#need to draw guys as little blobs more often....

[esspio]

i kinda like it w/o color better but :'D

[krispycreamcake]

Ayayui DL analysis pt. 2 hehe

I'm not even gonna bother to make this super aesthetic, I'm just gonna go all out and pray you can keep up with my yapping.

In my last post I mentioned how Ayato and Yui's character archetypes pair really well with each other but I didn't mention how.

I'll focus this post more on Yui as she literally compliments Ayato's character.

Yui is an inexperienced kind and loving girl raised by the church, it's her general description. I'm not sure how many of you notice, but this is often the description she gives herself, or rather what she tries to portray.

Yui is complex in a way that shows the player that she's more than just some god loving blob of pink and blonde by portraying her inner thoughts and reactions.

While yes, a lot of it is coercion and Stockholm Syndrome, we also forget that this is probably her first time experiencing such an inner conflict, she's completely stumped when her morals get challenged and it turns out, she likes it.

Ayato of course, loves this about her. He knows that by "breaking her" he's really just breaking her in to new experiences so to speak.

We all know Ayato, and we know he's a narcissistic shit bag that desires to be Yui's first everything.

Previously I would have mentioned that it isn't JUST Yui's morals and values being challenged when it comes to these two.

It's more than just soft uwu girl x annoying bad boy.

They're very similar to one another and this is where the creator would have taken the liberty to make two completely different characters eventually yearn for the same thing.

Yui is experiencing her first love being someone she'd never think about being with because of his crude personality, but of course there's something that draws her to him.

She can see herself in his troubled ways in a sense. She can see he's not everything he pretends to be and that warrants sympathy from her, which of course does not please ayato. (Little does he know, she's only pitying him because she knows damn well)

To him, Yui is weak and nothing but prey. But if she's just prey, why does she make him question his actions?

That ignites an inherent power shift where he realizes she might be stronger than she looks if the great him can relate to her troubles.... Or rather he's weaker than he thinks.

They both clash with each other at first, but eventually fuse into each other's lives.

Yui is understanding and Ayato needs to be understood.

Ayato is reckless and carefree, while Yui is just now learning about the world around her.

Yui isn't reluctant to that side of him and often embraces it.

Like ying and yang, they balance each other out.

I would have mentioned before that Yui often tries to portray herself as someone she's not.... Hmmm who do we know that also does this?

They work well together because they are literally each other.

Do you guys remember that spiderman meme?

Ayato and Yui pointing to what they hate about each other.

Anyways Ayayui best ship, bite me

[tacogrande]

any tips for drawing backgrounds?? specially backgrounds w people ;-;

OOOG.. MAN im sort of not the best person to ask cause backgrounds to me are such an after thoughT MFIOSMFISH

but i found that you dont need to be super good at bgs to do em! you dont need do bring out the graphs or anything either, at least i dont cause i find that to really kill the joy in drawinG.

but for me it usually goes like tihs.. ill draw a guY

n then its like.., OH lets put them in a TRAIN!

and then for people, its actually prtty simple you can really just make blobs and only choose certain bits where you want an actual figure to show. its all about the suggestion !!

UHH then sometimes if u wana bring things in a bit tighter or have a stronger comp u can use color for that!

JSAIOSH AN D THERE U GO.. KINDA... like i said i always make backgrounds around characters! often times i dont really have an idea of a bg until the figure is in there! i find that to be a much more fun way to work too! :-)

i hope this sort of heLPS

if not here's some fun little drawings that inspired how i do bgs

artist: mitchel hooks (comps liek these taught me that bgs dont have to fill the entire background, that you can just hav them bloom around people, and leave the negative space to do the rest of the work!)

artist: andrey platanov (similar situation where you can tell a background built around a character drawn!)

artist: vania zouravliov (sometimes your background can just be nonsense, it doesnt have to be super neat or anything, i find that the more you just pack in there the more it looks like your character is in a place, which is what matters right!)

all these can work wit hdrawing bgs with people in em too. if you have to stretch and pull and squish bg people to help the drawing, do it! they are as much of the bg as a tree or grass// a least that's how i sees iT

[josefavomjaaga]

When writing Soult I’d like to mention and write his aides as well, but I don’t think I have a very good grasp on their personalities rather than treating them as a collective excitable drunk blob - if you had to describe each of them in a few words/traits, what would that be?

That's a harder question than I thought because "collective excitable drunk blob" is precisely how I see them, too, most of the time. 😁

So, looking at them a little more closely:

Saint-Chamans: not exactly the brightest one, stubborn, feeling rather entitled, more adventurer than soldier, childlike to the point of childishness

Petiet: similar sense of entitledness, but whinier and somewhat insecure, often feels like he's left out, the "silent kid" (?), loves getting presents, extremely proud when he feels Soult is pleased with him

Lameth: outspoken, rather clever, ambitious and courageous, great sense of humour, also the least scared of his imposing marshal/dragon, dares to contradict him on occasion

Brun: the "good kid" who feels he needs to clean up after his unruly siblings and occasionally even his marshal/dragon, good education, silent, independent thinker, hard worker

That's the main four during the imperial period, I guess, of the others I do not have a very clear picture myself. Little Anthoine de Saint-Joseph seems to have been the Benjamin of the military family, the little one everybody felt they needed to protect a little (and who probably was very proud when the "big brothers" included him in their shenanigans). You could also include Bory de Saint-Vincent as the guy who is always off doing stuff that has nothing to do with the campaign, like collecting plants or drawing landscapes. Not sure what you would do with Pierre Soult and Coco Lefebvre - in your AU, they would need to be dragons, I guess?

Then there's of course Franceschi who started out as Soult's aide but had moved on to become a cavalry general and aide-de-camp to Joseph Bonaparte. He seems to have been very brave personally, but also a very affable, accomodating character, often trying to mediate (between Soult and Saint-Chamans but also Soult and Joseph). As a painter and close friend of Dragon!Soult, maybe Soult would put him in charge of the painting collection?

(And now I have an image in my head of the ADCs clumsily hanging up Soult's treasured hoard of human artwork in whatever place Soult dozes in, with Soult barking orders because the paintings are not placed correctly, are crooked, Louise trying to calm him down and Franceschi finally taking over and arranging the collection as it should be.)

[legendsgalore]

Magolor and Taranza Gijinka

So I have been thinking about what certain Kirby characters would look like as humans recently, and have been trying to sketch it out! These are just sketches for now, but I am working on color version atm, as well as full body drawings. So for Magolor, I would imagine him to have a long sleeveless coat/vest thing with a hood, to emulate his on his little, fox/cat/owl body. I would imagine this is made out a of a heavy, but not thick material. The type that drapes very well, as he uses a belt buckle around his waist to create some shape with it. This would be a white color with gold accents on it.

The reason I picked a sleeveless one, is to show off the undershirt! I imagine Magolor to be surprisingly toned, he IS a dimensional explorer afterall, he is no pushover! But as he is a mage, he is not a muscular person. So his shirt would be a fitted one over the arms, and I put some fun gear patterns on the shoulders! I imagine this as a deeper blue (you can see the color in that weird blob in the bottom right corner bleeding through the page) with the gear being a golden yellow.

Additionally, he wears a necklace that sits just above his collar bone, with an additional chain hanging from the middle bead that has a golden star at the end!

Not pictured is I imagine Magolor goes and does field research often, collecting samples, testing spells, etc. So not only is his clothing built for adventure (pockets!), but he has on a pair of good boots! They're shorter ones, and I'm leaning towards lace up style, with more gear insignia on the back. I think halfway through the adventure with Kirby, or maybe once Kirby and co get all the Lor pieces, they return to see that Magolor swapped shirts (and to return the pieces ya know). This once is a more flowy style, that drapes on his figure compared to the fitted one from before (though in my drawing it looks skintight haha). I'm unsure if I want to keep the deep blue color, or go for a lighter blue-grey here, to signify something is off about Magolor when Kirby returns.

For his hair, at first I was imagining something half up-half down, but then I remembered that is the hairstyle I always use for Meta Knight, and that was not going to cut it. This is the part I am most iffy about, but so far I have enjoyed this messy bun! I think it pairs well with him having pretty features, and a longer nose, neck, pronounced collar bone, etc. Like even though in actuality Magolor is a round little cat guy, I enjoy picturing him as an angular pretty anime boy. Kinda a heart-throb-and-he-knows-it type. Too much of an ego on him, but well earned so you can't really bash him for it. Now for Taranza, I have less pictures, but a much more solid idea of what I want him to look like. For him I think I am staying much closer to what his in-game appearance is, but with more formality and prettiness!

(Please ignore how awkward that drawing looks, I drew his head at an angle, and it looked fine in pencil, but then I inked it without giving any weight to the lines, and then I did flat colors and now he looks quite bizarre)

So he has his cape thing, which I decided was kinda a half-shoulder cape, rather than a full body one. I felt that it matched better with the idea that he works/worked for royalty. And that is reflected in how his cape is held in place by like brooches?? Idk what you actually call the equivalent for cufflinks but for a cape, but it's there.

For the rest of his outfit, I wanted it to look like a worker at the palace's uniform, but slightly fancier, so it's a fitted, collared shirt with buttons (that get bigger in the middle to match Taranza's in game design), with a belt (idk if I like the buckle or not on it), and then slightly fitted pants. He just has some slippers for now, or maybe they could be loafers, but boy is magic and flies around when he can so why need sturdy shoes?

On the same train of thought, Taranza is not very muscular, but he is quite lithe and slender. Which is part of why the formal royal uniform suits him well I think!

His hair is basically the same as his in-game, and I imagine the general shape to match Kurapika from HunterxHunter's.

[hivefleet-hellbender]

Pink Horrors of Tzeentch, bound to copper masks

I've been building and painting the start of my Tyranids Hive Fleet for the past three months, and towards the end of November I realized I needed a break. Plus, I'd be traveling to an artist residency program in rural Colombia and I knew I'd want something else to do while I was there. So I decided to build a squad of pink horrors but with an eerie and minimalist twist.

Now if you've seen Games Workshop's Pink Horror models, you'd know they're pretty much dogshit. Their faces are more orkish than daemonic, they have these strange long proportions that don't have much weight to them, and despite their ever-shifting chaotic nature, they look like just a stack of little dudes they look like a stack of little dudes with more arms than usual. They’d fit better in an old Betty Boop cartoon than on the battlefield of the 41st millennium. My goal for this project was the present an aesthetic for Tzeentch that fits with my own taste in monstrosity — blank-eyed every-shifting mounds of flesh that hover on the boundary between symbolism and raw horror. 

My journal quickly filled up with drawings of weird masked monsters in the margins. My inspiration came from cubism, along with movies like Mirrormask and Ruban Brandt: Collector. I also was heavily inspired by the copper face on the Abominable Intelligence by John at Ex Profundis. I got really into the idea of the masks as some sort of binding vessel for the Tzeentchian cultists, who could use the daemons as attack dogs by trapping them within copper plates. I wasn't sure if I wanted the models to be 40K or Age of Sigmar, so I tried to keep the designs agnostic and avoid any technology or mechanical bits. 

I knew I wanted to use the pink horror model as a base, but that the number and consistent size of arms would be insufficient for my needs. To make sure my little guys had all the arms they needed, I picked up a box of Mantic Games Zombie Horde. This box comes with forty zombies, and most of the arms are perfect and usable, meaning I’ve got about 72 human-sized arms to accompany the much larger horror arms of my gribblies. Towards the end I also picked up a box of blue horrors, so that I can expand my Tzeentch army once I’m done with my infinite ‘Nids.

I made the mask from a couple different pieces of plastic. At first I used these clear disks I had, but they gave the models a “bobble-head” look which… I didn’t hate, but did obscure the size of the horror and make it look a bit too tiny. For later masks, I took the base of the zombie, tidied it up, and carved a face into it. I intentionally kept the faces very minimalist, focusing on just the bare necessities: two eye-holes, a little slit mouth, and a single haphazard nose. 

I focused on a very improvisational building approach — using a base of either green stuff blob or a pink horror body, which I then superglued the mask onto and then applied as many arms and legs as I could reasonably manage. Often I would trim an arm straight off the spruce and barely clean it before attaching it on, meaning there's a few moldlines or sprue bits that I can't help but stare at. I think if I was to repeat this process I'd trim all the parts and set them aside before I even started working, but I also had no clue how this would go and was just enjoying the process as a way to decompress after a wildly hectic week.

Once the models were all done, I spraypainted them all white and tossed them in a box with me to Colombia, where they got damaged during transit and had to piece a couple back together with superglue.

I painted the bodies with two layers of Volupus Pink contrast paint, followed by a drybrush of 1 part Red to 3 parts White.

I painted the masks with Gunmetal followed by a wash of 1 part Orange to 1 part Mid Brown wash. Then I did a Dark wash with some streaking, followed by a Verdigris effect paint to get that gunky green rust effect at the edges of the copper.

I painted the jewelry and various instruments / standards gold, and did the gems in red with a pink highlight. I did the nails and teeth in white, the tongues in a very light pink mix, and the feathers a light green mix followed by a dark wash. I hope to return to the feathers later to give them more detail if I ever end up doing a Lord of Change, as in my head I imagine those feathers are small gifts from it to its most loyal minions. The fire is yellow, orange, and red, and the OSL was done by mixing the contrast pink with orange.

The bases are admittedly an afterthought — I'm in rural Colombia right now and so I can't finish them the way I want to. I'm planning to pick up some resin cobblestone bases and candles, so I can make the models look like they're inside a weird cultist basement, skittering around in the darkness. There's a lot of lessons I've learned for next time I paint models like these, and this was my first time working with contrast paint, but it was still a ton of fun and I'm proud of how they turned out!

[cosmogalaxy2]

𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦

Scott had been feeding the Llamas when a message popped up on his comm. He finished feeding the last llama almost taking his hand of in the process. His best friendsay be needy but he loved them. He pulled the colourful comm out his pocket the back decorated in flower stickers Shelby had given him. Unlocking it before a message light up the screen.

Pix: Guys somethings happened

A seed of unease planted itslef in Scott's stomach. Pix wasnt one to joke aroumd like that. As he was picking up the bag of wheat to bring back into the storage room his comm buzzed again.

Pix: Its to do with the rift

Okay, he needed to head to the Ancient Capaital now. Only 2 weeks ago they had gotten the mysterious message from the rift and he wasnt expecting anything to happen for a little while. These people on the other side must be just as courious as they where at what this thing was.

Once he arrived at the capital he found a group of maybe 16 people stood in the middle of the great bridge. He reconised a couple-mainly Pix, Lizzie and Kathrine- though a few of the others rang a bell. No names coming to mind. He landed next to Kathrine extanging confused expressions.

Then came a crash form behind him. He didnt even need to look to know Jimmy had landed behind him. Soon though the Sherrif ran past him hugging one of the people he didnt recognise. He had Blue hair and seemed to regonise Jimmy too. They hugged for a while before pulling back slightly. "Tango," Jimmy breathed "What are you doing here?" Suddently it hit Scott. He remembered the a past life they spent together. The nights crying in bed at how horrible his soulmate was , fire and trying to find his place in a way he never had to around this group before. The main memory though heartbreak. Heartbreak because of Tango. A new death game when soulmates and romance were recommended and the one man he truly loved had found someone else. He remembered watching across the ravine while Jimmy and Tango laughed, kissed, extended gifts all the things he used to do with Jimmy. They had fallen in love on a death game where they were ridiculed for for it then when everyone had his love had fallen for someone else. 

His Jimmy had loved someone else. Scratch that his Jimmy loves someone else.

He was only pulled out of his memories by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Sausage smiling as he excliamed, "Color Papi!",and hugged him. "Wood Daddy" replied the smile evident in his voice. Scott watched Sausages eyes land on the new group of people before him, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Who are they?" he asked "No idea." Scott answered. Sausage then leanded in wispering in his ear "And whose Jimmy kissing"

𝘯𝘰, 𝘯𝘰, 𝘯𝘰. Scott turned to find Jimmy kissing Tango. Eyes closed happiness all over his face. Tango had Jimmy's hat in his hand arm rapped around Jimmy's back. Everyone seemed to be staring at them. The people Scott assmumed where Tango's friends seemed to have a sense of

happiness for thier friend, while all his friends just seemed to be confused.

Scott scanned the faces trying to egnore what they where all looking at. Almost everyone was here. Joel flying in over the hills the finish of the group a little purple blob of joy on his back. A joyful cry of  "Papi" could be heard from the demigod as they landed on the bridge. Sausage quickly picked them up spinning the child around before tightly hugging him. Hermes seemed to notice Scott over his papi's back as his face light up even more. "Uncle Scott!" Scott laughed ruffling the boy's blonde hair. "Hello Hermes." Scott wasn't sure when Hermes started calling him uncle or who told him to but he wasn't complaining he loved the little boy. He often went over to Sausages just to see him offeeing to look after the demigod whenever needed.

"Okay now everyone is here," Pix started drawing everyones attention. Scott noticed Tango and Jimmy had seperated now opting to hold hands instead. Not that he was looking. "As you can see we have some new guests. Welcome the Hermits." Tango's friends all waved and they all waved back. "They came through the rift seeming to have been the ones sending things back through. I'm sure you will make them feel welcome while we find a way to get them back home." He paused before adding slightly quiter, "Some perhaps more welcome than others." Looking directly down at Jimmy and Tango.

Scott wasnt sure what happened for the rest of the time at the ancient capitial. He had met Cleo who he remembered from the past and invited her to stay at chromia. But when he woke up the next morimg to go check on her she was gone a letter on her bed saying she had gone to se Grian and would be back soon. So Scott got on with his daily duties feeding the llamas, gathering flowers, planing builds.

At around mid-day Scott got a knock on his door. He assumed it would be Cleo but instead he was met with Sausage. "Umm...hi" Sausage said clearly searching for words that he couldn't quite find. "Hi." Scott replied trying to sound cheery and reasuring which was difficult due to the only thought in his mind being what Tango and Jimmy where doing right now. Relising him and Sausage had been stood around probally a bit to long he offered for him to come inside.

Soon they where sat on Scotts small patchwork sofa cups of tea in hand. Sausage hadn't said a word since arriving just staring doen into his cup. Scott got fed up with waiting. "Come on out with it"

"What?" Sausage retorted seeming to forget Scott was even thier. "Say what you wnat to say. As nice as a little popin from my Wood Daddy is im assuming you didnt come here to talk shit about the new people." Sausage seemed to smile at that.

He pauses before saying, "Do you like Jimmy?" Scott freezed. Out of everything he hadn't been expecting that. Sausage seemed to notice. "Not that I'm jealious or anything. You just seemed to be starting at him and Tango a lot. Like more than nesessery. And seemed a bit of yesterday at the great bridge." He scrambled. Trust Sausage to be the only one notice his not very well hidden secret. "Yes?" He replied.

He didn't mean for it to sound like a question but i guess it was in a way. A question in weither he should? If it was okay? Sausage face softened noticing Scott's tone. "You have for a while havn't you?" He asked. Scott just nodded.

"And now he has Tango and you feel horrible for it?" Scott just nodded again. Sausage always new exactly what he was feeling. Scott finally finding his voice expliand...

" Thier was this other land. A game of death. I found Jimmy first and we found this flower valley. We made it our own. Soon we fell in love got married with flower crowns, vows shared on the dock only for us to hear. People thought we were stuipd falling in love in a game designed for death but with Jimmy it never felt stuipd. Even after he died first...I dont't remember much after his death in that world. My only thought was avenge Jimmy and after that..i didn't care. When the game was done things..were not the same as before.I felt so much more alive around him when ever anything exciting, sad, worrying happened we both came to eachother. We kissed every now and again. It was like..it was like we were still married. Then Double Life happend and he..he fell for Tango. He seemed so happy but when we would see eachother it was like we never happend. Like we never loved eachother. It didn't change for a while but now. Now its like back to how it was kinda. I flirt with him and he gets flustered the same way he used to. Like he enjoyes it again. But now...Now Tango's back i don't know what will happen. I thought we might go back to the way it was maybe further but i guess not.."

Scott hadn't even reilised he was crying until Sausage raised his hand to wipe his cheek. "Maybe you should talk to him." he softly spoke. Scott didn't want to admit it but he knew Sausage was right.

Scott had stay up late that night staring at the message next to the send button on his comm. He knew Sausage was right, he knew it but maybe now wasn't the time. I mean Jimmy just got Tango back why would he take time for Scott? They had been so happy to see eachother why would Jimmy leave Tango to talk to him? He put the comm down before pulling the covers harshly over his head trying to block out the voices in his head. He tryed for about and hour before angrily pulling out his comm slamming the send button before he could think to much.

Scott: Hey can you come over mine tommorrow. I need to talk to you.

Jimmy: Yeah sure. See you then

But Scott was already asleep by the time his comm went off.

Scott was doing his rounds around the village the next morning when Jimmy showed up. Scott watched the man search Chromia from above trying to find him before seeing his face light up when he caught sight of him. Smile pulled at Scott lips.

Jimmy landed at the edge of the village Scott walking up to meet him. "Hi" Jimmy waved smile wide. "Hi, umm..lets go to my house" Scott said voice small already regretting his desion.

Scott found himself in a very similar senario as with Sausage yesterday except this time he was the one staring in his cup. After the silence had dragged on to long he blurted out "Do you like Tango?"

"sorry?" Jimmy seemed caught of gaurd by the question. "Are you in love with Tango?"

Jimmy's face shifted from confusion to one of pitty and almost guilt. "Oh, Scott," He started slowly grabbing Scott's hand as if asking if it was okay. It was. "Oh my god." Jimmy sighed trying to find the right words. "Yes," He said softly and Scott felt his heart break into a million pieces. "But..I also love you." Jimmy said voice still as light. Scott was confused this was obiviously clear on his face as Jimmy let out a light chuckle. "I never stopped loving you Scott feelings as strong as that don't go way. I just opened my heart to Tango as well. And when he showed up today i noticed a little to late that it could have hurt you. I was so excited to see him again I forgot that we had something. Have something? Im so sorry for that." Scott's mind was racing. Jimmy liked him back. Jimmy loved him. But also Tango thats okay. Tnago never did bad to Jimmy. And they have something. They freaking have something. Scott didn't know what to do he just smiled widely at the man he loved so much.

Jimmy then did what Scott couldn't and closed the gap between them with a kiss. Jimmy was as sweet as he remembered as warm. He felt all his worries disapate through the felling of Jimmy's lips on his. This kiss hadn't felt like the few after 3rd life this one felt real like they were back in flower valley in between wars. And Scott couldn't be happier. Jimmy pulled back slightly and Scott couldn't help but make a grumbly noise. Jimmy laughed lightly catching his breath. "I missed you" he says against Scott's lips before Scott pulles him back in hands removing the sherrif hat and tangling in Jimmy's blonde hair.

Scott dosn't know how long they wre like that but long enough for it to be dark when Jimmy leaves. He dosn't know what will happen between them but he knows its not the end.

[ivarthebadbitch]

who are the barbarians?

as I was finishing this new season of vikings valhalla, I was really struck by the portrayal of the pechenegs in the penultimate episode, and I wanted to throw some (half-formed) thoughts out there about the recurring figure of the barbarian in medieval shows and other media: the danes in the last kingdom, the pechenegs in vikings valhalla, the rus in vikings. while the exact identity and nature of the barbarian varies depending on the media, there are certain common tropes that appear again and again. the barbarian comprises the outgroup; he draws a clear line between “us” (the protagonists) and “them.” some typical features: 

- the barbarian rules by violence and is violent by nature. his violence is often random and excessive; he enjoys torture. he (and it is almost always “he”) is violent towards members of his own group as well as outsiders, and he is often sexually violent towards women. violence committed by non-barbarians, in contrast, is often justified in some manner by the narrative, or presented as being within reasonable bounds.

- the barbarian is interchangeable with his fellow barbarians. he lacks a distinctive personality or motivation, and there is little to distinguish him from his peers. they function as a homogenous blob. one barbarian is very much the same as the other, and certain stock characters appear season after season. the names and circumstances may be different, but they’re really all the same guy.

- barbarian society is poorly defined. apart from some sort of strongman leader, social classes and other such distinctions are unclear. however, it is heavily male/patriarchal, heavily skewed towards warriors, and often tribal or semi-tribal. there are far fewer women and children than men, and they may only appear in the background on occasion. non-barbarian society is more individualistic and balanced in terms of gender and age; there are clear social and legal rules that govern behavior and more definite social classes.

- the barbarian is a capable warrior but has limited intellect. they are good at fighting and may be good at strategy, they can be cunning, but they are intellectually uncurious. (intellectually curious barbarians are exceptional and outside the norm). they have no literature or philosophy. they are fundamentally uninterested in world around them, apart from dominating it. they are foolishly superstitious and struggle to adapt to change.

- the barbarian can only be met with violence. apart from the few exceptions that prove the rule (see, for instance, guys like sigtryggr and erik in the last kingdom), barbarians cannot be reasoned with. they will not respect any compromise without the threat of force behind it. therefore, killing barbarians is an acceptable solution--and maybe the only acceptable solution.

- the barbarian is not a fixed group. the designated barbarians in one season may be different from the next. they may sometimes be danes, sometimes be rus, sometimes be welsh, sometimes be pechenegs, but not always. the critical point is that the barbarians are whoever the writer needs them to be in that particular moment, to be defined in opposition to the protagonists.

[whirlybirdwhat]

Prompt: ASL give Dadan a father's day card. (She threatens to kill them but she keeps the card)

hehehehe this is late BUT HERE WE GOOOOOO

bear hag tiger bandit dad mom

read on ao3 here

“Hey guys.” Ace started out of nowhere, as he and his brothers laid down, staring at the sky from their usual cliffside spot. “What even… is Dadan.”

A beat of quiet.

“A hag!” Luffy said delightedly, giggling as he rolled over to stare at Ace. “An ugly one! Or even a bear! Oh she’s a bear-hag! A bear-hag-tiger-bandit!” He then gasped dramatically, stars in his eyes. “DO YOU THINK SHE CAN HAVE CLAWS! AND FANGS!”

“No! Idiot!” Sabo thumped Luffy on the head without even moving from his position on his back. “Dadan isn’t a bear. Or a tiger. She is a hag though.” He nodded, as if he had made an excellent, proper point.

Ace groaned at his brothers. “No! I mean what even is she to like… us. Not anybody else.”

“What do you mean?” Sabo rolled over as well to look at Ace, who was staunchly refusing to look at anyone else and whose face was turning a brilliant shade of red.

“I mean… like she kinda watches over us right? Does that make her kinda like a parent?”

Sabo cocked his head to the side, thinking. “I mean… maybe? She does give us food and medicine sometimes.”

“NO! THAT’S NOT DADAN! THAT’S –“ Luffy was quickly cut off by a hit to the head from Sabo.

“The Mystery Doctor isn’t real, Luffy, its just Dadan in a shitty mustache.”

Luffy looked to the side disgruntled. “Hmph.”

“GUYS! Focus!” Ace finally rolled over to face his brothers, so now they were finally all looking at each other. “What is Dadan? A Parent? A Mom?”

“I never had a mom before! Or a dad! Is Dadan a dad? Or a mom?” Luffy chattered, jumping on the possibility.

“Neither have I. That’s why I’m wondering.” Ace ignored the latter half of Luffy’s comment. Sometimes it was better to allow him to ramble than to try to make sense of it all. “Sabo you had parents right? What were they like?”

“Shitty.”

“Well, duh. No shit. What else?” Ace prompted, Luffy finally having quieted about Dadan being a tiger-bear-dad-mom beside him, and both staring attentively at Sabo.

(Because, well. They were children who never really had a home beside each other. Dadan was the closest thing Ace ever got, Luffy never had more than spare moments when the bar wasn’t busy, and both never knew anyone that could have been called dad, or mom, or anything of the sort – no one who stayed that is.

Ace hated his dad, and loved his mom (and hated himself, for all that he did,) and Luffy simply didn’t think he had any parents to feel anything about.

Still, Ace wondered, and things that his brothers wondered about, Luffy wondered about.)

Sabo placed his hand on his chin as if to think better. “Well. If we’re figuring out what Dadan was closest to, my mom was kind of like… Eh. She just cared about appearances and looking pretty and shit like that.”

Luffy and Ace nodded as one. “That’s not Dadan.” Dadan might wear make-up and beads, but she was a mountain bandit who was never really seen by people other than her clan or her victims. She didn’t really care about stuff like that. Even if she did get pissed when they stole the lipstick she kept hidden in her back closet for war paint.

“And she cared about other kids more than me, and didn’t really bother me until I did something she or someone else didn’t like.”

“Definitely not Dadan.” Luffy and Ace nodded again. Dadan didn’t have any other kids and yelled at them all the time. (Though, that may be because they never did anything they were supposed to do. What did she expect? Chores were boring! )

“What about your dad? What was he like?” Ace prompted, tossing out the idea of ‘mom.’

“Shitty. He always yelled at me and called me names. He was mean about it though. Dadan just looks like she’s about to cry.” Sabo finished, still thinking hard. “I mean… my parents aren’t what everyone else says parents are like though? At least for the kids in Edge Town.”

“Yeah… dads are supposed to protect you right? And be big and strong? And leaders?” Ace questioned, bitterness tracing into his voice.

“And moms are suppose to like take care of you and bring you stuff! Like the Mystery Doc-“

“THAT’S JUST DADAN!” Both Ace and Sabo this time hit Luffy’s head, cutting him off.

“She just comes to check on us, then trips up all our traps! It’s not a Mystery Doctor! Just! Dadan!” Ace spit out.

Luffy whined as the three of them quieted, thinking over everything that they had just said.

Then, Sabo spoke the words that would seal Dadan’s fate.

“If Dadan is kind of like a dad…” She protected them, or tried to in her own way, and was the leader of the Dadan bandits. “And kind of like a mom…” She was the Mystery Doctor, as Luffy called it, and checked up on them while cursing them out in all sorts of nasty ways. “Then… is she a mom and a dad? Is that how that works?”

“Well. We only have one of her. She can be both.” Ace decided. Jungle life left no room for society to state who could or could not be what and… well…

Besides. Maybe mom’s were the protectors sometimes and the leaders, and maybe dads were the caretakers. Ace was pretty sure that could happen. Did happen. Roles were stupid anyway. Just do whatever the fuck you wanted. That’s how Ace and his brothers lived, anyway, how everyone should live.

But…

“Why were you really asking Ace?”

Sabo knew him too well.

“Some of the kids in Edgetown were talking about how they were getting their dads’ shit for Father’s Day or something.”

And Ace wanted to know if he should be making something for anyone (or just wallow in the hatred he had for his dad.)

If he had anyone to make something for.

Luffy doesn’t even question why Ace was lurking around Edgetown kids without them, and sits up with stars in his eyes.

“WE NEED TO MAKE A CARD FOR –“

“SHUT UP!!”  Twin fist slammed into a rubber head as Ace and Sabo cut Luffy’s idea off.

“HEY!”

Or maybe…

“Maybe he has a point.” Sabo hummed, thoughtfully, as they had all settled into the ground.

“What?”

“Maybe we should make a card for Dadan.” Sabo rolled out of the way of Ace’s fist. “No! Think about it! We get to tell her thank you for all the shit she tries to do for us and maybe she’ll stop yelling at us so often!”

Luffy and Ace looked at him as if he were an idiot.

Sabo felt vaguely insulted.

“It’d be super funny to see her face when we give it to her too.”

Luffy and Ace looked at him as if he were a genius.

Now, there was only one question left.

“How the fuck do you make a card anyway?”

-

Dadan woke up peacefully that morning, which was an immediate cause for her to reach for her knife under the bed and spring into action.

She never woke up peacefully anymore. Not since those three brats had taken to crashing the hut in the morning. Either something was wrong, or those brats were playing with her.

She was going to get more gray hairs than Garp at this rate.

Fuck.

Quickly, she scanned her room for any oddities, any thing that would tip her off to whatever the fuck was going on this morning.

Dresser. Mirror. Weapons. Window. Card. Window. Wall. Wea- Wait.

Card?

Dadan stepped closer to the piece of folder thick paper, lying on her dresser, and peered at it closely.

Hapy Father’s Day! It read, in the misspelt handwriting of a child who had previously learned to write well then gave up. It was in black ink, fancy looking, with a smear along the exclamation point and drifting off into the side.

Around it was jungle trees in crayon and something that might have passed as Dadan, if not for the lack of face, and the only visual characteristics being orange curls and red beads and sharp teeth and a angry look.

Curious.

Wait.

SHE WAS A WOMAN!

Damn BRATS!

She ignored the tears at the edge of her eyes and opened the card, knife set to the side.

Dear Dadan, the same handwriting as the front said, this time in dark blue, thickly pressed crayon. Hapy Father’s day. Thank you for taking care of us. Beside the note was a scribbled jolly roger, an S surrounded by crossbones as its signature. Besides that was another scribbly orange blob, this time marginally closer to looking like a person.

Beneath that, on the same page, was careful red print, again in crayon. The words were spaced out, as were the letters, as if the writer didn’t particularly know how many letters were in the word and was waiting for someone to tell them. It read Shitty Old Hag. Thank you for taking care of me. You are stupid but you are strong sometimes. Happy Fathers Day. – Ace

Besides that was some suspicious wet spots, hastily wiped away.  Dadan dabbed her own eyes as to not add to them.

Ace’s artistry skills were slightly better than Sabo’s at least. His version of her was most definitely a person, apparently sitting atop of a bear. She laughed at that, a little.

Her eyes skimmed to the next page, where a monstrosity of black and orange was red was scribbled out. She was vaguely sure it was human. Vaguely. It might have been a bear.

The yellow crayon writing had been outlined in careful strokes by someone clearly not the original writer. DADAN, it seemed to screech, YOU ARE THE BEST BEAR HAG TIGER BANDIT MOM DAD. MOUNTAIN BANDITS SUCK BUT YOUR COOL. – FUTUR KING OF THE PIRATES

Then, on the opposite side of the drawing, in bright orange, LUFFY.

These stupid, stupid kids.

Dadan wasn’t crying. She wasn’t.

Oh how she loved these kids.

She turned the card around one last time, to the message on the back.

This handwriting, graceful and in black ink, was one she recognized. Makino.

Dear Dadan,

I hope this gift doesn’t insult you too bad, the boys were so excited to do it that I just had to help them with supplies! They really do love you, even if they don’t quite grasp the difference between mom and dad. They told me they just decided you could be both. Isn’t that great?

Thank you for being there for our boys Dadan! Happy Father’s Day.

-Makino

Okay. Maybe Dadan was crying right now.

Oh, she hated the fact that she loved these boys.

“Shishishi!”

“Luffy! Shut up!”

THUNK!

Oh, she was going to kill them.

Dadan turned to the window where a top hat, a straw hat, and a quite obvious head of black hair was peeking out over the window sill.

“BOYS!” She raged, setting the card down with care before running to the window.

“RUN!” Came the terrified call, followed by laughter and joy as three boys sprinted away into the woods.

Dadan debated following them, before deciding she would rather they not see her teary-eyed face.

Ah.

She might not be the best parent, but she did alright at least. Enough to get a card on a holiday.

Dadan loved her boys.

She really did.

[bnhayyy]

... :/

This is one of the genuine qualms I have with One Piece. I heard that Oda tends to draw villains as ugly, ridiculous, and/or gonkish to give a visible indicator that they’re bad guys - especially the women. Contrastingly, most, if not all, of the heroic female characters are beautiful. If a woman is overweight, she’s a villain. Likewise, if a woman is overweight, she’s ugly. And if she has any confidence in her appearance, it’s a joke.

Feelings shared below, but be warned, it gets kinda personal.

I myself am an overweight woman who struggles a lot with self-esteem issues. I’m fairly strong physically. I can’t run very fast for very long, but do have very high stamina and endurance. If I just stick to a simple workout routine, I build muscle quickly and easily. My daily walks alone have given me fantastic legs. And I still have trouble seeing myself as anything other than a horrible, hideous, amorphous blob. I don’t think fat people should be seen that way, but myself? Horrible. Ugly. Disgusting. I’m constantly scared that people see my as slovenly or someone who doesn’t make an effort or is definitely gluttonous and greedy.

On the flip side, if I’m nice, I can avoid that a little. I can be funny and unassuming, that’s fine. Fat people can be comic relief. But god forbid I be confident and commanding. I get told that it’s fine if I’m not in a relationship, not everyone needs romantic relationships to be happy - but no one ever seems to address the possibility that I might want a relationship, but be too scared and ashamed of myself to pursue one. And in all honesty? I do. But if I notice someone flirting with me, I back away more often than not, because I can’t swallow the fear that they’re gearing up for a prank or I’ll be shot down if I make a move. Because I’m ugly. 

Hell, I only just recently started wearing nice clothes out in public. For years I felt like I wasn’t supposed to. Like it wasn’t allowed. With what I do wear, I only let myself wear something semi-tight around my legs. (And not even all the time, even though I know my legs are nice). Tops have to be flowy. Have the time I seriously consider wearing or try to wear a short-sleeved top, I have a nervous breakdown. I get caught up in my own mind and keep hearing people telling me that I’d be pretty if I “just lost some weight” or “ate a little less”. (Fun fact: I’m not actually a very big eater most of the time.) I think back to doctors who refused to seriously treat me or look into my problems because they assumed it was all weight-related. 

(I ended up spending all four years of highschool experiencing “phantom pains” that kept being dismissed as heartburn, nerves, or constipation, but turned out to be the result of a failing gall bladder. A PA at the ER figured it out after I went there with pain so severe that I had to get two shots of morphine to be able to doze off after being awake for 36 hours. By that point, my gallbladder had zero functionality and was chronically infected. Someone continuously suggested to me that my gallbladder failed because of my weight. We later found out that it was genetic - the same thing happened to my normal-weight grandmother at the same age. My bloodwork is perfectly fine where stuff pertaining to body weight is concerned.)

This isn’t me trying to cancel One Piece or say that the story must be bad. All authors (and artists) have their flaws. This is Oda’s. It is me saying that aside from my general (admittedly occasional hypocritical) disdain for certain shounen tropes, various preconceptions, and not being a big fan of the art style (even outside of this), this was one of the biggest reasons, if not the biggest, it took me so long to start One Piece even after I agreed to do it. The female character designs, especially where it concerns overweight or “ugly” women and their moral alignments. Societal perceptions of obesity are something that make a significant negative impact in the lives of overweight individuals, especially women. Seeing media reinforce these perceptions, especially a piece of media that you know is well loved by a lot of people?

I may be silly for it, but it hurts. It hurts a lot.

[nosleeppotions]

_ Echolocation_

(Forest Freaks)

[Janus has the ability to use Echolocation, despite this he's terrified of the dark meaning you can only really work with him during the daytime. The Hidden-Archivist simply nicknamed "Arch" needed his friend's(?) help as one of his contacts in this world was supposed meet up with him and Arch can't seem to find him on his own... also he wanted to see how Janus' ability works as the Forest Freaks tend to be avoidant.]

.

Janus glances back at the Archivist nervously, Arch motions for him to continue.

He nods and shakily takes off his gloves, stuffing them into his left coat pocket before slowly sinking to the forest floor and placing his hands down. He pauses for a moment, familiarizing himself with the vibrations and allowing dirt and moss between his fingers before shutting his eyes.

He whistles, the sound echoing sharply.

He frowns for a moment, before suddenly springing up and bolting forward.

He whistles again and the Archivist has to sprint just to not lose sight of the smaller man.

Eventually Janus slows down, allowing Arch to catch up. His eyes are still shut.

Janus clicks his tongue, moving forward more cautiously. The doctor does this a few more times before pausing and looked up, with a final click of his tongue he opens his eyes and cringes. "Uh... found your guy... I don't think he has a pulse but I could climb up... to be sure?"

Arch slowly follows Janus' gaze up into the trees and groans in annoyance, pulling at his enchanted blindfold in frustration with one hand and searching his pockets for a Death Breath (basically a cigarette of sorts) with the other. "Don't bother Nate, he's dead." "We... should at least take it down before it lures something unwanted..." Janus muttered, fiddling his fingers uneasily before fixing his glasses. Arch finds what he's looking for and takes a long draw before huffing a large cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, probably." He eventually agrees. He starts slightly before relaxing as a green blob wearing a hat comes to rest on his shoulder.

"Oh, there you are Slushy." Arch muses. Slushy chirps happily in greeting, the little Ghost had been disappearing off onto his own adventures a lot more often recently.

[elizabeethan]

Always By Your Side

Part 5/6 of It’s About Bloody Time (Season 3 Canon Divergent after Neverland). 

Catch up on Ao3 or tumblr!

Summary: “Not that,” she says, and she does roll her eyes this time. “I told them about what happened before. You know, when you left me pregnant in jail for your crime.” 

The tone she uses and the satisfaction she gets from his reaction is slightly sadistic, but when his jaw drops open and his eyes bug out, as if this is the most shocking news she could have ever told him, she can’t help but feel her pulse buzz with the sensation of sweet catharsis. 

“You did what?” he hisses.

A/N: One part to go!! The next one will likely be a bit shorter, and I'm sure you can guess what it'll consist of content wise! Thank you so much for reading, reblogging and commenting! Reading peoples' reactions is what keeps me going :) 

Anna had been brought over in the first curse. Apparently, she and her fiancé Kristoff were in the Enchanted Forest, or Misthaven, as she calls it, looking for information about her parents when the curse struck. When they didn’t return, Elsa froze her kingdom and searched for her sister for 29 years, which is apparently something that she can do.

When Elsa found Anna on a whim, working in the ice cream shop that Henry frequents, she jumped from where she was seated with Emma and Henry and nearly gave Emma a heart attack. As it turns out, Anna knew she needed help getting back home, but was too scared to ask anyone because she kept seeing the sheriffs with the Dark One and wasn’t sure where to turn. Whoops.

Now that all is well, Elsa, Anna, and Emma sit in Granny’s while Kristoff and David catch up and Henry sits at the counter with Hook. They’re considering how they might find their way back to Arendelle, but Emma can’t seem to focus on the conversation at hand.

She has been trying to muster up the courage to talk to Henry for weeks now. Killian rarely lets her forget that she’ll be starting to show very soon, constantly placing his warm hand over her 14-week, not-quite-there-yet baby bump. She wants to tell Henry, she really does, but something in her keeps stopping her. Archie says she fears that she will somehow damage their relationship, and she knows he must be right. He also agrees with Killian that this pregnancy is bringing up some unresolved trauma from her past. What a shock, she thinks.

Talking to Archie has been hard. She told him all about her past; about how she was pregnant and abandoned in prison for a crime she didn’t commit, about how she gave birth while chained to a hospital bed a couldn’t bear to look at her son. She cries a lot during their sessions together, and she knows it isn’t really pregnancy related (now that she’s officially reached her second trimester, her symptoms have been a lot less obnoxious). They’ve been working together for about a month now, and she still cries every time. But every time she starts to apologize, he stops her to thank her for letting him in and for allowing him to understand how she’s feeling. It’s weird, but she thinks she likes it. It’s... what’s the word he always uses? Validating.

“Hopefully I can get another portal working,” Elsa says, drawing Emma out of her thoughts.

Emma nods in response. Elsa finally found a clue of where her sister went when she found Princess Aurora back in the Enchanted Forest, who told her about the curse and that many people were trapped in another realm. “I’m sure you can.”

“Someone is distracted,” she says with a smirk sent Emma’s way, and she hears Anna laugh lightly in agreement.

“I don’t think she’s heard a single word we’ve said, Elsa.”

“I’m sorry,” she says in response. “You’re right, I am distracted. There’s a lot going on right now.”

Elsa nods and Anna smiles sweetly to her, taking a sip from her mug. It’s started to get really chilly out with Christmas just two weeks away, so Emma has successfully turned her new friends on to the wonder that is hot chocolate. “You still haven’t talked to your son, have you?”

Emma smiles softly, briefly, and shakes her head. She and Elsa have become fast friends since they met several weeks ago, and she finds that Elsa can read her almost as well as Killian can. “No,” she says. “I still don’t know how.”

“Well,” Elsa starts, reaching across the table and taking Emma’s hands in hers. “I suppose I don’t know much about your situation. I’ve never been pregnant, and I don’t have any children, but I am the daughter of parents who neglected to tell me the truth for much of my life. Trust me when I say it would have been better for me if they had told me the truth.”

Emma nods, shooting another glance at Henry. He’s laughing at something Killian said, and Killian’s eyes are lighting up as if he’s happier than he’s ever been. “You’re right. I know I have to tell him eventually. I can’t exactly keep hiding it.” As if on instinct, she removes one hand from Elsa’s and reaches it down to rest it against her miniscule bump concealed by a thick sweater.

Much later that night, she finds herself in bed with her pirate again, his hand running soothingly up and down along her the bare skin of her belly as she nestles her back against his front. He continues to press soft kisses against the back of her neck, his nose nuzzling behind her ear, drawing a breathy laugh from her every so often.

“You’re growing, love. Every day the little blob gets bigger and bigger, and soon I’ll finally be able to see him.”

“Or her,” she amends, hoping to keep an open mind. She corrects him pretty often when he mentions the baby being a boy, but in reality, she thinks it’s a boy, too.

“Aye,” he says, kissing her neck again. “Tuesday will be 15 weeks. The applications say you should be getting bigger now that you’re feeling better and the baby is growing more. She’ll be the size of a pear.”

“Apps,” she says with a laugh as she squeezes his hand. “You're cute. And I am getting bigger. I think I have a bump, it’s just hard to distinguish it from regular bloating.”

He hums. “You're rather slight to begin with, love. I believe soon you’ll start to show much more, if the apps are correct.”

“Slight?” she laughs.

“Slim, slender, small,” he says, trailing off and obviously attempting to not offend her.

“Mhmm,” she says. “I was small with Henry, too, but I was probably a bit malnourished.”

“Well, we won’t allow that, now will we, Swan? Perhaps I should go and get you some fruit? You may need it to revive yourself after all that vigorous lovemaking.”

She snorts, reaching behind her to pinch the skin of his hip.

“I would like some fruit, actually. And some Cheez-Its.”

“Sounds like a nice compromise, darling. I’ll be back shortly,” he says, standing and exposing his bare ass to her. She reaches for it quickly and pinches him again, drawing a yelp from him as he leaves the room.

She rolls over onto her back once he leaves, glancing down at her belly and stroking it in small, soft circles. He’s right, she is going to start getting bigger very soon, and it’ll become harder and harder to hide. With this knowledge, she’s faced with the truth: she’ll need to tell Henry, and soon.

~~~~

A week later, when she finally breaks down and realizes that she needs to buy new jeans, she accepts the fact that it’s time. Henry has to know, no matter how he may react. This should be one hell of a Christmas present for him.

She picks him up from Regina’s on Sunday morning, promising him breakfast and cocoa from Granny’s. The moment he hops into the car, she can tell that he’s in a good mood.

“Hey kid,” she says with a smile as he bounces into his seat.

“Hey mom!”

“You're in a good mood today,” she points out.

“Yeah, my mom and dad have been talking about Christmas. I might be getting two Christmases this year!”

“Oh,” she starts, startled by his exclamation as she pulls out of Regina’s driveway. “you mean with Regina and your dad? Because you can spend Christmas with me and your grandparents, too.”

“Really?” The excitement in his voice is more than evident. “Awesome! That’s three Christmases!”

“Yeah.” She smiles over at him, hopeful that his good mood will extend as they arrive at Granny’s. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some waffles, I’ve been craving them all week. And nothing is gonna keep me away from Granny’s hot chocolate now that I can finally drink it again.”

“What do you mean, again?”

Oops. She falters, then says, “nothing, come on.”

Once they're inside and seated, Ruby brings over a mug for Henry and gives Emma a look, as if asking if she wants any, and Emma nods.

“So,” she finally says, once they have full plates set in front of them. “We need to talk.”

He clears his throat around his too-big bite of waffle and looks up at her, his eyes wide. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “No, you're not in trouble, kid. Just… it’s just that things are changing around here, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“You mean like you dating Captain Hook?”

“Yeah,” she says tentatively. “Sort of like that; I guess this relates to that.”

“Okay… so what is it? Is this about my dad? I know you guys aren’t together, you know.”

“No, I know. It's not that either, Henry. It’s… I’m… Hook and I…” She inhales more deeply than she knew she could, reaching down to her mug and taking a long sip.

“Mom, whatever’s going on, it’s okay.”

She smiles up at him. Leave it up to her kid to be more mature than her. “Henry… you're going to be… you're going to be a big brother,” she finally spits out before immediately going back to her hot chocolate, her ability to look him in the eye failing her.

“Wait… you mean…?”

“I’m going to have a baby. In June.”

She still can’t look at him, still hides behind her mug, but when he speaks, she thinks she can hear a smile in his voice. “Really?”

When she finally finds it in herself to look up, she does see a smile gracing his face. “Yeah,” she says, matching his expression with her own.

“I’m gonna be a big brother,” he confirms.

“Yeah, you are, kid.”

He laughs now, standing up and walking around the table to sit on his knees next to her in the booth, wrapping her in a hug. “This is awesome!” he says into her ear, and she swears she feels tears stinging the back of her eyes, even though she thought she was past this particular symptom.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah! Of course! Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know yet,” she grins. “We can find out in a few weeks when I go to the doctor.” His face is still alight, and she’s in awe of his reaction. “Henry,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “Are you sure you're… alright with this?”

His draws his brows together, as she often does, and cocks his head to the side. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, because of…” she starts, looking down from his eyes again and reaching for her mug. “Because of what happened. Because of what I did—when I had you.” She’s surprised at herself for even getting the words out, and she thinks that Archie will be proud of her when she sees him on Wednesday.

“Mom, I thought we talked about this when you came to Storybrooke? I know why you did that.”

She nods, still in awe of his maturity. “I know, but I didn’t want you to think that I'm replacing you. This baby wasn’t planned or anything, but… well, we’re planning on keeping him or her. And I don’t want to make you feel…”

He takes her hand in his, and she finally finds it in herself to look up at him, to meet his eyes with hers, and she sees joy. “You gave me up to give me my best chance. You were in jail; you couldn’t have raised me. But now you're happy and you're in a good place. Don’t you know what that means?” She shakes her head, feeling more childish than her own child. “It means that you're this baby’s best chance now.”

She does feel tears burning her eyes now, the heat of them dripping down onto her cheeks at the sound of his words. “Henry,” she starts, choking on words before they can leave her tongue.

“I’m not a kid anymore, mom. I know that things have changed between now and when you had me.”

She lets out a breath, finding it hard not to laugh at the wise words coming from her son. “You are perceptive, aren’t you?”

“Well, my mom is a bail bondsperson, I guess it runs in the family.”

~~~~

Emma Swan was never very fond of Christmas. Normally viewed as a holiday spent with family, Christmas has been a dark mark on Emma’s past for as long as she could remember. Although she was in Storybrooke last year, she had only arrived a few weeks prior and the curse was not yet broken, so there wasn’t much celebration taking place. The obvious lack of decorations and Christmas spirit should have struck her as odd, but she didn’t think much of it at the time. Now, she realizes that no one who grew up in the Enchanted Forest celebrated the religious holiday. However, now that she’s here and her parents remember her, they are determined to give her a happy holiday season.

They plan to spend Christmas day together tomorrow, but for tonight, she and Killian will be spending Christmas Eve alone in his apartment, and they start by decorating a tree. Killian is determined to give her an authentic Christmas experience as well, and so far, he’s delivering.

He curses as he rounds the tree over and over, trying his hardest to string the lights properly as she stands off to the side and holds the strands for him. “Bloody hell,” he says as he gets stuck with another needle. “Wasn’t there an option for a non-living tree? That might not hurt quite as much.”

“This is my first real Christmas, Killian. I need to have a real tree.”

“The whole tree tradition seems silly to me,” he counters as he pokes his head out from behind again, the lights finally reaching the top.

“That’s because you keep getting poked.”

“Aye, well, perhaps the task would be easier for someone with two hands.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft laugh. “Come on, I have never heard you use that as an excuse, don’t start now.”

He rolls his eyes too, smirking over at her as he takes a box of red and blue ornaments from her, balancing it on his left arm and hanging them with his right. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s compensating for his missing hand.

Once the tree is filled with colorful balls and lit with twinkling white lights, they make their way to the kitchen to work on making cookies, and it takes everything in Emma not to eat the dough each time she breaks a piece off. She elected to buy both the kinds decorated with reindeer and with Santa, figuring the more the merrier.

“These are horrible for you, Swan. The amount of sugar…”

“They're sugar cookies!”

“There’s absolutely no nutritional value. Perhaps we shouldn’t have bought two packages.”

She rolls her eyes again as she opens the hot oven and places the tray inside, trading it for a batch of freshly baked treats. The smells wafts over her nose and fills his kitchen, making her mouth water.

“Please, I plan on eating so many of these that I give birth to a gingerbread baby,” she deadpans to him, pulling a cookie from the parchment and tossing it from one hand to another in hopes of cooling it down before hoisting herself onto the counter.

“That makes no sense, love. You just told me these are sugar cookies, why would you have gingerbread?”

“It’s a children’s book,” she says, grinning to him as she finally takes a bite, saying a quick goodbye to poor Rudolph.

He chuckles, rounding the corning so that he was standing between her knees and placing a hand against her waist. “Perhaps the little love will enjoy that story.”

She giggles—actually giggles—as she presses a soft kiss to his lips. God, she is so gone for him, it’s scary. “Perhaps.”

With his hand running up and down along her waist, finally landing on her ass, he pulls her to the edge of the counter so that she can feel the heat of him against her center through her leggings.

“We don’t have time to do this before the movie comes on,” she reminds him as his soft lips trail along the length of her neck.

“Hmm,” he hums, “perhaps not, but I think it may be worth it.”

She groans when he nips at her ear lobe, then traces the line of her pulse with his tongue. “After.”

He backs away slightly, letting out a sigh and pecking her on the tip of her nose. “As you wish, darling, but I hope you're prepared for what’s to come after this wonderful movie.”

“It’s called It’s a Wonderful Life, you don’t have to be sarcastic,” she says with a laugh, taking his hand and hopping off of the counter. He heads over to the couch and fetches her favorite throw blanket while she takes the last tray of cookies from the oven, then places the cooler ones on a plate and carries them to the couch.

“Sorry, love, I don’t want you to think I’m not happy to be here doing this with you. I’m honored that you wanted to celebrate with me.”

“Well,” she starts, plopping down next to him as he wraps the blanket around her tightly. “You are my baby daddy. I suppose there isn’t anyone else available who I’d rather spend my evening with.”

“Ah, so I’m the best available option, is that it?” he asks with a laugh, squeezing her tightly in his arms and pressing a firm and lingering kiss to her temple.

“Yes, well, my son is with his mother.”

“I’m only teasing, darling. I am truly glad to have you here this evening. And evidently, this film is a classic, or so my baby mama will have me believe.”

She turns her head, unable to move much in the security of his arms and draws her brows tightly together. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

“Our dear friend, Ruby,” he says as the commercial ends and the movie starts. “She asked me this morning how my baby mama was feeling today.”

“I never told her,” she mumbles.

“According to her, she’s very perceptive, and you're horrible at hiding it.”

“Shit.”

“The little peach will be able to hear us soon, Swan, if they can’t already; we may need to find new vocabulary.”

She scoffs, unsure of her ability to not swear, especially during labor and delivery, and turns her focus back onto the movie.

Killian seems to like it, and Emma assumes that it’s slightly easier for him to watch because of the lack of twenty-first century technology getting in his way. She’s always had a soft spot for the film, perhaps because she always hoped to find her family. She knew that she wouldn’t take advantage of it like George Bailey did.

He runs his hand up and down her arm when she cries at the end, kissing her temple and her ear. “That was sweet,” he says as the credits begin to roll.

“It was always my favorite. They based Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street on those characters, you know.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he whispers against her hair, and she feels another kiss against the crown of her head.

“You will in a year or two, trust me.” He chuckles and she turns in his arms so that she’s facing him. “I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Swan,” he argues, but she’s standing anyway, struggling slightly with her hips and back aching after sitting for so long. She heads for his coat closet and returns with a few wrapped rectangles, thrusting them towards him as she plops back down.

He looks to her before peeling the tape away from one of them, unwrapping them carefully and not even tearing the paper. It threatens to drive her insane, but it’s so painfully Killian.

When he finally removes the festive paper, he smiles at the sight of the book’s cover art. “Peter Pan, why the bloody hell would I want to read this,” he says jokingly through a laugh, hugging her into his side and kissing her cheek.

“It’s more of a gag gift, I thought you might want to learn about this world’s depiction of you. The others are probably going to be more enjoyable.” He opens the other two, revealing Treasure Island and Robinson Crusoe. “They're pirate books,” she explains. “There are movies you might like, too, but I thought you’d want to start with the books.”

“Aye, love, I’d love to. I look forward to reading them.” He kisses her softly, his tongue slipping along her bottom lip. “Thank you, love,” he nearly whispers, his voice rough and deep.

“It’s nothing,” she breathes out, overwhelmed by the gravel in his voice.

“It was a wonderful gesture,” he kisses her once more. “I got you something as well.”

She shakes her head, but he catches her jaw in his hand and kisses her again before standing and making his way to his bedroom. He returns quickly with a giftbag stuffed with tissue paper.

“Did you have help wrapping this?” she grins.

“Aye, Granny gave me a hand.”

She laughs at the picture in her head and takes the bag as he hands it to her. She removes some of the tissue and pulls out a maroon leather jacket, drawing a grin along her face. “I don’t have one in this color,” she points out, looking up at him and cocking her head to the side.

“There’s more in the bag, love.”

She looks down again, her attention being brought back to the gift bag as she digs her hand in deeper and feels more leather near the bottom. She pulls gently, expecting it to come out with more difficulty than it does. When she removes the item, she realizes it’s because she wasn’t tugging on a leather jacket made for a fully-grown woman.

What she pulls out of the bag instead is a tiny leather jacket, the same color as the one that was just gifted to her. A matching leather jacket for a matching tiny human.

“Killian,” she says, her grin somehow growing and her cheeks burning. “This is… this is so adorable.” She’s laughing as she holds the jacket up again, then she stands and holds it up against her tiny bump. “It’s perfect, look!”

He’s laughing now too, standing with her and placing his hand on her belly. “I’m glad you like it, love.”

“I do, I love it,” she says, nodding and looking up at him. Without thinking, she places the jacket back down on the couch and reaches her arms around his neck to link her hands in his hair, pulling him down to her for a soft kiss that eventually turns heated when his tongue runs along hers.

Before she knows it, her legs are around his waist and he’s carrying her out of the living room and down the hall before gently laying her down on his king-sized bed. It was certainly an improvement from his small bunk on the Jolly Roger, and if she thought she was sleeping well there, she had a new thing coming when she started sleeping here.

He trails his lips along her body, lifting her to remove her festive sweater and kiss along the cleavage peeking out of her bra. She lifts again, undoing the hooks for him and releasing her breasts for him to ravage before he trails his lips and teeth and tongue down to her belly, pressing soft and loving kisses along the slight swell of skin before reaching to remove her leggings.

His tongue dances along her clit for several moments before he adds two fingers, drawing her to her peak quickly as he sucks and nips at her sensitive skin. She tugs on his hair, begging him to meet her lips with his before he’s pulling his clothes off and sinking into her tenderly. His thrusts are gentle yet precise, and she’s nearly driven mad at the feel of his scruffy face dragging along the sensitive skin of her neck. He continues to drive into her, reaching his hand down to where they're joined to rub quick circles against her aching clit, drawing moans and screams from her parted lips as she finally flutters and clenches around his throbbing cock.

It’s as he finishes, his face buried into her neck just below her ear, his hand squeezing hers above her head as her other scratches marks into his back, that she hears it. His lips press against her neck as he lets out moans and words of encouragement before she hears him whisper, “I love you,” into her sensitive skin.

She’s in a post-coital daze, but she knows she doesn’t imagine it. She knows she heard it without a doubt in her mind, and although her breath catches and her body tenses, her heart still beating rapidly, she doesn’t pull away from him. She doesn’t try to run.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and she knows that he didn’t mean to let it slip. “I’m—” he starts, but he doesn’t seem to have anything to say.

“Killian,” she whispers, running her hands along his back and through his hair. “It’s alright.”

“I didn’t, uh,” he starts, perhaps suddenly realizing that he’s still inside her as he presses his body up from hers and reaches for the box of tissues by the bed. “I didn’t exactly mean to let that out just then.”

“I figured,” she says with a smile, accepting the tissue he hands her and cleaning herself up.

“It wasn’t exactly… how I’d planned to tell you. But… Emma, you must know that I meant it.”

Now she panics slightly, a bit surprised at herself for only becoming scared once she receives confirmation that this is, in fact, how he feels. “You did?”

“Aye, very much so. I realize that you may not be ready to say it back, which is why I wasn’t going to say it any time soon, but…” he trails off, still struggling to make eye contact with her, which she doesn’t mind. He takes the tissues from her and tosses them into the bin before taking a seat next to her. “I don’t expect you to say it back. But I need you to know that I meant it. And it’s not just because of the babe. He’s certainly helped to… solidify things… but how I feel is independent of this little bugger.”

She considers this. Considers saying something in response. It would be the emotionally mature thing to do, and she’s certainly been working on her emotional maturity lately. But she has no idea what to say, and now she’s starting to think about how she truly feels about him. About how he truly feels about her. Now, she’s starting to worry that she may love him too.

Is worry the right word?

Before she can say anything, she feels a soft flutter in her stomach, as if she’s the host to a flock butterflies and they're trying to take off. She immediately lets her eyes bug out, reaching down to her belly and pressing softly into it in hopes that she’ll feel more. “Killian,” she says, pulling on his hand and placing it under hers. It’s silly, she knows; he can’t feel anything yet. But she wants him to be a part of this. “I felt him.”

“He moved?” he asks with a smile thick in his voice.

“He was fluttering just a second ago,” she responds, grinning as she looks at him with tears in her eyes. “You won’t be able to feel it yet, but…”

“Aye,” he whispers, finally meeting her eyes with his glassy ones. He leans in to press another kiss to her lips before leaning down and kissing her belly. He whispers, “nice to hear from you, little one,” before kissing her skin again.

She laughs through her tears and squeezes his hand as it rests against their growing baby. She can’t bring herself to say anything to him yet. They haven’t even been together for very long, only about four months. Is that even enough time for someone to fall in love with someone else? With her?

She thinks of what Archie would say when she starts to doubt herself and whether she’s deserving of the love of another, using the skills he’s been teaching her to challenge her negative thoughts, then focuses back on her child and its father. Whether or not she thinks of herself as deserving of his love, or capable of loving him back, she sleeps soundly with the knowledge that she and Killian are both madly in love with the life they’ve created together.

~~~~

Emma Swan has never fully been able to relate to the term “like a kid on Christmas morning,” until she woke up on Christmas morning to Killian Jones with his head between her legs. That comparison may be slightly disturbed, but the feeling she’s experiencing now must be on par with how a child feels when they wake up to their dreams coming true.

He was determined to make this holiday season a good one for her, and so far, he’s off to a great start.

Her hips start to jolt upwards, and he reaches his hand up and places it gently on her belly to still her before he laces his fingers with hers. He continues to draw thick strips between her folds, the sounds coming from him absolutely sinister and drawing loud moans from her lips. His tongue zips from side to side over her clit before he starts sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop, making her hips jump again.

Eventually, she drags their hands downward so that she can let go and lace her fingers through his hair once his own reach her opening and press inside. He doesn’t bother to tease her open with just one, seemingly able to read that she’s more than ready to take two of his thick fingers. He may regret letting go of her hips as she moves them with ferocity against his face and fingers, but it doesn’t seem like he minds as she feels the low buzz of his moans.  

He makes her come so hard that, once she feels herself becoming lucid again, she starts laughing. It’s a soft chuckle at first, but then it morphs into uncontrollable hysterics until her eyes are watering and her face is red and hot. He starts laughing too, wiping his mouth and scooting himself up to her level to lie down and comb through the ends of her messy hair with his fingers.

“What’s funny, love?”

“I don’t know,” she laughs again. “I guess I was just thinking about what a nice Christmas present that was.” She’s laughed so hard now that she begins to cough, and he reaches towards the side of the bed and hands her a bottle of water.

“Glad you enjoyed,” he says with a smirk and a kiss to the tip of her nose as she hums out another laugh.

“I’m nervous,” she finally says once she’s settled down, sinking back into the thick comforter and into the warmth of his arms.

“For dinner? I thought things were better with your family now that you’ve spoken to your parents?”

She hums, nodding into his shoulder and turning onto her side, slotting her leg over his hips to hold onto him like a koala. “They are, but my mom invited Neal and Regina, plus Granny and Ruby. I get why—she wanted to make it feel like a true family dinner for Henry. But I still don’t really want to face Neal.”

He sighs, his blunted arm running gently along her bare back and his fingers tracing patterns into the back of her hand, and says, “you can still be upset, love. I’m not particularly fond of the idea myself, but you're right. It is a good idea for Henry’s sake.”

“You're always thinking about him,” she sighs, kissing his neck where she can reach it.

“Only because I’m always thinking about you.”

“Cheese,” she says, pinching the skin on his side, just above a rather nasty-looking scar.

Once they're showered and dressed festively, they head over to Mary Margaret and David’s loft for dinner. She never did understand the concept of calling it dinner, since they arrived at noon and they’ll likely eat at one-thirty, but she lets it slide. She’s realizing that there are a lot of things about Christmas that she doesn’t understand, but she’s trying to roll with it.

The loft is decorated to the nines, covered from floor to ceiling in red and gold. The tree is sitting in the corner by the stairs, and it’s so tall that it almost reaches the second level, and Emma wonders how on earth they got it up the stairs and through the door. It looks beautiful, as if it should be featured in a magazine that she sees at the dentist office.

Mary Margaret, dressed in a red and gold sweater and black skirt and covered with an apron that makes her look like an elf, rushes over to the door when they arrive and embraces the two of them in a warm hug. “I’m so happy to see you both!” she exclaims excitedly into Emma’s hair. She returns her hug with one arm, smiling despite herself.

“Me too,” Emma responds truthfully with a small squeeze.

“Killian, you look positively dashing in red,” she says to him, taking in his royal red vest and making his cheeks turn pink. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him wear it, and when she found it in the closet and insisted that he put it on, he cringed and groaned and argued. But when he pulled it over his black button down, she grinned in a way that must have broken him down. “And look at you, Emma! You look so beautiful in emerald.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, pulling away and brushing down the front of her figure-hugging cowlneck dress and making her way towards the stool at the counter. “Where’s David?”

“Oh, he forgot to get the champagne yesterday, so I sent him out for it. I also asked him to get some sparkling cider for you, Emma, so you can be part of the toast.”

She laughs lightly, feeling Killian’s arm resting along the top of her shoulders and his body sliding to her left. “Thanks.”

Her father comes home, giving her a tight hug and shaking Killian’s hand before wishing them both a Merry Christmas. When Henry finally arrives with Regina, she grins at the outfit she has him in. He’s wearing a black three-piece suit with an emerald tie that perfectly matches Emma’s sweater dress, and she couldn’t have planned something better. “Hey kid,” she says, reaching out to him for a tight hug.

“Hi mom,” he says into her shoulder. “Merry Christmas.”

They separate a bit, and she takes his face in her hands and looks at him lovingly before reaching up to gently feel his gel-cast hair and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He looks like a tiny gentleman and her hormonal heart can’t handle it. “You look so handsome, Henry.”

He puts his arms out at his side and spins. “Thanks. Do you like my new suit? My dad helped pick it out.”

Ugh, she thinks, before shoving the thought to the back of her mind for the sake of her son. “He did great.”

“And look, the tie matches you!”

She nods back at him with a grin before kissing his forehead once more and releasing him, determined not to press her luck with the amount of affection he allows her to show. He is nearly a pre-teen, after all.

Plus, soon enough, she’ll have another kid to dote over.

She grins at that thought.

Ruby and Granny arrive soon after, both giving her a hug. Granny surprisingly hugs Killian first, although he doesn’t seem that taken aback by the gesture, then comes to Emma and runs a hand over her belly briefly and shooting her a sweet smile. It’s as if the world has shifted on its axis.

Regina walks over to her, much to her continued surprise, and wishes her a Merry Christmas. She thanks Emma for letting Henry spend the night at her house, telling her that he had a great time eating sweets and watching Elf, and that he was very excited to come down the stairs to presents under the tree this morning. “Well, I suppose that congratulations are in order,” she says somewhat awkwardly, finally making eye contact with Killian before turning back to Emma and glancing down for a moment.

“Oh,” Emma says in surprise. “You heard.”

“Henry told me.” Emma almost makes a snarky comment about being surprised that Neal didn’t spill the beans. “You should know that he’s veryexcited.”

Emma smiles and Killian squeezes her knee as if to say I told you so, Swan. “He is?”

“Oh, yes. He thinks that he’s going to have a baby sister.”

Emma feels a grin splitting her face at that, and suddenly feels overwhelmed by the image of Henry holding a tiny pink bundle, leaning down to kiss her nose, talking to her about magic and curses and fairy tales. “Thank you,” she says after a moment. “That’s… very comforting.”

“Yes, well…” Regina trails off, stiffening again and pursing her red-stained lips. “Best wishes to you both.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Killian says diplomatically.

When Neal arrives, Emma wishes she could indulge in some champagne like the rest of the adults in the room.

Watching him with Henry is reassuring, at least. He’s proven himself to be a fairly devoted father, now that he’s in his son’s life, and she knows that she can’t hold their past over his head forever. She also knows that she isn’t ready to fully forgive him yet, but she can put their history to the side for the sake of their son… today.

At least, that’s what she had hoped, until he came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder, making her flinch. “Hey, Ems,” he says, miraculously able to read her body language and removing his hand.

“Hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, thanks. You too.” She glances down at her flute of cider, wishing again that she could magically turn it into champagne to take some of the edge off.

“You look great.” She sighs, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and instead doesn’t give him a response. “Emma, look. Since the pirate seems to finally be out of earshot, I wanted to come over and talk to you.”

She feels the heat of anger burning through her veins, her eye twitching and her fingers clenching firmly on her glass at his judgmental remark. “You're not off to a great start,” she says stiffly.

“Sorry, that was rude, I guess. What I meant was, I wanted to talk to you privately.”

“Okay,” she says tentatively. “What is it?”

He takes in a breath and lets it out roughly, taking a seat in the empty stool to her right. “I wanted to apologize. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I realized how stupid and selfish I was of me to go to you like I did. And for me to assume that the baby was mine. Like, that was really stupid.”

“Yeah, it was,” she agrees, not feeling like sugarcoating it. He’s right, it was stupid and selfish. Like, extremely stupid.

He laughs lightly, which only serves to piss her off more, and continues. “I guess I just got really jealous. I thought you and I could have worked out eventually, and he said he’s back off. I mean, we have a kid together,” he says with a laugh.

“Right, we do, and that’s great. But now I’m having a kid with someone else and you and I are over. We’ve been over for twelve years.”

“Yeah. I know that now. I'm sorry, Ems.”

She nods, still struggling to look him in the eye. It’s not exactly what she wanted to hear from him, but she supposes it’s a start. “I appreciate your apology, Neal, but I’m still gonna need some time. I can’t just forget about everything overnight.”

“I know, I know. Take your time. Just know that I’m here for you and Henry for whatever either of you need.”

She wants to roll her eyes. What could she possibly need from him? Henry, sure. She’s glad that he wants to be there for him. But her? He’s just being pompous. He’s probably expecting Killian to walk out on her the same way he did.

“Hey, are your parents okay? They seem kind of off today.”

She almost smiles, but fights it back, not wanting to be petty on Christmas. “They seem fine to me.”

“Well, I don’t know why it would just be me.”

Screw it, she thinks. “Maybe it’s because I told them about what happened between us.”

“Well, your mom knows I thought the baby was mine.”

“Not that,” she says, and she does roll her eyes this time. The idea that he genuinely thought that this baby could have been his still astounds her, the idiot. “I told them about what happened before. You know, when you left me pregnant in jail for your crime.”

The tone she uses and the satisfaction she gets from his reaction is slightly sadistic, but when his jaw drops open and his eyes bug out, as if this is the most shocking news she could have ever told him, she can’t help but feel her pulse buzz with the sensation of sweet catharsis.

“You did what?” he hisses.

“Oh, I told them what happened.”

“Why? You know I didn’t have a choice!”

She hums, still looking down at her hands and trying hard to fight the smile. “If you didn’t have a choice, then there shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“You're still making me look bad to my kid’s grandparents,” he spits out in a low tone.

“Oh, I’m making you look bad?” He’s triggered something in her now, making her whip her head in his direction and raise her voice just a touch too high. “It’s just like I said. If you didn’t have a choice, then your conscience should be clear. Doesn’t that mean you did nothing wrong?”

Before he has a chance to respond, Mary Margaret calls everyone to the table. She certainly would have continued to argue with him, but she keeps the spirit of Christmas alive in her mind.

Unlike the last time the entire family was sat around this table, her assigned seat is next to Killian’s. She also has Henry on her right, so she thinks she couldn’t be more pleased with the arrangement until Neal takes his seat across from her. It’s alright, though, she’s focusing on a positive attitude today, for the sake of their son.

“Before we begin,” David says, standing up once everyone has found their seats. “I wanted to propose a toast. Firstly, to Henry, for spending his first Christmas with his family, sans curse. The same could be said for Emma as well,” he lifts his glass and everyone at the table does the same, murmuring in agreement and passing around smiles. “I also wanted to say a thank you to my lovely wife, Snow, for graciously hosting this dinner for our family.” More murmurs and raised glasses. “And I believe she has something to say here as well?”

Mary Margaret stands now, holding her glass but not raising it quite yet, and each person at the table turns to face her. “Thank you, honey. I wanted to say a few words to Emma and Killian.” In surprise, Emma purses her lips and cocks up an eyebrow. “As I believe everyone here is aware, the two of them are expecting a baby in the middle of June.” She sees Ruby and Granny smirking at her from across the table. “When I first heard the news, I was surprised, and I didn’t handle it very well.” Mary Margaret is looking squarely at the two of them, and Emma thinks she can see her eyes glassing over as she speaks. “I wanted to say, to my daughter, I feel so much joy when I think about you having another child. I’m so sorry that my response at first wasn’t anywhere near what it should have been, especially coming from your mother. Now that I’ve gotten over the shock, I hope to support you in any way that I can. I cannot wait to meet my grandbaby and to see you as a mother again.” Emma’s eyes sting now as she smiles up at her.

“And to Hook…” she swallows, clearing her throat before continuing. “To Killian, thank you. I can see clearly now the way that you treat our daughter—like the princess that she is.” She chuckles a bit before continuing. “This pregnancy may not have been planned in the slightest, but the amount of love and respect you have for Emma is palpable each time I see the two of you together.” She smiles at each of them before going on. “I also wanted to apologize to him. David and I were not exactly accepting of him when we first heard the news, myself especially. But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that everyone deserves a second chance. And if there’s one person I know who has proven himself deserving of a second chance, it’s you. If the way that you treat my daughter is any indication, you will be a wonderful father.” She’s looking directly at him when she raises her glass, adorning him with a soft grin as a tear slips from her eye. Emma squeezes his knee this time, feeling the tears burning her eyes and heating up her cheeks as they fall.

“To Emma and Killian,” David takes over. “May their baby be healthy and happy, wanting for nothing.” Each person at the table brings their glasses to the center, clinking them together and giving her and Killian soft smiles. She doesn’t bother to look in Neal’s direction. “Now, let’s eat!”

~~~~

The weeks fly by, the new year coming and going, and before they know it, it’s the middle of January and Emma is twenty weeks pregnant. Killian was right when he said she would start to show soon—her belly has grown into a formidable bump, and the two of them can’t seem to stop themselves from touching it whenever they can.

She really needs him to stop touching it now, though, because she knows the ultrasound technician will be in any moment and she doesn’t want them to walk in on him tickling her like he is now.

Her symptoms have been relatively easy since starting the second trimester, the worst of them being the cramps she gets in her legs and her near debilitating heartburn. She remembers the heartburn from her pregnancy with Henry, but the muscle cramps are worse than she can recall. She’s been dealing with heartburn by eating small meals pretty frequently, and she finds herself to be hungry very frequently now that her horrible morning sickness is finally at bay. According to Killian's applications, she's gained a healthy amount of weight so far.

The anatomy scan is important and exciting, though they still haven’t decided if they want to know the sex. She’s looking forward to seeing the baby again and learning about its growth and development, hopeful that everything is going as it should. They’ve had many conversations back and forth, but they can’t seem to come to a conclusion on whether they should find out what, or who, she’s carrying.

They both sort of suspect that she’s having a boy, although they have absolutely no reasoning behind their thoughts. Henry is convinced that he’s going to have a baby sister, and she’s considering finding out just for him.

When the sonographer arrives, Killian sits back, finally moving to stop annoying her. She greets them happily, asks how things are going, and reaches for the cold gel before applying it to her bare bump. She scans the wand over her belly, showing them the baby’s face and body and organs as she notes things down and takes measurements. The process is a long one, and it seems to take hours of rubbing and pressing and Emma turning from side to side before she finally gets all of the information she needs.

“I can see the sex of your baby— very easily. This little one is not very shy! Are you two interested in knowing what you're having?”

They look at each other and she shrugs and smiles. She genuinely doesn’t know, and now that it’s time to come to a decision, she can’t see to make one.

“If you’re having trouble deciding, I can write it on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope.”

Killian laughs and squeezes her hand, looking back over to the screen at the baby’s round face and perfectly sloped nose. “I like that idea, love,” he says to her, and she nods.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Once they're home—or should she say, back at Killian’s place— she takes the yellow envelope from her pocket and places it on the kitchen table. Maybe they’ll have some elaborate announcement or maybe she’ll just rip the envelope open one day, unable to wait any longer. Whatever they decide, she knows it’ll be perfect.

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging: 

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @profdanglaisstuff @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook 

[heli0s-writes]

IV. The First Taste*

Summary: NSFW Chapter. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Since you kissed Steve Rogers in your classroom on that Thursday afternoon, you’ve kissed him again and again after each meeting. It’s been precisely two more lunch dates, one more dinner date, and one long walk in the park on his day off before he was suddenly called in for an emergency pastry situation. That’s five kisses. Five dates. Five moments you lie in bed and think about while trying desperately not to scream.

You scold yourself every time because a part of you is embarrassed that you’re so—thirsty! But good God, the man is a tall glass of water you want to drown in. It’s been two stupid years since you’ve kissed anyone, and when you’re in bed at night, you hope that it’s not your lack of practice that’s been keeping him from moving forward.

You can’t be that bad, right? … Right?

But it’s always you who initiates, and Steve always keeps it short and sweet. Once, you felt the slightest flick of his tongue against your bottom lip, but then as quickly as he’d done it, he pulled away.

Grumbling, you press your pillow over your face and punch it a couple of times before settling back down into bed. You peer at the back of your hand in the darkness of your room and contemplate on trying it just like you used to when you were a kid. God, this feels stupid.

Tomorrow, you’ll just ask. Because you’re both adults and because he was your… boyfriend. You smother yourself with the pillow again, because that was an even more mortifying thought than making out with your own hand.

 In the morning you go for a jog and make yourself a quick protein and fruit shake breakfast afterward. Then you head to the pool for about an hour before coming back home. Everything is quiet, and the world is peaceful, now that you don’t have the lives of twenty-five children hovering over your every waking moment. You shower and lie down on the couch before turning on a baking show. Looking around, you survey your apartment. It is so damn barren and cream-colored. You’re not strong nor brave enough to go get a bunch of furniture by yourself and start arranging.

Sighing, you settle on an easier task: maybe today you’ll go buy some houseplants.

Steve texts you a picture of a cheesecake around noon as you’re spraying water into the soil of two new succulents and a hanging fern. You show him your fern, placing your hand next to it for size reference. The messages between you are short and brief, since you see each other pretty often.

Summer break unravels you a little bit, but you’ll be damned if you let your new (very adult) boyfriend know. You play video games and browse the internet with a bottle of wine on the weekends, and your summer is just a giant weekend. It’s almost troubling, really, because every summer you have to either find a new hobby to keep yourself entertained.

Last year you took up rock-climbing and baked a lot… but with Steve around, that just seemed like a good way to get laughed at. And of course, the summer before that one was spent moving out of your ex’s apartment and trying to keep your head above water. You shudder at the thought. If it wasn’t for the very fortuitous call back from your current workplace, you would have probably had to move back home or continued spiraling into credit-card debt.

You text Steve, asking him to suggest a new hobby to you.

Right away, he responds and recommends that you join his watercolor session at the bakery:

I’m teaching a two-hour workshop Sunday after we close. The sign up sheet is already full but… it helps knowing the teacher personally doesn’t it? I do a ceramics one in the winter, too!

You blink.

Steve… I can only draw if I invoke the spirit of Other Steve from Blue’s Clues.

Oh perfect, now he’s calling.

“Yes?” You answer. His laughter is ringing on the other line.

“Hey! Blue’s Clues is an excellent show! And, I gotta admit, that guy can really draw.”

You huff and sputter at him, “Stop messin’ with me. Last year I baked a lot but now that you’re here… I really need a new hobby- a doable hobby!”

He chuckles again before his voice grows quieter. Bossa nova plays in the background, and the coffee grinder is buzzing intensely. “Oh honey,” He whispers, and you’re nearly gasping at the way his voice sounds—low, deliberate—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Come to the workshop, won’t ya? It’s just a beginner’s thing. I think you’ll really like it. For me?”

The quick-draw refusal you were so sure you could unholster on time is nowhere to be found, not with him asking you so sweetly like that. You grouse jokingly and accept, warning him that if he laughs at your unskilled hand, you’ll never take his advice again.

“Me? Laugh at you? Never, sweetheart. I can’t believe you would think that of me.”

“Oh hush, Steven.”

A puff of air escapes him and everything grows quiet. Steve mutters something you can’t quite make out, and then, even louder than before, the coffee grinder screeches. “Everything okay?” You ask, worried.

“Yeah. Um, yeah. Everything’s good.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the way he pulls away after a good night kiss and reach to unholster that gun.

“Hey—uh wha—why do you--- um.” What the hell is the right way to ask this question? Why have our tongues not fought for dominance? Why haven’t both my hands gotten lost in the front of your button-up shirt? Why have you not pressed your hard, broad chest against me?

Maybe you’ve been reading too much Cosmo or Buzzfeed Relationships in your quest to find the right answers.

“Huh?” Steve asks. “What’s that?”

You holster the gun.

“Nothing! Ha! I’ll see you Sunday!”

“Okay, hon… See you then. Don’t be nervous! It’ll be great!”

 You squeeze your eyes shut as you place your phone on the coffee table. Crisis averted. Then, you search for basic video tutorials on watercolors as well as tips for beginning artists on your phone before casting it to the T.V. It’s entirely baffling and when you pick up a pencil and try to draw your new succulent on a nearby notepad, the voice coming through the speaker sternly states that you should “make marks deliberately-- not fiddling about with sketchy, hairy lines like a fuzzy caterpillar!”

What you’ve been working on looks exactly like a fuzzy caterpillar, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

So you try again, erasing furiously before attempting those “deliberate” lines. After nearly fifteen minutes, you sit back and peer at your creations.

“Jesus.”

Your smooth, plump, glossy plant looks like one of those inflatable tubes outside of an auto dealership in the middle of deflating.

You feel deflated, too.

Over your dinner table is a corkboard of photos and postcards, and you walk over to snag Steve’s thank you card from its place in the corner. You study his technique and peer at the delicate forest green line of each stem- just a single, continuous stroke. The petals seem to be merely blobs of color if you’re looking closely, and where the flowers touch, sometimes the pigments bleed over each other.

No, it’s not a perfect thing. But it is gorgeous, still.

So, you try… again. This time, you tear off the deflated succulent drawing and place it on your coffee table in the left corner. Just for good luck, you chant “Steve, Steve, Steve!” as if he’s Beetlejuice, and get to work. Half your brain is thinking of the striped green shirt and oversized crayon, and the other half is thinking of a striped blue shirt and oversized pecs. Either way, both of them could art.

You’ve drawn all year for your students- especially your ESL kids who struggled with codeswitching. Sometimes, when they were unable to find the right word, or you were, you’d draw a picture instead. According to twenty-five first graders, you were an amazing artist, so… what the hell!

Ten minutes later, you tear off the top of the notepad and set it down next to its brother.

The two are stark differences, and your second one is little bit better. You’re almost proud of it—smooth flowing lines, rounded edges, and even a flat plane of the table to ground the pot.

Sitting back, you click around some more, making sure to choose videos that are most helpful to your current ability. Those speed-up painting videos were hella tempting, but you do not want to get lost in the rabbit hole.

Sunday is two days away. At the very least, you were going to be able to draw a damn good succulent.

---

You come in early to help him close before the workshop begins. Cap&Co. closes on Sundays right at six, and the workshop would start half an hour later.

The baristas say hello to you and smile, and you do the same back before you grab a rag and spray a counter down. The leftover pastries and sandwiches are placed on a tray and put in the middle of the room, where the tables and chairs have been pushed together by Steve.

“Snacks!” He smiles, “For the students.”

“Does that make me your student too?” You tease, finding the situation a bit ironic.

He winks at you before hanging up his apron. Between the four of you and the work that’s left, it’s quickly finished in the next ten minutes and the employees leave, wishing you a good night as they go.

Steve lets you choose the music for the night as he brightens the lights, and you randomly scroll through the shop’s selection before picking an old album you used to like as a younger girl—Fiona Apple’s 1996 Tidal. Right away, the singer’s brassy voice catches his attention.

“Who is this?” He asks excitedly, “I think I heard her on the radio the other day!”

You tell him, and he nods along to the music as he sets out sheets of watercolor paper clipped neatly on boards. Then he lays out five travel-sized round palettes already filled with an array of colors. By the time all the paintbrushes are next to each clipboard, people are starting to arrive and Steve is back and forth saying hello and giving hugs. You finish the end of the preparation and fill up heavy mason jars with water and set them at each spot. Then, you take your seat with a cake pop and eagerly and watch him lead the demonstration.

“Thanks for coming, everyone!” He smiles widely at the end of the table. “Good to see some of you again!”

 This must be what your students feel like, you think—you hope, because you are absolutely enthralled with everything that pours from his mouth. Even the way he stumbles over his words fascinates you, and the fact that he is so animated and engaged makes you love it even more.

Steve tells the group that he’ll demonstrate for about twenty-five minutes before everyone can start either trying out various techniques, or if they’ve done it before, can begin on painting whatever they please and he’ll come around to offer help. He suggests the plants for a nice still life, or other knick-knacks around the shop. Some returning students have even brought their own objects and you want to pinch yourself because you could have brought your succulent!

Then, he begins, showing you the right way to load the paintbrush with paint and water, and how water tension is so important to the medium. He shows you the difference between a wet brush and a dry brush. He shows you how to layer the colors. Your brain can hardly keep up with your eyes as they enthusiastically soak up the colors over his paper and the way his wrist moves easily back and forth from the mason jar where he cleans the bristles, to the palette saturated with pigment, to the paper where strokes are being placed.

“Here is a quick and easy way to make a flower.”

Steve loads a fat brush with water and pulls two shades of orange onto the white of the palette. In one swift motion, he streaks a daub of it onto the paper, letting the water gather more heavily on one side.

“We’ll let that dry for just a second— but we can do this for now.” He presses the tip of the brush into a tiny bit of red and makes another mark similar to the first one. The edges of the paint that touches leaks into each other, creating a tiny blossom of red into the first petal.

“This is what will happen when your paint is still wet—but that’s okay!” He makes two more petals—slightly more yellow than the last and touches his finger to the one with the accidental red bloom.

“It’s pretty dry now.” He blows softly on it for good measure and mixes a rosy coral shade into his brush.

The last petal is swept over the first, and the overlapping area where they touch turns into a vibrant shade of ripe orange. Then, quickly, he sticks the wood handle of the brush sideways between his teeth and picks up a smaller brush, wetting it, loading it with a deep purple that’s almost black, and makes a spray of dots in the middle.

“There ya go!” He takes the brush out of his mouth.

A part of you thinks that you are fucked because you may have just fallen in some deep shit here, as you stare at him, grinning widely—so proud of himself and somehow proud of you, too, for listening.

He’s made it seem impossibly easy. An absurdly beautiful blossom from his imagination stares at you from the watercolor pad in his hand as you shakily pick up the brush next to your hand.

“Well… shit, Steve.” You whisper before breaking out into a silly laugh and putting your forehead into your palm at the thought of the herculean task at hand. The woman to your right laughs along with you as she makes scribbly marks and drips globules of blue water onto her paper. Steve beams at you lovingly as you try to imitate the way he made the first petal, steering the water where you want it to go.

It doesn’t.

But you’re determined, damn it. Because one, you really want to impress him, and two, you really need a summer hobby.

The next hour flies by as you paint diligently, occasionally humming along to Fiona Apple’s resonant vocals in the background, chatting with the other painters. They’re all regulars at Cap&Co., and they adore the Rogers family.

Steve circles the room and answers questions, giving pointers, and sometimes putting his hand over yours to lead your paintbrush. He even kisses you on the top of your head when you finish your first flower—a lavender five-petaled ...cephalopod.

The affectionate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they smile and quietly ask him questions when they think you’re not listening. Your ears go hot the rest of the night—just as hot as the top of your head because Steve!

Before you know it, it’s time to pack up. The album has already repeated, and it’s back to an early track. No one seems to mind, however, as they take their papers and wave goodbye. You linger in the area, pouring out dirty water and putting the jars back under the sink. Steve puts away the paints, fixes the rest of the tables, and you return to the café area to join him. He’s patting his thighs with his wet hands when you come in, nodding along to the music.

You gaze at the damp spots on his legs, the fabric of his trousers slightly clinging onto his muscles. Quickly, before he sees you, you look away.

“This exact song was on in the car.” He mutters amusedly, “I really like this… she’s got a great voice.”

Steve walks closer to you, stopping a few steps away and leans against the edge of a wooden booth. He crosses his arms and press his lips together, eyelashes fluttering as he smiles.

“What now?” He asks. His voice echoes the same low and deliberate tone you’ve heard before, and you think that the question isn’t really a question at all. But you’re not really sure what to make of it—tonight may have been the most forward he’s ever been.

The lights are dimmed. The piano melody crescendos before the song ends. There’s a pause of silence before the next song begins, and you feel your heart leap as the first few words start.

I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts.

“Um…” Your voice cracks.

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught. But daddy long-legs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.

Steve cocks his head to the side, also listening—to the music, perhaps to your now uncomfortably loud heartbeat. You run your hand through your hair. The music chimes into a more upbeat tone as the chorus starts.

Give me the first taste. Let it begin. Heaven cannot wait forever.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me first?”

His eyebrows raise briefly before he blinks a couple of times. You tilt your chin to your chest and lace your fingers together, foot tapping anxiously as you stand in wait. “I mean, I think I’m just a little confused. We’ve seen each other for like, two weeks now. I feel like it’s always me who initiates—but tonight you did a little bit more of that. And… I guess we’ve only kissed—Am I bad kisser? Steve? Am I?”

You’re full of rambling, nervous energy but you try your best to play it off. It was such an awkward thing to say out loud, and there was no way you could come out and spit: Why have we not had sex yet?

Steve surges forward and takes your hand in his, “No!” His head his shaking wildly, “You’re a great kisser! The best!”

His blabbering catches you off-guard and the snort of laughter that comes from you is anything but attractive. “Jesus, Steven, that’s too much.”

Steve slaps his palm to his forehead. “Ah… I’m sorry. I think I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” You ask, leaning forward and looking up at him, “Steve, I just… snorted. You can’t be nervous about this. I should be the one who’s nervous! Look at you!”

He takes a step back and puts one hand on his hip, the other reaching forward to signal to you. “Look at me? Look at you!” He gawks.

The two of you stand there, pointing at each other, making scoffing noises of disbelief for a good two minutes before you put up your hand. “Okay. Pause, mister. You look like someone Photoshopped a rugged Ken Doll and then 3-D printed it. Westworld-style. You bake, you paint, you’re a ceramic---ist? Ceramicist? What! Steve!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “Come on! Your fuckin’ arms!”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m thirty-five and divorced. I sleep four hours a night. I’m a walking disaster.” Then he narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re gorgeous! You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re so sweet…! You’re honest?” He ticks off each adjective using his fingers, “You’re patient? God, Sarah throws half a tantrum and my world collapses. You’re dedicated. You’re---“

“Okay. Stop.” You mutter, cheeks burning hot, “I sleep on the couch next to a bottle of wine and have three pieces of furniture. We’re both disasters.”

Steve laughs and steps forward again, putting his hand over yours. “I just… didn’t want to mess anything up.” He whispers, “I like you so much… and… if we’re… talking about that. I haven’t… been with anyone in … two years. Other than you, I’ve only kissed one person my entire life… So, the question is—am I a bad kisser?”

You giggle as he gives you an apologetic smirk, shaking his head at the way you two have been aggressively complimenting each other. Standing on your tiptoes, you move to nuzzle your nose against his. “You’re a great kisser, Steve. The best.”

Darkness flutters over his eyes briefly before Steve expertly dodges your nose and catches your mouth with his instead. With a half-whimper, half-moan, Steve Rogers grabs the back of your neck in one large, warm hand and your lower back with the other and presses your body flush against his.

Oh.

He’s so tall he has to bend over and you’re so small against him that he’s nearly picking you up. A brief parting of your lips give you a moment to catch your breath, but he’s back again, tongue sliding against yours sweetly, as if asking a silent question.

Is this okay?

With a sigh of pleasure, you ask him to continue in the same, secret language. Your chest his burning hot, tummy quivering with nerves and delight as his hands roam your body. Firm. Strong. Almost desperate. Your own hands rest against his chest before one reaches up and cups his face, trailing your fingertips through his beard.

“D-does it bother you?” He mutters against your mouth before he slides down past your jaw and lands his lips on your neck, “My beard?”

“Mmm—no—” you’re breathless as he kneads his fingers into your waist, moving up to position them just below your breasts, “I like it—mmm-- lots.” You sigh, as his scruff tickles your shoulder, sending tingles all over your body. “I’d like to feel it… elsewhere, too.”

He freezes and pulls away. His hands place you back down on your feet-- back to Earth-- as he swallows hard, looking at you with open, red lips. Steve rolls the bottom one between his teeth and clenches his jaw, eyes half-lidded and lustful. You’re probably a wreck, too, you think as you catch yourself against a table.

“Can we---”

You cut him off. Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger.

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

 Steve tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he leads you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and he’s made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.”

You’re glad he knows how to navigate his house with his eyes closed because the whole way there, you can’t stop kissing him. Your hands tug his hair and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Steve responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before slowly easing you onto his bed.

It’s dark in his room, but you feel the bed dip as he climbs on too. Both your eyes are trying to adjust—trying to find each other. Your hands fumble around until you catch him, his knee. His hands find your stomach. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of your shirt and peels it up over your head. Then he does the same to his own shirt and both of you shimmy out of your pants.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been two years and the first man you touch is more like a mythical creature than any man. It should be illegal for someone to feel this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This--” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already...”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of thick muscles.

The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest. Steve grabs onto your thigh and eases your leg over his hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly. He tilts back and guides you against him until your center slides against his bulge.

Just as you find the elastic of his waistband, he jerks away and places himself in-between your legs as he moves you onto your back. You scoot until your head hits the wall, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him more room at the foot of the bed.

“You wanted to feel this?” Steve caresses your thighs with his cheek, the hairs on his beard tickling your sensitive skin. Your toes curl up reflexively as he moves back and forth, trailing his lips and face all over.

You squeal when the tip of his nose touches your mound, mouth hovering over your soaked panties. His mouth latches on, almost in a bite before he takes them off. Both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls your hips forward. You land on his face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.  

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss he presses to your folds. His breath comes out in a smug puff of air that purposefully continues to drive you unbelievably closer to what feels like breaking entirely.

“Baby…” he mutters—right into your cunt, Jesus! You groan at the way his face is nestled there. “Baby---mm— It’s been two years for me.” He whispers, “If I don’t get you off now, in a really good way—it’s not gonna be good at all.”

“Steve—you know—ah! It’s been the same amount of time for me too, right?!”

He ignores you, crawling his hands around onto your hips to keep you from squirming. When you settle finally, he moves one hand to your center, sliding a finger up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto your clit as his finger continues their trail. You fist his hair with both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But he doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your swollen clit, Steve doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion builds a terrible itch inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to scratch.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, pumping them in and out. He sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive bud, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching your back into his hand and face, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, that’s it. Thassa good girl. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked thighs, beard tickling your sensitive skin.

Instead of pulling away, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, and your heart stills. Ready?

You voice your concern, “What do you mean?”

With a slight chuckle, he sits up, wiping his mouth and parts of his beard with the back of his hand. In the dark, Steve reaches for your arm, guiding you to feel exactly what he’s talking about. A strangled cry escapes your throat as you wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot. Throbbing. Big.

Sweet, sensitive, divorced, baker, artist, ceramicist, father Steve fuckin’ Rogers was packing. And it isn’t until you nervously grip him in both hands do you realize the importance of his last statement.

“Can I get you ready, baby?” He asks again.

For the millionth time that night, your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean against the headboard with a whimper. Steve crawls over on top of you, scoops you up once again in his arms, and places you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, previous two fingers pushing inside gently.

You rest your head on his shoulder as your body shakes under his ministrations, already tired and overstimulated. Your hands find their way to grip him, massaging his length tenderly, savoring the temperature of his body, spreading the beaded precum at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, scissoring his fingers inside of you, spreading your walls.

The third finger meets resistance as you tense up.

“S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m… I’m pretty nervous…” But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear. It’s a few minutes of this exploration before you feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination. Steve takes the message as a confirmation and reaches into the end table for a condom.

It’s slipped on and you follow suit, gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could emerge from your throat.

“Oh… my… God!” You cry. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the sweetest sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re afraid to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, holding onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you mutter, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He flexes within you, grunts into your ear. A dry chuckle escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, my love… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. The two of you feel welded together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. You body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away and clean himself up. He goes into the bathroom first, lying you down and covering you with the blanket.

 When he returns, Steve finds you already dozed off. You palm rests under your cheek as you lie on your side, breathing deeply.

As quietly as he can, he squeezes in beside you, fitting himself against your back. He’s read it somewhere, that falling in love was a little bit like falling asleep. As his eyes slip shut, he feels it happening, just like that quote had said: slowly at first, then… all at once.

In the darkness behind his lids, there is strangely so much light.

Next Chapter

[maloosh-baloosh64]

Hey guys here’s a top ten list of my favorite dark souls bosses just for you ready here we go :)

10) The Butcher The Butcher is the most powerful of all the Dark Souls bosses and one of its greatest antagonists. He is a gigantic hulking creature that looks like he could easily crush you in your sleep if given enough time. His appearance alone would make him terrifying but his personality makes him even more so. He's incredibly cruel and sadistic, he will laugh at your pain as you die before laughing again when he eats you. He will also taunt you with the corpses of your friends and family. He's incredibly territorial too, attacking any intruders to his home. The worst part is there is no way to avoid him other than his home and given how big it is he could easily chase you all the way to the surface and eat you. The Butcher will also use his immense size to carve huge slabs of stone out of the surrounding area to use as weapons to crush you with. The best way to deal with him is to take him on in a large group, focusing on defeating other members of your party so that you can get to The Butcher alone. It's also a good idea to attempt to distract him by drawing his attention towards another enemy, at that point you and your other remaining survivors can attempt to overwhelm him. There is one important thing to note, The Butcher regenerates infinitely faster than the rest of your enemies and can only be truly killed if you hit him in the head or the heart. Taking him down piece by piece will only result in his revival after a few of your hearts.

9) The Gaping Voids The Gaping Void is probably the most well known enemy from Dark Souls. They are huge holes in the ground which you fall into after falling too far below the surface. The Gaping Void is known to swallow up any Souls that fall into it, though it seems that it isn't an exact process and some Souls will escape if they are quick enough. It is also known that some hardy Souls will survive the fall and land in a deep underground cavern. It is here that you will find The Gaping Dragon, a huge creature in the center of a large cavern with several smaller tunnels extending out from it. The Dragon appears to be asleep but if you feed the beast enough it will regurgitate you back out into The Surface with full health. The larger tunnels extend all the way to the surface, although it is unknown what lies at the end of them. They are guarded by several smaller dragons which you will need to take on in order to continue further into the world of Dark Souls.

8) The Forest Hunter The Forest Hunter is the first boss in the Catacombs. It is a large and heavy armored beast who wields a massive axe. Like most of the enemies in the Dark Souls series, he's incredibly hard to hit and has several dangerous attacks. His charge attack can easily destroy you, should you be unprepared. He can also slam his axe into the ground, sending a wave of dark energy crashing toward you. His third attack involves him swinging his axe in a wide arc, which will cut you if he slices you while you're in the radius of its arc. The best way to handle the Forest Hunter is to stay out of his immediate range and interrupt his attacks. Should he attempt to charge you, quickly back away until the charge is over. If he attempts to slam his axe into the ground, you can usually jump over it. If he attempts to swipe at you, keep a safe distance and rinse and repeat. After defeating the Forest Hunter, continue deeper into the catacombs. You'll find more powerful enemies here.

7) The Harbingers The Harbingers are large demonic creatures covered with armor. Their bodies are hunched and they have long arms with claws on the end. They're not too fast or strong but their armor makes them very defensive capable of taking a lot of punishment before going down. Their projectiles aren't all that dangerous if you stay away from them but they're very fast and they dive at you on top of this they follow you when they fire making them hard to avoid. If you're feeling aggressive you can try and bait one into following you but be careful they're fairly intelligent. 

6) The Grand Mothers The Grand Mothers are the larger female equivalent of the Harbingers. They're a lot slower than the smaller demons and don't pack quite as much armor but they're far more dangerous than their smaller kin. They pack a lot more of a punch then the average person could ever expect from a demon and they're also significantly stronger then what you would expect them to be. Their projectiles aren't homing like the Harbingers but they have a very large blast radius so will do a lot more damage if they hit you. You can easily dodge their large bludgeons but they're surprisingly fast when they need to be so watch out when that happens. 

5) The Blood Matron The Blood Matron is the first major boss in the catacombs. She's a large and very bloody vampire. She will use her melee attacks primarily but she's capable of throwing large blood chunks at you which explode on contact. Her primary attack involves her diving at you and biting your head off. While this may sound simple, she'll fling her body around with such speed while lunging that it's hard to avoid. You'll just need to try and space out her attacks. She also has a number of other attacks such as summoning demons who will attempt to grab you and drag you into the ground or firing streams of blood at you.

4) The Count The Count is the second major boss in the catacombs. He's much larger and more impressive looking then the Blood Matron but otherwise they are very similar. They both have large amounts of health and are both fast and powerful. They're usual tactic is to fling themselves into the air and come down on top of you in a pounce. It's possible to dodge this attack but it's hard and tends to result in a lot of damage taken. The Count also has a large cone attack that he will fire in a short range at regular intervals. He will also summon a large number of small vampires to attack you. 

3) The Great Lich Lord This is the final boss of the Catacombs. He's very large and impressive looking but for all his appearance of power, his attack seem to be much weaker than the rest. One of the main attacks he has is spitting out a long tentacle of ice that will bind to one person and pull them towards him. He will then eat them. He will also summon large numbers of demons who will attempt to hit you or get in close to attack you. Of course he will also just plain old punch the hell out of you.

2) MALEFICA This is the final boss in Hell. In fact, it's the final boss in any area. The best way I can describe this creature is an angry blender. It has lots of small parts flying at you and it's obviously faster then anything that big should be. Fortunately it doesn't have too many attacks then. The Hell Hound will occasionally launch itself at you and attempt to chew you up but for the most part it's just a big blob of damaging attacks. Fire, ice, electricity, crushing blows, you name it. Fortunately you've got way more defense abilities then he does and you take very little damage from it.

1) The Devil This is the final boss of Hell. There's not much else to say about him. After beating the Hell Priest in a fight you have to fight the Devil. The Devil is very fast and dodge your attacks often. He also has a lot of hit points and is very resistant to damage. He tends to push you around the arena a lot and it's very easy to get backed into a corner. The fight ends when you burn the Devil's wings off of him. Without them he can't fly around the arena to avoid your attacks and is forced to land, at which point you can take him out. After you take out the Devil, the gates of Hell slam shut and you're sent right back to the entrance of the catacombs for the final time. Congratulations! You've beaten the game.

as you can tell none of these are dark souls bosses.  I just went to AI dungeon and typed in the prompt “Welcome to IGN, today we are counting down our top ten best dark souls bosses starting with number 10.“ and just spammed the enter key till i got something i liked.

Some of these bosses actually sound kinda sick.  And they sure as hell sound like Dark Souls bosses.  anyways yeah this is just a funni shit post

[whumpschild]

Carson/ Tyler series crossover (Part 1)

@writehardwhumpharder

Carson hadn't expected a knock at the door, it was around 4pm in the middle of June and Daniel wouldn't be home until 7:45pm. He answered the door only to see a familiar face he hadn't seen since November of last year. It was Tyler, a guy who he had met in Oregon on an investigation about magical murders all over the country. His striking purple eyes stood out the instant carson opened the door as well as the large scar on his forehead.

“What the hell?” Carson said in surprise  “Why are you here? How the hell do you know where I live?”

“Riley told me.” Tyler said. If she’s gonna go handing around my information the least could do is give me some warning, Carson thought to himself. Just then his phone binged, it was a text from Riley saying she sent a special somebody over. The whole point of a warning is to tell me before something happens. Carson thought to himself.

“Well since you’re already here I guess you can come in.” Carson walked away, leaving the door wide open for Tyler to follow him.

“Thanks ya know,” Tyler said as he walked in ,closing the door and locking it behind him. “Are you still wearing pajamas? It's like 4pm ya know.”

“Eh, it’s the weekend,” Carson shrugged.

“Its Thursday,” Tyler corrected

Carson stopped in front of the couch and glared at him before sitting back down where he was sitting before he got there, “What’s your point?”

“I don’t have one.” Tyler usually was fully dressed and looking Presentable even on the weekends so he felt the need to comment on Carson's appearance.

“It’s kind of bad timing. I’m really busy today,” Carson sighed. Truthfully, he just felt a little uncomfortable and surprised.

“Really? What’cha up to?

“Uh…” He had to pause to think about it, he was sure he had something planned. Oh yeah, “Um, well, I was gonna have some tea later and maybe read a book…”

“Reading sounds cool, I don't like tea though, it tastes like grass to me.”

“Aren’t you like half-british?”

“No i was born and raised in America ya know, i just have the accent.”

“Coffee then?”

“You bet, could you put a lot of sugar in it?”

“Sure, whatever. Just sit down.”

 Tyler took Carson's offer and sat on the opposite side of the couch.

“You can find a book to read as long as you’re careful with it,” Carson motioned to the massive bookshelf behind him, full of a strange assortment of books. Most of them looked worn and old. Tyler's eyes lit up like fireworks as he speed walked towards the books, he looked like a kid in a toy store. A lot of the books were magic, something that wasn't often sold in bookstores in his small town in oregon. Tyler had driven all the way from Oregon to New York because he had been given a three week vacation after being promoted after a case. He drove because he hated flying at all costs, it took him four days to get there. But he really enjoyed all the things he saw on the way there.

Tyler picked out a thick book that had something to do with magic items and went straight to reading. There were lots of things like how wands worked or how you could draw effective Magic circles. Carson brought over a cup of coffee and handed it To Tyler. Carson looked over his shoulder and looked at what he was reading.

“The journals are my favorite. I got all these from Daniel’s shop,” Carson said without looking up.

Tyler got excited, he had never seen anything like this before and there somebody was, who had a ton of it. “Really? Wait do you live here alone or with daniel? I kind of had the idea you guys were roommates in addition to being good friends ya know.

“With Daniel, he’s just at work right now.”

“Oh cool,” Tyler stopped and pointed to something written in latin. “What is this? I don't think I’ve seen it before.”

“Well I don’t speak latin but I can tell one of the symbols involved is about heat. So I guess it’s some kind of spell for that.”

  “Could you teach me?” Tyler said setting his head on the back of the couch. “Ya know, how to do it?

“Personally, I manipulate heat by adding and removing life energy from a space. Can you move magic?”

“I’m not sure. Never tried.” 

“If you can see it I’m sure you can move it. It just takes a lot of practice and guessing.” Carson told him. He set down his book to give him his attention.

 “See what? Magic? You can see stuff like that?”Tylers curiosity peaked. He could sure sense magic and other psychics but not see it.

“Remind me, what are your powers exactly?” He needed a starting off point. Unfortunately, they were completely different kinds of magicians.

Tyler sat and thought for a second “Well I can see in people's minds, I can lift things and manipulate objects like a light pole or a cup. Oh if we had a small bit of something already burning, I could make it burn more, or snuff it out completely. “ Tyler paused and looked at the book. He had the power of a third eye but it wasn't fully in control yet so he didn't want to mention it.

“That’s basically like manipulating heat then. That’s how I make flames. I guess the real question is can you do the opposite and freeze something?”

“Hmm, Maybe if you gave me an ice cube in a cup of water i could make the whole cup freeze.”

“Give it a try. Kitchen is back there,” he pointed over his shoulder.

“Freezing something?” Tyler asked, tilting his head and shifting up his glasses.

Carson looked up at him, “Yeah. Let’s see if you can do it.”

Tyler got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen, “Which cupboards are your cups in?” 

“Left of the sink,” he called back.

Tyler grabbed a cup that was plastic just in case it broke, so it would be easy to replace, filled it up with water, and put an ice cube in it then walked back to the couch. Tyler set the cup on the coffee table and sat on the floor next to it and concentrated. He took off his glasses and hooked them on the neck of his purple T-shirt. He stared intensely at the cup and hovered his hands over it. It took a minute but in a quick flash the water froze from the ice cube out as it cracked the cup. It let out a light wave of cool air around Tyler's hands and Carson could feel it slightly. “I'm glad I got a plastic one, right?” Tyler said as his nose started a small stream of blood.

“Jeez, you could have mentioned you have no control over your powers. Here, if you get blood on the couch Daniel will kill me,” he forced a box of tissues in his direction. Tyler grabbed a tissue and put it over his nose. He then noticed how cold his hands had become even though it was summer.

Tyler continued trying to freeze things and melt things for the next few hours while Carson coached him then somebody walked in the door. It was Daniel. He looked a little tired but not too tired. 

Daniel set his things down then walked into the living room looking puzzled, “Hi Tyler. No one told me you were coming by but it’s nice to see you.”

“No one told me either,” Carson chimed in.

He sat down next to Carson then let his eyes trail down to the coffee table in front of him. It was littered with broken cups. “Uh… what have you two been up to?” Daniel perked up and started looking at the mess in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the trash can had been moved to next to the opposite couch. “What the hell is that? Carson, did you-” He looked like he was about to start a lecture.

“Carson is teaching me how to manipulate heat, don't worry about your cups. I'll buy more for you,” Tyler said, still sitting on the floor then leaning back and supporting himself on his hands behind him.”Wanna see?”

“Sure,” he said.

Tyler grabbed a cup on the table that had not broken yet with a half melted ice cube and did everything he was doing before. “Cool ya know?” his nose started to bleed slightly again but not as bad as the last few times where it took two tissues to stop. Carson again handed Tyler a tissue so he could wipe away the blood.

Daniel’s brows furrowed slightly with concern and he looked between Tyler and Carson. “Yeah, that’s cool. Maybe you should take a break.” He suggested.

“Why? It’s kinda fun to do it. I can melt it too.” Tyler said standing up he became slightly unsteady on his feet as his minor blood loss made him dizzy.

Daniel quickly stood and grabbed his shoulder, urging him to sit back down. “Like I was saying, I think it’s a good time for a break,” he subtly leaned over and started gathering the cups on the table to take away.

Carson perked up suddenly, “Wait a sec. Where did your blob go?”

“Blob?” Tyler was confused for a second “Oh yeah. Milo? I made him stay back in oregon. I'm on vacation ya know. I can't just bring my supernatural entities anywhere.”

“Oh, by the way,” Carson leaned toward him, “Don’t open that door. Daniel’s cat, Pixie, is in there so just… try not to die.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Tyler said. “ speaking of dying.” He asked Daniel to grab him his backpack that he had with him by the couch. Daniel did what he asked as Tyler took out his inhaler and took it even though he wasn't wheezing.

“What’s that for?” Daniel asked. He remembered Tyler had asthma but he seemed to be breathing okay at the moment.

“Flare up, it's when, maybe for a few weeks at a time, it gets really bad ya know. I gotta take an inhaler every four hours.”

“Well good luck with that,” Carson said. “So how long are you going to be in New York?”

“Two weeks,” Tyler said as he suddenly realized what time it was. “Aw shit. I forgot to get a hotel,” Tyler said while putting on a light sweater and trying to get his stuff together.

“Two weeks?!” Daniel asked in shock, “What kind of supernatural threat is out there you need to be here that long? God damn.”

“None,” Tyler said “I got a promotion ya know.” Tyler said with enthusiasm. in his voice “ I got a three week vaction ya know.” 

“Congrats,” Daniel told him. “So what did you come all the way out here for if you’re not working? Don’t you hate planes?”

“I felt like it, I didn't really get a chance to go sight seeing when i was here last ya know?” Tyler said, shifting around. “Of course I hate planes, I drove here. You miss a lot if you take a plane ya know. It's not as interesting.”

“Sounds like hell but whatever, man.” Carson said.

Carson rummaged around the books left on the table and set some things aside, “So what’s for dinner?” He looked at Daniel expectantly.

“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think, Tyler?” Daniel asked.

“Carson doesn't eat meat right? How about stir fry? I know how to make it with ramen noodles. On worry by the way after dinner i'll go find a hotel that takes in people at the desk.” Tyler got up from the couch, Daniel was ready to grab him if he fell, he was still slightly worried about his blood loss. "Come on I'll teach ya how to make it." Tyler said coaxing Daniel to get up. They both went to the kitchen as Daniel grabbed things Tyler asked for like broccoli, corn ,carrots and five packets of ramen. Tyler pulled all of his hair back into a bun and washed his hands. While Tyler was cooking Daniel was making sure to write down all of the steps to make this for future reference.

By the end there was a large pan full of stir fried noodles. Daniel never really made this much before and the amount seemed a little much just for the three of them . It made Daniel wonder how big Tyler’s appetite really was. They all sat down and started eating. Carson wasn't always the biggest fan of food but it actually tasted pretty decent to him. Daniel got the idea, since everyone is allowed to drink alcohol that he would bring out wine for everyone.

Daniel stopped to think for a second "Tyler, do you drink?" He asked. To him, Tyler didn't look like the kind of person that drank alcohol.

"Yep, Not beer ya know, it tastes like a sewer." Tyler replied. 

"I can agree with that." Carson said looking up from his food.

"It's wine," Daniel said, bringing over three cups. "How well do you handle alcohol? Carson's a light drinker so he gets tipsy pretty quickly. He's also kind of a light weight," Carson was a little offended by that comment. He wasn't that light of a drinker.

"How much do you weigh Carson?" Tyler asked.

"Around 145 pounds, You?"

Tyler's face turned slightly read like he was embarrassed. "136," He said, scratching the back of his neck. Tyler never went out of his way to not eat, in fact he had a very big appetite. It was just that when he worked he would frequently forget to eat. He would frequently go through periods of losing and gaining a normal amount of weight.

"Do you even eat dude?." Carson asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I do. I get distracted with work a lot. I got bills to pay ya know."

Carson moved his plate out of the way so Daniel could set down three glasses, “I picked a white wine, hope that’s okay with you, Tyler.” Once the glasses were full Daniel sat back down. “Carson wouldn’t eat either if I didn’t shove three plates of food in front of him everyday,” he shot him a look. Tyler laughed, these guys were entertaining.

Carson rolled his eyes but continued to poke at his food while Tyler scarfed down his whole plate at record speed. They were starting to understand why he cooked so much. He stared at the wine curiously and sniffed it before drinking. He had a strange habit of doing that with new things he ate or drank.  They ate and drank, Carson and Daniel found out quickly that Tyler couldn't hold in alcohol because his half british accent became more incoherent as he started to sound like a sailor. It got worse when he insisted that Carson would teach him some simple magic. Daniel grabbed a piece of paper and a magic book and set them down in front of Tyler.

“What’s that for?” Tyler asked as Daniel pulled out a marker.

“We're gonna draw magic circles,” Daniel replied, flipping through the book then pointing to a symbol on the page. “Try and draw this.”  Tyler took the marker and started drawing the circle on the page, it would be pretty accurate if the lines hadn’t been slightly shaky. 

“Lets see if it can actually hold magic” Carson said. Flipping his vision to see if there was magic being held in it. Little flakes of magic were floating around in it like dust so it would hold well enough.

“Did it work? Tyler asked, resting his head on the table.

“I don't know, did it?”Carson asked. Carson could see if it was working but Tyler needed to figure that out for himself. Tyler studied the circle for a minute looking at it trying to see what he could find. He decided to put his hand over it when a sudden tingly feeling like tv static came through his fingers. “That feels weird, I think it worked.” Tyler said. 

For the next hour or so. Carson and Daniel thought Tyler magic circles and how they worked and what they did. Tyler himself wasn't a magician , he was a psychic he dealt with more of a mental side but he was still capable of using it. Before he realised it it was around 10:30 pm. “Aw crap, I need to go. I still haven't checked into a hotel.” He said, grabbing his backpack and stumbling around before Daniel grabbed his arm.

 “Do you really think drunk driving is a good idea?”Daniel asked with full intention of keeping Tyler there for the night. 

“Good point,” he said  “But where do I go now?” Tyler asked, the fact didn't click in his drunk brain that he already had somewhere to stay. 

“Here, where else?” 

“Oh, I'll sleep on the couch then.”

“You can take Carson's room.” Carson perked his head up in annoyance, that was his room Daniel can't just give it away. 

“Won’t the couch do? Can’t I just sleep there?” Tyler asked Daniel, he didn't want Carson to be annoyed at him.

“Yeah Daniel, why can't he sleep there?” Carson complained

“Because i say so, he can’t stay in my room, Pixie's there. Your room is the only cat-free space in the whole apartment” 

Tyler just kind of sat there with Daniel still holding on his arm he was definitely buzzed because his brain felt like TV static. “Can I have my arm back now?” Daniel looked back and let go of his arm “Sorry man,” 

“Eh it's fine” They continued to sit around the table for a while talking about nonsense until they all got tired and went to bed, Tyler apologized to Carson for stealing his room as he only got a grunt as a response. Tyler sat on carsons bed and noticed a few bottles of pills; they were mainly bottles of antidepressants. He laid on his back and just stared at the ceiling, as he fell asleep the thoughts of other sleeping people rushed through him like he was used to.

--

Carson woke up around noon to find that Daniel was at work and Tyler was still sleeping. He had left the bedroom door slightly open so Carson could see him. He noticed that he tended to cough a lot in his sleep. He sat on the couch for an hour or so watching TV until Tyler finally decided to wake up and go sit on the couch with him and took a puff of his inhaler. Neither of them bothered to say anything, choosing instead to just focus on the show. They sat there quietly until Tyler stood up, grabbed some clothes, and asked if he could use the shower. Tyler took a whole twenty minutes in there, most of it was spent on his hair but he still took forever.

“I'm gonna go sightseeing, wanna come?” Tyler asked, coming out of the bathroom and putting on his glasses.

“Dunno,” Carson said from the couch with a sigh. He didn’t have any plans but he didn’t know if he wanted to go out either.

“I was thinking of going to Daniel’s bookstore. I’ll drive us...” Tyler suggested, trying to coax Carson into coming with him because he really didn't want to go alone.

“Fine,” Carson said. Tyler waited for Cason to get changed and ready to go. As he did, Tyler slipped his inhaler into his pocket and put on his purple converse. His hair tied in a bun which he always did in the summer. Tyler wore a short-sleeved white shirt and black cargo shorts that went to his knees. The shorts exposed a large scar on his right leg that he had gotten last November. Coincidentally, the last time he saw Carson before visiting.

After about ten minutes, Carson came out of his room in a button down shirt that he rolled the sleeves on to make it a little more appropriate for the weather. He slipped on his old grey converse that stopped just below the ankle. You could see Carson's mismatched socks peeking out. They walked down the hall and took the elevator down to street level. Tyler's car was parked around the corner at the closest available parking spot. As they walked Carson made a mental note to have Tyler park in the garage under their building when they get back. Tyler got behind the wheel then realized he didn't know where Daniel worked. “Hey, wanna drive? I don't know where he works and this city is huge.”

“Don't have a license,” Carson responded.

“Oh, why not?”

“It's not my fault, okay?” he said groaning, “Some idiot doctor misdiagnosed me and they took it for medical purposes. My lawyer is working on it.”

“That sucks ya know, sorry about that.” He said while turning on his phone and giving it to Carson. “Could you put in the address?”

On the way, Tyler took the time to admire the scenery every time he stopped at a red light. The buildings were huge. They towered over everything that would have been in Tylers town; the tallest building there would probably be the clock tower at the church. Several times Carson had to remind Tyler to keep his eyes on the road but his eyes couldn’t help but wander up the tall buildings, casting shadows over the road. It wasn’t long until they got to the bookstore and Carson directed him to park around back so they could avoid the meter. 

A little bell chimed when they walked in and Carson immediately started looking for Daniel among the mess of bookshelves. There were a couple customers walking around, minding their own business.

Daniel poked his head up behind the register, ready to greet who he assumed were customers. His brows furrowed with surprise,  “H- Wait, why are you here? Did something happen?” He asked, straightening up and walking around the counter to them. 

“Nothing’s up, Tyler just wanted to see the city.” Carson told him, “Of course I generously offered to be his guide-”

Tyler cut him off, “No you didn’t.”

Daniel laughed and led them to the back room knowing they would probably prefer to look at books in private, away from the other customers. Carson walked around the place like it was his second home, he knew where everything was including the secret stash of magic books. 

“You know, the cool thing about this place is that it isn’t just a regular bookstore. They specialize in rare, hard to find books. A lot of them aren’t even published, some are even handwritten by the authors. You never know what you might find,” Carson said proudly.

Tyler picked up a book and opened it to a random page, “Speaking of which, what the hell is this?”

Carson tilted his head to read the title, the ink was so washed out he could barely make out the letters, “Hmm, that one looks like a journal,” he looked over his shoulder to see that it was handwritten and pretty badly at that, “Yep, definitely a magician’s personal notes.”

“What’s this language?” Tyler asked.

Carson smirked, “English. Look closely.” 

Tyler squinted at the book. The words really were in English. “Why is the handwriting so bad? It's worse than mine.”

“Eh, I’ve read that guy’s stuff before. Pretty sure he was an alcoholic,” Carson shrugged.

Tyler studied the handwriting as much as he could because some of it was faded. It did seem similar to somebody's handwriting that was intoxicated or high. That is something he was frequently used to analyzing since he was a detective. He also noticed there were a few strange blotches of something on the pages too, it might have been alcohol. If it wasn't he didn't want to know. “Probably, look at the stains, it might be alcohol ya know.”

“Hey can I see that real quick?” He asked, pointing at the book in Tyler’s hands.

“Yea go ahead,” Tyler said, handing the book over to Carson.

He wasted no time opening it up and holding it close to his face. Carson sniffed it so aggressively it was like he was trying to huff the damn thing. “Spiced rum, the good stuff,” he concluded then handed it back to him.

“What? How the hell do Ya know that?” Tyler asked in surprise “That thing is like 80 years old!”

“How don’t you know? You’re a detective aren’t you?” Carson didn’t mean it as an insult, it just seemed like something worth knowing in that line of work.

“I have literally drank three times in my whole life I wouldn't know. I'm not a forensic.” 

“Sometimes I forget how young you are. Although that shouldn’t matter, I started drinking at 15.”

“That explains a few things,” he said jokingly and laughing. “I didn't drink until I was almost 23.” Tyler paused for a second and processed that Carson called him young. “Wait I'm not that young you're only like three and a half years older than me!”

“No way, you’re at least ten years younger than me.”

“I'm 23 not 16,” Tyler pouted.

“That’s not what I meant,” Carson clarified, “You’re 23 and I’m mentally, physically, and spiritually 34 if not 50.”

“Old man,” He said with a smirk. Tyler was probably a little immature because of the years he missed in a coma after a plane crash but he didn't want to admit that because he didn't want Carson to be right. “You do seem to have a lot of grey hairs ya know.” He said 

“Take that back.”

“I’m just kidding. You don't have grey hair.” Tyler could hardly speak for himself; small chunks of his hair were still grey from going overboard on his powers last November that he neglected to dye brown again. He was hoping Carson wouldn't notice since his hair was up in a bun but a small chunk was pretty clear from his bangs.

“What about that?” Carson asked, gesturing towards Tylers bangs.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Tyler said brushing at his bangs that were parted to the side.

Daniel laughed at the two of them while he worked around them. Tyler walked around some more, still fumbling with his bangs. He got lost in the bookshelves of old and newer books. He picked up books and pulled down the books he couldn't reach, levitating them with sheer will. He wasn't super aware of how people treated stuff like that in New York, good thing nobody saw him. He picked up a little black notebook full of notes and stuff it that was sitting on a table by one of the bookshelves “Hey this one is magic too right?” Carson walked over looking over Tylers shoulder. “I'm not sure it's real” Tyler said, “It doesn't feel tingly like the other ones.”

Carson stared at the book and smirked “That's Daniels ya twat,” he said mocking Tyler’s accent yet again as he grabbed the little book from Tyler's hand and stuffed it in his pocket and walked back to a little table in the corner. Tyler continued gathering lots of different books he decided  not to grab anymore as this much would probably cost 300 dollars.

He went to a table Carson was sitting at and threw down a mound of books from fantasy to sci-fi to magic and got to reading. He got lost in his reading, he had a very bad habit of zoning out anything and everything when he was into reading.

Carson just sat there and watched as Tyler practically molded his face to a book and darted his eyes around at a very fast pace. He was sitting there looking at his own books. A couple hours passed like that and when Carson eventually got bored he went to help Daniel with the shop. When he grew impatient, Carson tried to get Tyler’s attention. 

“Tyler?” Carson said looking up at Tyler who gave no response “Hey, four eyes,” he said a bit louder. It took Carson flinging a pencil at Tyler to get his attention.”Asshat” Carson thought into Tyler's head.

“Huh? What?” Tyler asked.

“Is this what you call sightseeing? We’ve been here for two hours.”

“Really? I thought it was maybe thirty minutes.” Tyler said, getting up and stretching. He grabbed his mound of magic and other books and took it to the counter that Daniel was sitting at. There were probably thirty or more books in that pile.

“Do you plan on starting your own library?” Daniel asked, starting to scan Tyler's books He noticed that Tyler seemed a lot more lively than when they had met the first time. He was probably drained and stressed out the whole time then but now, even the dark circles under his eyes had almost completely faded. This was how Tyler really was, a good kid. While he was 23, he acted a lot younger. Another thing he hadn't noticed before.

Tyler grabbed all of his bags of books and called over to Carson so he could get help bringing them to his car. He had to bring the books to the counter in several trips and he didn't want to take several trips to the car in 90 degree weather. "Ya coming with me or am I leaving you here? Tyler asked.

"I guess I'll go with you. I have nothing better to do." Carson said, tossing a bag of books into the back seat of Tyler’s little red car which had a lot of stuff in it like suitcases and backpacks. He shut the door and he got into the passenger side door.

"Do you feel like getting food? Have you eaten today? I haven't.” Tyler said, starting the car.

"I could go for some pizza I guess,'' Carson said as Tyler pulled out onto the road. As they were driving, a car pulled out of nowhere and Tyler had to slam on the brakes. 

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING YOU JACKASS!” Tyler screamed. It startled Carson more than the car because of how loud his voice was. He sounded like a really angry european. A street lamp simultaneously  bursted above them sending sparks onto Tyler's car.

Ah, not again. Tyler said swinging his head into the headrest of his seat.

“What? That car almost hitting us?”

“Yes, but no. I blew a street lamp again.” he said.

“You blew that? Do you have any control at all?”

“Apparently not.”

“You’ve had magic for a while now, right? You should have more control than that.” Carson said that thinking Tyler had had his power for at least ten years or so. 

“Two years, two and a half if you want to be precise.”  Tyler said, pulling into the parking lot of a pizza place and sat in the car for a minute. “After the plane crash I died several times before going into a coma, I didn't wake up with them but shortly after I got out of the hospital I managed to accidentally blow out the tv in my bedroom as well as other things like an old nebulizer and an entire bookshelf had all my books fly off of it when I wanted to get a book but didn't have the energy to go grab it. I saw a ghost for the first time, it was Milo just sitting there on my bed like he owned the place.”

“So the first ghost you ever saw was a cat?” Carson asked.

“Weird right? I didn't think he was a ghost at first.” The more tyler thought of it the more he realized he might have seen a lot of ghosts back at the hospital  but might not have noticed that they were.

“Well it’s probably less startling than a human ghost. Anyways, two years isn’t very long. Where did you get so much raw power?”

“I don't know where it came from to be honest, I kinda just woke up with it one day out of the blue.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know how this shit works either,” Carson shrugged.

“Seems pretty accurate, let's go in and get pizza, we can find somewhere to eat it after.”

Tyler and Carson walked into the pizza place. Carson had been there a few times so he was familiar with the menu. After about ten minutes they walked out with a pizza, half cheese, half Pepperoni and olives.

Though they were past the hottest part of the day, the heat didn’t seem to be letting up at all. The sidewalks were still packed with people so Carson suggested they get off the main road and head over to the park where there would be some shade. Despite living so close to the park Carson had only wandered in there a couple times. He wondered why it took Tyler coming to visit to get him out of the apartment. They walked around for a bit, Tyler holding the pizza box. They found a bench to sit at so they could eat.

“I didn't know places like this had little ponds.” Tyler said, looking to an empty part of the park where there was nothing but grass. Carson wasn't sure what Tyler was talking about or what he was looking at because to him nothing was there.

“This park is kind of known for its ponds and bridges but that patch of grass isn’t one of them, dude, what are you looking at?”

“What? Are you blind it's right in front of us.” He said resting his head on his hand and staring at seemingly nothing.

Carson glanced at Tyler skeptically and out of curiosity he decided to look with his magical senses. What he saw didn’t look like a pond but there was an odd concentration of magic there. Carson stood up to get a better look, “Oh shit, you’re right.”

A couple walking by gave them weird looks and walked a little faster to get away from them.

“Wanna see it?” Tyler asked Carson, perking his head up. Carson might not be able to see like him so he thought he might want to try.

“I don’t know what there is to see but I guess so.”

“Okay you need to look directly in my eyes, I'm going to look like I passed out but it's fine.”

“Uhh is this going to hurt?” Carson asked.

“No if it didn't hurt Jared you'll be fine, the worst that could happen is somebody's nose bleeds a little bit.”

Grimacing slightly, Carson agreed and looked into Tyler’s purple eyes. It took a second but Carson felt a spark of Tyler's magic before his eyes rolled back and he fell off the seat onto the grass, his blue rectangle framed glasses flying off his face. Carson just sat there for a minute blinking a few times before catching something in the corner of his eye. There was a small pond right in front of where they were sitting just like Tyler said. The water was clear and sparkly, it even had fish and a few frogs in it. There was suddenly a couple sitting on a bench that wasn't there before. It felt strange, almost like a dream. Carson didn’t have full control of his mind as he watched the couple with fascination. It was almost like seeing back in time. They looked so happy. Do all souls look like this to Tyler? He wondered. Carson wanted to get closer but he felt the connection wavering and the next time he blinked his eyes, they were gone. He had the distinct feeling of waking up, coming back to reality. He hadn’t even noticed that Tyler was on the ground next to him, seemingly unconscious. 

Tyler started to stir, and opened his eyes, he laid there for a second then stood up brushing himself off and putting his glasses back on. “Did it work? Did ya see?” he asked.

To his surprise, Carson was frowning. He seemed sad. “So… this is what you see. They looked just like people.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, noticing the look on carsons face. “What's wrong did it not work that well?”

“We can’t leave them there.” He said suddenly. “Dead souls aren’t supposed to stay in the living world, it’s not right.”

“Do you have to take them now?” Tyler asked, staring at the bench where the couple were. Carson could no longer see them as people. Instead they appeared as plain little souls that were very faint to his eyes.

“Do you have a better idea?” Carson asked him seriously. He knew that Tyler saw spirits but he never questioned how he uses that power.

“I'll go talk to them, if they have to move on better give them a heads up right?” Tyler said getting off the bench and walking around the empty patch of grass where the pond was. Carson stayed a few steps behind him. Tyler stood there and introduced himself like it was all normal and explained who they were and what they were doing. It looked like he was talking and responding to thin air. 

Carson waited for Tyler to give him the go ahead then he approached them. He had to really squint with his magical vision to even know where they were. He’d seen recently deceased souls before but the couple’s were especially dim as if they had been there for a long time. Closing his eyes, he held out his hand and grabbed onto the souls. Before he could really do anything Tyler nudged his arm “At least tell them your name ya know, I would wanna know who's taking me to the afterlife.”

Carson put his other hand over his outstretched palm as if that would somehow keep them from hearing him, “And tell them what? Hi I’m Carson Hall and I’m the grim reaper here to send you to death. Have a nice trip?”

“Yes, straight to the point. These people already know they're dead.”

Carson rolled his eyes but did it anyway feeling incredibly stupid for talking to thin air, “Whatever. I’m Carson and it’s my job to send lost souls like yours to the afterlife.” Carson waited for a second while Tyler looked like he was listening to what they were saying.

“They figured this would happen.” Tyler said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Without wasting any more time, Carson knelt down and put his hand on the ground. Tyler could see the smoky shadow under his hand for a split second before it was over and they were gone. “Well this isn’t how I planned on spending my night.”

“Eh, adventure is fun when you're not dying ri-” Tyler screamed and it sent Carson into a fight or flight response. He looked around then back at their table “The pizza!” Tyler screeched. It was getting eaten by pigeons as Tyler rushed over there like he was the one in danger, not the pizza and shooed them away. He regretted running immediately as it made him out of breath. It was too late, the pizza was half gone.

Carson took his sweet time walking back to the bench, “Give it up man. It belongs to the birds now.”

Tyler sat there and pouted and took a few puffs of his inhaler before complaining. “I spent 15 bucks on that ya know,” he whined.

“Who cares? We’ll get more on the way back.” 

“I can't spend all my money on just pizza. I have about two thousand I can spend on this trip, most of that was for the hotel I planned.

“Why don’t you just use your powers to make money?” Carson asked him seriously, “Besides, you had $300 to spend on books this morning. Now you’re telling me you’re too broke to buy some pizza?”

“Good point, on both parts.” Tyler said grabbing the pizza box and shoving it into a nearby trash can. “What do you do to make money? You work at the station right? With Morris.”

“I’m a magical consultant, I don’t get paid shit for that. I make most of my money by doing side jobs.”

“What kind of jobs?” Tyler asked as he and Carson started walking back to the car.

“It’s pretty simple. I just find a rich person with an incurable disease and ask them how much their life is worth to them.” Carson didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. 

“Sounds hard, wish I had thought of that. I would have enough money to have you cure my asthma ya know,” Tyler said laughing that turned into a slight cough.

“Well it’s not like your asthma will kill you, right? I mostly help people with terminal illnesses.” 

“It could if it got real bad, but it has never gotten to me not breathing at all ya know, i've been taken in to the ER though, the staff knows my name how funny is that.”

“Sounds like a real pain to live with.” Carson commented as they got back into Tyler’s car. “They know my name too but not a good way.”

“How's that?” Tyler said starting up the car.

“You haven’t noticed? People hate magicians. At least they do here. The gangs really don’t help with our public image.”

“How bad is that hatred here? It's not so bad in my hometown. Since we are small, there isn't a whole ton of crime there up until recently.”

“I grew up in a small town,” Carson said bitterly. “Didn’t stop anyone from hating me that’s for sure.”

“Go ahead and talk about it, i'm the only one here ya know”

“Eh what’s the point. Everyone hated me and tried to kill me a couple times, end of story.” He said with a sigh.

“KIll you?! I-its okay i won't pry if you don’t wanna talk about it then don't if it makes you on edge.”

Tyler seemed like the one on edge but Carson took his offer, no reason to bring up the past now. “What about you?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“How do people treat me?

“Yeah.”

“I'm not sure, I know Ramin was sent  to keep me from killing anyone but other than that, people don't really care unless you hurt somebody.”

“What about highschool?” Carson asked for a split second forgetting that Tyler didn't have any kind of power in highschool.

“I didn't have any kind of power then, You wouldn't believe if I told you I was the athletic kid who always got into fights, I got along with people but I only had like two real friends.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure I believe that.” Carson said, letting out a small chuckle.

“It's true I have pictures of me on the soccer team in 10th grade. Winter was really hard to do sports since it was so cold so I stuck with just bowling.” Tyler paused and thought for a moment, “I've been suspended several times too, I got in a fight with this guy and he tried to take Jared’s backpack and my inalor so I couldn't fight back. I sucker punched that son of a bitch and got our stuff back. You wouldn't believe how much trouble I was in.”

“For defending yourselves?”

“No, I mouthed off to the teachers. Since the guy threw the first punch My mom wasn't too mad about that. I had to sit in a chair with soap in my mouth at home until I went to write an apology letter and personally apologize for mouthing off.”

“What did you say?” Carson asked. He never would have guessed Tyler was like that as a kid so his curiosity got the better of him.

Tyler took a breath and smiled. “You guys are a bunch of sorry bitches if you are defending the pathetic excuse for kids who can't fight without a handicap.”

Carson was surprised by how Tyler was almost completely contrasted with what he was like now. Carson can't really judge though after all he had killed his own classmate. He just couldn’t see Tyler being so aggressive, it seemed out of character for him. Carson just nodded awkwardly, not wanting to comment either way.

Carson didn't say anything but Tyler couldn't help but laugh. He started laughing a lot which triggered a short coughing fit that had him setting his hand on his chest. 

“You’ve been coughing like that alot, I'm not going to have to heal you again right?” Carson didn't want to use his magic unless he really had to. He has had to heal Tyler’s asthma once before it took a lot out of him but this time Tyler had an inhaler so it should be fine.

“No, I've been outside a lot today, it's normal.” Tyler said, clearing his throat. He saw a music store while driving. Maybe they had a keyboard there that he could get really cheap. “Hey do  you mind if we pull into this music store real quick? I wanna take a look around ya know.”

“Do whatever you want,” Carson said casually though Tyler noticed out the corner of his eye he seemed to be squirming a bit. 

“I won't be in long I promise, are you gonna wait here or come in with me?”

“I’ll come, no point waiting in the car.” 

 “Okay,” Tyler said, pulling into the music store parking lot and getting out of the car. “I still have to buy you guys new cups too I must have broken like 12 of them” 

Tyler and Carson walked into the music store. It smelled nice, like an old wooden house. “Welcome,” the cashier said as a little bell chimed from the two walking in the door. Tyler went directly to the area where the keyboards were. “Do you have any of these used, maybe under 70- dollars?”  The cashier brought him a keyboard that had a bit of dust on it. The keys were worn a little bit but it still worked. 

Tyler walked out of that store with a big grin on his face. They started driving back to Carson’s apartment, picking up cups and more pizza on the way. They arrived, Tyler bringing up a few magical books and his nebulizer in a backpack while carrying the keyboard. Carson had the pizza. They walked into the apartment and they both flopped on couches opposite of eachother. They felt like they did a lot that day so they both ended up falling asleep for about two hours.

[unordinary-analysis]

Episode 172

Honorable mentions:

Them saying joker when they mean a fake joker is really messing with me. At the same time, that idea is very interesting because it further promotes that joker is no longer one person now, he's a mantle that others can take up and claim too. Like a gang or something. Now, Joker is bigger than John.

I mention my posts for both episode 170 and the first part of 147 in this episode so you can search for those on my page by searching #episode 170 and #episode 147. If you want to, I dunno … :/. I think these posts really help to elaborate on my thought and everything I left unspoken in this episode post because I would just be repeating myself.

Yes, holden, you are kinda scary

Every once in a while I just think about how we haven’t even seen a proper teacher or authority in this school besides Darren for a whole while

My favorite words are: “anyways” and “obviously.” wbk.

My transitions have gone so downhill and I don’t know how to fix itttt

Terrence:

    We been knew that anytime Terrence shows up, I have to say something about it and this episode is very far from an exception. We get drama here ladies and gentlemen. 

    The first part of this episode is very attention drawing to him and really exposes him the most out of any part of the whole comic, which is saying something since we don’t even get that much, but still. First of all, and yes I’m jumping right into this, Roland says to Seraphina, “He turns invisible… that's his ability. He doesn’t like sharing it with others for some reason…” And not only does this statement sound hella vague and suspenseful, it explains why we’ve known so little about Terrence. He keeps himself very private and hidden away from others. Sure, he hangs around people and has friends and is a reporter, but he isn’t as inclined to share things about himself. In fact, the UnOrdinary Wikia (fan-run but still) states, “From what little is known about him, Terrence is a very secretive individual and uses his ability to aid his journalism.”  All of this very much supports the next idea that comes from Seraphina. 

    Right after learning of Terrence’s ability, Sera thinks, “Invisibility? That day, on our way back from Kovoro Mall… the person following us also had invisibility. Is this just a coincidence?” And I know everyone reading the episode breathed a sigh of relief. Here’s a quote from my own episode analysis of episode 147 (July), “Though it is not technically canon, most people believe that Terrence is the invisible guy that tried to sneak up on Seraphina and John in episode 10 and the invisible person that was involved with the whole situation at Kovoro mall. Neither cases were dwelt upon long or pushed into further investigation by the characters.” Guess what, now this issue is being addressed by Seraphina and I couldn’t be happier. One of the things preventing any characters from associating Terrence with their run-ins with invisible people has been because they never learned Terrence’s ability. He’s well known by Isen (and maybe Arlo) because of the school paper, and possibly Remi because of her concerns with high-tiers, but if Seraphina, one of his “friends” is only learning about his ability now, there is no way they really know too. Obviously Cecile knows because she used to be head of the newspaper and used Terrence’s ability to her own advantage, but Isen didn’t even want to be promoted to that so he hasn’t really put much into that. Regardless, Seraphina is the first character to be bringing this kind of thing up. 

    Again, though, I’m going to be using something I wrote in my episode 147 analysis because it ties into this episode in a more frightening way. “The characters [of UnOrdinary] often investigate and look into anything suspicious around them. Arlo and Isen looked into John. Remi chased after EMBER (one of the more... special cases), When Seraphina got kidnapped- literally everyone’s perspective revolved around it. Uru-Chan allowed her characters to look into the ultimately lesser conflicts. Yes, Arlo discovering John’s abilities proved to be maybe the biggest plot point/ turning point in UnOrdinary, but after that happened, the story still went on. Seraphina getting kidnapped? Not much to do with that endgame climax we’re all waiting for. I’ll say it again for the people in the back who aren’t paying attention.

Uru-Chan doesn’t let her characters investigate anything that will be endgame conflict.

Am I saying that right? Whatever, you all get the gist of what I’m saying.

The events that aren’t directly crucial to UnOrdinary’s ultimate climax have all been examined.

Which means: Whatever hasn’t been properly addressed by the comic that should’ve based on the character’s usual actions will be important to the eventual and overall plot. -------Terrence, and the person we readers believe him to be, falls under the category of things that should have been addressed more and were not. Like I listed before [referencing the rest of my episode 147 analysis]: the chase outside the mall, the teddy-bear scandal with the superhero posse. I can’t imagine John just letting someone who was invisible sneak up on him and Seraphina and just not give them another thought.”

Yes, this is just a big word blob, but I think it’s obvious why I chose to include the whole thing here. In July, I said that the characters of UnOrdinary weren’t “allowed” to investigate Terrence and similar situations because furthering any investigation into that would progress the endgame timeline and therefore point the story toward its finale. By leaving these concepts alone for so long, uru-chan has made sure that her story continues and doesn’t wrap up before she intends. It is a story-telling tactic. And, don’t worry, I’m not saying that this episode is proof that UnOrdinary is ending soon or anything like that because it is confirmed (by uru-chan) that UnOrdinary has at least two seasons and will be over 300 episodes long so calm down. I’m saying that uru-chan is making sure we remember her ultimate, underlying story. I’m not sure if you read my review for episode 170, but I talk about a similar concept in that post. Anyway, the appearance of any investigation into Terrence and the part of the storyline that he represents means that we are working up to a climax. A new major turning point in the story. And this makes sense too, considering we’re literally about to have that Seraphina and John confrontation. I think that, along with the obvious repercussions that will come out of that happening, we will also get a major(ish) development for our endgame plot line, because through it is far the end of the story, there has to be some progression throughout the comic or else when it would be brought up in the end, it would feel out of place.

I also think that there’s a chance there won’t be a major turning point like I just said (I love contradicting myself), but rather just a small reminder for the same reason that uru-chan is trying to keep her endgame storyline vague and elongating. I know those words didn’t make sense, but I hope you understand. Because, in its own way, any development into the underlying plot can be considered a major thing, I don’t think this matters too much. Who knows, we might get really unlucky and the only thing we get is this episode, that little mention of insight. The important thing is: we got some acknowledgement and it’s a big deal.

So: I think that with this whole underlying plot thing dealing with EMBER, the authorities, Terrence (I talk about this underlying plot a lot in my analysis of episode 170 without really identifying it as such [my bad]) is at a point where it’s willing to expose itself an unknown amount to keep its relevance in the story. That’s really all, and I know it doesn’t sound like much, but because this storyline has been so hidden and secretive in the past, this is really a much bigger deal than it seems.

    Now, I would make predictions about how this is going to play out or what Sera is going to do, if she even does anything, but nobody’s got time for my clownery, so let’s move on.

The Drama:

    I’m bad at predictions, so I won’t be talking about what I think is going to happen between John and Sera, though you may be wondering how, then, will I be able to execute a section on this. Well, I kind of needed to say something about this for my sanity so I’ll figure it out. Anyway, the whole confrontation between John and Sera is going to be so dramatic and climactic it’s gonna be wild. At least for the story.

    The thing that interests me is just the given effects that this event will have on the story. More specifically: Joker.

    Now, we all know that Joker is John (flashbacks to “Seraphina is Joker” post). And his whole thing right now is being this dictator of Wellston that defeated all of the past royals and  took down the hierarchy. We got that part. But one of the biggest aspects of Joker is his anonymity. Joker is an unknown student at Wellston, which allows other students to assume his identity, making Joker into a much larger thing than just one person. I said something about this in the honorable mentions.

    Anyway, back to this episode, if we do get this John and Seraphina confrontation and she does tell him that she knows that he’s Joker, I’m willing to bet the Joker we all know is going to change drastically. Seraphina is one of the sole reasons for Joker's creation and you can bet she can tear it down just as fast. The biggest known reason for John hiding his identity as Joker is because of Seraphina. John wanted her to keep believing his lie, his fake personality, and obviously by exposing himself as the powerful, violent terror, he would be dispelling any illusion of cripple John. But if Seraphina happened to find out, like she did, the situation becomes a bit more complicated.

Once John learns that Seraphina knows who he is, and he no doubt will (likely in their confrontation next episode), there will be no more reason for him to stay anonymous. Especially because John doesn’t seem too fond of the fake Jokers running around claiming his authority and beating up low-tiers, including Seraphina. 

So I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m suggesting will happen. I think that Joker is going to unmask himself to the school. I know that’s a prediction and I said I wouldn’t make a prediction, but this is like a general, bigger scale prediction, so it’s less finicky than any prediction of what exactly our confrontation is going to look like, so you’re just gonna have to deal. Anyway, I think that this unmasking of John is going to be really exciting in terms of seeing how John reacts to truly returning, again, to the person he was at New Bostin. As I’ve said before, I believe that this story is going to run full circle, as I believe even Sera’s said. I talk about this a lot in my post for episode 167 (#episode 167), especially focusing on John’s mental state throughout, so an update on that would be so interesting to me because that was one of my favorite posts to write, content-wise. 

Anyways, I’m just going to end this post here even though I feel like I just dropped a lot of ideas, but didn’t really emphasize how important I feel they are to the story, but that’s fine.