks your mouth so deep you have to plead with him using your eyes to be gentle. Jeongin can lasts for hours if you let him. He absolutely loves the way you squeal when he pinches your clit while rutting into you. You leak so much, cry so prettily. And if you're a really good doll, he'll invite his friends to play with you too. aftercare? obviously & immediately. kisses and holds you close for hours. thanking you and telling you how grateful he is

I think Seungmin's was my fav to write lol

[shu-of-the-wind]

i read somewhere that grey whales can live upwards of 150 years, and that there are likely grey whales out in the oceans today that were alive and saw the massive whale hunts of the 19th century that inspired herman melville's moby dick.

to be clear, i have no idea if this is true. it could just be apocryphal, or something someone made up. but even if it isn't true, i think there's a something to read into that in terms of trauma and repair. if there really are whales on this planet today that are alive after seeing so many other creatures like them slaughtered and dragged out of the water by unknown hands for an unknown purpose, then those whales know the dangers and flee from them even after the people who hunted their kin have been over a hundred years dead. and they taught their calves to flee the same way. and those calves taught their calves.

150 year old whales teaching younger whales who teach younger whales who have no experience with the reasons why they must avoid boats, but know in their blood and bones that their safety relies on it.

something something trauma long outlives the people who inflict it. something something trauma transforms how generations grow.

[solarbird]

“Are we willing to fight for it?” Crowd: “YES!” “And when we fight?” Crowd: “WE WIN!” — Kamala Harris to campaign staff, 22 July 2024

That’s right, the “if we fight we win” isn’t from me this time. It’s from Kamala Harris, and I am kind of in shock.

One of the things I most feared about the “replace Biden” movement was the donor class yanking the party right again and hand-picking an all old white dudes ticket and absolutely tanking every chance we had of winning this election and stopping Trumpism for good.

Politically active Black people I know personally were expecting that to happen, because that kind of shit has happened so many times. And when political Black people talk about this shit in the Democratic party, you better listen, because their history on this stuff is solid.

I mean, that’s not the only reason I feared it, I have plenty of my own experience watching this same shit go down. But it’s a big one.

That – and all the many money and organisational problems I have described which would result – was about the biggest problem I had with replacing Biden. Particularly once it was clear the money people were moving on it so hard. I was so sure they’d do again what they’ve always done, slide the top of the ticket back to the “right,” repudiating so much economic and climate good the Biden administration has done, trying to haul us back to Clintinesque neoliberalism which would fail more spectacularly than ever before.

That’s also why I was an instant loud and dare I say it strident pivot to Harris when Biden actually did drop out – it was all to stop that money move from happening. That’s why I was out Sunday as loud and long as I could be, shouting, “WHITE PEOPLE, GET HER THE NOMINATION. FUCKING DO IT” while various usual clowns and dilettantes wibbled on demanding an ‘open convention’ and nattering about a ‘flash primary’ and going off about ‘not voting for a cop’ and the wretched spectre of Joe Manchin dipped a skeletal toe into the race.

None of that was an option. It’s still not an option. It had to be her; it has to be her.

And that speech I’m quoting shows why.

I’m still stunned. I never expected to hear a presidential candidate echoing my own words back at me.

I mean, Biden understands exactly what we’re dealing with – fash propaganda aside, he really is still all there, and his words show it. But he’s not able to frame it that way, it’s just not who he is. To see a candidate frame it like this… exactly like this… that’s something new. And I did not expect it.

I am so rarely truly surprised in politics. It has been a while since I have been surprised at all.

This has surprised me.

Another political writer I follow described her as the first Generation X candidate, and maybe that’s why. Technically she’s like two months too early for GenX, she’s in that transition zone, but y’know what? If she wants to grab that label I am fine with that, because those are some words from someone who fucking gets it. From someone who has figured it the fuck out.

Go watch her speech, particularly, oh… the “I know Donald Trump’s type” section starts around 19 minutes in, but the part after that, that’s where it really starts to matter, at 21:45. Here, I timestamped for you, hopefully it’ll work where you’re reading this and if not, just skip ahead:

I’ve been saying – this is the turning point year. The peak year of a fascist movement weakened but not destroyed by self-inflicted wounds of COVID, the last year of the backstop, the year after which we can start to win.

But still I expected that this year that we’d still have to fight under the old rules, playing the old games of the Baby Boom, even if I knew that one final year of holding would shatter it all, and let us make and play by new rules in ’26 and ’28.

Hence, one more year of the bulwark, one more year of the hold.

Until two days ago, on Sunday, July 21st, 2024, that was exactly how it was playing out.

Then a political miracle happened. Biden left the race and the donor class didn’t get their push to the right, and some of them apparently didn’t even want it because they dropped money again the moment Harris announced her campaign.

I guess maybe those rich bastards finally learned a thing or two about not throwing elections.

And that means…

…maybe we don’t have to wait ’til ’26 and ’28.

Maybe it’s not one last hold after all, before the spring.

Maybe the rules can change now.

Maybe Millennials and Zoomers are going to seize the moment this year.

If they do – if you do, if you go in, if you mean it, if you don’t waver and trip yourself up in details and personality and propaganda and purity tests and and and all of it…

…then…

…this year won’t just be a hold.

This year will be the fucking landslide we have needed for eight years now to wipe Trumpism and its like off the map for a century.

Wanna make that happen?

France and England have shown us the way, and christ, I want to make that happen.

How about you? You up for it? You ready to do the work?

Let’s go, then. Everybody.

All in.

104 days remain.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Dragon Riders Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐲 — lady l: this turned out longer than I expected, but that's ok. I'm rewatching Race to the Edge and I ended up thinking about this. Hope you like it! 💛💜

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, unhealthy platonic relationships, mention of death and implicit torture.

❝🐲pairing: platonic yandere!dragon riders x gender neutral!reader, platonic yandere!dragons x gender neutral!reader.

How you met the Dragon Riders may depend. Maybe you were from Berk and grew up alongside them and thus became one of them. Or maybe you were from a far away place and met them by chance. Regardless of how you met them, you became part of the group immediately.

Hiccup was interested in you and invited you to become part of the Dragon Riders and his friends fully agreed with their leader. You were warmly welcomed and your members and dragons became close to you quickly.

Having your own dragon yourself, you had some fighting experience and knew how to deal with these beasts. So, you agreed to become part of the Dragon Riders and that was the beginning of their obsession.

Hiccup is the leader and is very fair, he has always known how to deal with everything his way and it has always worked out. He is gentle and protective, sometimes becoming suffocating. He just wants to make sure you're okay, always hovering over you and making sure you're happy and safe.

He's fair, but when it comes to you, that disappears quickly. Gods forbid if anything happened to you, he would be ruthless. You can break all the rules and you will get away with anything, Hiccup would never punish you. He is very soft to you and only you.

Toothless is an incredibly intelligent dragon, similar in many ways to his rider. He clung to you the same way his best friend did. It's very common to see him seconding you around, imitating you and just being protective. Toothless will live up to his title as "the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself" when it comes to protecting those he loves. And he loves you.

Very affectionate too, he loves receiving affection from you, lying on your lap, or letting you rub his scales. You swear you hear the dragon purring when you do this. Toothless would love to take you flying with him and Hiccup. Just the three of you.

Astrid was more suspicious at first, wary when you became part of the group, but soon all the mistrust and suspicion she had disappeared as she warmed up to you. She is extremely strong and takes what she wants and Astrid will have no problem taking you for herself as well.

She will love teaching you how to fight and practicing with you is one of her favorite things to do with you. Astrid is very possessive of you and tends to fight with anyone who spends more time than she would like with you. She will have no qualms about killing anyone who poses a threat to you.

Stormfly is very intelligent and protective, very reminiscent of her rider's characteristics. She's not that affectionate, but she shows her affection for you in more subtle ways, like gently bumping her head on your shoulder and allowing you to stroke her tail.

She likes it when you feed her chicken or play with her, as a form of training. Stormfly would never hurt you, however, it is quite common to see her burying you under the snow as a joke.

Fishlegs is extremely intelligent and uses this to his advantage, his limitless knowledge of dragons, science and history makes him very insightful. He was the second, after his leader, to warmly welcome you into the group, pulling you into a loving hug.

He is not that demanding of your attention, but he appreciates the moments you spend together. He would love to teach you all about dragons and meditate with you. He's a real teddy bear, a friend and you know you can trust him with anything. Fishlegs is the kindest of them all and would never inflict harm on anyone, at least not physically.

Meatlug is an especially affectionate and needy dragon, always wanting to receive as much affection and attention as she can get from you and her rider.

She is very gentle and likes to have her belly rubbed, usually lying down in front of you with her belly up to receive pets. Meatlug is very calm and would hardly hurt anyone unless it poses a risk to you or Fishlegs.

The twins are a double package, when one becomes obsessed, the other does too. It doesn't matter which one of them became attached to you first, as they will fight about it and claim you for each other. Tuffnut and Ruffnut are always fighting for your attention and often end up forgetting about other things when they are fighting over you.

But once they both learn to share better, the fights will lessen and they will spend more time by your side. They demand a lot from you, wanting you to participate in their games and stay with them. Tuffnut and Ruffnut will have no problem fighting or killing anyone for you.

Barf and Belch are just like their riders, one body, two heads, and two brains. They are quite playful and like to scare you sometimes, but they are quite protective and will protect you with their lives if necessary.

They are different dragons, despite sharing the same body, and they act differently sometimes. Barf is calmer while Belch likes to mess with you. They are quite affectionate and like to rub their heads against yours as a form of affection.

Snotlout is the very definition of chaos and a difficult Viking to deal with. He accepted you with open arms, smiling at you and his eyes shining. He is very explosive and difficult to deal with at times, occasionally leading him to do stupid things that are fixed by his friends.

He is very close to you and acts kindly way, although he always flirts with you. Snotlout is quite protective and will kill and deal with anyone who dares to harm you. His anger is not to be taken lightly. He constantly gets into fights with the other riders over you.

Hookfang is essentially the version of his rider in a draconic form, the debauchery and bad mood have been with him for a long time. He is quite calm around you, sometimes poking you and asking for affection but nothing exaggerated. He is not a needy dragon, but he likes to receive your attention sometimes.

He is less close to you, but Hookfang protects you with claws and fire, his body igniting when a threat is close to you. He will have no problem burning alive anyone who threatens you, always with the consent of his rider.

Everyone is incredibly protective of you and will protect you from any situation. Especially when it involves a fight with the Dragon Hunters. They can't risk you getting hurt. If something were to happen to you, they will be ruthless and cruel. No one can mess with one of them without paying the consequences.

Becoming a Dragon Rider was a good thing for you, not only did you make friends for life, but an overprotective family that will not allow any harm to be done to you. Loyalty between you is the main trait you all share and there is nothing they won't do for you.

[whokilledsamara]

SHIGARAKI NSFW ALPHABET

{ gift for my beautiful wife ~ @nutsnhonie }

warnings || smut, asphyxiation, fear play, blood kink, marking, rough sex, biting, vouyerism, {more,, but i cant rly think of what to put}

{an: wife wife wife wife wife wife}

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he cant do much honestly, due to his quirk, but he will hand you things like a wet rag,, water bottle,, etc. even though he is an asshole, he still cares about you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite is your hair, since he cant harm that by touching it. but from afar his favorite is definitely your thighs.

on HIMSELF,, he doesnt like much. though he is proud of his dick for some reason,,,

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn't cum as much as the others, but he still fills you up, hence the name "creampie"

will almost always do it inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely watches you masturbate, or watches you while HE masturbates. plug a lil weird but he chill,,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

hes fucked hookers, or anyone the was willing, but he never cared for them or cared if they finished or not. therefore he is more experienced in HIS job at it. not so much the other things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style. though he holds your hips like a british person and their teacup, its still his favorite position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

doesnt find humor attractive during sex. therefore he is definitely the serious type.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has a good amount of hair, but keeps it maintained. same color as the hair on his head and has a niiiceee happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not very romantic, but does love you. will probably be romanticish AFTER the sex. still cant fathom the fact that you want him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it when you arent there. when he is really pent up with stress from either a mission or something else, then he will find different ways to touch himself. just wants to get off a few times.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

asphyxiation, blood play, the usual. he definitely likes choking you to the best of his abilities without actually killing you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room, though anywhere you want him to fuck you he totally will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you in general, but theres just something about seeing you covered in blood that sparks a match in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

coprophilia or anything nasty like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving, seeing it as his best way of getting you off. his chapped lips definitely make the job easier. he does enjoy receiving though as most people do.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough definitely. will only slow down if you beg him too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

absolutely. he loves taking risks of someone catching you. also if he is in a time crunch he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

this is Shigaraki we are talking about. of course he will. enjoys inflicting pain on you, risking being caught, etc

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

for him around 4, but thats just for him. if he is going down on you than it doesnt matter. he can go as long as you need him too. gets him out of team things anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

has a few small vibrators that he collected for you. mainly for when he isnt there, though he definitely doesn't mind using them during sex with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing is almost constant with him. he enjoys watching you squirm and watching your face flush up with embarrassment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

aside from grunts and huffs, he doesnt make much noise. if you manage to get him in a submissive manner {unlikely} then he will whine from overstimulation.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

absolutely into marking. likes licking blood from cuts he inflicts on you, or marking you with hickeys or bites. another one would be fear play. enjoys watching you squirm with fear as he pretends like he is about to actually touch you fully.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his torso and arms are toned and he is littered with scars from either fighting or missions. his dick is around 7-8 inches hard, with a slightly darker tip than his skin.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

most likely high from all the pent up anger, but wont force himself on you. {maybe in another fic....}

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

will wait for you to fall asleep until he does, but sometimes he doesnt sleep at all after.

hope you like,,, im not used to his character much since i left the fandom a while ago.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[thedubiousdallon]

Okay, fuck it, I've built up enough goodwill with this sideblog - let's risk it all by sharing my opinions on how Amy is handled in Ward.

It's kinda complicated I think.

Okay, now that I've resisted the urge to immediately hit post for the bit: I think the way her interludes are written substantially flattens her character in a way that I find distasteful and unpleasant, but I find the overall shape of her arc and her role in the narrative compelling. The things I dislike have been well-covered by plenty of other people in the fandom, so I'm going to focus on the things I like.

To talk about Amy's role in Ward, I first need to talk about my interpretation of Ward as a whole. To me, Ward is, above all else, about trauma and recovery. Society is traumatized by the end of the world, the shards are traumatized by the death of Scion and their loss of purpose, individuals are traumatized by all the things individuals are traumatized by. As an aside, this reading is a big reason why I'm not too bothered by a lot of the world building choices that other people frequently (and fairly) criticize - I think many of them serve this theme effectively.

One specific facet of that reading that I find particularly compelling is Ward's interest in people who are traumatized not just by the harm done to them, but by the harm they've done. Characters don't just regret what they've done, they don't just want to be better, they are traumatized by it, and their reactions to that trauma are as messy and complicated as any other traumatized people. I don't always agree with the stances the text takes on how to deal with having done harm and been traumatized as a result, but I find the exploration of the topic compelling.

Enter The Altruistic Amy Dallon.

Amy's arc in Worm was, to a degree, a prototype of this kind of storytelling. She is repeatedly and horrifically traumatized, the actions she eventually takes in response to that experience inflict equally horrific trauma on her victim, and she is further traumatized by her own actions almost to the point of ego death. She removes herself from the environment she was in, begins rebuilding her sense of identity and ethics, and reemerges having grown, prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations for her past actions as best she can. Arc done! It's satisfying and cathartic, and we leave content in the knowledge that the part she's on will take her to better places. It's the quintessential appeal of a redemption arc, and it's a strong example of its type.

There's something people like to say a lot when talking about mental health and personal growth in real life, and that is that progress isn't linear. It's an important truth to understand.

It's rarely true in fiction. Very often, in redemption arcs, in personal growth arcs, after a series of false starts and setbacks, the character reaches a critical point where they resolve their conflict and either overcome it or succumb to it. From that point on, their nature or behavior is fundamentally changed - if they've grown they never relapse past a certain point, or do so only fleetingly, or else never improve past a certain point. This makes sense from a storytelling perspective, but it doesn't map to how growth often works in real life.

In Ward, Amy occupies the very rare narrative position of being who completes her arc of growth and redemption, who crosses that critical threshold of lasting, meaningful change... but backslides anyway, to the point of essentially losing all that progress.

It's an outcome that I find very believable for her, honestly. Her newfound worldview and conviction were forged in the very insular environment of the Birdcage - of course they would be impacted by her new environment. She says at the end of Ward that she had been able to excuse all of her worst behavior because she had convinced herself that she could fix anything - and at the end of Worm, I can see how she would come to think that! She's been pardoned and released from Forever Prison, she overcame her old aversion to brains to create Khepri and thereby saved the world, she's formed a positive relationship with the father she never thought she'd meet, she's receiving love and support from parents she never felt good enough for, she's using her powers to help people in a way that doesn't make her want to die, and she even "fixed" Victoria, when failing to do that before was the final nail in the coffin she just finished clawing her way out of! The sheer number of seemingly impossible things she's accomplished, of apparently irreversible failures she's seemingly put right, is mind boggling! It'd be the easiest thing in the world to let that go to your head!

Her social circle is also a perfect environment to enable her worst tendencies - there's no one left in it whose opinion she trusts that's willing to call her on her shit. Marquis doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior, Carol is trying to make up for a decade of neglect and unwarranted criticism, Mark just wants everybody to get along and be happy, and Riley and Rinke are pretty shaky on this whole human decency thing themselves! With a (not unjustified) pride in how far she'd come, a circle of willing enablers, a complete lack of moderating influences, and a bulletproof get-out-of-moral-culpability-free card, and two years to spiral, I find her backsliding to be completely believable. And given that Victoria is the fly in the ointment to all of this, that her continued refusal to have anything to do with Amy gives lie to Amy's belief that she can fix anything, and thereby puts the entire edifice of her self-rationalizations at risk, it also makes perfect sense to me that Amy would become fixated on her, on proving that she really can fix anything.

Of course, being believable isn't the same thing as being compelling. The thing that makes all this so resonant for me is that, at the end of Ward, after being this grasping spectre that haunts Victoria the whole book, after rejecting countless opportunities to demonstrate a hint of self-awareness or the slimmest motivation to change - Amy does. She sits down with a therapist. She rips off the band-aid - both the metaphorical one and the literal one made out of Victoria's skin, jesus christ Amy - looks at what she's done, at how she went awry, and resolves to do better. And we end with her in essentially the same place she was at the end of Worm: prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations as best she can. But the journey she has taken to get there gives the destination entirely new meaning for me. She's already fumbled her chance at redemption! But her journey gives lie to the idea that you only have one chance, or two, or any finite number! Every moment you draw breath is a chance to do better.

To me, Amy Dallon's arc in Ward shows that the most important step you can take is the next one, and no matter how many times you walk up and down that road, it never stops being true. And I find that compelling as hell.

[sorcerous-caress]

Faux Innocence | Halsin

[Smut, purity kink, slightly toxic Halsin, Durge reader, nb!reader]

Halsin has developed a false impression of who you are. Despite being a bhaalspawn, you were the picture of purity in his eyes and he let his urges to corrupt you take over.

If someone were to ask Halsin what true purity was, he'd merely point in your direction.

For how could anything else compare to you? How could the petals of a budding spring flower compete with you? Not even the sweet nectar of a honeysuckle rivals the sweetness of your innocence.

Is what he sincerely believed, constantly preached and defended with vigour against any conflicting view or opinion someone had of you.

He might have not gotten to know you much, but from what he has seen and through all the troubles you went through to help him and his grove, to help cure this land from its curse and save a child of nature, he has a solidified view about you.

A maniac? A murder? A bhaalspawn? Halsin will soon believe that the sun was blue rather than these blatant lies. You couldn't hurt a fly if you tried, you were the picture of a meek newborn deer in his eyes.

No matter how many times your companions attempted to tarnish his glass stained picture of you, it would never shatter.

Yet you accepted his advances, his proposition in broad daylight. Halsin was sure of one thing that day, and it's that you might have been even more naive than he thought you were, to allow a man you've barely known to bed you so easily.

It almost felt sinful of him to wait for you in the woods that night. His neglected cock throbbing and aching against his clothes, tip leaking pearly white droplets at the thought of your wide eyed stare and sweet smile when you finally arrived.

He was gentle, he really tried to be as gentle as he could. The most careful and delicate he has been in his entire lifetime, a stark contrast to his wild nature and usual intense sexual experiences.

Speaking slowly, softly. Allowing you space and asking you if you're sure multiple times in an almost condensing way. The man would coo at your endearing enthusiasm as he patted your head, amused by your innocence.

Your companions really don't know you at all huh? Spinning false tales of you allowing a priest of loviatar to whip and inflict pain on you so publicly, claiming you were flirting with the devil women after Wyll. They even had the audacity to imply that blood and gore turn you on!

These thoughts only make him chuckle, he has never heard anything so bizarre in his life before.

Halsin picks you up, you fit perfectly into his big arms. The urge to protect you, keep you in his embrace from this scary world that would devour you at the first sign of weakness. It's a miracle that someone as sweet and innocent as you managed to remain pure for so long.

As much as he wants to push you against the tree, he fears its bark might be too harsh for your delicate skin. He only wishes for your utmost comfort as he trails up your neck. Giving your forehead a tender peck before pressing his lips against yours, his tongue politely and wordlessly asking permission for your lips to part.

The kiss is slow, tender, and drives him crazy. He is using all of his self restraint, burying every depraved perverted instinct of his deep down being so careful not to tighten his grip around you.

You're like a fragile fledgling of a hummingbird that entrusted him with its delicate wings.

He asks permission before removing your clothes, swallowing down his saliva at the idea of finally seeing your naked body.

He interprets your casual nod as a sign of being embarrassed, what a timid shy thing you are. May Silvanus grant his soul mercy and give him strength for he is barely holding back. His cock painfully hard and left ignored for the sake of you.

The night is warm and calm, the perfect atmosphere to slowly strip you down. The moonlight illuminating your breathtaking figure as his large hands glide down your soft body.

You belong in a soft bed with featherly pillows, he thinks, covered in silk and veiled by white lace. Maybe even a nest of wool or cotton, as delicate and as precious as an egg, you deserved the same protection.

When he reached between your legs, his breath stopped for a second. Eyes drinking in your most intimate parts on display for him. How he longed to drink you up, swallow you like honey down his throat.

You deserve a hot wet mouth to grind into each night, both to wake you up in the early morning with his head between your legs, and to put you to sleep late at night with your thighs above his shoulders.

Before he realises it, his lips are already on you. Sucking and licking against your heat with the hunger of a dying man. You tasted like pure ambrosia and he was getting addicted.

Nothing could pull him away from you at that moment, no one could convince him to let go before you had your orgasm. How sweet your moans sounded as he drove his tongue further in, as he sucked and swallowed.

And when you held his hand, when you entangled your fingers with his instead of pulling on his hair, he almost came untouched. This simple innocent act of holding hands while he devoured you on his knees, while he shamelessly let his gluttony take charge, it drove him mad with lust.

That hand could never hold a knife or a dagger, he thought, there is no way these delicate fingers could handle a weapon. They were made to be held, to be kissed and to be pinned down.

The melody of your moans echoed through the night, getting louder as you approached release. Halsin felt a sense of pride when he saw the hints of tears at the corner of your eyes, what an intense experience his simple act must have been for someone as pure as you.

“Halsin…please” you breathlessly said, “I'm close, I'm…”

Your next words, asking his permission to cum, were his last straw.

For your orgasm never came. Halsin pulled his mouth away with a wet pop as his primal urges took over. Picking you up again and bending you against his chest, your legs over his shoulder as he kept you in the air.

“Please bear with me, I deeply apologise for this.” you felt something large prop your entrance, his eyes were glazed over.

He's an awful man, he thinks as he plunges his cock into your wet hole. He couldn't resist, he couldn't control himself, he couldn't not be greedy and selfish against your temptations.

The sudden intense change of position, the sudden insertion and the large cock pumping in and out of you with a trail of precum painting your walls, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your previous denied orgasm coming back twice as strong. Halsin kept fucking you through your release, pace never slowing down as you cried in pleasure and and your insides squeezed him fist tight.

Drool slipped from the corner of your lips, pleasure clouding your brain and making everything look hazy. Halsin lapped it up with the look of a hungry wolf about to devour its prey, kissing you again and pushing you down deeper onto his cock.

He wanted to ruin you, to steal your purity so it's his forever, to share his filthy fantasies with you until you're as much of a pervert as he is. To fuck each and every one of your holes, to fill you with his cum and bulge your stomach.

Apology after apology were whispered against your lips between each kiss, his brutal pace sending you into overwhelming sensitivity from your fresh orgasm. You could only hold on to his strong chest as you were used like a flashlight, fucked and made to cum so easily by the arch-druid.

The idea of keeping you on his cock forever stirs something dark inside him, to have you warming his cock each moment of the day. To stretch you out on it and bounce you slowly until you cum yourself to sleep, have you all pretty and ready on his lap to be fucked. He would protect you, he would treasure you and he would show you what's your true purpose.

Instead of having to worry about you each time you went out on these adventures, never taking him with you and coming back covered in blood courtesy to your careless companions no doubt. How could they let someone so meek and innocent even see the sight of blood?

You're crying his name, hugging him closer to you. Moving your hips as much as you can to match his pace. Even now you're indulging this selfish man's desires? Fucking yourself against him so he'd give you his cum faster? You really are a sweet thing aren't you. The most adorable person he has ever met.

He was never one to abuse his authority or power, but something tells him if you were a cute fresh druid in training in the grove, he would've made you his personal assistant since day one. Gave a million excuses and reasons on why it should be him to train you, to hold you and show you the proper positions to cast spells, to give you the permission to visit the arch-druid chambers any time.

But maybe even nature is too brutal for you. The sight of that bloodied brutalised squirrel just above the elevator still confuses him to this day, apparently animals can still be hostile whilst in a safe sanctuary like the grove. At least he fully assumed it was another animal that had taken its life.

And Halsin will make sure you never see that side of nature, only the most soft and cherry picked ascents. Have you tending to the flowers and caring for the baby bunnies. Maybe, feeding the kittens seems much more your style.

Your cries pull him out of his fantasy of what a different life with you could've been. There are tears going down your eyes from the intense pleasure and the most cute hiccups and pleads for him to please fill you with his cum, to please push his cock deeper in.

How could he ever say no? It would be criminal to deny you anything.

Halsin was already on edge for so long, it only takes a couple more kisses against your neck, a touch of your curious fingers against his pointy ears and he's spilling his seed inside you. Marking you with his cum and filling you the brim.

His cock pulses inside you as it empties itself, he keeps it plugging you and not allowing a single drop of his cum to escape.

Looking at your eyes, he wonders what you're thinking about in that pure mind of yours. Completely unaware to the depravity of gore inside, to your wandering thoughts about snapping his neck, to your dark urges for him to choke you with his large fists as he fucks you against the harshest tree.

No, instead he kisses your forehead. Smiling as sweat glistens on his skin, he keeps you on his lap.

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 2

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: Peter Pan is loose in Storybrooke with revengeful schemes. Fortunately for you, the heroes and villains have a plan to stop him.

A/N: Thank you for the kind comments left on An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1! They really motivated me to write a second part.

Careful not to trip over any headstones, you paced the forest’s floor in a restless manner. A few yards away Mr. Gold stretched out a hand, attempting to undo the magical wards Regina had placed around her vault. Bell was behind him offering silent encouragement for his swift success.

Tinkerbell, Baelfire, and Captain Hook stood off to one side; their faces betraying various degrees of distrust and doubt. Mary Margret, David, and Emma were in a separate group, talking in hushed voices. They seemed to be having an argument.

That left you and Henry alone. You stole a glance towards the boy who was still trapped in Pan’s body. For the hundredth time that day, you cursed yourself and your big mouth. Speech is silver, but silence is golden.

Oh, how you wished you had remembered that saying when accidentally telling Pan that he was hot. Why did you have this knack for getting yourself into these almost laughable scenarios? At least, it would have been laughable if you weren’t the person in it. Right now, the set of circumstances was terrifying.

At any moment, Pan could command his shadow to rip your own shadow from you, or worse abduct you. And what would happen then? You would be at his mercy until the others managed to switch Henry and Pan to their rightful bodies. If they ever did.

You knew from Henry’s storybook and real-life experiences that good somehow always did triumph in the end, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any casualties. What if this was the one time you didn’t make it to see the light of day?

Henry noticed you staring at him and raised an eyebrow in question, which sent another ripple of unease down your spine. Gods above and below, he was attractive when he did that.

In truth he was attractive all the time, but that cute little eyebrow quirk made your heart do a flip. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t Pan, he was Henry who was your dearest and closest friend for many years and someone you didn’t feel for in that way.

And even if he was Peter Pan, he would want to inflict such torment on everyone here in the graveyard that they would beg for death’s sweet release to escape him.

Peter Pan should not be the type of person who turned your insides into mush, your legs to jelly, made your heart beat faster and faster until it would burst from your chest leaving a bloody and gaping wound behind, and grant the death you craved for so you would not have to face the consequences of admitting to Pan himself that he was blessed genetically!

“Can you stop looking at me like that?” Henry’s words broke you out of your wild and frenzied thoughts. He shifted his weight to his other foot, avoiding your gaze and went on, “Like you want to kiss or stab me. Or both. It’s pretty weird.”

Hoping against all hope that you weren’t blushing, you let out a big sigh and dragged a hand down your face. You had to get these turbulent feelings under control for Henry’s sake. Being stuck in his great-grandfather’s body with his friend ogling him must have been a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of thoughts running through my mind and–” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think we’ll win this time.”

He was startled at your blunt statement. “What? Of course we will. We have to. All we have to do is get me in my body and Pan in his body. Then we’ll imprison him and we’ll win.”

You snorted at your friend’s naiveté. You were sure that Mr. Gold had something more in mind than imprisonment for his father. The Pied Piper clearly couldn’t be stopped by simple incarceration; he had thousands of tricks up his sleeve to free himself.

Pan needed to die. As tasteless as killing was, what other option was there? You tried to cast away your misgivings about the possibility of overcoming Pan. You had to believe that victory and survival would be on your side, which was easier said than done.

“I’m afraid that Pan will put us all through the nine circles of hell. And I-I can’t go through that again.” Tears blurred your vision and your knees wobbled so bad that Henry had to help you stand up right as unbidden memories leaped into your mind about your hellish existence in a life lived long ago.

“It’ll be okay. My mom will save us. She’s the savior, it's kinda her thing.” Henry knew about your past. He read the story in his book, but that didn’t mean he would fully understand the terrors you had endured or why everything seemed so hopeless. You heard a sudden whoosh and saw the vault’s door creak open.

“Shall we?” Mr. Gold marched into the gloomy interior.

Emma, Mary Margret, David, Tinkerbell, Baelfire, Bell, and Captain Hook followed him. Emma ordered, “Wait here until we know the coast is clear.”

Normally you wouldn’t obey and would rush head first into danger, but a moment was needed to calm your addled mind. Besides, if Pan was in there, you weren’t too eager to see him. You took hold of your senses and forced air up your nose and out your mouth. This wasn’t the time to have a breakdown.

You needed to be composed for Henry's sake, even with his newly acquired height, he looked up to you for how to react to the ongoing madness in Storybrooke. Well, he used to, maybe that changed in the last twenty-four hours with you acting like a twitterpated school girl.

You heard Emma yell, “We’re clear down here!”

You and Henry raced downstairs to see the group clustered around Regina. The mayor was disoriented and brushing invisible flecks of dust off her pants. She was in the middle of saying, “–missed all the signs. I just wanted to believe he still needed me to be his mother.”

Without missing a beat, the boy next to you soothed her fear. “I still do.”

Regina gasped, “Henry?” She tilted her head in bewilderment and narrowed her eyes, not convinced he was her son.

He walked over and threw his arms around her. It was a touching scene to witness. Too bad you didn’t have a camera; it would be hilarious to have a picture of the former Evil Queen sharing an embrace with the Pied Piper.

Meanwhile, David asked a very pertinent question. “So what exactly did Pan come down here to get?” Mr. Gold raised his hand over an empty box before jerking it back, a frown fixed on his features. “What?”

A hint of exasperation leaked into the older man’s voice as he said, “Please tell me you didn’t keep it down here.”

Regina appeared to be almost contrite and she shrugged her shoulders. “Where else would I keep it?”

For a moment you thought Mr. Gold would strangle Regina with her own scarf or beat her with his cane. To what thing were they referring? You broke the heavy silence. “What is it? What did Pan take?”

Henry's grandfather answered, “He took the curse that brought everyone from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke.”

You sat down next to Henry with an arm thrown around his shoulders. He was nervous, fiddling in his seat. You couldn’t blame him; this was a high stakes situation.

When Mr. Gold used the black fairy’s wand to place him back in his proper body, Henry would have to find his family and give Regina the scroll so she could destroy it before the curse transformed Storybrooke into the New Neverland and made everyone in town Pan’s slaves.

Worried for his well-being, Emma asked her son, “You doing okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m just ready to be me again.”

“Not much longer now, Henry. Not much longer.” Mr. Gold flipped through his spell book. “Once we have the wand, all will be as it should.”

“And then you can help your mom save the day,” you added with a smile. It was your turn to provide reassurance whether or not you actually had confidence in this plan. No, no, that wasn’t right. You had to have hope that this would work out.

You would imitate Mary Margret and fully accept that a happy ending was in the future. “And when this blows over, we can have another party at Granny’s. Hopefully with more cake than last time because the sisters really plowed through them.”

Henry liked your suggestion. “That’d be nice. And maybe I don't have to have a bedtime either?”

Regina vetoed the idea. “Absolutely not, young man. You need your sleep, especially after all of this.”

The sound of footsteps stopped a discussion of the correct amount of sleep for a boy Henry’s age. David walked into the room with the rest of the gang behind him. “She’s back. The Blue Fairy. She gave us the wand.”

You exclaimed, “That’s great! Do we need anything else?”

“Only one more item.” Mr. Gold crossed to a cupboard and retrieved a black cuff and explained, when Snow inquired, that it would render anyone with magic utterly powerless.

Regina snapped at Hook, “I haven’t forgotten about all that, by the way.”

“May I see your wrist, Henry?” Ignoring her comment, he placed the cuff on his grandson. “I want to make sure that when my dear old dad awakes, that he’s weakened. This will block his powers. Now I enact the spell, you fall into a deep sleep and when you awake, you’re back in your own body.”

Regina told him, “And then you hang on to that scroll and you come find us as fast as you can.”

Henry contemplated their words then scoffed, “When I gave my heart to Pan, I thought I was being a hero… I'm sorry.”

You patted him on the back. David was about to speak, but you spoke first. “It was stupid thing to do, but it’s not like anyone here hasn’t done anything that stupid too.” You didn’t pay attention to the glares a few select people sent your way, and instead focused on Henry’s laugh.

Mr. Gold said it was time and you stood up as Henry laid back on the divan, apprehensive of what was to come soon. Everyone retreated a couple of steps back and watched the process. Mr. Gold tapped the wand on his forehead and, after a blinding flash of light, Pan’s body started violently convulsing.

“What’s happening?” Emma shared a concerned look with Baelfire.

“Henry’s spirit is leaving Pan’s body.”

You hoped Pan wasn’t anywhere near concrete. If Henry’s body dropped to the ground and hit his head, he was going to wake up with a bad ache. He stopped shaking and remained still.  “It worked!”

You were delighted the spell had been fortunate, however, some part of you was a tad sad. You wouldn’t be able to squish his cheeks again. You could try, but Pan would most likely chop your hands off for such an affront. No matter, there were more important things to do.

“Let’s go find our son.” Emma darted out of the shop with everyone except Mr. Gold and Pan accompanying her. “Where would he be?”

You proposed, “Let’s get Ruby or Granny! They’ll be able to track his smell!” Emma agreed with you and went to the diner to enlist Granny’s keen nose for the job. The elderly woman sniffed the air and it didn’t take long for her to pick up his scent. You ran down the street toward the clock tower and were overjoyed when you saw Henry—in his own body—run out of the library doors.

“It’s me! It’s me! It worked!” Both of his mothers enveloped him in a big hug. “Mom, Mom. I just saw you guys. You guys just saw me.”

 “But we didn’t see you.” Regina cupped his chin.

“And trust me that makes a real difference!” You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight, glad that Henry returned to his rightful body.

“Oh, he’s got it,” Emma said as her son gave her the scroll. She passed it to Regina. “It’s up to you now.”

The mayor hadn’t held the scroll for even five seconds when a bright flash of purple light illuminated from it and she passed out cold. “Regina! Regina!” You, Henry, Emma and Baelfire crouched next to her.

Dammit, with Regina unconscious, who could undo Pan’s curse? There couldn’t be that much time left. Emma continued to call Regina’s name and shake her. Gasping, Regina opened her eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just… I saw what needed to be done.”

“Mom, are you gonna be okay?”

You had a gut feeling that she wasn’t. As you suspected, she side-stepped his concern. “The important thing is you will be.”

The scroll vanished from Regina’s grasp. “No, he won’t.”

Your stomach dropped when you heard the dreaded voice. Your head whipped backwards to see Pan walking towards the group. Everyone backed up several paces. You shouted, “Watch out! He has the–”

You were cut short as an eerie red glow alighted over your and everybody else's bodies. It was as if molasses had coated your entire person, slowing down your movements until it hardened. The enchantment froze every single one of your limbs; it was difficult even to breathe.

Beaming from ear-to-ear, Pan finished your sentence. “Curse.  How observant that I do. Look at you all. A captive audience.” He took his time inspecting each and everyone of you. His gaze lingered on you last. “I could play with you like a pack of dolls, couldn’t I? You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

He pointed an accusing finger in your direction. He came closer and whispered, “I have a special treat for you for that wonderful but woefully timed statement you confessed to me. It was delightful to know the peculiar effect I have on you.”

You were grateful that your features were frozen to hide the terror swirling and building up inside you. Had you the ability to move, the road would have been sprayed with your vomit. Relief overtook you when Mr. Gold hobbled up to his father and gripped his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin could save everyone right? He growled, “Stay away from them.”

Pan performed the same freezing spell on his son. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you haven't learned your lesson, have you Rumple? You should’ve stayed where you were, cowering, but I suppose you wanted a front row seat when my little curse descends upon your woved ones. Glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Don’t worry. They’ll be more of that. For all of you.” Pan disappeared without a trace and you were released from his spell.

You collapsed to the ground in a heap. Your fingernails dug into the cracked pavement. Everything was numb. Around you the others were talking in frantic voices, trying to figure out a way to thwart Pan’s plan, to find a miracle to save the day.

Someone was crying out that the curse was here. In the distance, getting closer and closer, you saw the green smoke that signified the town’s demise. You failed. 

Nothing could be done about that. You would forget your memories, forget your family and friends, forget who you were and become Pan’s plaything.

The thick smoke obscured your surroundings and filled your lungs. Your brain was getting foggy; it was too exhausting to think. You should sleep. One final thought echoed through your mind—Peter Pan won.

[haine-kleine]

I think enough time has passed that we can finally talk about how utterly useless and disappointing the final act of Dabi's arc ended up being.

The most disappointing thing of all is how fucking cool almost every setup was. Enji finally seeing the full extent of the damage he did to his son, his mind almost gone and his body about to blow up, and deciding to sacrifice his own life. Dabi developing an ice quirk, like his mother's. Rei coming there using her powerful ice quirk to save both Touya and Enji's lives, because she felt responsible for her part in driving Touya to this point. Fuyumi and Natsuo following Rei because they couldn't sit idly, while their family members are risking their lives. Shouto going above and beyond his limit to save Touya's life and then praising Touya's natural talent the way no one ever did.

This picture. The eerily happy what could have been, what both Touya and Enji wanted, a happy family where they both are accepted and loved, where Touya is healthy and doesn't hurt himself. Except he is missing an arm now, a new self-inflicted injury transferred from the real world, where the family is as far from happy as they could be. Enji is also missing an arm, the mutual self-sacrifice which was payment to getting Enji to finally fully see Touya and accept him, accept his own role as the parent responsible for this child of his.

This was the exact moment. That first frame is such a masterpiece it's much more thought provoking than the entirety of what followed. Look at your son's disfigured face. See the monster that you created. The fire that you have ignited. It's hotter than your own Hellfire and it won't ever stop burning, as long as either of you is alive. There's no end to this hurt. It's been hurting him since he was a child, and now it has spread to you. You did this to yourself.

And one thing I can tell for sure is that these chapters are going to go hard as hell in the anime. These surrealistic frames, followed by blockbuster-worthy action sequences. But what comes after that? And then nothing. It's like Horikoshi made these chapters specifically to work well for the anime adaptation. Because there is no resolution or even conclusion to any of the things that happened here.

Enji and Dabi losing their arms had so little meaning Horikoshi himself forgot about it and gave Enji the missing arm back in chapter 425. We never get to see the state of Touya's body after the war, so him losing his arm also loses his meaning, as he is covered in a full-body metal restraining jacket. Did they provide him with a prosthetic? If not, are they going to? Is he even going to notice the missing arm, or did it truly not matter? Or perhaps he somehow grew his arm back, the same way he grew his melted eyeballs back? Who even knows.

What about the family? Rei clearly cared a whole lot, enough to risk her own life to attempt to save Touya from certain death because she knew there's no point to rely on Endeavor , but now that the heat of the moment is over, how does she feel about what happened? Does she insist on getting to visit Touya more often? Does she reflect on her own experience of spending ten years in isolation and try to give Touya his freedom? Did Shouto share the story of Touya coming back home after his death with her and his siblings? How does she feel about it? How do they feel about their dearly missed brother willingly choosing to abandon them?

On that topic, how do Fuyumi and Natsuo feel about Touya at all? We do get to hear about Fuyumi's desire to talk more with Touya, but what does she want to talk to him about? Does she want to share her own life with him, to tell him about her old job and the kids she was teaching? About the many family dinners she had been organizing for their family despite it falling apart? Or does she want to ask him about his life? Is she at all curious what he had been up to? Does she want to know how he ended up a villain, why did he keep burning himself despite almost dying from it as a mere child? Would Touya himself want to talk to Fuyumi, or does he still think his sister will never understand him? If so, will she try to push through and repair their sibling bond, try to show him that mending their family is possible and she wants to see him a part of the healed Todoroki family, eating dinner with the rest of them?

Natsuo... I don't even know where to start. Todoroki Natsuo when he first appeared in the manga and Todoroki Natsuo from Dabi's dance onwards are two wildly different characters and the development that made him change so much is skipped entirely in the story.

The entire point of Natsuo's character conflict was being unable to let go of the past, when the rest of the family was demanding he puts the past behind them and looks towards the future. Why exactly was he so fixated on the past? Two reasons. One, his father's neglect of him and abuse of his brothers. He is indignant about what Enji put Shouto through, still angry about Shouto being isolated from his siblings despite the younger freely interacting with him and Fuyumi for quite some time since before the manga plot had started. He outright says that his father had killed Touya. And that's the second reason, his close bond with Touya. While the rest of the family, even their mother, have been able to grieve and let go of Touya, Natsuo has been haunted by him ever since the day of his death.

Their relationship was a toxic one, that is true, Touya was traumadumping his extremely unhealthy feelings on a little kid who was too little to process or sympathize with what the was going through. But from the way Natsuo talks about Touya after his death it's obvious that Natsuo cared a lot about him, still cares. He is indignant about the unfairness of what happened to Touya precisely because he knows the most out of all family members about what his experience was like. It's pretty clear that the reason he stubbornly refuses to forgive and accept Endeavor the way his mother and siblings did, despite genuinely believing himself to be a bad person for it, is not just because Enji was neglecting him as a kid but because since he was a kid he was exposed to the horror of what Touya's life was like. He was watching a person begging to be helped hurt himself everyday and he didn't know how to help him or stop him. Hell, it's pretty straightforwardly implied that his career choice was impacted by his inability to help Touya, who was covered in burns at all times, and Rei with Shouto.

So with all of that in mind, Natsuo's resolution feels fairly... bizarre. As far as his reunion with the dead brother he was bitterly mourning for 11 years, the one who showed up back from the dead expressing the exact same sentiment Natsuo has been trying to express to his family, 'The past never dies', goes, it's this:

This wouldn't even be so bad if there was some followup to this. Natsuo was highstrung with nerves, he was terrified at the thought of both of his parents and his brother dying for real this time (except it's Fuyumi who gets this line). Natsuo apologizing to Touya for saying this, after the climax of the battle is behind them. Anything. Because this framing with no followup at all makes it seem like Natsuo's feelings about his oldest brother is just being annoyed at him for constantly causing trouble to others, because he was venting to him so much when they were kids. If his were any other character, this claim would hold some weight, after all the dynamic was genuinely toxic, but all Natsuo did for the entirety of the Hellish Todoroki family subplot was causing others trouble by his inability to cope with his feelings. You know, the same thing Touya is doing right now, was doing as long as he was in the Todoroki household. Hypocritical much?..

Then we get to look at the final pages of the Todoroki family's conclusion, and it's all about Natsuo once again disrupting the fragile family harmony and peace by announcing he never wants to see Endeavor again. Also he is getting married. For someone who was so held back by the past for 200+ chapters, this sure is a big leap of faith into the future. What caused this development? Touya reappearing back into his life? Did Natsuo make his brother the symbol of that past that was holding him back and decide to abandon him, never see neither him nor Endeavor again?

Maybe so, maybe not. Does he hold hard feelings against Touya, because the real living Todoroki Touya is too different for him to accept as the brother whose ghost had been haunting him for a decade? Is it being a villain that he can't forgive? Or is he simply unable to cope with everything right now and puts off the conversation with his brother because that would be too hard right now? Isn't that the same thing Rei and Enji were doing for Touya's entire childhood?

That's the thing with this ending, you can ask a million questions and make up endless interpretations but you won't get any answers or reasonable conclusions to any of these character's stories, save for Endeavor.

And what is his ending? It's this.

He has moved on! Doesn't matter what happened to his original family, because he's got himself a new one. He is moving towards the future, surrounded by love, support and acceptance. It's the same thing as this picture!

Minus the inconvenient and explanation-demanding children subplots. That would require too much space and effort and the story needed to be finished asap. So? Why resolve the Todoroki family mess when you can give Enji a whole new family of his own? What happened to the other, original children? Who even knows. Who cares? Definitely not Enji, he has new ones.

What about Touya? Well, he was already accepted by his father once, that's enough for him. About his family? As far as we know, they left him all alone, crying, dying. About his missing arm? About his ice quirk? About his relationship with his siblings? With the League of Villains? The living villains, Spinner, Mister Compress, his cousin Geten, Skeptic? Who even cares. Definitely not this story.

[bronx-bomber87]

Good Evening amazing fandom :) This was very light Chenford wise. And I'm ok with that when the main SL is really solid like last week was. Now Nyla's stuff was good. That new serial killer made my skin crawl. Could go without FBI guys being involved but get why they are. Mainly a Bailey/Balian heavy ep. Which I knew we'd have at some point given the finale.

I mean that with zero offense to anyone who loves her character or this ship. You should have eps around your favs. It's an ensemble cast after all. How it should be. They are just not my cup of tea is all. So this impressions will be shorter than usual due to that. Looks like next week will more than make up for that. Let us dive into what we did get shall we?

7x05 Till Death

This was a really smart move on Lucy's part. Going to his high school counselor. No better place to get the truth on this kid than her. She’ll have good insight. Like Tim said last week, Lucy isn't satisfied with the answer she got. This is proof of that heh I love her for it. We all know our girl isn't one to quit. Tim's answer last week did little to assuage her worry. So here we are at Ridley's H.S.

This scene explains that outfit now too. I remember people thought her being a detective was the reason. When her tik-tok came out with it the buzz about that was unreal haha But sadly tis not the case. Not disappointed with her being a T.O. at all though. Just remember the excited theorizing about it. We had nothing to go off of. So we dined on the crumbs we got for months LOL

Lucy making Seth cough up all his BS is fantastic. That’s my girl. I absolutely loved that she didn’t let him get away with it, not even for a second. She not only forced him to admit he lied, but also made him reveal the real truth behind it. I wanted to sucker punch him as he spoke. So many lies. Holy shit. They just compound when you do that my man. His reasoning is crap like I expected it to be.

That he uses half truths to get out of trouble. That's not great reasoning to explain what you've done.... It's pretty awful reasoning tbh. Also the thing is he’s lied so much now I can’t even trust that's even true. Idk how Lucy can. It's written all over her face how over his bullshit she is. Said this before she's a ten but real bad at hiding her feelings.

She is wearing them all over her sleeve this entire scene. No way he didn't sense her annoyance. Or how very done she is with him and his excuses. I mean I don't blame her. How can she train this kid without ever trusting what comes out of his mouth? Literally could lie at any given moment. Really dug himself a hole. Lucy looks so frustrated and upset. I hate this. Doesn’t even know what she wants to do with him....

Oh my Timothy, that’s quite the description of what a relationship is my love. It's almost like he has first hand experience what a healthy relationship looks like... We all know that's what he had with Lucy till he destroyed it. *sigh* He’s just a grumpasaurus cause he’s post-Lucy. He lost his constant sunshine person that made him softer.

It was self inflicted as we all know. That doesn't meant it isn't still having lasting ramifications for him due to it. Also he had a bad experience with that whole thing. So the rant makes sense and is warranted. Luna even explains why Tim is that way. I do adore her. Always sunshine and light with her kindness towards Miles. Twas nice to see.

Lucy coming to find her person always makes me happy. Suspicions confirmed. So naturally she must go find hubby. I love his ‘Uh oh.’ When she closes the door. Lucy spewing all she has on Seth to him. Expecting him to to be just as outraged as she is. Disappointed when he isn’t more upset along with her. His logic is sound though. Even if they wanted to boot him it wouldn't be a easy sell with Grey.

A man who is SO stressed about the budget and their perception to the public atm. So I get what Tim is aiming at. Doesn't make it less crappy to deal with though. I have been there in my last job. Where morally I didn’t want to keep someone. But we were so understaffed they let them stay for just that reason. Even when I objected. I hated it sfm. Every fiber of my being loathed mentoring someone who didn't deserve to be there. So I empathize with Lucy so very much with this.

Tim ‘I bounce boots for breakfast.’ Bradford Lmao I’m dying. I mean no one calls out Tim like our girl. Hot damn. I do love her for it. But of course he’s turning this into a learning moment for her. Because it's Tim. Saying it’s on her to correct it. I mean he’s not wrong… But it’s agitating nonetheless. Since he hasn't lied officially it's a moral issue and not a legal one since its not work related.

Which beyond sucks. No two ways about it. Especially since Lucy has been a good teacher to him. He's taking advantage of that wholeheartedly. He wouldn't have made it past day one with Tim. But he sees Lucy's empathy and is exploiting it. *grumble* Her smile at the end with Tim isn't without a little flirty energy I will say. I will take my crumbs in a lighter episode for them.

Then immediately after Tim leaves the problem walks himself right in. I said this last ep, every time he opens his mouth I dislike him just a little bit more. He opens his mouth and I lose patience for him. I can't imagine being in Lucy's position with Seth. If the writers intention was to have me dislike this kid they're doing a masterful job. All I see is a little weasel not worthy of Lucy's time now.

I’m 100% with Lucy not trusting him. He’s gonna have to earn back her trust ten fold. If that's even possible. I would say he gets ten percent of it back and he has to earn the other ninety. That he's lucky he even gets ten. She crushes him when he uses the excuse it's stressful. Straight up OWNS his ass. We can see him panicking to get her back on his side. But that ship has sailed good sir. Not only has it but he is very aware of it.

Man when you have Lucy Chen giving up on you. It's bad my friend. Really all Lucy can do at this point is be a good leader to him. Only way to save herself when he flames out. It’s on Seth to ‘fly right’ as he put. Been there it sucks. Nothing worse than having your trust broken by someone you’re training. Because now everything is colored by that distrust. That empathy you once had has wained quite a bit if you have any left at all. Lucy did not get an easy first rookie. phew lord.

We come to the end of the episode and it's clear Lucy has sat on this the entire day. It is our girl after all. I do love that she keeps gravitating back to Tim. Makes my heart happy. Even though she is one to make the call she still needs him by her side. Friggin adore he doesn’t hesitate to go with her to Grey. I love it sfm. Goes from grumpy to supportive in a second when he realizes she needs him.

That she has a plan in action. That really she's come to him for support not advice this time. He doesn't blink before he's at her side. Not only that but not taking any shots at her decision. Wanting to give her all the confidence by backing it. (How very far we've come with that) Lucy is looking elated he’s coming with and supporting her.

I was thinking time to boot that little schmuck. I said couple eps ago I was kind of hoping he'd wash out. Then this happened. His "cancer" is back……He literally tipped his hand twice with her in this episode. Saying when he thinks he is in trouble he does half truths. That when he is panicked and stressed that's his go to. Then all of a sudden his cancer is back that same day. How very convenient of those lab results to show up right now.

Tim's face is everything LOL He is now over this dude himself. The look they share is top notch though. Silent communication at it's finest. How can she say no when he says his “cancer “ is back? And in front of Grey who has zero idea about her suspicions. This feels like a ploy to keep himself safe. He could feel Lucy turning on him.

Could sense the tide was turning against him in the worst way so he did this. I could be wrong but this feels pretty right. Lucy holds his fate in her hand. So what better way to stay afloat than to use cancer. She can't possibly fire him now can she? Ugh. This little shit being far more of a problem than ever expected. Holy cow. I honestly expected Miles to be more of the problem but here we are....Shall be interesting to see how the pans out.

Now let's talk about the most exciting thing that happened which was the promo after this ep LOL Other than the little Chenford we got this ep didn't do much for me. Other than anger me against Seth lol This was a just a fillery place holder to get to this one IMO. The description alone has me amped. "The Gala" It’s Valentine’s Day, and Lieutenant Grey gives Tim and Lucy an unromantic assignment, while John and Celina track down a missing girl. Later, the team sharpens up for a charity gala where multiple relationships come to a head." Hard to believe been a year since she got her necklace. I'm not crying you are.....

Now this promo had me wishing it was next week. The promo had me all jazzed this morning. Oh my lord. Genny is back! Also Tim looks soft as butter for her in that promo. Man is transparent af. Saying how good she looks in front of people? I did say continue being this way and he is following those instructions ha To say I am excited for next week is an understatement.

Thank you to all you glorious readers. You make all the effort I put into these worth it on the days where I'm tired af and assembling these. The likes, lovely comments and reblogs make my heart happy. So never can thank you all enough for the love. Shall see you next week in 7x06 :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

Bailey sending notes to the hitman in secret. Yeah that’s not good for your marriage.....

Nice Texas has an a lovely lady at his side. Not so great she just showed up ha

PTSD for Nyla poor woman. Possible bad needle? Yikes…The stress that would give me my god.

Bailey got Jason killed holy hell....She pretty much just committed murder. She is an accessory to murder now. So that's fun for her. lol Also little anti climatic he just got offed after hunting her for months. I was more shocked he killed the girl than Jason tbh. But oh well. Least it's over early in the season.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

fun things to inflict on a pilot who bases his value on how useful he is to others:

temporary blindness >:3c

141 accidentally pierce an old mustard gas canister during an operation. Nik takes the brunt.

cw: injury, temporary blindness, distressed character.

Price paced up and down the base hospital ward wringing his hands as he waited for news, his heart in his throat. The mission had gone south so bloody quickly, and no matter how many times he retraced their steps, Price couldn't pinpoint the exact action that had caused such a monumental fuck up.

Old world war one bunker. Old old. The perfect place for a terrorist cell to store chemical weapons, or at least a lead to them. They had jumped early that morning with Nik because it was in east Germany and he had the knowledge they needed to break through the security systems. The USSR had used it as a base of operations during the Cold War, so without Nik, getting in would have been like chipping away at granite with a toothpick.

They got in. They secured the intelligence - no bloody weapons though - and were on their way out. A small detachment of enemy combatants had infiltrated through a different entrance that hadn't been recorded on the schematics they were working from. There had been an exchange of fire. A stray bullet caught a canister and...

Nik ignored the most fundamental rule of chemical warfare. You sort your own fucking mask first. But no, the stupid wanker grabbed for Gaz's first, because he was closest to the explosion and had only a split second to react.

Nik had been too slow with his own as a result.

Holding Nik in the casevac had been one of the most difficult experiences of Price's life. The skin lesions across his face had been like second degree burns, his eyes swollen shut, streaming. Anywhere there was moisture, the old gas had attacked. Despite the wounds, Price had seen the terror on his face as he tried to wrench the damp gauze off. He couldn't see.

"John, ya nye mogu videt! John... gdye ty? Gdye ty!" His usually calm, sombre voice, with its laid back drawl, broken and cracked in desperation.

In the end, Price had taken the decision to sedate him in the heli, one of those big hands clenched in his to keep him anchored as the drugs brought his heart rate under control and soothed his panic. He had lashed out at Gaz blindly - "otyebis ot menya!" - but between them they had managed to get the sedative into his thigh.

There were other wounds; bumps, scrapes, but none as serious.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Gaz had rasped, chucking the needle back into the bag. "This is my fault."

"No," Price had shaken his head. "Not your burden to carry. G'won, go eat somethin'."

The door at the end of the hall opened and the doctor summoned him with a flick of the head. "Well?" Price demanded, ignoring the pursed lipped irritation he got in return.

"It's temporary," the doctor said, his arms folding. "The gas was old, degraded. Still potent enough to cause damage, but with the right treatment, he'll get his eyesight back."

"How long?"

"Difficult to say. Four to six weeks for the skin lesions to heal. His body will decide on the rest... uh, captain," the doctor reached out a hand as Price tried to walk past, "there is a risk of long-term dyspnea, respiratory problems, awful stuff mustard gas, it attacks the central nervous system too, it can cause changes in mentation, and I understand from his file that he has a medical history of--"

"--I know what's in the file."

"We may be looking at more damage here than just his eyes. But only time will tell."

When Price stepped through the door, Nik startled, looking in his direction even though the heavy bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing. Price spoke softly as he closed the door at his back. "S'just me, Nik. Easy."

Price nodded tightly, walked by and shouldered his way into the next ward. He found Nik's room but hesitated outside. Nik was awake. He was trying to grope around the table in front of him, searching.

"Captain, it is... well, I would say good to see you but..." He gestured vaguely at his head, his wry smirk shaky, and then that hand returned to patting around the table.

"Did they explain everything? Did you..." ...understand. Fuck, Price didn't understand half of the medical jargon, so he wouldn't be surprised if Nik struggled in his fourth language to parse what they were saying. Fourth out of eight. Asking felt like an insult to Nik's intelligence. The doctor's comment about mentation lodged in Price's throat like a shard of glass.

"Da. It will heal but there may be some future complications, I..." Nik suddenly slammed his fist against the table, anger twisting his mouth into a snarl, "..blyat, where is my phone? I need.." Nik's voice cracked and his chin tilted down with the shame of it, trailing off into miserable silence.

Price reached for him and tried not to let the resulting flinch shred his heart. Once Nik realised it was Price's hands and not whatever phantom his mind has conjured, he relaxed. Price sat down on the edge of the bed. "You don't need t' do anythin' but heal. We've got yer covered."

The way Nik's jaw twitched, teeth clenching at the back, his shoulders rising a little towards his ears; Price could see the clawing discomfort without needing to see his expression.

"You're gonna have to trust us, Nik. I need yer to trust me."

"I do," Nik croaked. "It is... This is not your burden to carry."

"Even if you weren't who you are, you still got injured in one of my operations."

"I let you down. And now I am useless." Nik's other hand clenched into a fist at his side, making the finger monitor creak under the strain.

"Temporarily out of commission. Not useless."

Nik turned his head away, refusing to hear it. They sat in silence, Price's thumb stroking back and forth over Nik's knuckles, giving him a point to focus on that wasn't his burning skin or the darkness of his vision.

"Nik, short of turnin' me over to Al Qatala, you could never let me down," Price said, finally.

Now was the time. Now Nik needed to hear it more than ever.

"You... mean the world to me. I..." he rubbed at his face, tugging at his whiskers, "...I love you. And when I saw you go down, my heart stopped for a second. The world stopped. Believe it or not, I was glad you were screamin' bloody murder in that chopper, cause that meant you were still here."

Nik drew a stuttering breath, but he didn't say anything. The man who had a one-liner or a bit of sass for every occasion sat in mute silence. It made Price ache in a way he never had before.

"'M not gonna abandon you, Nik. Wouldn't have even if this had been permanent. An' I know you don't believe me. I know. But... 'm gonna show ya. And you can grumble and cuss at me 'til the cows come home."

Nik's head fell back against the pillow and he sniffed, scowling with a muttered curse.

"You olrigh'?" Price squeezed his hand.

"Da. I am crying like little girl and it is stinging my eyes."

Price chuckled, patting their joined hands against his own thigh. "Soppy git."

That had to be a good sign. Tear ducts were what the eyes used to heal and maintain themselves, right? And he could feel the tears. Positive. This was positive. Price lifted Nik's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, lingering there to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nik swallowed, his fingers tightening in Price's grip. "If I had known that losing my eyes would have earned me John Price, I would have cut them out years ago."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," Price said incredulously, always somewhat taken aback by the intensity with which Nik expressed himself when it was just them. He sighed. "Yer've had me all this time. I just... I'm just not as brave as you are."

Nik huffed. "Bravo Six is the bravest man I know."

"Only for some things. Not feelin' particularly brave right now, and you're the one in the gurney."

Nik tilted his head towards Price, so desperate to see his face. Price was glad he couldn't. His damn eyes were watering. "Then, I will be brave for you. This, I can do without my eyes."

Price smiled and made sure Nik could feel it against his palm, promising him silently in that moment that he wouldn't waste a single second more of their time together on this bloody earth. "Sounds like a plan."

[qqueenofhades]

so I've been watching a lot of videos abt food that's uniquely Hong Kong and y'know with all the changes happening there I had a thought like hm is this preservation and documentation of cultural foods that are at risk of being lost?

and then I thought gosh this sounds familiar likkke everywhere we see violent colonization occur not only are lives and freedom lost but also language culture food

and then I wanted to ask you as a historian: has this always been the case? have people always had low key anxiety about culture "loss" or did they think of it a diff way? is this framing of colonization and cultural loss a recent one?

I'm realizing this is a big question and we are all le tired from les recent events, so pls view this as a no pressure ask, I just uh figured you're the only historian I have real access to haha

This is an important question that I don't currently have the mental wherewithal to answer in great depth, but I think it's important to speak to briefly. And I'll put it this way: yes, human beings have always felt that their culture, their way of life, their present existence, their friends and family, and the forces at work against them are tenuous, uncontrollable, and prone to sudden and violent destruction. I'd say it's one of the key themes of being human. I'll cite the famous example of the 8th-century Old English elegy The Ruin of the Empire, known usually as The Ruin:

This is what many of us would consider the dark and distant past, wherein an unknown person in Anglo-Saxon England is observing the ruins of the Roman Empire in Britain and reflecting on how fragile and frightening the present day feels, as if all the glory has faded into the past, as if things will not be "great" anymore, and the present is just moving inexorably toward darkness:

Bright were the castle buildings, many the bathing-halls, high the abundance of gables, great the noise of the multitude, many a meadhall full of festivity, until Fate the mighty changed that. Far and wide the slain perished, days of pestilence came, death took all the brave men away; their places of war became deserted places, the city decayed. The rebuilders perished, the armies to earth.

And yet... that was the 8th century. That was a very long time ago. A lot of history has happened since then, and despite everything, it's still here. People have always looked at the danger and fragility of their present situation and yearned for the perceived stability of the past. Indeed, the reason we have the myth of the "Dark Ages" is largely thanks to the 14th-century Italian humanist Petrarch, who looked at the (also objectively very, very crappy) 14th century, which is similar to now in a lot of ways, and built the shining myth of the Greco-Roman era as a bygone golden age that society needed to reinstate if it was going to save itself from self-inflicted destruction. This in turn gave rise to the Renaissance, which was intensely a cultural project to reclaim and re-instate a seemingly "better" past in the face of present-day chaos and uncertainty. This included a strict reifying of gender roles (etc. etc. Was There a Renaissance For Women?) and turn toward "purer" social ideals.

Anyway: these concepts have been shaped and articulated differently in various historical periods. But yes, the basic feeling that we are losing ourselves somehow, that the past was better and more stable, that the present challenges can be solved by insular reactionary politics, and so forth, is a very, very common human experience. For better or worse: both tangible and intangible artifacts have always been lost, destroyed, subject to violent sociopolitical conquest attempts, written out of history, and used for oppressive political and cultural processes. Part of the reason the right wing is doing so well worldwide right now is because they are tapping into a very, very old "put the strongman in charge and everything will go back to how [good] it used to be" mythology that is also as old as dirt and time, and which humans just keep doing when things feel existentially scary. This "weaponized nostalgia" is even more of an issue in the age of rampant disinformation, AI, and fake-news bubbles which can totally create what is accepted as reality, very often to the benefit of illiberal, right-wing, authoritarian forces. That is very hard to deal with and overcome, and I don't think we're anywhere near doing it.

That, therefore, is the bad news. The good (as it were) news is that at least these cultural processes and human instincts are not new, and indeed have continued for a long, long time. And even when these old things are destroyed, new ones emerge as well. So yeah.

[raayllum]

Immortality & Longevity in TDP

Because season 7 brought up some very interesting Threads to contrast with the series' previous sentiments on immortality / ridiculously long lifespans. So let's go.

Those Who Naturally Live Forever(-ish)

There are three main camps of characters who experience longevity in TDP.

Those who experience it naturally, but can still die (the Archdragons, some elves)

Those who acquire it through dark magic means

Those who cannot permanently die (the First Elves, Aaravos)

I want to talk about the Group Number One first, because it includes the most characters and was the basis for this meta. Besides Lujanne and Akiyu, we don't know too many elves who have lived for hundreds of plus years, although it wouldn't surprise me if Aditi did. Lujanne and Akiyu are both mages as well, with Lujanne living at the most powerful concentration of Moon magic in the world, so that could be part of the reason why she's lived so long, and Tidebound elves (as Finnegrin had Sea Legs' sister for 40+ years) just naturally live much longer than other types of elves (Moonshadow, Sunfire) as far as we know.

The Archdragons themselves also don't talk much about the length of their lives, since it's a species-shared trait and so second nature to them. However, whenever they do talk about it, we get a very clear picture:

It's not exactly... positive. Now, some of this is because of their mental states. Sol Regem lost his beloved mate a thousand years ago, lost his position as the king of the dragons, and been effectively cut off from Xadia's political sphere / the other archdragons for a long time. Rex Igneous is similarly isolated (though it seems more self-inflicted) and we know he had a previous falling out with Avizandum (presumably over Zubeia). We also see Zubeia grow increasingly listless both times she falls ill / almost loses her family (S3, 5x09) so it seems that despite being very rare and accordingly isolationist, Archdragons don't tend to do well alone and without families (understandably).

But the verdict seemingly from at least 2/4ish known archdragons is that

In this way, the Archdragons' view of their quasi-immortality isn't that different from how Aaravos views his literal one:

The stars have never smiled upon their creations. This world was made by cruel, unfeeling hands. It is an instrument of pain, of torment. To exist within this world is to suffer. Even death is no reprieve.

So what about the characters who disagree to the point of doing terrible things so that they can exist forever?

Kpp'ar and Kim'Dael (Crafted Immortality)

Although there's only two characters in the "dark magic induced immortality" category, they paint two such completely different pictures that, in many ways, it shows the full spectrum of just how one can achieve an unnatural immortality.

On the one hand, we have Kim'Dael, who takes dark magic's canonically to its long believed natural conclusion of cannibalism. Kim'Dael takes parts (blood) from magical creatures (in this case, elves) and consumes it to enhance her own abilities and her livelihood. This doesn't always mean fully killing and draining someone, but often can (Bloodmoon Huntress) with multiple individuals / sometimes whole families at a time as she must experience semi-regular rejuvenation; it is unknown if she needs to eat or consume anything else in her day-to-day life.

Her magic use was also confirmed to be a form of dark magic in this interview:

the way that she does, is beyond primal magic. She’s found ways through dark magic to extend her primal moon powers. It’s very evil how she is able to do what she does and extend her life

Despite the dragons who don't have to work to be immortal being far more despondent about their long, long lives, it's not hard to think of reasons why Kim'Dael would want to be immortal. Death is a scary unknown, she (like Finnegrin) is out of tune with her primal knowingness on a fundamental level, and she can do so without harm to herself. Like most dark mages we've seen, her dark magic use requires using and taking from the people around her more, accordingly, than it's taking from her. She takes from others to give herself power: dark magic 101.

Kpp'Ar's search for immortality is way fucking weirder, IMO. It's not necessarily that dark mages, or dark magic, never uses the caster's body for spells. It inherently saps energy (hence the white streaks, nosebleeds, collapsing, etc) and drains life from the body; each spell harms the caster in at least a small way. It's also not like we've never seen a dark mage use their own body parts for a spell; Claudia uses and drinks her own blood mixed into the pentapus ink in 5x09, and Viren mutilates his own heart in 6x08 rather than use someone else's.

It's just, that if Kim'Dael has a way to chase immortality that does mean using somebody else's body... why on earth would you use your own?

It seems that before his change of heart, Kpp'Ar was experimenting with one of the darkest of all magics. A way of extending life. Indefinitely. A horrible and strange kind of immortality. The ancient and disturbing practice of self-eating.

Now, some of this may come down to access or skillset. Presumably Kim'Dael could drink human blood and use it for her spells, since the arcanum of the elf she's drinking from doesn't seem to matter. However, even if you can use human blood, Kpp'Ar at this point was older and used a cane (if we assume this was a later in life pursuit, and not over decades); he likely wasn't going to be able to kidnap and haul back anyone but children back to Puzzle House, and while we know he's willing to sacrifice children (6x06) it's not canonically clear if he's willing to use them.

Either way, we know Kpp'Ar was pursuing immortality as well as the location of the Garden of Innocents concurrently. We don't know if this was interrelated, but we do know that unicorns are connected to the Star arcanum, which is presumably what makes First Elves immortal-ish so... maybe? It's not clear why Kpp'Ar would want immortality in general, especially that type of immortality, for himself, but clearly there will be a reason. It could be that he wanted to transfer it to someone else (Soren) and gave up, but that's not fundamentally different than what Kim'Dael does, so... again: why himself?

(Arc 3 come home to me)

Cannot Die

Last but not least, we have Aaravos + the other First Elves in the 'cannot die' category, except when they can (Leola). I've written more before about how... odd the info surrounding what the Cosmic Council can and cannot do and what we may be missing, for lack of a better term. Quick rundown:

The Cosmic Council can execute Startouch elves. Aaravos did not have enough power to stop them. (*At the time of Leola's death, as things may have changed since then)

Aaravos seems to be utterly unconcerned that the Cosmic Council conceivably could, if they became aware of his actions, execute him in the same manner. Aaravos does not seem to care if they notice, given that he asks, "Are you watching?" in 7x08.

When Aaravos' mortal form (like the one Leola had/used on earth) is destroyed in 7x09, there are noticeable visual differences to the destruction of his daughter's.

Aaravos seems to want to bring the First Elves into "this world" as it is an instrument of pain that begets only suffering, and "I want them to suffer."

We also know that Aaravos believes the First Elves don't care about / love their creations at all, so destroying the earth can't be the endgame goal. We also know that something is keeping Aaravos from accessing/attacking them, otherwise he would've done so before being imprisoned.

Presumably, something in the interim has changed with either 1) Aaravos is no longer able to die or 2) He has found a way to be able to kill the other First Elves if they went after him, rather than the other way around. Potentially dark magic is the road to get there, or a form of ancient magic the First Elves tried to keep hidden that became the basis for dark magic.

Either way, we know that the First Elves are able to end an otherwise truly immortal being's existence permanently (at least so far) and that it's a power at one point Aaravos did/does not have. I'll be curious to see what we learn about all of this and self-eating in the future.

[defectivevillain]

until it doesn't hurt

pairing: Bruce Banner/Reader

reader’s pronouns: they/them

the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.

summary: “I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain. “You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you.

word count: 2.9k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence

Being an Avenger means you have to be ready for anything at all times. That spontaneity is difficult to adjust to at first, but as time passes, you grow used to it. You grow used to sleeping lightly; to stashing weapons just about anywhere you can keep them; to having few restful days and many restless ones. The moment your powers manifested, you knew you would be a hero: not because you wanted to be one, but because it would be your responsibility to protect those who needed protecting. 

You weren’t always an Avenger. At first, you were just a rogue—kind of a vigilante. But then the attack on New York happened—Loki happened—and everything flew out the window. Suddenly, you were out on the street in broad daylight, trying your best to keep the civilians safe. That was how you crashed into Iron Man of all people. You exchanged banter and insults, but when it came down to it, you protected him, and he protected you. And Tony is extremely persistent—it didn’t take long for him to sink his claws into you and drag you back to the Avengers Tower. 

From there, you gradually get to know the other Avengers. Steve and Clint are relatively friendly right off the bat. Natasha is a bit more difficult—you have to earn her trust before she starts to open up to you. But eventually, somehow, you manage to bond with all of the other occupants of the Tower. At least, all of them except Bruce Banner. 

Bruce is an interesting case. He almost immediately dismissed you when Tony first introduced you, instead deigning to focus on his experiments. You hadn’t taken offense to Bruce’s reclusive behavior, nor had you taken the hint that he didn’t want to get to know you. Instead, you had all but forced him to acknowledge you. This manifested in a multitude of ways: from going out of your way to talk to him to offering to help with his research. Bruce is extremely protective of his laboratory, but somehow he deemed you capable enough to serve as his laboratory assistant. You were more than content to hand him capsules and adjust minor things, while he did the brunt of the work. You took the gifted opportunities to attempt to get to know him better. At first, it was like speaking to a brick wall. But somewhere along the way, his cold and uncaring façade began to crack. You slowly worked your way up to meaningless small talk—and, later, casual conversation.

Truthfully, you really enjoy spending time with Bruce. But he’s rather unpredictable—sometimes he’ll push you away, and other times he’ll play along. You know that he has a lot of baggage—what with his childhood and his alter-ego. You’ve been trying to convince him that you care about him—that you’re not going to abandon him or villainize him—but he doesn’t ever seem to believe you. He always conducts himself with some semblance of suspicion and doubt; it almost seems like he’s waiting for you to wake up to reality and run away screaming.

Still, progress is progress—no matter how slow. You’re happy with how you’ve slowly bonded with him, and you can only hope that there’s more on the horizon for the both of you. 

���You never consider the possibility that something could happen to make things worse—to destroy your progress and send you right back to the start. 

“We need you for something.”

You’re brutally torn from your reverie, forced to slowly come back to yourself. You’re sitting in the living room, staring ahead at the blank wall. How long have you been sitting here? All you know is that it’s no longer light outside, and that Natasha is standing in front of you with a firm expression. 

“I- what?” You stammer, still processing what’s happening. “Nat-”

“It’s important,” she says. You get to your feet before she can continue speaking. “Trust me.” You do trust her. Natasha isn’t one for over-exaggeration or dramatics; when she says something is important, she means it. And the grave expression on her face is only worrying you more. You follow after her as she walks down the hall and towards the elevators. The two of you step into the space and she presses a button, before the elevator slowly rises. 

In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve been a bit more suspicious. Why would she be taking you to another floor in the Tower? Typically, when there’s a new development or an imminent threat, you’ll be directed to another location—either to combat the threat or to strategize. Furthermore, there’s a strained silence in the air between Natasha and you. Nat’s shoulders are drawn tight and she’s staring ahead pointedly, as if avoiding your eyes. 

The elevator dings and you breathe an internal sigh of relief, hoping to get rid of this needless tension. But before you can begin to take a step, you’re being roughly shoved out of the elevator and into the hallway. It takes you several moments to get your bearings—at which point you recognize the telltale sounds of the doors behind you closing, and the elevator dropping back down to where you came. You stare at the closed doors in disbelief, before turning to look back down the hall. One of the recreational rooms is straight ahead, and you hear yelling. 

Once you’re standing in the doorway, you’re able to place the inexplicable noises you were hearing. Bruce is in his Hulk form, green and raging as he throws anything within his grasp at the walls around him. You’re willing to bet Natasha brought you here to do something about this. Why she thinks you’re the best person to calm Bruce down, you’re not sure. 

“Bruce,” you say slowly. Bruce promptly freezes, an exercise machine lifted over his head. He stares down at you; you stare up at him. He’s momentarily distracted by you. “It’s okay.” He’s silent. You hold your hands out at your sides in mock surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you,” you continue. “You’re safe.”

Silence. You take a slow breath. The machine he’s holding over his head drops a fraction of an inch. 

“It’s okay, Bruce.” You repeat, pushing as much conviction into your voice as you can. Your effort seems to work, as his eyebrows furrow. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you stare at each other. Then, his visage shifts and you’re suddenly looking at Bruce Banner—disheveled and exhausted.

“Are you alright-?” You’re compelled to ask. The scientist is back in human form, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of pants; bruises and scratches litter his skin; and there’s a distant expression on his face. He seems to snap out of his trance when he hears your voice.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce then spits. You immediately flinch at the unexpected anger. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?” His gaze is flitting about the room quickly, before settling on you with fevered intensity. You’ve never seen Bruce look so irate before. He’s a remarkably composed man (although you suspect he bottles up anger and rage and lets it out in bursts as the Hulk). Indeed, this kind of fury is typical for the Hulk, but exceedingly rare for Bruce. 

“I didn’t-” You choke out helplessly, glancing back at the hall and, by extension, the elevator. “They-” It’s inexplicably difficult for you to get the words out. 

“That was our doing.” A voice confesses from behind you. You turn around to find Nat and Tony standing behind you. The two of them approach and come to a stop at your side. 

Bruce’s gaze locks on them with fiery focus. He brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His glasses are nowhere to be seen—he must’ve dropped them somewhere as he transformed. “I expected better from both of you.”

“Bruce-” Tony tries to say, an apologetic expression on his face. 

“What on earth made you think that throwing them out as bait was a good idea?” Bruce interjects furiously, motioning towards you. “You could’ve gotten them seriously injured!” He exclaims. Tony has the good grace to look embarrassed; Nat is staring ahead with a flat expression and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Bruce, I’m fine-” You try to say, quickly growing uncomfortable with the tension settling in the air. 

“I could’ve harmed you,” Bruce is quick to assert. “Easily.” His voice is cold. 

“But you didn’t,” you maintain. He’s not giving himself enough credit. More troubling is the idea that he has faith in his own cruelty—that he only sees himself as capable of harming someone. You don’t know what else to say, don’t know what could possibly be said to repair the evident years of damage done to this man’s psyche. The entire world has treated him as a weapon at best and an uncontrollable, irredeemable monster at worst.

“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce says with unshakeable certainty. He retreats from the room, leaving you to stare after him in confusion and shock. You turn to face Natasha and Tony, who are both staring at the doorway with complex looks. 

You want to tell them off, but the words that leave your lips are far different than you intend them to be. “Should I go after him?” You ask instead. Bruce is the primary concern right now—you can chew Tony and Nat out later. You’ve known him for a bit now, and have grown to interpret his expressions fairly easily. You’ve seen Bruce express a lot of emotions… but the look on his face just now is completely foreign to you. 

“Probably,” Tony admits. 

“I don’t think we should,” Natasha says, motioning towards Tony and herself. “He’s mad at us. And… rightfully so.” She exchanges a glance with Tony, whose lips are pressed in a thin line. It’s clear they didn’t give enough thought to their whole plan. 

“You’ll be fine, though,” Tony says with unfounded conviction. Nat places a hand on your shoulder and grips it reassuringly. You take a deep breath and come to a decision, walking down the hall and towards the elevator doors. 

Moments later, you’re walking out of the lift and down the dim hallway leading to Bruce’s bedroom. He’s entirely alone on this floor of the tower. You pause in front of his door for a few seconds, wondering if you should walk away. But you can’t. Instead, you knock on the door four times. “Bruce?” You ask. Despite the clear sturdiness of the door, he’s able to hear you. 

“Go away.” Bruce responds. His voice is a little muffled, and you have to strain to hear him. 

You’re hurt for the briefest of moments. Then you shelve the feeling and resolve yourself to tackling it later. “I’m coming in,” you announce, placing your hand against the scanner at the edge of the doorway. The scanner flashes green and the door slides open, revealing Bruce’s bedroom. You’ve never been here before. It’s modestly decorated, with mostly monotone shades. Nothing particularly strikes you, save for the giant desk in the corner of the room. Papers litter the entire surface of the desk, and a few are covered by Bruce’s arms. 

The man doesn’t look up as you approach. “I don’t want to see you,” Bruce says. His back is turned and you’re unable to see his expression. 

“I don’t care,” you respond, taking a few steps into the space until you’re a short (yet seemingly insurmountable) distance from Bruce. He’s sitting at his desk, rubbing his hands over his eyes roughly. It doesn’t take long for you to remember your guilt. “Bruce, I don’t want you to torture yourself over this.” Maybe you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place. 

“I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain. 

“You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you. 

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Bruce says with a shake of his head. He pushes himself out of his chair and gets to his feet, turning around to face you. Your eyes widen as you notice the torn expression on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the determination written in every line of his form. “My eyes locked onto you and, for a split second, I envisioned harming you. Deliberately.” The confession clings to the air like a vice. 

“But you didn’t act on that impulse,” you assert. “You suppressed it.” 

“So?” Bruce argues. “I still had the urge. You should be disgusted, afraid-” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Bruce,” you interrupt. The statement lingers heavily in the air between the two of you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but the faint hum you’ve grown to associate with the Tower itself.  

“You should be,” Bruce then mutters. And suddenly he’s standing in front of you, staring at you with a dark gaze. His fists are clenched at his sides and you see his skin flicker with shades of green, before it returns to normal. The man maneuvers you to the side and shoves you, until you’re hitting the wall behind you. Bruce’s hands move up to your shirt collar and he clenches at it, his fingers almost spasming as he tightens his grip. You just stare at him. “I could ruin you.” He murmurs, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it. 

You want to argue with him so badly, but that strategy hasn’t been working so far. For some reason, Bruce has convinced himself that he not only has the capacity to hurt you, but that he wants to. You know that can’t be true, but how can you convince him? If he thinks he can ruin you… “Then do it,” you challenge him. He meets your eyes once more and you stare back unflinchingly, trying to convey how much you trust him. 

If you thought the tension was suffocating before, it’s practically ripping the breath from your lungs now. Everything around you seems to fade into obscurity. All you can see is Bruce; all you can feel is Bruce. His fingers twitch and his grip falls from your collar. For an awful moment, you think he’s going to walk away—turn his back on you as he has done so many times before. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans closer. If he’s trying to get you to back down, then it isn’t working. 

At first, you want to think that Bruce is testing you. But the way he’s regarding you right now—with glittering desire in his eyes—makes you think otherwise. His hands move from the wall to your shoulders, back to the nape of your neck, until he gently tugs you forward. It’s hardly a strong pull, and you understand the choice he’s giving you. 

But, you think fondly, there was never much of a choice. From the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew he would dominate your thoughts. And indeed, he has. You think about the hard-won look of approval in his eyes when you make an astute observation; the way he almost frantically looks across the battlefield, his posture instantly relaxing once he sees you; the contradictions written all over his skin; the rare smiles you feel privileged to see. 

You lean forward and press your lips to his. Bruce is quick to reciprocate, his hands lingering at the nape of your neck before slipping down to your waist. You lock your arms around his shoulders, practically trapping him in your embrace. But from the strength of his grip, you can ascertain that the gesture is more than welcome. 

Later, when you break apart, Bruce has a disbelieving expression on his face. He looks slightly dazed, as if suspicious of the reality he now finds himself in. You grasp his wrist gently. 

“You can’t get rid of me, Bruce,” You murmur insistently, “...no matter how hard you try.”

He stares at you for another long moment. “And I have tried,” Bruce admits through a dry huff. You want to be offended by the comment, but you know it’s true. Bruce is stupidly self-sacrificing—he purposefully keeps his distance from people to protect them. But the reality of the situation is that people will come to harm regardless of his presence. “But you’re too stubborn.” That statement is spoken with a significant amount of fondness, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You bring your hand up to rest on top of his. 

“I’ll always be here, even when you don’t want me to be.” You promise. And maybe that promise isn’t yours to make, because one can never truly predict what will come next. But somehow, deep down, you know it to be true. 

Bruce brings you close once more, an uncharacteristic note of boldness in the fluid movement. When you step back moments later, you find that he has a hint of a smile on his face. “I know,” Bruce says, the traces of apprehension on his face breaking and cracking to reveal a rare sight: unrestrained affection.

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