dark ff

A worker, who claimed to have worked with Versus XIII before it was changed to FFXV, has leaked some information. Knowing that Versus XIII’s theme was MISERY (Nomura himself said that) and that the game would be very dark with heavy issues, this does sound legit. The original Versus XIII concept contained such things as yakuza boss Regis, him selling Noctis for a demon so that he’s bound to serve the Goddess of Death in this life and in the next, Noctis being addicted to hallucinations causing drug (manufactured by their family) and which gives him ability to see Stella (who is a real person, but no one else sees her).

The full text in the picture says:

“For example, one of the main characters of the game, Stella, inflected bodily harm on herself so that she could commute with what she believed to be deceased relatives (this behavior was actually the result of a certain medication she was prescripted for sleep disorder earlier in life, an ironically is a major plot point – more on that later). This ultimately culminated at her accidental suicide, which the main protagonist, Noctis, being told he was responsible for her death (he wasn’t, at least not directly). Moreover, many of the cinematic sequences in the game contained depictions of violence against women (it was completely in the context of the story=, with one sequence involving the implied rape of Stella in the hands of the white haired character many have seen in the original Versus trailer (Seifaris, in English). A key scene involving a ceremony of sorts demanded to be pulled altogether, effectively ruining a major plot point. Said scene involved demonic “claiming” of Noctis in his mother’s womb, Cycillia Lorette Caelum, the ruling Queen and the wife of King Regis. Due the pact made by his father (originally a “don” sof sort the Lucii yakuza family, not the good, watered down king written much later) Noctis was bound to the servitude of Etro, Goddess of Death (in this life and the next). This covenant gave the line the Lucii the Ring of Binding, power over life and death, through the Crystal of the Void (all this will be explained in the footage, so don’t get too caught up on it). So that the course had to be cut, citing “potentially sensitive religious content” since the character (Noctis) was more or less written as this world’s antichrist, cursed by his father in a deal with the power behind the Void to bring the coming apocalypse.

 A sequence involving a car chase and shootout, giving the player the option to kill Insomnian citizens. This is only due the fact that the target is running and attempting to hide within the crowd. This was probably one of my favorite early game scenarios, involving Noctis, Varis (bald headed bodyguard character that drives Noctis in a particular trailer, the one that keeps telling him to wake up), GLadio and Ignis. If you takes with delivering a large quantity of a street drug (secretly manufactured by a pharmaceutical company ownded by the Lucii family, of course) called Lunatelristium, marketed ad Lunatel, street name “Luna” (seriously though) that causes its user to have a lucid dreaming effect, where the individual is awake, yet sees things in the real would as through it’s a dream (loved ones long expired, ghosts, demons, locations changing back to how they looked in your earlier memories ect. It works on putting the minf in a state on conscious REM) – originally developed as a military grade sleep substitute for the Insomnian military (this concept was later adopted into the Magitek project), and used in a weaponized forms against a particular nation with disastrous effects. 

Noctis being addicted to this substance was absolutely essential to how the was able to interact with the female protagonist (Stella), as no one else would see her for a certain plot reasons, all of which is revealed about two hours into the game. He is only convinces that she is a hallucination after being held and interrogated by the INPD (yes, the original game had a police department in Insomnia, along with all the other normal things you would see in any regular city) – with the division head showing him camera footage of him covering no one as the bullet are being fired at him (Noctis thought he was covering Stella). Stella is in fact real, but it is a bit too convulsed to type without me spending 30 more minutes that I don’t have. Much of this information I did not release in my initial post months ago anonymously, because quite frankly, I was afraid of losing my job and legal ramifications. Now that much  has changed thanks to fan outcry (yes, they DO listen),a lot has changed… which I can’t discuss at this particular moment.

Now, you have my permission to release these plot details, but I am going to be honest in saying that I don’t know if Square will immediately hit your channel with a cease and desists, citing ownership of the content, but the fact is you won’t be posting any content, only information that is valid. This is where it becomes complicated and I cannot give you the best advice.”

Also a following message from the leak:

“ Hi, I am OP. I will clarify this point. Everything to described is unfortunately accurate, (I did not write it, that is the way they are explained). These events are listed as Chapter 1, with the second chapter beginning with Insomnia’s Crown City have its crystal actually extracted, by a small team of special forces units that literally blow the gates to the thrown room to get to the Crystal Vault (from the email). The key person is the white haired individual who is the adopted brother of Stella, who uses the spell ‘holy’ to nullify the unholy magic sealing the crystal, causing a magical explosion that takes out the top of the Lucii Family’s tower. They then storm the building with these forces in what is described as a “ruthless massacre”, shooting simply people who work there and don’t even have knowledge of the Crime Family’s illegal activities OR the Crystal. Holy is cast and the Vault opens revealing the Crystal. it is then “smuggled out”, collapsing the “Embrace of Etro”, something that causes the city to stay in perpetual night and be covered in a huge blueish shield. Then a coordinated attack with Magitek airships and Walkers start invading during Noctis’ Art of Insomnia Ball where he meets Stella. This is when the attack formally commences. I will post unreleased storyboards to display this with text in Japanese and english below it.

Sorry I could not type more. I am being bombarded. “

ALSO; if this is true, we will get this original game in some extent:

“Hi, I am OP. This is the next FF project that will enter full development when Episode 2 of FFVIIRemake has begun. The source says the development team is simply calling it "Final Fantasy Versus”. No number.Likewise, Nomura did not come to Square to request it, but agreed it will be made in an agreement with him supporting FFVIIR project fully. Via e-mail. Thank you.I’m sorry, I know nothing else development specific.“”


All of you are so strong, you are.
I suppose I ought to work a tad harder if I’m going to keep up now.

Light of All Lights - A Fairy Tale in Five Parts (1/5)

Notes: This fic would not nearly be what it is without @caprelloidea​‘s handholding, encouragement and keen eye. She’s the best, I think you all agree. Based on a picset posted by @bleebug, encouraged by @its-imperator-furiosa​‘s enthusiasm for the idea, and written with @queen-mabs-revenge​ in mind. There is nothing explicitly dominate/submissive about this, but there are borrowed elements of that dynamic.

Summary: When his ship crashes onto a secluded island after a storm Killian “Deckhand Hook” Jones finds himself the unlikely companion to the dark “goddess” who inhabits it. A fairy tale in three parts. 

Rating: Explicit for whoa smut in the later chapters. Some mild violence.

Word Count: 15K+



Thunder cracked in the sky above, the entire ship tremoring and shuddering with the force, and not a blink later purple silver lighting flared brilliant white in the crew quarters. The storm was upon them.

Starkey crowed as Hook threw up an arm, his hammock swinging violently, almost pitching him to the deck, the flinch happening before he could check himself.

“Oh no not the raaain,” came a high pitched mocking voice from somewhere in the black darkness of the cabin. Probably Evans. Loud raucous laughter followed, but Hook ignored it, their mocking jeers the least of his concerns as the thunder boomed again, the ship pitching with the force of another wave.

Hook squeezed his eyes tighter, his hand clenched at his side to still the shaking.

It wasn’t that he was scared of storms persay, but bumpy seas always meant no lanterns could be lit, all fires must be extinguished, and the crew quarters were pitch black save for the flashing lighting in the portholes. It wasn’t that he was scared of the dark either, but he definitely preferred the light. He was also quite sure they were all going to die, and like most things in his life, he was terribly afraid of death.

“‘Maybe ‘e’s worried ‘is hook will rust,” came another voice. “Then how’ll he lay about scratching his arse the useless twat?” The laughs came again, the pounding rain at least drowning them out a tad. Thunder cracked once more, and in unison the men all shrieked in mock terror.

“Not me hair!” Came a cry.

“B-b-b-bloody hell,” came another. They laughed again. It was an old game, the same old insults, the same mocking jeers.

Hook continued to ignore them, a decade and then some of practice helping him along, focusing on his breath, on maintaining his place in the swinging hammock as the ship rocked and swayed beneath him. If he fell on his face in front of them again, it would only make it worse.

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an: apparently my muse is still alive and kicking, it just likes to spend almost an entire year dormant before doing me a solid. this is heavily inspired by ‘uprooted’ my naomi novik, but it’s completely unnecessary to know anything at all about it, though you should definitely read it and cry about it with me.

Summary: Killian Jones has no desire to return to Misthaven, but his captain and his crew are tied to the kingdom in a way he has never understood, and they consider it a duty to be there for the Choosing. Once every fifteen years, the witch in her high tower chooses a man or woman among them and whisks them away, in payment for all she has done to save this kingdom, and to most it is considered a blessing to be chosen. All Killian wants is for the Choosing to be finished and The Jewel to return to sea, and to forget once again all that Misthaven has taken from him.

The Price: Chapter One

There was a hum of quiet anticipation hanging over the bay when The Jewel of the Realm docked in port, despite the teeming masses of ships, boats and dingys all huddled in together - and Killian sighed as he surveyed the place. He’d been too young to really remember the last Choosing, but Liam had woven him grand stories of it - of the mass of people who returned to their homeland, of the ceremony and the excitement bubbling among the residents of this land, of the tense wonder of the people as they waited to see who would be chosen from their ranks. Killian, for his part, didn’t understand it. He’d spent so little time ashore in this kingdom, he could hardly understand why this day, this day that happened once every fifteen years, was so important to the people of Misthaven.

Liam, for all his stories of the land they’d been born in, had no way of explaining the importance of this day. His own memories of growing up amidst the sailors and pirates who frequented their mothers inn while on land were more emotion than anything else, and no matter the tales Liam spun of the place he remembered so fondly, Killian had never quite understood what he meant when he called the place home.

To Killian it was nothing more than a place to resupply.

It was meant to be an honor, being chosen, the greatest honor a man or woman of Misthaven could receive, but for himself, it seemed more like imprisonment.

“Who d’you think it’ll be, this time?”

Killian bit out a sigh, turning to give their quartermaster an unimpressed look. They’d only returned for fear the crew might mutiny if not given the chance to be among those the Swan could choose from - despite an understanding among the crew that of anyone in Misthaven, these merchant sailors were some of the least likely to be chosen in the entire realm, there was a feeling among most of them that even the dream of a chance would be enough. At the very least, they wanted a story to tell, desired that bit of genuine truth to the tales they spun in taverns and whorehouses across the world. The Choosing, they imagined, would make for a larger than life story.

“I’d just as soon cut off my own hand as make idle speculations about what sort of person an immortal sorceress prefers for a servant, Turk. The sooner it’s done and we’re on our way, the better, I say.”

Turk, for his own part, seemed scandalized by the insinuation that the Chosen were merely servants, but Killian had never been led to believe otherwise. Those few who spent their years with the Swan rarely ever spoke of them, and though they never said a single derogatory thing about the witch in her high tower, they never spoke a kind word, either.

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Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it

I haven’t posted anything here in a while but it is Manon’s ( @onhowtobecrazy) birthday today so I had to. Also a belated gift for Em @lillie-grey who is havng a bad week, I hope this fluffy piece will make you smile darling! 

Here have some Dimple Dark!Outlaw Queen

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest, full of magic and extraordinary creatures. This boy lived in a camp full of honorable thieves. It may seem like an oxymoron to you, but somehow those outlaws turned their former amoral existences around for the greater good, stealing to give back, taking from those who had everything they wanted, to help those who had too little.

They became the boy’s family, for this child had lost much, too much; his mother, whom he could barely remember, not long after birth, his father just a few months prior, his sister and his Queen, left behind in another realm. The joyful, energetic, curious boy had changed ever since their return to Sherwood Forest, the light in his eyes had dimmed, he was quieter, his smiles rarer, his nightmares scarier. The Merry Men, his band of thieves, tried their hardest to distract and occupy him, to comfort him, but nothing and no one could replace the soothing voice and strong arms of his Papa, especially on that particular day.

That day was a special one for the boy, usually his favourite of the year, his birthday. For as long as he could remember, his father had gone out of his way to make it an unforgettable event. He had received his first small bow and arrow on his third birthday, squealing as he had been able to finally notch an arrow on his own, uncaring that he never hit the target, he had ridden on a pony for his fourth, a little black one that the Queen had personally chosen for him from her stables at the Dark Palace, where they had all been living then. She had helped him groom it and feed it apples from her tree, she had led them for a walk around the castle, even had sped it up to a trot to the boy’s utter delight. Afterwards they had baked his cake from scratch, and that night, with a full belly, clutching his new toy pony, an exact, fluffy replica of the living model, the boy had fallen asleep with a smile so wide his cheeks had hurt, it had rivaled his father’s.

 His fifth birthday would be different. The boy didn’t want to rise up for it, he wanted to stay snuggled under his blankets so no one would see his tears as he missed his Papa and his Queen and everyone else they had left behind. He just wanted his special day to be over. The Merry Men were persistent however, and after careful coaxing, they convinced the boy to join them. They didn’t try to turn it into a lavish party, none of them wanted to insult the boy’s father memory by attempting to live up to his unique way of celebrating his son.

 It was a quiet affair with simple handmade gifts and his favourite cake, a treat done with ingredients Granny had given them as they had left. Five candles lit the chocolate confection, and as he was about to blow on them, his father’s best friend, a hairy, burly, giant of a man, ironically nicknamed Little John, reminded him that he needed to make a wish. The boy’s little face screwed into thoughts, for there was only one thing he wanted and he knew he couldn’t get it. Still he shrugged, closed his eyes, made his wish and blew on his candles.

“What did you wish for, Roland?” A soft, feminine voice spoke in his ear.

“You can’t tell wishes or they won’t come true, silly,” the boy replied, and then froze, he knew this voice. Roland turned to the side and opened his eyes. They fell on the beautiful face of his Queen.

“Regina!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms around her neck, clinging to her tightly. “You’re here! You came back!” He sighed happily as he felt her gentle hands stroking his back.

“I did Roland. I couldn’t miss my favourite Knight’s birthday, now could I?” She told him and he giggled. He leaned back to look at her, his eyes twinkling for the first time in months, his smile wide and genuine. “And as it is your special day, I think it is tradition that I give you a present,” with a flourish, she made his gift appear in a plume of smoke.

“Monkey!” Roland cried out, squeezing against him the plush toy that had been lost in the confusion of their hasty departure, his companion ever since his Queen had saved him from the much more terrifying,breathing version. “Thank you Regina!” He seemed to realize for the first time that she looked a bit different than the last time he saw her. With her long, raven hair in a styled ponytail and her outfit, she resembled the Regina he had met all those months ago when she had been separated from her son.

She had been so sad then, that he had felt a chest swelling pride for every smile he had managed to get out of her. This Regina, though similar in looks to his sorrowful Queen, was both different from her and from the Regina he had to leave behind without saying goodbye. Roland couldn’t say how he knew but he felt it, in the way she looked at him.

He put his little hands on her cheeks and said, “You’re the Queen , aren’t you?” He sounded so much older than his five years when he spoke those words that the Queen was left stunned and speechless, could only nod in reply.

“But you’re not bad,” he stated more than asked, and theMen around them who had stayed silent since the woman appeared shifted uncomfortably.

The Queen’s eyes softened. “Not anymore,” she confirmed, a hint of shame in her tone, she did not want this precious boy to hear about the havoc she had wrecked in Storybrooke not so long ago.

“Regina sent you?” he asked, hopeful eyes and toothy grin, and the Queen’s newly mended heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Regina had no idea she was here, and she probably wouldn’t approve of what she was about to do, but what could the Queen possibly tell him?

“In a way, yes, she did,” she answered. “I have another surprise for you but I need to explain something first, and you have to listen really closely, alright?”

The boy nodded with all the seriousness he was capable of, it made the Queen chuckle, she caressed his cheek gently.

“You see I went to another Realm and I found someone there, someone very special, who looks like your Papa,” she paused, biting her lip, hesitating when the boy instantly perked up. “Roland, he looks very much like him, but he is not your Papa, he has led a very different life, he doesn’t know us,” the boy deflated, lowering his head, a pout on his lips. “He is a thief but he doesn’t do it for good like your father did. He wants to change though, do you think you could help me show him how?”

Seconds ticked by, and the Queen became more and more convinced that she had made a terrible mistake, that she had broken the child’s heart. What had she been thinking, coming back here to ruin his birthday? And then Roland threw himself in her arms again, and she took a shaky breath as he whispered a heartfelt ‘Thank you Regina’ in her ear.

She introduced him to Robin of Locksley, and his appearance and manners were distinctive enough not to upset the boy too much. This man could easily pass for a long lost brother or cousin to the Robin they knew. They were uneasy with each other at first, but with time and those room lighting smiles of Roland’s they started to form a real bond. The Queen’s anxiety slowly eased, as each day passed, and two of her favourite men got along better and better. This fresh start Regina had given her looked more promising with each dawn and sunset that she enjoyed in the arms of her thief, Roland’s soft snores filtering from the tent next to them.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest full of magic and extraordinary creatures. He had lost much, too much, but on his fifth birthday he wished for a family, for a mother and a father to complete his rugged band of thieves, and it was granted. Would it be a happily ever after? Well, that’s an entirely new adventure to tell.

The Price 2/?

Summary: Killian Jones has no desire to return to Misthaven, but his captain and his crew are tied to the kingdom in a way he has never understood, and they consider it a duty to be there for the Choosing. Once every fifteen years, the witch in her high tower chooses a man or woman among them and whisks them away, in payment for all she has done to save this kingdom, and to most it is considered a blessing to be chosen. All Killian wants is for the Choosing to be finished and The Jewel to return to sea, and to forget once again all that Misthaven has taken from him. 

tagging @kmomof4

Chapter One

Chapter Two

When Killian had been a young boy, he’d found himself often at odds with the world around him. Or at least, that was how Liam told it.

He was too young to remember it all, or even most of it, really, but to Killian Jones, the world had been the tavern, and the town surrounding them, the sea before them, but it had been more. His mother had called him fantastical, whimsical, when he brought home strange flowers she’d never seen before, and told her stories of faeries and goblins and beasts with kind eyes.

The rest of the village hadn’t been quite as kind.

He’d been so young he could barely remember their faces, but the taunts, the jeers, the whispers of the mad Jones boy they never bothered to keep silent when he wandered by, those memories remained.

He remembered only one instance of true danger, in all that time. The beasties and ghouls he’d weaved stories of were long gone to his memory, but this one moment in time stayed etched in his mind.

The flowers he’d returned from the woods at the edge of the forest sat neatly in the cup his mother had put them in, sunlight drifting in from the window, bathing them in warm light on the ledge on which they sat, and Killian was quiet as he leafed through the book father had brought back from this fair or that cart. He’d only just begun to make sense of the symbols upon the page, and he’d whispered them quietly, hoping father wouldn’t hear his jumpy mutterings from where he sat beside the kitchen.

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dark!oq set during the finale kind of

She slowly stirs when sunlight peaks through her balcony and turns onto her side, scooting closer to his side of the bed. Where she expects to find the warmth of another body, however, she only finds the coolness of sheets long abandoned.

Reluctantly cracking open her eyes, Regina stares at the empty spot beside her on the bed, hand brushing against the still lukewarm sheets. There’s a piece of parchment in the dent of his pillow, where his head used to be. He can’t have left that long ago; it surprises her that his departure hasn’t awoken her as it usually does.

She stretches lazily and reaches for his note, unfolding the yellowed piece of paper reverently.

Friar Tuck needed assistance on an errand of little importance. I didn’t want to wake you.
- R.
P.S.: Sorry for keeping you up so late.

They had been up quite late last night, she muses. She’s surprised they haven’t made a bigger mess of her bedsheets. Rolling over to his side of the bed, she takes in the lingering scent of pine and campfire and closes her eyes once again.


“This one?”

Tuck’s scowl tells him all he needs to know before the man even utters a word, though he does so anyway. “You can’t ask a queen to marry you with that.”

That is a piece of metal, melted then forged from the blade of his Robin’s old dagger.

He sighs, staring at the boring (he has to admit) ring he holds between his fingers. “What do you propose, then? It’s not like I can afford a real one.”

Tucks chuckles. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Robin looks over to his friend–his alter ego’s friend. They’d come to the Enchanted Forest to escape the harsh reality of their realm, but here, they’d found purpose, a life they both had left behind, but which was waiting for them to return.

Tuck was right. Regina deserved more than a scrap piece of metal.

And he’ll give it to her, no matter what it takes.


It takes the realms destruction–nearly.

One minute, he’s tracking down some lordling’s carriage, and then, everything is black. Darkness has consumed this realm, taken over every square inch.

But light is persistent. Harder to destroy than evil thinks.

It shines through to darkness, lights a path that allows him to survive, until the greatest evil is overcome and he’s again surrounded by trees and dirt.

Evil is gone. And in his hand lies a jewel he could never have bought on his own.


This is not the happy ending they both envisioned, but it’s the beginning of a story worth exploring.


When Robin had set out the night before he never thought it would be anything other than a fairly routine trip, a chance to further get to know this band of aptly named Merry Men that another version of him had forged a family with.  They’d been hesitant of him at first, some still are, but Tuck has been welcoming.  He’s listened patiently and intently to their unbelievable story, then shook Robin’s hand and pulled Regina into a warm hug.  Since then, the man has become the only true friend Robin could ever claim to have.  Asking Tuck to accompany him to acquire an item that would change Regina and his lives had seemed natural; as did the endless ribbing he received the entire trip back to the castle.  It was all in good fun, Robin could tell the older man was happy for him, happy for them, and the jovial back and forth had continued until the ground shook and the skies turned black.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Tuck asked, pointing to the east and the billowing darkness that was fast approaching.  Robin didn’t bother to respond.  Both men quickened their pace as the black magic seemed to nip at their heels.  It was a race back to the castle that Robin had no intention of losing.

She’s standing on the balcony when he enters the courtyard, breathless from the sprint.  He can’t see her features, couldn’t possibly make out the hardened determination there, but he knows.  Somehow he just knows what she is about to do.  He screams her name as he sees the red of her cloak flutter out with the raising of her arms, but her name is swallowed up by the wind and the CRACK of magic that explodes out of her palms.  He stands frozen below, awestruck at the sight of her wielding such power.  In his mind he always knew her capable, but to see her standing alone against the force of this dark magic, to see her holding it back by sheer strength of will…Robin has no words to quantify the mixture of adoration and terror that courses through him.

Regina is at the eye of the storm.  Her magic flows freely, stronger than she’s ever felt it before and she knows it’s because she doesn’t draw on the rage that always simmers just below the surface, but of the image of a boy, realms away, who called her mom and who she will not leave to face this darkness alone.  They just need time.  Her family can escape if she just holds on.  She swears she hears Robin call her name when the force against her is almost too much. His voice carried to her by the winds and it gives her that little bit of strength she needs to hold on.  

He watches her until the destruction forces him inside and then he’s running again, desperate to reach her while he still can. The darkness pushes; Regina pushes back.  She holds out until she knows she can do no more, until she knows she’s given her other half every second she possibly can.  Even through the menacing cyclone, she feels him behind her.  She drops her hands to take his, exhausted, as he pulls her to his chest, shielding her as best he can against the inevitable.  She feels his heart beating steadily under her hand before she feels nothing at all.  

Robin’s watching her now as he does each night from the shadowed corner of her balcony.  He adores this nightly ritual that she thinks she keeps to herself.  Loves to watch her undo all the trappings of her alter ego and slip into the skin she’s growing more and more comfortable with each passing day.  He’d spent brief, chaotic moments with the other Regina, but often wonders if she ever stared her demons down the way his Regina does. Maybe he’s biased, but he doubts that she is as much of a force as the woman he watches in the mirror.

He thumbs the ring still in his pocket, flips it over and over between his fingers as his gaze roams her bare back, her curves, but always back to her eyes.  He’d thought about being conventional; dropping to one knee, reciting some love sick poetry, presenting the jewel as he bowed before her as if waiting for a blessing to be bestowed.  But their journey had never been conventional; their love never followed any script.  In fact it seemed to defy them all.  She was a woman, split from herself; he, a man that shouldn’t exist.  And yet they had found each other.  Loved each other in a way that was uniquely their own.  

His life became an adventure the moment she walked into that tavern.  It was a slow burn to love (the slowest he thinks) but worth every scorch along the way to be able to say that he has found himself in the dark heart of his not-quite-evil queen.

She runs her brush through hair again, the perfect curl refusing to give up its shape.  There’s a far off look in her eyes tonight, a smile pulling at her painted lips.  He wonders if she thinks of her son, of the life she gave up for a second chance at a happiness of her own.  Or of the family that her almost sacrifice helped to save.  Or of him.  Or of the simple fact that they are alive after everything and allowed to go on to whatever adventures they create.  His heart beats faster thinking back on what they could have lost, of how precious each second of life is, and how he doesn’t want to squander another moment of it. His mind is made up in an instant and he’s scrawling a message on the parchment in his pocket, pulling thread loose from the cuff of his shirt, and fastening the diamond his lucky arrow.  (No need tempting fate when his future is so near.)

She doesn’t even flinch at the hiss of the arrow past her ear, or the whack of it embedding in her vanity mirror.  It’s hardly the first arrow that has nearly taken off her head.  She knows it’s his, glances at it with a coy smile before she sees ring hanging from the shaft, still swaying with the momentum of impact. It’s only seconds before she moves, but it feels like an eternity before she reaches for the ring, holds it securely in her palm as she tosses the string aside and reads his proposal.  Ready for a new adventure?  Her smile is instant, bright, elusive, yet always satisfying.  It’s the only answer he needs.

She turns towards the balcony and finds him leaning against the wall, bow slung casually over his shoulder, smile matching her own.  She moves towards him slowly, reaching for his hands when she’s close enough, letting him pull her forward to close the distance.  “Ok, thief,” Regina says as he takes the ring from her palm and slips it onto her finger.  “Where do we begin?”

Legends Never Die [Dark OQ]

In wistful remembrance of our Robin.

He was different.

His hair was shorter. Darker, like the rest of him: his smile sharp, the blue of his eyes deadly for the way they drowned her even as she baited him in turn (and oh would he rise to the occasion).

And sometimes, she saw her Robin, in him.

(Their Robin.)

His kisses turned soft in the twilight, his everything holding her close above their bed of hay (hay, and all the feathers he had snuck there).

He was different.

But the man meant much more than a tattoo or its shadow, and with him, she finally belonged.