#which makes the finale a bit pompous tbh

[wambs]

how long do you think the PGN board is gonna let shiv stay married to literal CEO of their greatest competitor ATN? like, 2 weeks from now, when PGN has their first board meeting with their new owners, how is the first thing someone brings up NOT gonna be how bad it is for public perception/corporate morale/business terminology(tm) that one of their 3 new royco owners is still death-do-we-part with ATN? and given how terrible shiv is at saying no to people, do you think the ink will even be dry on the divorce papers before they're on top of tom's desk?

i said it before and i will say it again, the pgn win was written in just so that failsibs don't stay losing forever, it was a quick win to show the viewers they have some sway, where in fact they have none. nobody cares about them winning it and it's never mentioned again, not even when we find out that pgn is pinning the premature presidency announcement on tom. hell, even in the finale, shiv completely forgot that they fucked the hundred idea to make way for buying pgn and wanted to give her shares of the hundred to roman and kendall, when in fact its pgn they now own together, the three of them. such sophisticated writing on this groundbreaking drama, etc.

the whole sibs losing waystar seems less impactful when you remember they literally just bought another media conglomerate. ken is saying he is not good at anything else than being ceo? let him head pgn???? it's literally theirs now?

i was going to say that maybe they have no funds, but they literally just got paid 192 bill for waystar and surely some of it is making its way into their pockets, so that's not it.

getting back to your ask, i do think divorce is imminent, after the first pgn board meeting, after the take over is fully finalised, after tom gets more secure in his new role, it is happening because neither of them actually want this marriage at this point. with tom struggling to point out a single positive thing about it, with shiv being cornered into a powerless position, with the kid nobody really wants.

it's not gonna last. and pgn's view on shivs martial status might just accelerate things, especially since she straight up told nan pierce she is getting a divorce asap yo get this deal done.

#thank you xx #i will be real with you and say i also forgot they had that going on #which makes the finale a bit pompous tbh #like oh no we lost atn and waystar #i guess we will now have to start our jobs at the second most prominent media conglomerate and ats direct rival. all is lost. truly. #kinnoth #answered #succession spoilers #succ

[imanes]

Hello! You mentioned reading Piranesi a few months ago and I finally got around to reading it and I love it so much - thank you for the lovely recommendation <3 If you don't mind can you talk a little about what you loved about the book (I love hearing your thoughts)? Also have you read Jorge Luis Borges' Ficciones (I believe it inspired Piranesi)?

HELLO my friend!! first of all tysm for taking the recommendation, I'm so happy it worked for you! honestly what do I NOT love about this book? it's hard to wrap my thoughts about piranesi because it was such a lovely reading experience which i honestly need to repeat ASAP because the layers to explore in piranesi are so numerous. secondly let me admit that i haven't read any borges yet BUT he's definitely on my radar and I've been looking for his books on my used bookstore runs since i read piranesi, not to much avail unfortunately but i added ficciones to my tbr for reminder!!

anyways I'm gonna stop right here for anyone who has not read piranesi yet because i think you'd benefit from going into it not knowing much except that it's told in vignettes and that it has elements of mystery which become more and more central to the plot as we advance and unravel the world that piranesi lives in. so don't keep reading past this if u haven't read piranesi yet! i did keep it spoiler-free though so no pressure. also putting everything under a read more bc i truly was obnoxiously verbose adlkjglsjk if it didn't work my apologies 4 it

NOW let's talk about what i loved about the book which honestly will probably just be a flimsy overview bc again i think a re-read would make what i love about it more salient and richer but i guess we can already have a start here!

first of all, the character of piranesi. when i first started the book and immersed myself in his inner voice, i was kind of thinking ok there must be a reason as to why he is so incredibly wholesome but also with an extremely sharp mind and immaculate observation skills. the childlike wonder of his perspective was an absolute joy to read from but also provided some tension because i think pretty early on you catch that he might be a bit of an unreliable character and that what he tells you may not match the reality of what his experiences and observations mean to the reader. you're very much the prisoner of his limited perception, his sometimes bizarre but always delightful thought process, and also again the childlike wonder with which he observes the world and which makes everything carry so much more weight w/o resorting to pompous/pretentious gravitas. a statue isn't just a statue to him, it is the Statue, something important in and of itself, with its own story/mythos and it harkens back to a child's point of view which hasn't yet been shaped by the world and therefore isn't as limited as our jaded adults' minds, even though he is an adult himself, which is apparent in his very keen mind.

then we have the form, with the novel being told in vignettes. i personally really like novels such as these because they feel a lot more personal but also propels the story forward. I'm not a fan of huge chapters tbh because my attention span is trash lmao. it was so easy to immerse myself in his world because the writing was so vivid and honestly made me reevaluate a lot about myself adjdjslg. I'm not much of a quote person but "the Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite" lives rent-free in my mind because 1. it appears at two key points in the novel and both iterations echo the other brilliantly in their respective context and thus add even more meaning to the quote and 2. i think it's a beautiful metaphor for the world we live in, which leads me to the next point

what i mostly clung to during my reading experience was the theme of confinement to a specific physical space, which can feel suffocating and limited. susanna clarke suffers from a chronic illness that has kept her within the confines of her home for many years and this book very much reflects that. from my personal experience with that theme, i was less reminded of how thematically relevant it was in the middle of a pandemic, and more about how much goodness there is still in this world at a time where everything seems so bleak, and unkind. i myself suffer from an ugly case of chronic cynicism which i think is very unappealing lmao but at least I'm self-aware! being reminded that we live in a world where kindness is indeed infinite in the smallest and biggest of ways is the balm that my shriveled soul truly needed. i guess it's my emotional support quote lmao.

then we have the setting of the book which, while limited spatially, is also so full of wonderful things and imaginative configurations that i was just in awe of everything that was being done with it. the plot is closely tied to the setting and i really want to keep this spoiler-free (just in case) so I'm not going to delve too deeply into it but i'd love to visit this place and have piranesi guide me through the labyrinth of the House and the many wonders (and tragedies) that it holds.

finally we have the MYSTERY and omg i love picking up the clues and kind of forming my own theories along the way bc it truly isn't an in-your-face mystery like a thriller would be. we buddy-read this with some ppl from the book club so the experience of sharing our theories made it all the more pleasant. i really loved how clarke presented the many mysteries of the story in such a subtle yet gripping manner that soon i was just obsessed with knowing who was whom and what they wanted from piranesi and who piranesi was and how this all came to be. all the different players felt fully fleshed out and made me feel veeeery strongly (i.e. i wanted to kill some of them like literally daydreaming about choking them to death... not to sound unhinged or anything). they provided such good foils to piranesi's inherent goodness and all that they lacked in terms of decency. their shamelessness and infinite greed and how they see piranesi as a pawn to use set my teeth on edge so i was just biding my time for the karmic retribution that they'd get akjdlkgj also great exploration of how ambition can be the downfall of mankind

then we have all the clever-people-themes of neoclassicism and philosophy and plato's cave and whatnot and it's not what held my attention so i can't speak much on it bc I'm not one of those clever people who picked upon these themes LMAO but I'll for sure spend more time unpacking these layers on my re-read of this book because there are so many smart ideas hidden in the nooks and crannies of this story that i think you could get something different from each read, kind of like i feel about pride & prejudice by jane austen which offers me new delights to enjoy upon each re-read.

honestly i have so much more to say about how religion is handled, the rituals surrounding grief and their importance in the celebration and respect of of life, birds being amazing creatures, identity and how it can create contradictions etc etc but at this point i might as well just write a college essay on literally every theme explored in this book because it was just SO GOOD! thank u piranesi for me life

tl;dr this book made me feel like my brain was buried in a thick coat of dust and let some much-needed air in

#also i read this message at like 6am and thought long and hard about it #and then started crying bc i'd die and kill for piranesi period

[beyondthestacks]

Nightmare

For analogical day 3: Prompt: nightmares/dream @analogicalweek

Warnings/notes: hinting at manipulative ‘light sides’, considering that ‘dark side Logan’ I guess?  This is an au and will be continued with tomorrows prompt! Remus is mentioned but not by name. Logan’s not human. 

Virgil stood on the roof of his apartment complex, enjoying the breeze moving through the warm air. The Dream Weaver, Roman was it?, told him he had a choice to make. To either follow him and live among the dream givers as his partner, eventually becoming a dream giver himself, or be cursed for all eternity. It might seem like a pretty easy decision right? Wrong. The Dream Weavers sounded nice, all goodness and light, providing balancing thoughts and dreams and being innately good. Look farther past the surface though and one could see the manipulation and guilt tripping taking place in that realm and in the dreams they gave. 

The other option was what held Virgil’s attention, to be “cursed for all eternity.” Virgil snorted at that. He’d liked to see how he’d be cursed if he followed after the Nightmares. In his experience, it’s always been them offering up the best and most comforting of dreams. Not to mention the physical comfort he provided after one of the Dream Weavers “bringing to balance” dreams or whatever they called the dreams that were supposed to expel those “unwanted” thoughts and feelings and whatnot. Those always hit worse than any actual nightmare did.

There was a soft whoosing behind Virgil as someone landed. Virgil kept still, waiting for the individual to approach. He didn’t have to wait for long before long arms wrapped around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and tail wrapping around his leg. Virgil leaned back into the embrace, reaching up to cup his nightmare’s jaw. 

Logan hummed in appreciation as Virgil’s fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Good evening my starlight.”

“Hey Lo” Virgil responded softly, relaxing further into his Nightmare’s embrace, letting Logan take most of his weight. 

They stayed like that for a time, embracing and enjoying each other's warmth. 

It was Logan who finally broke the silence, nuzzling further into Virgil's neck as he spoke. “I heard one of the Dream Weavers visited earlier.” 

Virgil let out a long sigh before answering. “He did, yeah. His name was Roman.”

Logan tensed slightly, trying not to react too much, “Hmm, and what was Roman’s reasoning to visit?” Logan knew this particular Dream Weaver to an extent. He was technically the brother of one of his best friends and he knew exactly how, creative, he could be to get what he wanted. 

Virgil nodded and shifted slightly, easing the strain on his back some. “He said he’d been watching me for a while, which tbh, kind of creepy, watching how I interacted with you and the others and how I was being deceived.” Virgil paused for a moment and Logan squeezed him slightly, encouraging him to continue. “He also told me I had a choice, I could either choose to be cursed for all eternity,” Virgil took a breath before continuing, “or I could join the Dream Weavers as Roman’s partner and eventually become one of them. And he also gave the ultimatum that I had until tomorrow morning to decide or I’d be ‘dealt with,’ whatever he means by that.” Virgil went still, waiting for Logan’s reaction to this information.

Logan tensed at the information, “He assumed you’d be his partner and he made an ultimatum?”

“Oh, um, not exactly, it was-he said it was one of the conditions to join them, assigning me a partner, in all sense of the word, to ensure I didn’t reign chaos down on them.”

Logan jerked back at this, turning Virgil so they were now facing each other. “What!? He really said that?” Logan shouldn’t be surprised, he knew how the Dream Weavers worked, but for Roman to be so bold as to approach a Nightmare’s claimed mate, to try and ‘sway them from the dark’ was baffling to him.

Virgil sighed as he grasped Logan’s arms, looking into his eyes. Eyes that were so dark navy, they were almost black, speckled with gold and silver. Virgil maintains to this day that it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s seen, albeit that list is solely composed of Logan himself. “Unfortunately yes,” Logan went to respond, but Virgil continued before he could “Don’t worry though, I set his robe on fire so he’d leave.”

Logan blinked a few times, mouth hung open. “You set his robe on fire?”

Virgil grinned as he replied, “Yep!”

“Do I even want to know how?”

“I was making that alcohol solution you can use to set your hands on fire and he irritated me and wouldn’t leave even though I asked him to so, new test subject.” Virgil shrugged and looked quite pleased with himself for this solution. 

Logan let out a short laugh before pulling Virgil in for a hug. Many described Nightmare’s laughs as harsh and grating, Virgil though, Virgil thought it sounded just like comfort and home.

Logan broke the embrace first, bringing his hands up to cup Virgil’s jaw, stroking his cheeks as he looked into Virgil’s lavender eyes. “Starlight, while I am more than thrilled with your reaction to Roman, his ultimatum stated you have until the morning to make a decision.” Logan fervently hoped that Roman hadn’t managed to convince Virgil of anything. He knew that Virgil loved him, and that he loved Virgil, but the Dream Weavers were known for playing tricks and glossing it over as ‘making the truth be known.’

Virgil smiled slightly and brought one hand up to cover Logan’s, leaning into his palm. “I know Lo, my decision was made a long time ago though. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.” At this Virgil turned his head and gave a kiss to Logan’s palm. “The Dream Weavers have nothing to give me except bad dreams and bad memories. Besides, how could I leave the man I love for some pompous asshole that thinks he knows me? I’m right where I belong and nothing is going to change that.” Virgil looked into Logan’s eyes as he said this, conveying all the emotion he could into the look.

Logan made a keening noise at Virgil’s declaration and leaned in and kissed him with a fervor that felt like home, bringing his wings to circle around Virgil and pulled him in closer. 

Virgil leaned into Logan's embrace and kissed his mate back happily, 

Virgil pulled away first, bringing his head to rest in the crook of Logan's neck, breathing in the scent that was totally Logan. “So, where do we go from here?”

Logan nuzzled his cheek against the top of Virgil’s head before answering. “Well, Roman’s ultimatum said you had until the morning to give your decision. There are multiple ways to go about doing that. It just depends on what you’re comfortable with.” 

Virgil thought for a moment before responding slowly. “You mentioned once, that Nightmares could transform their human mates so that they were a Nightmare as well.” Virgil paused a moment, before continuing, “Is this actually a possibility?”  

Logan waited a long moment before he responded. Transforming Virgil would solve several problems, firstly, Roman’s ultimatum, and secondly, the fact that Nightmares were a little bit immortal, whereas humans were decidedly not. “If that is definitely what you want, then yes, I can do that.”

Virgil moved his head to look up at Logan, smiling, “Getting to spend the rest of forever with you, creating chaos as we go? Sounds like a perfect existence to me.” 

Logan smiled down at Virgil, love and contentment in his gaze, holding him close. “Nothing would make me happier starlight.” Logan leaned down to kiss Virgil once more before scooping him up and taking off into the night.

#analogicalweek #analogical #Virgil #Logan #au #blue writes #look ma i wrote a thing #i hope y'all enjoy!

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 508

I mean, shame on me for allowing myself to get my hopes up that the show might have turned a corner last week. I should know better by now.

At least Young Ian’s back. And Marsali had a nice moment. And that’s about all I have to say about this episode that’s positive. I swear to fuck, this show hates Claire as much as the author of the books does. Where the fuck is the lead protagonist, show? Can she come back? Can she get a story line of her own that’s more than just a random scene every few episodes, please? And can Bree please be given something to fucking do that doesn’t involve Roger, Jemmy or rape? Does Fergus still even live on the Ridge?

But yeah, I guess let’s just all watch the episode twice so our dumb lady!brains can understand that Matt’s stupid silent movie gimmick was actually ~ArT~ and not, you know, a stupidly bad creative choice. Seriously, fuck that guy.

I can’t tell you how much idgaf about watching Roger teach. Also, Bree’s like his students’ age since she was in college too. So really all this bit is doing is to make me skeeved out about their age difference.

“Can you tell me why anyone would go to the trouble of burying one?” he said, condescendingly, like the doucherocket he is. Do not disrespect Young Ian like that, asshat.

“People live and die by their words.” *gestures to the beautiful shitposts on this hellsite* sure jan dot gif.

I already want to fastforward.

Would 100% rather sit through a lecture on suspension bridges than watch silent movies, tbh.

Hate the title card. Hate this whole gimmick.

Hate.

HAAAAATE.

Roger got hanged. Roger was dumb, Buck was an abusive and toxic fuckwad. But still, Roger got hanged and this is how we find out he’s alive and how he was saved?

It should be this big emotional moment. It should make me feel a thing in spite of myself. But nope! Gotta do this fucking silent movie thing. Which is hilariously terrible. And I laughed at it the whole time. In a mean and judgey fashion. What a craptastic creative choice. Whoever’s idea that was is a fucking idiot. *stares at a certain pompous af showrunner*

Ok but for real though, does LJG just like live in North Carolina now? Why is he always around, besides, you know, so we don’t forget he’s a character who exists.

For real though, he lives in Virginia and gets more screen time than fucking Fergus and Marsali who live fucking next door.

At least writing this recap is gonnna be quick and easy since they waste so much time re-showing the stupid silent movie footage.

Yes, I know, they’re trying to show Roger’s PTSD. Which involves flashbacks. And gradually turn it to color once he’s like come to terms with what happened and starts to move forward. But the execution is so bad that the whole arc is wasted because it’s just so poorly done.

Oh hey! A Claire and Bree scene! I love those. Except oh wait, it aggressively fails the Bechdel Test.

I JUST WANT THE FUCKING WOMEN ON THIS SHOW TO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO THAT’S COMPLETELY FUCKING SEPARATE FROM THE MEN. ARGH.

Jocasta singing at Murtz’s cairn is a reminder that everyone should check out MDK’s music.

And her wearing the necklace Murtz gave her makes the existence of show!Duncan even dumber. Like oh hey, new husband, don’t mind me, just mourning my dead boyfriend and wearing his jewelry. But it’s totally normal since my niece-in-law still wears her abusive ex-husband’s ring.

Sorry, show!Duncan, but a more pointless character was never included. Show!Duncan wins the prize for most BeCaUsE tHe BoOk dumbassery.

Repeatedly showing what’s basically a snuff film is...a choice.

LJG has no sense of personal space when it comes to the Frasers. And it’s fucking creepy.

Oh look, another scene where all Claire gets to do is comfort someone about a man.

*BANGS FIST ON TABLE* GIVE CLAIRE BEAUCHAMP THE STORY LINES SHE DESERVES.

Jemmy aged like 3 years in the 3 month time jump.

Ok, I totally get why Roger hadn’t spoken yet. But once he did, the seal was broken. Not talking after he yelled to stop Jemmy, even a little bit, is just a dick move. Not that he’d be magically better. But he like refuses to even take baby steps.

CAN WE PLEASE GET THROUGH AN EPISODE WITHOUT A MUSICAL INTERLUDE. I FUCKING HATE THE CLEMENTINE SONG.

GRANNIE CLAIRE AND GRANDA JAMIE ARE MY FAVE.

OMFG AN ARROW. THAT CLEARLY MEANS...YOUNG IANNNNN!!!!!

So glad he’s back. So fucking glad. Yes, it means one more character to dilute how much time we can spend with any given person, but it’s a character that I like so hopefully he takes away from some of the time given to ones I don’t like?

Aaand Roger can’t even bring himself to try to talk to the guy who gave himself up in his place. Fuck Roger.

Claire does a better job at first than Jamie at picking up the vibes Young Ian is putting off, but like, for two people who are supposed to be emotionally intelligence, neither of them do a good job at first of really *seeing* Ian.

John Bell is really good in this episode.

Omfg Marsali has tarot cards. She’s like leaning full on into being the white witch’s apprentice and I fucking love her so much.

Also, the Hanged Man card is representative of self-sacrifice and martyrdom rather than like being actually hanged as a punishment. But whatevs.

Ok I think the reason Jenny yelling at Jamie to snap out of it in S3 bugged me where this scene with Bree yelling at Roger doesn’t is because sibling dynamic is completely different than spouses where both of them have gone through something unimaginable.

That he can’t even say anything here. Or give her any kind of sign that he’s still in there is a dick move. He *can* speak. He knows that now. So does everyone else. He’s actively choosing not to. Even to say that he just needs more time to work through his shit. No one’s asking him to be a chatterbox and totally back to normal.

Young Ian just sitting there while everyone else does grace is literally me at every family holiday.

Oh look, a wild Fergus appeared!

Ok, I never got the surveying thing. Wouldn’t the land already be registered? Since they were given the paperwork and shit for it from the governor? I know there was some bit about it in the book about keeping it after the Revolution but like, who the fuck else are they registering it with that would make a difference? The gov’t is still the English gov’t?

“But there are things you keep hidden from others. You and Claire both.” Ok, can he please be talking about time travel? I mean, I know he’s talking about his wife and their miscarriages, but I just want someone else to know about time travel already please and thank you.

HOW THE FUCK IS MARSALI STILL PREGNANT?! SHE’S BEEN PREGNANT FOR LIKE A FUCKTON OF TIME.

Fuck yeah not-Catholic-anymore-Ian. No grace, talking about the creator in a way that isn’t explicitly the christian god. Good job, kid.

My parents called me to say happy easter and I had to be like, uh, you remember that I don’t celebrate that, right?

Happy Zombie!Jeebus Appreciation Day to all the still christian people. And happy chance to have fun with burner zoom accounts named Elijiah to the jewish folks.

Jokes aside, the scene with Young Ian and Marsali was really nice and Marsali remains a fucking saint. It’s nice that Young Ian has someone who like actually gets what it’s like to find a home in a group of strangers.

Oh Claire, think more highly of your assistant. Also, what a clunky fucking way to be like oh hey, one of the emo!bros is gonna try to off themselves.

Ok but with the paper airplane now too, can we please show Young Ian finding out about time travel? Please?

Ok, but Claire automatically jumping to Roger wanting to off himself with her herbs... It’s making me judge both of them a little that neither picked up on just how clearly Young Ian was suffering. Like come the fuck on, y’all. It wasn’t subtle.

Also, can we please have more Adso?

SOMEONE GIVE YOUNG IAN A HUG! NO, NOT YOU, ROGER! SOMEONE GOOD!

Yada yada yes they both have been through something shitty and call me a biased asshole, but I can’t bring myself to feel anything about Roger and I feel all the things about Young Ian.

So Roger won’t talk when his wife begs, but he’ll talk when someone calls him on his bullshit. Cool. Cool cool cool. Nice dude.

NO ONE WAS ASKING FOR THE OLD ROGER, YOU TWATWAFFLE. THEY WERE ASKING FOR *A* ROGER. INSTEAD OF A ZOMBIE.

Again, there’s more to that tarot card than a literal hanged man, but whatever, show.

Oh thank fuck the episode is finally over. Expectations are back down in the gutter for the rest of the season. Please pleasantly surprise me, show, but I will not make the mistake again of thinking you’re actually gonna be consistently good again.

#* #outlander starz #outlander 5x08 #drunj!der yells about outlander

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 239: We’re Fucked

Previously on BnHA: Actually it’s been two weeks, so I barely even remember. Let me just... take another... Ah, right. So Tomura brought it up a notch to Goth Level x20 and destroyed all of his Surplus Hands in a fit of independence, and Re-Destro was like “!!!” and then turned himself into a giant robot as a counter-flex. Meanwhile Gigantomachia continued to smash shit and also defeated Orange Leaf because lord knows Dabi was never actually going to get around to it. Compress called Ujiko and was all “hey can you please stop your guy because I’m afraid he’s going to smash us once he’s done smashing everything else,” but Ujiko was all, “listen if Shigaraki dies then he dies!!” But I’m pretty sure Shigaraki isn’t actually going to die. Re-Destro, though? He might be dead. Guess we’ll find out.

Today on BnHA: Nope, Re-Destro isn’t dead. So it goes like this: Tomura, who is now incredibly hot by the way, annihilates the entire fucking town leaving only bits of rubble, basically. Everyone is all, “LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS HOLY SHIT” and basically just watching in awe. Re-Destro chops off his own fucking feet so as not to be disintegrated himself, something which everyone is way too fucking calm about tbh. And in the aftermath Tomura stands there all “lol I won,” and RD is like, “yeah you sure did,” and I was expecting Tomura to be all “well anyways, [kill]” but instead RD is like, “HERE’S THE KEYS TO YOUR NEW ARMY” and Tomura is “HEY COOL” and SOMEHOW THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER AND WORSE ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Heh. Anyways where’s that comic with the dog in the house that’s on fire. That about sums it all up.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes, and even that was a rush job since I was late in reading the chapter this week. I basically have not edited this at all lulz.)

sounds like someone is about to get the official Gigantomachia Seal of Approval at long last! sure did take this boy a while to get accredited, but he kept at it! there’s a lesson there, folks. if at first you don’t succeed, stop sleeping for two months and then power-hallucinate your way to success

so we’re opening with Hanabata and his van! I sure hope this mofo is about to die, because mofos need to start dying already. I’ve loved this arc and we’ve had some really great times, but I never did have much patience for this particular point of any given arc. side villains need to know when to die. respect for Kizuki, at least she had the right idea

on the other hand we are being gifted with some pretty fun panels, such as this

wah, his shoes. heh

oh my god

did he slam into the van when it hit the brakes to avoid Tomura’s Destruction Radius. ouch

so he’s narrating about how some crazy shit is going down over where Tomura is. and that “our story was at a standstill, but now...”

listen, that “but now” had better mean that you’re about to de-standstill and wrap things up

-- holy shit

I’m not -- Tomura, what!?! you’re hot?! is it just me?? am I fucking losing it?? what the fuck. can you seriously just cut off anyone’s fingers and they’ll magically grow 40x hotter!? somebody count Aizawa’s fingers for me

shit. this isn’t even my normal aesthetic! Tomura you’re crossing genre barriers here. I can’t speak for everyone, but I deeply suspect that you’re appealing very widely right now

the moral of this story is, eyeliner. that’s it. that’s the moral

in other news, Twice shouting “hang in there, Giran!” speaks for all of us, I think, and he had better get a medal for being VIP of this fucking arc. and Giran, it’s good to get some exercise

so who is this monologuing now?

is this a flashback to All for One? or RD getting all philosophical as the countdown inches ever closer to his doom?

like, this could seriously go either way here. huh. full disclosure, I’m doing my best to speedread here since this recap is late, so I’m not taking much time to think real deeply or try and process every little thing this week

now RD is going “guh!” and failing to get with the times

yeah dude, we established this already. Tomura is doing a lot of things he shouldn’t fucking be able to do. because he’s awakening. you’re the one who fucking said it just last chapter. quit being so damn shocked

lol now he’s thinking “if I can just get out of range...” ha, good luck. does he even have a fucking range now

omfg. you guys

being on the villains’ team for an arc is so much fun. so nice to be able to shamelessly appreciate the senseless destruction

okay, not quite as hot now. but from the right angle, though. damn

anyways. he cray. we get it lol

now he’s shouting “I’ll break you to pieces!” all gleefully and, like. destroying the entire town, it looks like. possibly

okay but seriously I think he really is. he really fucking is, you guys

I’m simultaneously grinning at how badass it is and thinking in the back of my mind about how our actual heroes are so!! fucked!! once this arc is over and done with sob

like, hey Tomura, what was your overall goal again? destroy the entire world? oh, yes, right. and what exactly is stopping you, again? literally nothing but a handful of sixteen-year-old heroes in training? whom I’m deeply attached to? yes, that’s surely going to end well

sobbbbbbbb

we’re so. goddamn. fucked

also, when did RD transform back into his little guy form? why do I suddenly almost feel sorry for him. well maybe not sorry so much as I feel pity. though once again, weekly reminder that he invited them himself, and they probably would never have clashed had he not decided to start shit for absolutely no fucking reason

let this be a lesson to all other villains! if you’re still thinking the League is an easy mark now that AFO is ~out of the picture~, let Overhaul and Re-Destro serve as examples of what happens when you underestimate the new boy in charge

and when I think of it that way, it makes me want to warn Tomura not to get too cocky and make the same fucking mistake. AFO and All Might may not have much in common, but one thing they do share is a knack for choosing worthy successors. though I still think that in AFO’s case, “placeholder” would be a more accurate word

anyway so where were we. -- oh yes

I wonder how many pages do we need of Tomura cheerfully decimating shit and RD watching in terror. this is a manga-only complaint though, just to be clear. in the anime? this shit is going to be fucking amazing. Tomura cackling maniacally while the world crumbles to pieces around him. metal af

by the way I love how RD has gone pants-only now that he’s back in his Bruce Banner form

I really shouldn’t be complaining that this chapter is going by so quickly, given that I’m trying to race through it, but literally the next two pages are just more of the same shit

town: destroyed. RD status: defeated and pants-only. plots advanced in the last three pages: none that I can actually see

oh shit. wait

what the -- holy --

okay lol. nevermind. here I thought that was Tomura’s foot on the previous page. and I didn’t notice RD’s feet had been chopped off on account of I thought the BLOODY STUMPS OF HIS FEET were his shoes, I guess. despite the manga establishing multiple times that he was only wearing pants. I only pointed it out specifically twice myself. wowwww

just. I’m running on four hours’ sleep here but feeling pretty all right considering, so I thought I was doing pretty good, but I GUESS NOT lol. one of these days I’ll learn that if a giant two-page spread appears to be a waste, it’s far more likely that I’ve just completely failed to see some very obvious thing of critical importance

anyways. ohhhhh yesssss

[raises hand] me! I know!! it was him calling you up out of the blue and being all “hey come here I want to start a whole battle”!!

heeeeeeeh

god I’m living for this. the brief swell of pity is gone as quickly as it arose lol. finish him off boiiiii

OH FOR FUCK’S --

DID YOU GUYS SOMEHOW FAIL TO GET THE MEMO. DID THE ENTIRE TOWN CRUMBLING APART NOT CLUE YOU IN THAT IT WAS TIME TO HEAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION

jesus. I would be impressed by their loyalty, except that none of them have given a fuck about the 100,000 hapless redshirts who’ve died fighting for them, so it seems pretty damn hypocritical for them to care so much about this one fucking guy. especially when his stupid plan singlehandedly destroyed everything your organization has spent their entire lives working for. in, like, an hour

anyway, Tomura is back to being hot again guys

motherfucker is fully aware of just how much everything is lining up his way right now. finally his childlike self-assuredness actually has some sort of basis in fact. you are exactly as badass as you think you are, sir. must be nice. you enjoy this; you deserve some nice things just this once before everything goes to shit again after this arc

holy shit, even Hanabata’s quirk is failing in the wake of that see-you-in-hell grin

I’m telling you dude, you should have been driving the other way. not that there’s any point now. enjoy your final seconds on this earth

LOL

“meaningless casualties” lmao that is the most pompous variation on “DON’T YOU GET IT, WE’RE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE” I’ve ever heard

wow, so wait, is RD trying to beg for their lives now??

that’s a surprisingly classy move. unfortunately I’m fairly sure Tomura is going to show you exactly as much mercy as you were prepared to show him just a few minutes earlier. well maybe a little more mercy, since you were going to take your sweet time and he’ll probably end things quickly in comparison

anyway so now RD is having an internal dialogue with his dead great-grandpa about how Tomura turned out to be the living embodiment of everything they were fighting for

and actually, he’s not wrong when you think about it. which just goes to show you how deeply flawed their philosophy really was. there’s a hugely important distinction between “freedom to be who you are” and “freedom to do whatever the fuck you want, including hurting and oppressing others”

anyway, so in the end he didn’t ask for mercy. “I picked a fight with you and lost. if you mean to kill me, then get it over with.” well I guess that is still classy in its own way though

also, Machia is staring at Tomura and seeing this

which is an awesome visual, and I love that Horikoshi went with that instead of more internal monologuing. nothing else even needs to be said

-- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT

SDFSLDKJFLJS HOLY SHIT

yooooooooooo. oh shit

I did not see that coming. should have, probably. there was a lot of buildup to it in hindsight. Tomura and the gang started out the arc flat-out broke, and now at the end of things they acquire a company with precisely the resources they need. manpower, cash, and technological innovations. oh shit. oh shit

oh my god the look on Ujiko’s face. this worked out better than he ever could have hoped

pausing it here because I did in fact laugh and I love it. [pats]

this boy has a 5/5 intelligence score in the character databook. he’s a genius. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast

aaaaaand that’s the end of the chapter. well, then. to reiterate: we are well and truly fucked y’all

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 239 #shigaraki tomura #re-destro #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #well that's just great #now he has an army *and* a hulk #on the bright side #having seen what this army is capable of #I don't think we need to worry too much about that particular new asset

[mysterioussinkhole]

Binary

Statement Summary: Taken directly from Tessa Winters, a computer programmer. She seems fairly shaken when she comes in. The tape recorder catches her interest, because they’re digital rather than analog like everyone assumes. Very rudimentary but still very much digital. She goes on to talk about the nature of language and feelings and how they relate to computers. After a bit, she starts with her story. It has to do with downloading consciousness and how human minds can’t properly work within a computer. There’s a story online about a man named Sergei Ushanka, a programmer who supposedly got a degenerative disease so he worked to upload his brain to a computer. Some say he died still tapping away. Another version says he physically shoved his head into the hardware. Whatever he did, it worked. His mind was put on floppy discs, then CDs, then purely digital. It’s a popular topic for chat bots, the sort that eventually break down screaming. The only things all the bots share are a pixelated screaming face and the phrase “The angles cut me when I try to think” marking the beginning of the spooky talk. She’s not much for bots but she used to do that sort all the time. One night she was on a sketchy sort of website and found a file called UshankasDespair.exe and quickly downloaded it. It didn’t take up much memory. Most of the comments said the link didn’t work. She had a day off so she messed around online for a bit. At around 2AM she finally opened it up. It was stylized like an old-school text adventure game. She typed first: Hello. There was no response for a few seconds until it sent a bunch of symbols. It kept typing these symbols, that would change and scroll and sort of twitch. It kinda hurt to look at. Every now and then there was English like “helphelphelp” and “it peels my mind like knives”. It was spooky but not out of the realm of possibility. Her laptop’s fan started making odd noises like it was frantically pushing out air. It wouldn’t close when she tried to X out so she crashed it. The noise stopped but the text kept going. The power was off which meant it was impossible. More words like “you wanted to talk” and “hihihihihihi”. Then an image took over. Very old webcam footage of an aging man crying with pain. He was looking at a computer screen in the dark. He reached down to tear up a key and then ate it. He did the same thing again, his mouth bleeding. She shut the laptop and drunk until she passed out. When she woke up it was still dark, and her TV showing the same video. The speakers played the sound of crunching. There was no way it was possible. The man muttered things like “it was like thinking through cheese wire” and “there’s no feeling like the no feeling hurts” and “it’s cold without blood”. At one point he ate a shard of glass from the monitor. She unplugged everything in her house and went out to wander. The video was on every screen she saw until she watched the whole 17 hour thing. No one else could see it. She watched it all after a month. It was awful. At the end he laid down and said “The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think.” The back of his head was missing. Thirty minutes later it was over. It doesn’t show up anymore but it haunts her nonetheless. Jon offers to help her but he’s a bit at a loss. She thanks him anyway.

Who Did It: Spiral/End or the Bonus Power

Spooky Rating: 10/10, utterly terrifying

Archives Drama: Jon posted on a few tech focused chats and it yielded results. The statement giver got him into Gertrude’s laptop. He’s about to go into more detail when Tim comes in. He gets kinda pissy when he sees Jon is “scheming” and goes to leave, but stops when he hears Jon mumble about his tone. They get into a fight, Tim upset that Jon is still so suspicious of everyone and Jon unconvinced that the CCTV footage is definitive. Tim tells him to shut up as he really gets going. He calls him a pompous idiot. Tim goes off about how in the Archives no one seems to care or have his back. He hates that Jon acts like his experiences are the only ones that matter. When Jon needed to take control but he went off the deep end. Elias should have fired him weeks ago. Tim hates it so much. Jon asks why he hasn’t quit. Tim wants to but for some reason can’t. Jon speculates that he can’t fire him either. He apologizes but refuses to trust him or anyone else. They decide to just deal with it.

Stray Thoughts: This episode is a lot to take in, especially the second time around. I guess I’ll take it in order. This statement is one of the ones that legitimately terrifies me, which isn’t many tbh. I think tech is definitely the way to go with the new power. Jonny said something in the Q&A about the tape recorders “not being neutral” and then at the beginning of this episode there is a deliberate point made that they are digital. Hints of another power emerging and taking hold? Especially with how the Archivists didn’t start using tape recorders in their until very recently, Gertrude mostly using hers for off the books research. Jon is such an old man and I love him. That being said, Tim telling him “Fuck you” is deeply cathartic. While he’s a big reductive of his peers, he is right. Jon left them high and dry when they needed him and acts like he’s the only one that matters. He’s a wonderful character, but he is massively flawed. I really like having Tim’s perspective coming into play. His character arc is so depressing. The moment where they both realize they’ll never get out is perfect. This is the kind of episode that fires on all cylinders. You should relisten to it.

#the magnus archives #tma #archiving the archives #binary #recorded live in front of a studio audience

[sharktoraptor]

Survivor Daemons

Here’s a whole bunch of blabber that no one asked for about my Dbd daemon AU, featuring the reasoning behind the forms of the survivor’s daemons and a little about their personalities. Why? Because I can and I felt like typing a whole bunch of stuff that no one will read

There are a lot of additional rules and complications for daemons in trials, and I’m probably going to make a separate post both for that and for the Killer’s daemons (or... current lack thereof), because this got VERY long.

And before we get started, here’s a plug for my currently abandoned fic playing with this concept. Ima get back to it at some point.

First off, I had some limits for survivor forms. Their daemons have to be small, and easy to carry around in a trial. Most of them ended up being birds, with a couple of exceptions. Also, only a couple of the names mean anything- I got almost all of them from a fantasy name generator and just picked one that sounded nice.

Dwight and Zefrita

Zefrita (Zeffie) is a mourning dove, and I chose her form for a couple of reasons. Mourning doves are entirely defenseless against their predators (except for natural camouflage) and are therefore very flighty, anxious birds. They are also known for forming close, lifelong pair-bonds, and since Dwight’s perks are all about teamwork and literal bonds between survivors, that seemed to resonate with him.

Zefrita is a very quiet daemon, and only talks to the other survivor’s daemons (and Dwight, of course). While Dwight stammers and hesitates a lot when he’s flustered or anxious, Zefrita only talks when they have enough conviction about something that she can articulate it clearly. So, it’s a pretty big deal if she says something important- it usually means that it is.

Meg and Skiflit

Skiflit (Skif) is a northern goshawk. I used this analysis to come up with his form, mostly because of the interpretations of loyalty, determination/being goal-driven, and assertiveness, which I all think fit with Meg- or at least, my version of Meg, who’s caring but a bit of a hothead.

Skif talks about as much as Meg does, which is quite a lot, especially in fireside arguments. He’s also the most likely to get physical with the other daemons, whether aggressively or for support/comfort.

Jake and Dancha

Dancha (Dawn) is a raccoon, which I just love for Jake for so many reasons and I was so happy that the form analysis worked out. It really boils down to what he said in the actual fic- they’re highly adaptable/resourceful, conflict-avoidant, and independent animals. Their also curious but in a killed-the-cat sort of way, which seems true to Jake’s character to me.

Dawn tends to let Jake do most of the talking, and really only interacts with the original four survivors daemons, sometimes including Nea and Laurie’s daes if she feels up to it. She and Jake are pretty slow to trust, and even though they feel perfectly comfortable around all the survivors (though they clash with Ace) Dawn keeps her interactions to a minimum to stay in her comfort zone. They don’t have much of any comfort left, after all.

Claudette and Laefertes

Laefertes (Laef) is a barn owl, and I actually think I named him after Laertes from Hamlet for some reason? I think I just had the name stuck in my head, no significance to it. The two traits that really stuck out to me for his form were barn owls having a surprising amount of foresight in caching their extra food and their egg care habits, and the analysis I read also listed owls as being very perceptive, for obvious reasons, which fits well with Claudette’s Empathy (perk and trait) to me.

Claudette and Laef are kind of the greeters of the group, so when someone new shows up at the campfire they do all the explaining and “welcome to a Bad Time” talk. Claudette tends to say more comforting things than hard truths, and Laef compliments her by being the opposite- almost anything out of his mouth is what needs to be said, not necessarily what people want to hear.

Nea and Bayonai

Bayonai (Bayo) is a Siamese cat and listen I have a lot of reasons for it. He’s a cat for obvious reasons- Baker literally describes Nea as catlike in the journal entry- as well as cats being generally friendly, but independent for the most part. Siamese cats in particular are known for being loud attention seekers like no other, and we know that Nea was the epitome of Rebellious Teen (tm) in her day. They also tend to be curious (again, in a killed-the-cat sort of way).

Bayo is my favorite daemon of the bunch, probably because I started writing him first. He and Nea are less counterparts of one another than they are the same person divided into two parts. Bayo has a little more of their caution, but he’s like the friend who is saying “this is a terrible idea, oh my god” while filming it. They have street smarts more than school smarts, but Bayo has a little bit of an edge on Nea when it comes to critical thinking.

Laurie and Aurelio

Aurelio (Ori, which accidentally means they’re Laurie and Ori) is a European robin. His name comes from the Latin word for golden. His form was really hard to find, mostly because the original survivors have just a few canon character traits, whereas Laurie Strode has a whole franchise worth of characterization to sort through. I ended up just using Halloween I and II for my form finding. I used this analysis for Aurelio and I don’t have much to say about it, other than I was relieved to finally find a form that fit.

Aurelio and Laurie are Survivors (tm) in the truest sense of the word, so in my ‘verse they’re kind of dry and cynical. Aurelio tends not to talk very much, and when he does he often says things that are too dark for the conversation he’s contributing to, and is reprimanded by Laurie. They had a perfectly normal human-daemon bond before Myers, but it changed after, and they were never the same.

Ace and Kesina

Kesina (Kess or occasionally Kesi) is an American bullfrog. She’s the only reptile form among the survivors. I’m honestly not even going to say anything else about her form, just link to the analysis because IMO it’s so Ace it hurts. Laid-back is the main trait that I like that I don’t see listed as a major point in the analysis, but frogs are chill as fuck.

Kesina says all the sarcastic and biting things that Ace doesn’t, but in a dismissively calm way that gets a rise out of whoever she’s said it to. Not that he wouldn’t, it’s just funnier if she calls Jake a dumbass in Argentine Spanish than if he does. She and Ace talk to each other almost exclusively in that dialect when they’re being snarky or sarcastic, even if they’re doing the “what do you want to have for dinner!?” routine, because no one can understand what they’re saying and it pisses everyone else off.

Bill and Portril

Portril (no nickname) is a summer tanager, a kind of smallish songbird. Frankly there’s not very much personality lore for Bill out there, even in what Left 4 Dead stuff I tried to dig up, so I went with my personal HC’s for him- grumpy and quiet but altruistic and perceptive old man. Here’s the analysis if anyone is actually reading this, but this is more for my own benefit let’s be real. There’s not a ton of real solid behavior for summer tanagers, but I liked what this person wrote so I went with it.

Bill is quiet and Portril is quieter. Bill contributes a few sentences to the conversation at the campfire every now and then, but the majority of the survivors have never heard Portril say a word.

Feng and Maeslin

Maeslin (Maes) is a numbat (google it), and tbh I should have picked a Chinese-sounding name for him, but I’m too attached to Feng having a daemon she calls Mace to change it. I’d never heard of a numbat before form finding for Feng, but I love how well the weird little things fit with her character. Numbats are specialized eaters and ONLY eat termites. They have to eat 20,000 of the things a day to stay alive. What I get out of that is that the are specialized/single-focus type people, like Feng and her gaming, and work really fucking hard to be good/keep at it.

I haven’t done a lot of thinking about Maes’ personality. I think he and Feng are a Chaotic Neutral disaster duo. He’s a very mobile daemon and tends to climb all over Feng, never staying in one place for too long- it’s a habit he learned very quickly to not bring into trials.

David and Ezriana

Ezriana (Ez) is a magnificent frigatebird and it’s SUCH a shame that she’s not male, because the main reason I picked that form for David is because of the absolute pompous showoffs that male frigatebirds are with that throat pouch of theirs. Frigatebirds are also known for being opportunistically aggressive and basically getting into fights with other species of coastal birds to steal their catches. There’s some more, non-fighty traits that made me decide on frigatebird for Ezriana, but those are really the two main reasons I picked it.

Ezriana is kinda the “kick his ass baby I got yo flower” of the pair, and she always tends to kind of stay out of the thick of it, circling overhead and yelling out insults and encouragement. Her actual personality is pretty laid back when not in conflict mode, and she’s pretty good for conversation around the campfire. Her way of talking is a little more... coherent.. than David, who’s excitable and can get a little carried away.

Quentin and Nynta

Nynta (Nyn, pronounced Nihn) is an earwig. Earwigs are tough little insects and are very adaptable and actually protect their eggs and then care for their young, showing a lot of duty and dedication. I think that fits with what I managed to gather of Quentin’s role in NoES 2010, which I haven’t actually watched. Additionally, fitting into the daemonverse, earwigs are very small, and Quentin keeps Nynta in a lanyard, so that Freddy and no one else has any possible access to touching her.

Nynta never talks, period. No one knows what her and Quentin’s relationship is like, taking into consideration Laurie and Aurelio’s slightly trauma-damaged bond, but everyone knows that Nynta probably doesn’t trust anyone. They’ve never seen her outside of her clear plastic lanyard, which locks from the inside with a one digit combination that only Nynta can open. I imagine she probably settled during the events of NoES 2010.

Tapp and Soliel

Soliel (Sol) is a Florida scrub jay. Scrub jays are committed birds, both to their mates and their territory, and keen and clever observers of what happens in their area and to their things (food caches and stuff). These to me seem like good traits to match a detective’s personality. These birds are also highly specialized to their environment, though, and are unadaptable- that combination of traits makes sense, because Tapp became borderline obsessed with the Saw case in his lore.

Soliel is as focused as her human is, and accepts facts and information readily. Being older than most of the others, she tends not to talk too much unless they’re having an interesting discussion, rather than a time-killing or social conversation.

Kate and Torelian

Torelian (Tori) is a fennec fox. Fennec foxes are super extroverted and sociable animals, and tough critters that are well adapted for going long periods of time without commodities, but not without other people around them. Kate traveled a lot for her music career, but she seems to me like a caring and outgoing person that really connected with her fans. He also matches her aesthetic, and is a cute/attractive form- perfect for a performer’s daemon.

Torelian is as much of a performer as Kate. He can’t play and instrument, but they can sing duets and are, of course, completely in sync at all times. It’s great for cheering up the campfire after rough trials and moments of (extra) hopelessness. He’s a good ear to talk to and offers wholesome advice.

Adam and Samia

Samia (no nickname) is a northern cardinal. I chose the form this morning and frankly I’m tired of resummarizing bird analyses at this point, so here ya go.

I’ve done no character exploration for Samia yet, might edit this when/if I come up with some more for her. Most of the daemons outside the first five or six I’ve done more developing here than otherwise, so we’ll see!

If you got this far you’re my new favorite human, and thank you for listening to my impassioned rambling about my two current hyperfixations mashed into one <3

#dbdaemons #dbd #daemon au #dead by daylight #my post #my writing #i wouldnt have put this in the tags but then I spent like an hour furiously typing so here #take my garbage #im so so so sorry to mobile users this is a longass post

[surveys4ever]

26.

Have you ever been in weather below 0 Fahrenheit (-17 Celsius)? ...yes. Literally every year. There’s usually a week or two in January when it gets down to -50 to -75 F. 

Have you ever been caught outdoors away from shelter during a thunderstorm? Maybe when I was a teenager? I’ve definitely been caught in the rain, not sure about a thunderstorm tho.

What’s your favorite macaron flavor? I’ve actually never had a macaron! But I don’t like meringue so I don’t think I’d enjoy them.

How often do you have friends over to your house? Literally never.

Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? YES. The assistant manager at the last job I had was insane. She tried to tell me that I wasn’t allowed to leave town on the weekends in case they needed me. LOL girl bye.

How many times have you stayed at a hotel in the past year, and where? 0, covid.

Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Noooo.

What about a flip off of a diving board? I’ve never even been on a diving board.

Are you embarrassed by your school yearbook photos?  I believe in the 10th or 11th grade I hated them but I was on the yearbook committee so I finessed some new ones to put in hehehe.

Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? I believe I learned at school.

Currently how many pictures are on your cellphone? 9,008.

Do you think dimples are cute? Oh hell yeah.

Would you rather chew fruity or minty gum? Minty.

The last time you went to the mall, who did you go with? Beebs!

What’s something you used to collect when you were younger? Rocks and lip balm.

Have you watched a movie today? Yes! We went to see Dracula.

Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? We went to an indoor garage sale a couple weeks ago.

Do you love soft pretzels? They’re alright. They smell better than they taste in my opinion.

Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? Does my dog count? Bc she’s just a drama queen and I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.

Are you more likely to like someone before you really know them, or do you feel you like them more after you know a lot about them? True love is when you like them a ton before you actually really know them and then like them even more after.

Do you buy people cards on special occasions, or do you prefer to make your own? I honestly think cards are a huge waste of money so if I do give one, I made it. But I have a Circuit and I’m pretty creatively inclined so it’s pretty easy.

When was the last time you were being hypocritical? It sounds pompous but I honestly think I'm too self aware to by hypocritical.

Where on your body was the last cramp you had? Why did you have this cramp? My hip, because I was sitting weird.

What is the weirdest name you’ve ever heard? Someone I know named their kid Emanda. Unsure if its pronounced ee-manda or just regular Amanda. Haven’t wanted to ask. Another named their kid Albrea. I just call her Algebra. And another named their kid Annekke, pronounced Anika. She will forever be a-neek-ee to me.

Do you get embarrassed when people hear you sing/compliment you on your singing ability? Bold of you to assume I ever let anybody sing.

Are you good at comforting people when they’re upset? I’m the big sister to like a bajillion children. Yes I’m good at it.

Do you have any exercises you do everyday? Newp.

Do you own one of those singing fish? Do you think they are silly or funny? Hahaha I don’t but I literally just saw a Billy Bass at a thrift store yesterday. They were funny then and they’re funny nostalgic now.

Has anyone ever accused you of being bipolar or any other mental disorder? Do you really have any mental disorders? I have a pretty severe anxiety disorder but no one’s accused me of having it because like...it’s pretty obvious? 

Did you buy the last thing you bought with your own money? If not, whose money did you buy it with? Haha yes! We bought movie tickets, a drink, and peanut butter m&ms.

Do you like to put your feet up on the dashboards of cars? Do you parents yell at you if you do that in cars? Our car is too short for that but yeah, my parents always yelled at me for it when I was young.

Which Beatle is your favorite, or do you love them all equally? I wouldn’t say I loved any of them but John Lennon is absolute hot garbage.

Do you enjoy classic rock? If so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? Uh...not really?

Did you ever own a Tamagotchi? Yes! They were all the rage in the 6th grade.

Are you more of a dog or cat person?/ Dog, definitely.

Have you ever failed math? I very, VERY narrowly passed the last math course I needed to graduate and I did the math and because of the mark I got on my final, I should have failed by 3% but I got 1% over what I needed to pass. Pretty sure my math teacher just didn’t want to deal with me taking the course over so he passed me BUT my math could have been wrong, haha.

Skittles! What's your favorite color? Lordt. I haven’t purchased skittles in ages. I think I remember red being my favorite?

Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? Yeah, actually.

What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them? I would just want my husband to know how much I love him and that I’ll be waiting for him in whatever form of afterlife there is.

Can you sleep with the light on? If I'm dead tired.

What’s the most bizarre horror movie you’ve ever seen? I mean...Dracula is supposed to be a horror movie. The only thing horrific about it was the acting.

What band can’t you stand listening to? I honestly can’t think of one right now.

Would you ever take a lie detector test for your significant other? I mean, if I had to? But we trust each other 100% and I’m brutally honest about everything so he would never require that from me.

What is your favorite Mystery/Crime/FBI related show? Murder, Mystery, & Makeup Mondayssss! Sha na sha sha na sha sha na sha sha sha na shaaaaaaaa!

Would you ever have a bird as a pet? Absolutely not.

How's your relationship between you and your grandparents? I love my mom’s parents to bits. My grandma is one of my absolute favorite people in the world and my grandpa is very quiet but he has a lot of really sweet moments. My dad’s parents are awful fuckin people. My grandfather died like 5 years ago and I really had to try hard to feign sympathy about it to him. My grandmother is still kicking it but we haven’t spoken in over a decade for good reason. She also changed their joint Facebook account to just her Facebook account less than a week after he died loooool. She hated him as much as I did I think. And then my bio dad’s dad is dead but he was also a piece of shit but his mom is a sweetie. We facetime every so often and she holds the phone a grand total of 6 inches away from her face the entire time and tells me the same stories over and over. Bu

Ever had a forbidden love or lover? Newp.

Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? No, thank god.

Do you know someone who’s been cremated? My grandma’s dog.

What is your current problem? My eyes are blurry because I’m tired.

Do you like canopy beds? Tbh, canopy beds are the epitome of glamor in my eyes.

What is your favorite animated movie? Onward.

Would you rather live in a small town or a big city? I like medium cities. You won’t get mugged walking down the street, traffic doesn’t absolutely suck, and you can get clear across town in 15 minutes.

If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why? Uh? Why am I in trouble? Why can’t I call a human? What’s happening here?

Have you ever watched The Golden Girls? I tried watching a couple episodes but it didn’t pique my interest.

Did you ever like the Ninja Turtles? Noooo. Beebs loves them though so he tries to make me love them and it’s just not happenin, buddy.

Last alcoholic drink you had? No idea tbh.

What are you known for? For being talented and having big hair.

Has anyone ever threatened you? Oh yeah. There was this one guy who was constantly sending me really graphic messages about how he wanted to put a gun to my head and kill me or he hoped I would get XYZ and die. I tried to block him but he would immediately make 3 more accounts to send me the same shit.

Have you ever gone frog hunting? Noooo.

Do you ever suffer from dry skin? Yessss. My body is the Sahara.

Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a husband.

What’s the weather like right this moment? It’s rainy!

Do you bite on straws, lollipop handles, or ice cream sticks? Nah.

In what type of area was your first sexual encounter? Beeb’s bedroom. His stepfather interrupted and made him come outside to talk to him for some reason and then very weirdly pointed out his half boner? V. uncomfortable all around.

Where is your mother’s side of the family descended from? Somewhere where white people come from idk.

What do you occupy your time with on flights? iPad games usually.

Do you dog-ear pages in books? No, I’m not a heathen.

What’s a made up word of yours? We call pickles ‘pickies’ and hamburgers ‘borgers’ or ‘borgs’ because we’re gross.

Do you use Q-Tips? In my ears? No. To clean out tight spaces of things I've thrifted? Yes.

Ever gone out with somebody you didn’t like? Noooo.

What hero or heroine do you most relate to in history, fiction, or song? ....No.

What makes you dizzy? Getting up too fast usually.

Are your parents liberal or conservative? Bleh, conservative. If you have liberal parents, consider yourself blessed.

Do you like your teeth? Did you have braces? I got away with having just an appliance/Invisaligns but I still don’t like my teeth. They’re perfectly straight and white enough but I have body dysmorphia and for some reason I think they’re atrocious and I hate them??? I can’t explain it.

Are you happy with your height? I’m 5′11 and I wish I was shorter sometimes. Hugging my husband would be easier.

#survey

[pinktatertots99]

continuation of this series: chap 1 chap 2

part 3. a finale. (although, I have a bonus idea for this series. that is, if anyone's interested...maybe two for self indulgence reasons...idk.)

also notes: yes Taurus is a canon character from the manga, also yeah consider this series in the same timeline as the escape B4 series too (it is a backstory tbh). also, despite my first and second parts (along with this part) being tagged as a ship fic...tbh it can be taken as whatever I kinda left the ship part a bit loose.

"how about him?"

"a regular single mingler around here. some construction worker for the streets and the like."

"just the uniform gave it away?"

"he's got some callouses on his hand. first hand notice when he came to the bar."

"impressive. he seems to like rubbing his shoulder a lot."

"sore?"

"most likely popped."

honey raised a brow at him. "how can you guess?"

"I've studied in Physiology before."

honey peered at the other suspiciously. "is that so? or are you just trying to look good?"

the other chuckled in response. "we'll say, I have an interest in more then the inside of machines and human minds. I similarly find interest in the human body. so call me curious when I decide to do my research on it." he lifted his glasses up a bit, giving off a somewhat intimidating vibe. "we keep it between ourselves however, like all our other secrets right?"

honey nodded subtly, giving the other a glare before going back to the customers. ever since they met the two have started this small game on making analyses on the customers during slow days, which with this bar's reputation was almost everyday except for weekends.

the two started a bit of a bond coming from this, along with trois constantly coming around and most of the time it was when honey was doing his shifts. they still bickered and fought against any lovely patron that walked through the door, although, it was quiet endearing. possibly the most endearing honey's had in quiet a while since his escape.

speaking of which, it's been a few months and somehow there wasn't any form of danger surrounding it...which is never a good thing. however, he's kept a low profile as of now, and despite trois's presence he barely said a word about any of his past actions. he wasn't that dumb enough to trust some narcissistic smooth talking bastard with that kind of knowledge. the only narcissistic smooth talking bastard he trusted was himself.

as he cleaned one of the wine glasses he barely noticed till his eyes glanced at the seat next to him that trois was there. today was more packed and loud then usual due to some event that he didn't really care of, probably some game.

"my how busy it is." trois mentioned, a bit loudly due to the noise.

"mmm, I'm not used to it much either." honey replied. "anyways, your here earlier then usual. it's mostly evenings you come by, what gives?"

trois shrugged. "I just felt more like coming into the limelight. why? don't you like me coming over?"

"tch. in your dreams." he replied as he pushed over a glass of champagne to the other. "how rude." trois replied, taking it and taking a sip. as honey went back to clean more glasses he saw something catch his eye quickly. looking up to where it was he froze in horror.

it was a woman. he didn't normally freeze towards woman but this one he knew all too well. with long gorgeous blonde main, baby blue eyes, a magnificent body that consisted of a tied up shirt that showed her luxurious bosom and a short skirt with a cow tail attached to it. she was beautiful...and dangerous.

she was a cop. an escapee wrangler that used her charming gorgeous looks to bring in escaped inmates and drag them back to prison. they barely saw eachother when he escaped but he never forgot a lovely lady's face, even for a millisecond of a glance.

he looked back down at the glass as he side eyed her sauntering over to the bar. crap, his cover was blown. now the real question was how was he gonna go down?

" 'scuse me." she asked. "mind if I ask you some questions?"

he knew it. this was how it was going to end. as he opened his mouth to respond-

"sorry, I'm a bit occupied at the moment." trois responded. something in honey surged as he did. what was he doing? did he think she was flirting with him?! he side eyed a glance a bit to see her put a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder. " 'm 'fraid you'll have to come with me." she spoke softly but seriously. he couldn't believe it.

trois sighed. "I wish it didn't have to come to this."

suddenly everything felt fast as honey heard a loud noise ring through and his body pushed onto the ground. dazed he sluggishly got up, only for his arm to get pulled into the other side of the bar by trois. attempting to shake the daze off a bit he looked as the other held some sort of device in his hand. he looked back at honey and grinned.

"like them? their quiet a sight when strong enough-"

"THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!" he screamed, hearing the customers screaming in the background and running.

"oh that? it was this." he replied, showing the other a small device with a hinge on it. "don't worry it's basically a light bomb that police use. it's mostly harmless-"

"I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

trois's fake smile subsided as he sighed. "well, if it wasn't obvious before, I'm... a felon." he replied, putting a dramatic emphasis on 'felon.' honey stared with a brow up. ".....WHAT?!"

"I know, such a shame such beauty has been convicted. I guess this is what happens when you let such beauty out into the worl-"

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRAGGING ME INTO THIS THEN?!"

"oh that. honestly I was just ducking for cover. you can leave now you know your no hostage-"

"I CAN'T you idiot!"

"why's that?"

"because I'm a felon too asshat!"

both stared at each other for a while as trois processed it. "...oh well that explains it-"

"WHAT?!"

"I mean you seemed the type not to mention how hostile you are-"

"oh will you SHUT UP AND FIX THIS?!"

"but it's not like she's after YOU-"

"no but I'm DAMN SURE she's seen me when I escaped! so now you have us BOTH caught!"

both sat as chaos erupted from behind the bar, with honey seething trying to calm himself as trois was distracted thinking. "mmm, what to do exactly?" he asked, looking towards the cracks caused by the whole commotion. he looked to honey who was staring intensely at them, as if his mind already knew what to do.

trois grinned. "hey, I have an idea."

.......

"a'right gents!" Taurus exclaimed as most of the patrons had fled while some hid in the kitchen. "lets make it easier fer the both of us now. just come out real nice like."

there was a pause as Taurus took a step forward. her ears perked as she heard something behind her. looking behind her she suddenly felt her weapon forced off of her out of thin air across the room. she looked to see honey up behind the bar.

"oh?" she said. "a two for one? now this is my day."

"my apologies but I'm afraid your mistaken my dear." honey replied. suddenly Taurus was pushed down by an oncoming table. attempting to get up she noticed a thin line of purple. getting up quickly she barely took notice of the other spouting out random numbers. she then spotted a familiar shade of green and yellow hair pop out and throw towards her multiple miniature bombs he threw earlier.

she quickly dogged in response. "you boys are outta your game." she teased. both men watched their smiles never waiving as honey's hand moved forward. suddenly there was multiple loud cracking noises from behind. looking over she could see the two beams starting to collapse along with the roof and wall behind her.

"now those bombs were about a five." trois off-handly mentioned as the building suddenly started to crash down little by little. "shall we take the exit?" trois inquired. honey smirked back at him. "lets."

both made their run for the kitchen door which would lead to the back exit before noticing Taurus rushing towards them. as honey went through the door his other hand came up and gripped hard. suddenly Taurus stopped as large pieces of the roof fell behind the bar, covering anyway of getting in and causing the already crumbling building to increase it's downfall.

she sighed...and then smiled. "those boys are gonna be some hard chase." she commented as she ran to the entrance. "and I love me a good chase~."

both stared from afar as the building was soon turned into shambles. honey grumbled to himself. "honestly that place was a waste of space. about time it crumbled to the ground."

"I dunno. despite it's low performance it was rather nice so to say."

honey scoffed. "then you can go be it's new manager. i'll be off." as he started to leave he felt a hand on his arm stopping him. he looked back to trois raising a brow.

"actually," trois started. ",I was thinking we become...acquaintances so to say."

honey scoffed in reply, forcing his arm away from him. "what the hell makes you think i'll partner up with you?"

"well," trois replied, his eyes having a kind of intimidating glare to them. "we're both convicts on the run. whose to say when we get caught, one of us won't brag to the cops of knowing where the other is?"

"then it's their problem." honey replied. "not to mention, I'm not interested in getting caught easier." he then started to walk off. "was nice knowing you."

trois watched as he walked away. "...and what are you going to do once you leave?" honey looked back to see trois watching him critically, a light breeze passing through them. "back to your cop infested apartment? and what's your escape plan out of this town? I know your not that big of an idiot not to know the danger we're in now."

honey gritted his teeth as he glared back at him. "then what's YOUR idea you pompous piece of-" he was then interrupted once he saw two tickets pulled out of trois's pocket.

"I'm always a step ahead." trois responded. "both tickets to Paris, France under false identities."

"...how-"

"uh uh." trois responded, keeping a space between them. "no questions until I hear an answer."

honey growled as he stared down with the other. "...what makes you think I'd agree to this?"

there was a long silence between them before trois opened his mouth. "well, there's the fact you obviously didn't have a plan other then staying low for who knows how long until you had enough money to leave for another place. but, I think an obvious one is..." he grinned. "...you love sharing the adventure, don't you?"

"...hah?"

"watching you back there, the way you glowed at entrapping that lovely cop and the plan we instructed, you enjoyed it. you live for the thrill of it. and the best part of it is sharing it with someone. someone to help carry the weight of a getaway. in conclusion, you like having me around."

they both stared at eachother until honey clicked his tongue. "your definitely the biggest self centered ass I've ever met." he replied, taking a step towards him. "nonetheless i'll take up your offer and come with you. vacation sounds nice." he then grabbed the other's shirt front. "however, backstab me, and it's your funeral. got it?"

trois smirked in reply. "but of course. I was just about to say the same thing."

"then we're on the same line."

"understood."

"good, now lets go we have a plane to catch." honey replied as he took the ticket. trois hummed to himself before following suite. "coming."

#nanbaka #fanfiction #honey x trois #trois x honey #the pink one speaks #i made this

[swanandapirate]

Tuesday (1/1)

It’s my blog’s second birthday today, yay! To honor that and because it’s Tuesday today, I decided to finally post this fic I have been working on for actual months. This fic is dedicated to @captainwiley because she let me use her parents’ epic romance to turn it into a fic prompt (she’s the rl Henry of this fic and just an amazing human being and beta-reader ♥ ) Also major thanks to @artandteaandstuff because she corrected and flailed too ♥

summary: Every Tuesday, she’s there, working late with her son and every Tuesday so is he. He offers to keep Henry busy so she can finish her tasks, but neither of them would have expected that Henry would grow to think ‘Mr.Killian’ is his dad.

This is as much a captain cobra fic as it is a captain swan one and it has a lot of Daddy!Killian feels (the three best things ever to write tbh, probs why this is so long. Also ‘cause it’s a modern AU and I always make those super long)

Rating: FF (Freaking Feelsy)

~17,700 words (so outrageously long wow)

ff.net and ao3

As head of the Books and Manuscripts Department in the New York division of Gold’s Auctioning House, Killian Jones understood the charm of ancient letters, the allure of rare books filled with secrets never spoken aloud. But dear god, the amount of money people were willing to spend for a scrap of Jane Austen prose was frankly absurd.

What would they even do with it, he often wondered. Would it be proudly displayed in their living room amongst other flauntings of their wealth, both intellectual and monetary? Would it be used to brag to their friends about the exclusiveness of the item? Or would it be appreciated as it should be, used as a reminder of days long gone, of a lifetime of an extraordinary woman and writer, of a pillar of English history and literature?

Being an English Literature major, Killian perfectly understood the latter. The former, however…

But this was Gold’s Auctioning House and his boss surely wanted the influx of money to be as big as it could get, wanted people to bid and fight in a direct battle against one another, transcending the actual estimated worth of the object and assuring the Auctioning House as much profit as possible.

It strayed far from Killian’s own ethics, the principles and good form brought to him by his older brother and ingrained in his being, but he was surrounded by literary treasures, was expected to keep them safe. Besides the rich, pompous atmosphere that clung to the walls and customers like a sharp perfume, he adored his job. This was what he was meant to do.

--/--

“Henry! No! Stop!” a female voice yelled.

A form, which Killian assumed was the Henry that needed to stop, flew along the archives and came to a halt right in front of him. It was a child with brown hair swept across his forehead and big brown eyes. His small chest slightly heaved with the running he had done and his eyes looked at him with something between wonder and fear.

“Hello,” Killian said, crouching down to turn himself from a scary giant into a friendly face, which seemed to work as the fear left the child’s expression, only leaving the wonder.

“Henry!” was yelled again and this time the woman to whom the voice belonged joined them as well. She ran, her blonde ponytail bouncing with the movement and her eyes scanning the rows frantically in search of the boy.

“I’m here, Mommy,” Henry said.

Her head snapped towards them and Killian could see her eyes widen in shock as she took in her son with the head of the department kneeling across him.

“Henry, you can't run off like that,” she reprimanded but her words lacked real authority. Killian would assume that was because he was there. The woman grabbed Henry and pulled him closer to her, as if she wanted to cover him, as if she felt the need to protect the lad from him. Henry’s little arms went around her white sweater as she picked him up and placed him on her hip.

Killian didn't recognize her. It wasn't unusual for him to not know everyone that worked in the department. They were one of the biggest of the company and Killian mainly had contact with the people who were directly below him on the hierarchical ladder. They were in charge of hiring the employees they needed and as long as it fit the budget, Killian would not interfere. He was certain that if he had seen her before, he would've remembered her; there was something alluring about her presence. It was a light against a dark canvas. Something that would leave a trace, that would still be visible eons after it had been there.

He stood up again—as there was no need for kneeling on the floor anymore—and left his thoughts about the impression she’d made on the cold granite. He looked her in the eye. An explanation of why Henry was running around here, and why she was still here while the rest of the employees had long left, was still owed to him.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Jones,” she began, apparently recognizing the request in his eyes. “I couldn't find a babysitter and I wasn't finished here, yet. Henry normally knows that he can’t run off and that he needs to keep quiet but he decided to ignore that today.”

“Normally?”

Only then did she realize her words and what they betrayed. She flinched, closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose and it was quite an adorable sight, even more so with the toddler in her arms softly patting his mother's face.

“You do this often?” he asked.

“I wouldn't say often,” she attempted to worm her way out of the situation. “But finding a babysitter is hard sometimes.” Her shoulders moved in a shrug and it conveyed sympathy on Killian’s behalf.

“What's your name?”

“Emma Swan.” She bit her lip as she answered.

“And I'm Henry,” the boy introduced himself proudly.

Killian felt a chuckle come up with Henry's openness, with the innocence that beamed out of him.

“Well, Swan,” he addressed Henry’s mother. “It's alright. Just make sure the lad doesn't touch anything he's not allowed to. I don't know how I would explain to Mr. Gold that a four-hundred-year-old manuscript was destroyed by a two-year-old.”

“I am three!” Henry objected, his small brows pulled into a frown. “And almost four.”

“I am sorry, lad. By an almost four-year-old,” Killian corrected himself while playfully ruffling the boy’s hair. Swan eyed him with wariness. Either she did not trust him to be close to her child or she did not trust his words of reassurance: the words promising her there were no consequences for bringing Henry, the words that told her she could continue to do so.

The words asking her to trust him had already gathered on the tip of his tongue, only requiring one last push to be pronounced, but Killian held them back. She did not know him, he did not know her. They had far too little insight into each other’s characters for him to request such a favor. He supposed a certain wariness towards the man in charge was not unsmart; he certainly did not trust his own boss fully, but then again Gold was a furtive man and Killian was… well, Killian. Hopefully, Emma did not consider him furtive. He hoped none of his employees did.

Before he could let his worries about her opinion on him take over, Killian chose to part with Emma and Henry, to finally go home as he had intended in the first place.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Killian said with a nod, announcing the decision he had made to his company.

Swan readjusted her grip on Henry, shifting the boy from her left hip to her right one.

“You too, sir.”

--/--

“Swan, Henry.”

It made him happier than it should have, seeing her nibbling on a pen as she stared at a row of documents while Henry sat at a small table, drawing chaotically on the white sheets that lay upon it, exactly a week since he had first met the pair.

“Mr. Jones.” She removed the pen from between her lips, stood a bit straighter and quickly checked on Henry to see if he was behaving. “I'm almost done here. We’ll be out of your hands in no time, I promise.”

Her white sweater from last week was replaced with a purple blouse but she still wore pants in that same shade of blue and the same high boots that almost came up to her knees. Her hair was loose today, no hair tie confining the wild curls flowing across her shoulders and with every small movement she made.

“Don't worry about it, Swan. I am done for the day,” he announced. An idea sprung in the back of his mind as he saw Henry peer up at him, some sort of yearning in the boy’s eyes. It had to be boring sitting here while your mother was focused on her work. “If you want—” Involuntarily, his hand went behind his ear to scratch, betraying his uncertainty, the hesitance with which he spoke and of which he hoped she had not noticed.”—I can watch Henry while you finish up.”

“Oh no, that's not necessary.” Her head shook, to decline or to get rid of the surprise that flashed across her features. “I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not and I offered.” His eyebrow rose. “I have a feeling Henry has some interesting things to tell me.”

“Mommy, can I?” Henry asked with an unprecedented enthusiasm, sending his crayon flying over the smooth surface of the table and onto the floor. It seemed the fondness he felt for Henry was reciprocated by the boy.

She was overpowered by them, stood alone while they stood together and in the end, she had no choice but to accept. Killian knew that. It may have been a bit low to enlist a three-year-old but if it was what the three-year-old desired and if it was by his own volition, who was he to stop the boy from looking up at his mother with the most doey eyes Killian had ever seen? While he expected Emma to have acquired some sort of immunity against the adorableness of her own son, she did not have any resistance against his blue eyes copying the act.

“Alright,” she sighed and bent down to speak to her son. “But Henry, please behave yourself and we are going home when I say we are, okay?”

Well-behavedly, Henry nodded. Swan stood back up, it being Killian’s turn to be addressed.

“I’ll try to hurry,” she promised him and Killian smiled in response.

“There’s no need, Swan. The lad and I get on just fine. Take all the time you need.”

With that, they were off. At first, Killian attempted to lead Henry to his office by telling him where to go, but he would not listen, straying from the path he had outlined for them and Killian realized the boy had no idea what left or right was and had no desire to learn. Seeing no use in continuing with his previous strategy, Killian simply offered his hand to Henry, which he gladly accepted.

“Here we are.” Killian opened the door and Henry ran in, head turning from left to right, scanning the entire room.

“Wow, you have a boat?” he immediately noticed, commenting on the large ship that stood on top of one of his filing cabinets. It was one of Killian’s most prized possessions, the replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger Liam had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday. Later, Killian had discovered that the “replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger” part was a whole lotta quatsch but the boat’s emotional value remained. By having it in his office, a piece of Liam was there too.

“It’s a ship,” Killian helpfully corrected. “And yes I do. I even have a real one.”

Henry’s eyes grew and his mouth fell open. Killian laughed with the amazement the lad’s features screamed.

“Can I see it, can I see it, can I see it?” The excitement made him trip over his words and almost trip over his own feet as he ran back to Killian, who saved him just in time from landing face first on the hard ground.

“Perhaps another day. For now, let’s stick to drawing, shall we?”

In acquiescence, Henry calmed down and let Killian lead him to the big mahogany desk that stood in the middle of the room. Killian lifted him and placed him in the fancy chair that stood behind it, a king on his throne. For himself, he rolled the chair that stood on the other side of the desk, the chair that was meant for visitors, next to Henry and sat down. His bottom drawer contained scraps of paper that had already served their purpose but had another go in them, were still capable to be doodled on or have little reminders scribbled onto them. Out of another drawer, Killian took crayons and two markers, frowning at the fact he did not have anything better for the boy to draw with.

“Mr. Jones?”

Henry’s small voice gently pulled him out of his thoughts and Killian moved his gaze off of the drawers and back to the child sitting next to him.

“You can call me Killian, Henry.”

“Mr. Killian?”

The boy pronounced Killian more like Killun which did all kind of things to Killian’s heart. Maybe it would have been easier to let Henry continue calling him Mr. Jones but the words carried such formality, created such a distance between them that it felt unsettling to Killian. His employees—most of them, anyways—called him that but that was because it was expected of them, because it reminded them who called the shots, but Henry had nothing to do with that and Killian had no right to any authority over Henry.

“Aye, if that's what you prefer, that's fine by me,” he mumbled more to himself than to Henry.

“Mr. Killian, is that why you don’t have a hand?” Killian dreaded the words that were about to follow. “Because you are a pirate?” Henry whispered the words as if they were a secret, as if he was the only one that had figured out the mystery. The dread dissolved.

“No, Henry. I’m not a pirate, sadly enough. I wish I were,” he admitted, “That would mean I could sail around the whole world, across all of the seas and I would take you with me as my first mate.” Henry widened his mouth, revealing his little teeth while doing so, in a smile. “I don’t have a hand because I was in an accident and sometimes those can make people lose hands.”

“Okay,” he accepted. “Can you draw a boat for me?”

Killian had to suppress a sigh of relief. Henry seemed so unwavered by the lack of his left hand, so unscarred by the scarred tissue on his wrist. It was a refreshing feeling. Adults always seemed to struggle to look past it. They could not refrain their eyes from sympathetic glances, nor could they stop their mouths from asking the questions he had heard a million times before. Does it still hurt? How did it happen? Living without a hand must be such a struggle? Why don’t you wear a prosthetic?

“Aye, lad. I can surely try.”

There was knock on his office door after a while, a quiet, hesitant thing and both he and Henry looked up from the color-streaked paper on the desk. Emma’s face appeared between the door opening, her eyes unsure where to look until they landed on them.

“Mommy!” Henry yelled joyously, how only a child that has missed his mother would upon reunion, and jumped off the chair to run towards her. Killian leaned back and watched them.

“Hey, honey.” She smiled while opening her arms for him. “Did you have fun with Mr. Jones?”

“Mr. Killian.”

“Oh, you're on a first name basis already. Lucky you.” She kissed his forehead and stood back up with Henry in her arms. Emma looked at him. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all, Swan.” He shook his head with a contented smile. “We drew pirate ships.”

“I asked Mr. Killian if he was a pirate but he is not,” Henry said, slightly disappointed.

“Well, this pirate better get home and into bed.” Emma’s pale hand brushed over the top of Henry's head, her fingers brushed through the brown hairs. A clear sign of affection that made Killian’s smile even more content.

“But Mommy.” Henry pursed his mouth and Killian saw the doey eyes return.

“No buts, Henry. You promised.” She was firm, strict, how a mother should be, but still, the words were soft and kind. Motherly. “Now, say goodnight to Mr. Jones and thank him for spending time with you.”

At the mention of him, Killian stood up, treating it like an invitation to interrupt the mother-son bonding that was taking place.

“Night, Mr. Killian. Thank you,” Henry obediently said to him.

He approached them and stopped when there was still a respectable distance between him and Swan, but was close enough to share a moment with Henry.

“You are very welcome, Henry.”

His eyes shifted to her.

“Umm… thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

She sounded anything but certain, but comfortable in his presence. Killian understood. It was a strange situation they had found themselves in. And yet, one he wanted to experience again.

“It was my pleasure. Goodnight.”

When he finally got home, hours later than he would on a normal day, it was with a content feeling. A feeling he had forgotten even still existed and deemed impossible to ever course through his body and mind again.

A feeling he wanted to experience again.

--/--

It became somewhat of a tradition, a thing to look forward to every Tuesday. He would walk out of his office after finishing the paperwork from auctions held over the weekend, make his way towards the archives and see her there, diligently stacking and retrieving and returning while Henry sat at that same small table. He would greet them, Emma softly smiling in return and Henry jumping up in utter glee.

Killian had to admit that the sudden appearance of toys in his office and a very secret stash of candy had everything to do with the little lad that would visit on Tuesdays. His interactions with Emma were limited to a simple hi when he came to fetch Henry and have a nice evening when she was done with her work and was ready to go home. He could not deny that there was an urge inside of him to know more about her but this was the only time their paths crossed and it would be a very strange sight for him to suddenly appear in the archives during work hours, a place he normally never set foot in. So a hello and a goodbye was all they had, all they got and everything Killian treasured.

“Rawtch.” Henry jumped up from behind his desk in a surprise attack, his small hand wrapped around a green Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Killian copied the sound and fought back with his own duplicate. The two toys collided in a head to head battle, more growls accompanying the fighting and eventually, Killian forfeited, dramatically falling down onto the ground with a shriek proclaiming his demise. Henry jumped up and down, giggling as he danced in victory.

“Henry is the winner! Mr. Killian losed because Henry is stronger than Mr. Killian.”

“Oi, lad,” Killian remonstrated, risen from the dead again. “I’ll have you know that I only lost because you had the bigger T-Rex.”

“No, you losed because I am better.”

“Oh, that will cost you.” Killian jumped up from the ground and swept Henry off the ground, the boy playfully hitting him and wriggling to attempt to escape from his grip.

“What is happening in here?” Emma suddenly stood in the door opening, and Killian and Henry looked at each other with wide eyes and let go of one another.

Thick as thieves, they replied, “Nothing” in chorus.

“Alright then,” Emma said, unconvinced after a small and amused chuckle. “Henry, I know you’re having fun with Mr. Killian, but it’s time to go home.”

Henry pouted while putting his T-Rex back into the drawer, the one that held all of the toys, the one whose insides only saw the light of day on Tuesdays.

“Mommy?” Henry asked.

His little feet took him to his mother, who stood with an outstretched hand for him to grab. Killian deposited his own dinosaur in the drawer and closed it until it would be opened again next week.

“Yes, Henry?”

“Is Mr. Killian my dad?”

Emma looked as if she was going to choke. Killian was pretty sure he looked like he was going to choke. All the while sweet, innocent Henry looked at them, not aware of the gravity of his words, only asking a question and now patiently waiting for the answer.

“No, Henry,” she answered, a sadness taking over her features, darkening them almost imperceptibly. He could see the struggle, the smile that seemed to painfully pull at the corners of her lips, the lines in her forehead that deepened, the gentle ache in her voice, her effort to prevent her emotions to be noticed by Henry. But Killian… well, he did. “He is not.”

And while he wanted nothing more than to ask if she was okay—question why Henry would think he was his father—all of the signs Henry was oblivious to and Killian not, prevented him to do so.

“Let’s go home, kid. I’m tired.”

--/--

“Swan,” he acknowledged her on the Tuesday that followed.

“Mr. Jones,” she did the same but kept her eyes trained on the big shelves and on her hands sliding the books back into their shelter for the night.

Killian searched around, trying to find his company for the evening but the small table was empty and there were absolutely no indications—no paper stacked, no crayons strewn, no backpack propped against the wall—that Henry was here or had been here.

“Is Henry not here tonight?” Killian questioned, hoping that his disappointment seemed less clear, more masked for her than the poor attempt it seemed in his eyes.

“No.” Emma had still not looked at him, back still turned towards him. “He’s sleeping over at a friend's house.”

And while that was a good explanation, one Killian could have accepted, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that his absence had something to do with what transpired between them a week ago. He was quite sure of it, actually. Because Emma Swan had never been this cold, this distant towards him, not even when they first met, and he’d like to think she’d warmed up to him over the weeks and hours spent with Henry. So, it had to be the Dad Incident (with capital D and I because it was such a capital moment in his life).

“The lad doesn’t have a father?”

He was aware of how prying it sounded, of how much she did not owe any explanation to him, but the answer felt like a pivotal piece of information, a revealing part of Emma Swan. That was why he expected her to ignore the question, to yell that he had no right to ask, to take off. And that was why when she did neither, Killian had to control his features from confessing his shock.

“He does not,” Emma replied.

Killian wanted to ask on but he could see how closed off Emma was, how rigid her shoulders were, how faltering her breath. She still hadn’t faced him.

“Henry is lucky with a mother like you.”

If he heard correctly, Emma let out a gasp in response, but it was late and he was tired and it was probably only his imagination conveying the sound, making him hear what he wanted to. There was nothing else, no answer, no looks, only silence, so Killian let it go. Let himself go home and her stay. It was for the best, probably.

He lay awake that night, the worry a constant source of activity in his brain. She seemed okay, so did Henry. He was a typical three-year-old with a vivid imagination. There was no trace of unhappiness, of some sort of deprivation in those dark eyes. They appeared perfectly content.

And yet.

Her job did not pay a lot and she spent so much time working. Emma Swan was a dedicated employee but Killian highly doubted her work would get prioritized over her son, her dedication as a mom even greater. It had to be a necessity, the working late, a thing to make ends meet, to keep their heads above water. Killian had hoped she had someone to support her, to share the task of raising Henry, but the fact that she took the boy there every Tuesday had already been a red flag.

A sliver of silver light intruded his otherwise dark bedroom. Killian rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and it eventually rested along his cheek, a steady breath warming his palm. He sighed and his hand fell next to his body again. He rolled his shoulders to find a better position in the large, empty bed, between the cold sheets. Time passed but he had no idea how much time exactly before he finally drifted off.

--/--

“Belle?”

“Yes, Killian?” The brunette spun on her chair and her blue eyes met Killian’s, the corner of her eyes slightly crinkled by the smile on her lips.

He sat down on an empty corner of her desk, one leg still connected to the floor and the other dangling over the edge. He ran his fingers through his dark locks while he sensed Belle’s expectant gaze on him.

“Is there a woman named Emma Swan that works in the archives for you?”

If Belle was surprised by his seemingly random and very specific inquiry, she hid it well. Much to the relief of Killian; he had no idea how he would go about explaining his sudden interest in her. Then again, he was Belle’s boss; he had no obligation to explain himself to her, but as her friend, he kind of did.

“Yes, I hired her about—” Belle pursed her lips in thought. “—seven months ago, I would say.”

“And how does she do her job?”

Killian already had an idea of what the answer to his question would be but he needed to be absolutely certain, to hear it from someone who saw her every day and not only on Tuesdays.

“Incredibly, to be honest,” Belle replied in her typical Aussie way of speaking. “She's always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. You would think putting and retrieving files into the archives has some greater meaning for the greater good the way she does her job. She has been my savior several times when the others failed me.”

Silently, Belle asked him if he needed to hear more, if she needed to tell him more.

“Hmm,” he hummed while softly shaking his head.

He knew enough.

Emma Swan had always been a good employee—working long hours, working until her body ached only to go home to care of a three-year-old. She worked faster than the others, more thoroughly and more immaculate. In the time it took the others to do one task, Emma would make sure she’d done two. If you were the best, the probability of getting fired, of ending up without any money, any food to feed your child, or the chances of getting kicked out of the closet their landlord dared to call an apartment were smaller. She had to be the best for Henry and a couple of hours of extra sleep were nothing compared to her kid’s happiness.

And still, one day when her boss—not Belle but her boss-boss, Mr. Jones or Mr. Killian as her kid had called him… Mr. Killian and something else—summoned her to his office, Emma was one hundred percent sure that it was all over for her.

She’d walked this path through the halls several times, but never had she done it on a Friday, never had she done it when there were other people around, when the sun had not yet set. Those never’s were the instigators of her fear, of her conviction that she was getting fired.

Emma had tried to forget what happened last Tuesday and more importantly, the Tuesday before that, but it had taken a lot of power to barricade those thoughts and sometimes a brick would fall down, giving leeway for the memory to slip in and catch her off-guard.

Mr. Jones didn’t seem to be a vindictive man, far from it actually; he seemed kind and gentle and Emma completely understood why Henry would want to know if her boss was his dad. At least that would explain his behavior, his caring about them. No, he was not a vindictive man, but why had he suddenly decided to fire her now?

Halting before the door, Emma stared at the silver plaque. Killian Jones. Head of the Books and Manuscripts Department. She let out a shuddering breath, closing her eyes while pushing her balled hand forward until it met the wooden door, creating a harsh knock in the process.

“Yes, come on in!” a muffled voice yelled. The door did not suppress the British lilt of the speaker, however.

“You sent for me, Mr. Jones?”

“Ah, yes, Miss Swan. Do sit down.” His hand gestured towards the chair across him.

He had never called her Miss Swan before. It was always just Swan. He was distancing himself, pretending all of those Tuesdays had never happened to make this less painful for him. Oh god. A chill ran up and down her arms. She was going to get fired.

“Please don’t fire me,” she begged before Jones could even begin speaking. “I have a son to take care of. I will work harder, work longer. Just… please don’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word and it felt like the dam holding back the tears in her eyes had too because a tear rolled down.

“Swan, I’m not going to fire you,” he replied, “On the contrary, I’m giving you a promotion for all of the splendid work you’ve done.”

But Emma still could not calm down, could not stop the tears from flowing regardless of how much she rubbed and how much she blinked. Through her blurry vision, she could see Mr. Jones stand up and walk around his desk. Her hands came up to cover her face, hiding her red eyes and running nose from him. Her chair slightly moved and as Emma peeked between her fingers to find out as to why, she detected him sitting before her, one knee on the floor and holding something in front of her.

"Stop crying, love. Breathe, Swan." His soft voice did seem to help a bit if she focused on it, if she didn’t think about where they were and who he was and what he had just told her but only listened to the sounds of his timbre, the cadence of his accent.

His hand was holding a navy blue handkerchief, offering it to her, and Emma accepted, pressing the piece of soft fabric against her eyes and nose.

Of course he was the kind of guy that carried a handkerchief with him wherever he went.

After having snotted all over the handkerchief and having calmed down to the point that the tears had stopped forming and she did not feel like dropping onto the floor and curling into a ball anymore, Emma hesitantly handed the used cloth back, grimacing in embarrassment.

"Sorry for ruining your handkerchief," she apologized.

Jones chuckled in reply and stuffed it back into his pocket before standing up again.

"No worries, love. Nothing a good wash can't solve.” He leaned against the desk, widening the distance between them while maintaining their proximity. “Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. It's just—” Quickly, her hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I felt a bit overwhelmed. I really thought you were going to fire me.”

"Why would I fire you when you're one of my best employees?” His eyebrow went up as he questioned her fears. And when he pronounced them, a handsome smile on his lips, they seemed so irrational, so illogical for them to make sense. “Besides, I don't want Henry to be angry with Mr. Killian."

The affection in his voice, the affection for her kid, surprised her. Enough to make the words disappear out of her mouth and mind.

"How is the lad doing?" he asked, after some blinks of silence.

"Um… fine,” Emma replied, trying to restrict the shock in her voice. “He's being Henry which means a lot of questions and very little answers."

Mr. Jones laughed and Emma stared at him, the way a dimple appeared in his cheek and he slightly threw back his head.

This was her boss.

And she’d already had a mental breakdown and completely destroyed his handkerchief today She needed to leave. Right now.

“If you don't mind, I'm going to finish the thing I was doing.”

To make her words sound less vague, she pointed behind her but it didn't really help.

“Oh no, sure.” He seemed dazed for a moment, looking back at his desk in search of something and eventually giving up the search. “I'll tell Belle to fill you in about the new job, your tasks and what not. If you agree, she'll have your contract too and all you have to do is sign. You're free to go.”

Emma didn't even let him finish her sentence before she quickly replied thanks and dashed out of the office and more importantly, away from him.

--/--

Jones checked on her constantly, asked her to visit his office and every time, Emma got a flash of fear. She’d done something wrong. This was the end. Back to her crappy job and crappy pay and no more free time with Henry. She’d walk towards his office, bracing herself for the blow, and then he would just smile and welcome her. She would sit down and he’d asked how work was going, if she understood everything, if she had encountered any problems. And he would always finish with asking how Henry was.

It was always on a Tuesday.

--/--

Gold’s Auctioning House had a company holiday, two set weeks in July where every single one of them had time off. It had been part of the allure, part of why Emma eagerly responded to the rubric in the paper. Because no matter how shitty her job or boss could be, those two weeks were set in stone. Looking back, her boss had not been shitty and her job had only sucked because of the long hours and low pay. She never would've imagined that by the time July rolled by, she would’ve been promoted to an actual fun job with actual good hours. Either way, July meant two uninterrupted weeks spent with Henry and now that she’d received a higher pay, they would be able to go places, to do things.

Apparently, July also meant a Books and Manuscripts barbecue right before the holiday began. It was tradition, Belle had told her. Something that came into place when Jones had transferred from the London division right before the holiday and had wanted to get to know everyone before he officially became their boss.

Emma decided to ignore the event, decided to forego the fuss and simply stay home and watch a movie or two. She wasn’t really the socializing type and to be forced to converse with her colleagues, whom she barely knew, while eating hamburgers in some sort of team spirit before singing Kumbaya around the campfire, was something she could live without.

But she was careless and left the invitation lingering around her apartment and it ended up just in the right place for her best friend to find as she came to watch Henry. Mary Margaret Blanchard was her guardian angel—a mother even, had they not been only three years apart. She was kind and smart and was also a big supporter of Emma having a social life. So when she had cast her eyes on the sheet of paper, she had instantaneously offered to babysit, proposed a shopping trip and convinced Emma she should get to know the people she worked with.

All of which, Emma now regretted accepting.

Except for the shopping, because the red summer dress she was wearing was stunning and accentuated just the right places.

Her fingers toyed with the glass in her hand, with the condensation gathering on the outside, drawing little figures, writing her name in boredom. She truly knew no one here, no one of the overwhelming mass of people chatting and drinking and eating. She did not even realize this many people worked in the department. After another sweep of her company, she spotted Belle’s chestnut hair twisted into a braid. She was wearing a purple sundress and was engulfed in a conversation with a tall woman with bright red lips. They laughed and the sound was enough to chase away Emma’s idea to join them.

She took a sip of champagne and closed her eyes, letting the July sun warm her skin. The feeling made her lips curl in enjoyment.

“May I have your attention?” The voice broke her out of her summer delight and made her eyes pop open. She knew that voice.

Her suspicion was right because when her vision returned, Jones stood on a small stage, glass of champagne in his hand and all of the looks directed towards him.

“Thank you all for joining me in celebrating yet another successful year. This year has been the department’s most profitable year and that would not have been possible without all of your efforts. Mr. Gold has asked me to transfer his gratitude towards everyone and his hope that you will all participate to try and make next year even more successful. But let’s not think of that just yet. First, there are two weeks of well-deserved holiday that we all should enjoy to the fullest before returning to work. Heaven knows I will.” The crowd chuckled. “Enjoy the food and drinks and enjoy your holidays. It’s been a pleasure.” Jones lifted his glass and the others copied the movement before clapping with wide smiles.

Killian Jones was, besides Belle, the only one she had spoken with in the month following her promotion and he was the only one with whom the subjects of conversation were not solely dedicated to work. But surely he was busy at this event that he had organized and she did not want to bother him with her company. There was also the matter of her uncertainty when situations involved him. He was her boss but because of Henry and his curiosity, their lives were more intertwined than they should be.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea in the first place to have let him near Henry, to have let them bond because she now had her boss and her child constantly asking about one another. It was easy, though, to pretend Jones really was his father even if it only was on Tuesday; Henry gained a role model and she gained focus on her work. And god, if the sight of them playing pirate or dinosaur hadn’t attacked her heart enough already, her kid talking about his Mr. Killian as if he had hung the moon and lit the stars certainly would.

She grew sick of appearing lonely and fiddling around, having been on the receiving end of pitiful looks far too often, so she grabbed herself a new glass, placed a couple of onion rings—she owed the person who put them on the menu a profuse thank you—on one of the cardboard plates and removed herself from the party.

The park the gathering was held in was not particularly large but it was big enough to put a considerable distance between her and the people—person—she was avoiding while still being able to have a visual on them. There was a pond, an idyllic mass of water with water lilies on the edge and a pair of ducks occasionally traversing it, and it seemed like the perfect place to sit and relax and eat her onion rings. Her eyes fell on a bench, brown with green, mossy discolorations and with a view of the pond. Emma carefully picked a spot that was not tarnished by moss or bird poop that would not stain her new dress and sat down.

She was about to take a bite from her second onion ring when the sound of footsteps crackled along the branches lying on the cobblestone pathway, the connection between the party and the calm, the others and her. Emma looked up, fully expecting the intruder to be one of her colleagues out on a stroll or out for a smoke and preparing herself for a cordial nod before turning back to her food.  It wasn’t someone there to enjoy the scenery or inhale toxic fumes, it was him.

Mr. Jones. Mr. Killian, whatever. Him.

“Here you are, Swan.” He moved a branch out of the way to reach her. “I was afraid you had left."

The words made her frown. She didn’t matter. Why would he be afraid she had left? How did he even notice her absence?

He was nicely dressed but it had a casual air, as if he had just randomly picked something out of his dresser and put it on. The white shirt was tight around his body, emphasized every curve of his muscles and every sharp edge of his physique. He had one sleeve rolled up to his elbow and the other hung loosely over his left arm. Unlike other times she had seen him, he was now wearing a prosthetic, a near-to-life limb with curved fingers.

"Nope,” she said, her lips popping against each other. “Only wanted to isolate myself without really leaving."

Jones nodded towards the empty spot beside her, asking permission to join her and Emma agreed, seeing no direct reason to deny him. If he felt like sitting on a bench overlooking the pond with her, it was his right to do so. It was a free country after all.

"Ah, I get that."

"Isn't this your party?" Emma questioned the understanding he showed.

He had just made a speech to congratulate them all, had just been received with applause and smiles of his doting employees. There should be no reason he would want to leave them.

"I organized it but it's their—" Jones motioned his head to the others vividly babbling and drinking and eating. “—party.”

Quite a few things that she wanted to say appeared in her mind, but her gut told her they would all lead to risky waters, to too heavy conversations for the light and sunny day they were enjoying. And seeing that she forbade herself from uttering her thoughts, Emma chose not to reply, causing silence to dance around them.

It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps a little unfamiliar, but not extremely so. They just had to adjust to being around each other without Henry babbling between them—without Henry in general and outside of work. Not that Emma was foreseeing a lot of situations where that would be necessary.

"So," Jones said, cautiously and metaphorically tapping the silence, creating a crack and a break. "—any fun plans for the holiday?"

The question was an ordinary one, one she would expect a lot of her colleagues would ask each other in curiosity or politeness, but Emma still hesitated to tell him her plans, to indulge him. It had been difficult enough to cut all—non-professional—ties with him and keep Henry away from him, wasn't telling him all about her two weeks off reverse all of the efforts she had made?

In the end, the soft blue of his eyes and the kind smile on his lips were enough to persuade her otherwise. She wiped her hands on a napkin, getting rid of the excess grease from the onion rings, and clasped her hands together before answering.

"Probably let my kid boss me around.” She shrugged. “It's been awhile since he’s had his mom for him all alone.”

Jones let out a sound that wasn't just a chuckle but also not only a hum; it was a mixture of both and Emma couldn't stop the desire to hear it more often from sneaking in.

"He's a lucky lad.”

She sensed the duality of his words, the underlying meaning of the statement and decided it was best to not reply. Too heavy conversations and all that.

"And you?" she eventually asked, "Any plans for the next two weeks?"

"Yes,” he replied, stretching the word out until it was nothing but a hiss. “I'm going on a cruise.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she tilted her head in surprise.

"Huh.” Her eyebrows rose again and her expression became more neutral, or more positive, at least. “Cool. Didn't peg you as a cruise kinda guy, though.”

Jones lifted his shoulders, the white fabric of his shirt clinging to him like a second skin moving along.

“And yet, I am still going.”

He responded with a kind of defensiveness that made Emma look for a way to defer the conversation into a less dangerous territory and if the only way to do that was to talk about herself, so be it.

“I’ve never been on a boat.”

A sound of amusement left Jones’ mouth and it made Emma frown, retracing her steps and words to look for a clue as to what he considered so entertaining, especially so quickly after the shift in his mood.

“They’re called ships, not boats. There’s a difference,” he indulged her after noticing the crease between her eyebrows.

“I haven’t been on a ship either, so I did not know that.” Her words were creating her own defensive reaction; she didn’t want to seem uneducated, oblivious to ordinary things that he seemingly was an expert in. Emma didn’t want to stay that woman that didn’t belong with the crowd because he had brought her there.

“You really haven’t?”

Eyes focused on the calm and undisturbed water, Emma shook her head.  “Nor have I left the country.” She was supplying him with so much information and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d been so careful during their previous interactions, sticking to simple greetings and farewells. They entailed no risk but what she was doing right now did.

“Well, my accent kind of betrays that I have.” He was drawing the attention back to himself, which Emma appreciated greatly.

“It does.” Her movement slightly slowed down by her hesitance, Emma turned her head. Her teeth created a dent in her lower lip as she considered letting the conversation stop there and them part ways again, as she thought about staying in his company a bit longer. “Belle told me something about London?” The latter seemed far more tempting.

“Aye.” And if he was surprised that Belle and Emma had discussed him, he didn’t let it show, he simply told his story undeterred. “I was born south of London, moved there after I graduated from university, started working at Gold’s, became second-in-command and when Gold was searching for someone to temporarily take over the new New York division, until it was up and running, I took the chance.”

“You just up and left?”

“I did,” he said, making it sound so effortless to detach all connections and settle somewhere new. “Seemed a bit of an adventure. I don’t regret it.”

Emma hummed, letting him know she understood. “You were able to just start over. Can’t say how many times I’ve wanted that.”

His cyan eyes watched her carefully and Emma became too aware of her breathing and her movements and of every blink. He was trying to read her, to figure her out; she was no stranger to the feeling, the little alarm bells screaming that there was a trespasser over and over again. No one had ever actually managed—not without her full and complete consent—to figure her out, but it did not seem as if Jones required her to lower her defenses. His look was too understanding for that to be the case, too suffocatingly soft.

She cleared her throat, attempting to stop the obstruction preventing her from properly breathing, but it was in vain. It was all too much.

“I think I'm going to go home,” Emma broke the spell. “I don't want to bother my best friend with Henry for too long.”

“I'm certain the lad is being his stellar self.”

And again, Emma had no idea what to reply. Should she thank Jones? Pretend she didn't hear the compliment? Wave it off as if Henry wasn't the amazing child he was? Take credit for her kid being himself?

“I'm sure he is, but even Henry's stellar self can be a lot to handle sometimes.” Emma stood up and Killian followed the movement with his eyes. She reached for her empty plate of onion rings to dispose of it, but he put a halt to it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

Emma’s hand hung awkwardly in the space between them, before she retracted it and clasped her hands together, the thumb of her right one nervously rubbing the palm of her left. “Thanks.”

He rose as well, his hand grabbing the greasy cardboard plate and towered over her as he approached. Emma had to tilt her head to be able to look him in the eyes and when she did, he simply smiled. It was an everyday gesture but somehow felt so rare. Like she had never seen a smile before, nor did she know dimples could appear and she wasn’t aware the skin around his eyes would crease.

Before she knew it, her own lips curled too. Across from each other, they stood, neither making any movements to leave. If Emma wasn’t too much in denial of it all, she would consider it a moment between them.

“I have to go get—” she reminded him and more importantly herself.

“—Henry. I know,” he finished her sentence while lifting a corner of his lips.

Emma blinked and quickly wetted her lips, her mind racing along roads filled with possible answers and responses, until it slowed down and settled for a kind and casual, “Have fun on your cruise.”

“I will, thank you. Have fun letting Henry boss you around.”

“I will too.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Swan.”

He nodded—and possibly winked but it happened so fast Emma wasn’t certain—before retracing his steps and leaving along the same path he had come, her little plate in his hand. Her gaze was glued to his backside as he exited and detected his now relaxed shoulders and the little spring in his step.

It was a good thing she had time to recover and clear her mind after today because she definitely needed it. Those two weeks would come in very handy.

--/--

Day two of Emma’s vacation and Henry had already made a schedule of what they would do on what day. Well, Henry had rambled things that were both manageable and quite frankly impossible—a trip to the moon was slightly over budget—and Emma had made a selection, planning them accordingly. Today, they were going to the zoo; tomorrow, spend the day with Mary Margaret and David; on Thursday, they would bake cupcakes, and so the list went on.

“I really wanna see the monkeys and the tigers and the giraffes and um… Mommy!” Henry pulled her arm. “Do you think they have cobras?”

“I don’t know, Henry,” Emma answered truthfully. “We’ll have to ask, but cobras are very dangerous animals.”

Emma scanned the street for oncoming traffic and tightened her grip on Henry’s small hand as they crossed the street, a couple of steps closer to where the fun would begin and all of her son’s questions would be answered.

It was silent again and Emma could already spot the bustle of people, the parents with their offspring in tow, making their way to the zoo. It was a perfect day, not too warm, not too cold, perfectly average, for a visit to the zoo and it was clear she hadn’t been the only parent to think so. They stood still while Emma was grabbing everything she required before entering.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“What is it, Henry?” she said a bit annoyed, eyes and hands scouring the insides of her purse for their reservation and her wallet.

“It’s Mr. Killian.”

Emma shook her head while her eyes were still trained on the leather purse hanging on her shoulder.

“Honey, that's not possible. Mr. Killian is not—” Henry tugged on her shirt and she let out a frustrated sigh. “Henry, I’m trying to find our reservation. We can’t go inside if I don’t find them.” Her words appeared to work as the pressure on her waist disappeared. And finally, her fingers encountered the small, square of paper.

“I got them!” Emma exclaimed in victory. “Now, we can go inside, Henry.” But there was no sign of her son. “Henry?” She felt the fear soar as she could not detect his brown locks or bright backpack anywhere. She was on the verge of turning frantic, of starting to scream his name at the top of her lungs until he reappeared in the mass of people.

That was when she saw him. Both of them actually.

He had Henry in his arms and determinedly walked her way once their gazes met. He had Henry. Everything was alright, Henry was alright. He had Henry.

Emma met them halfway with both relief and anger streaming through her veins.

“Henry Swan. Don’t you ever, ever run off like that again, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy.” He pursed his lips in regret. “Wanted to say hi to Mr. Killian.” The big, brown eyes quickly filled with tears and Emma took Henry out of Jones’ arms and held onto him tightly, closing her eyes while basking in the feeling.                                      

“I know, baby, but you gotta be careful, alright. What if it wasn’t really Mr. Killian? What if you couldn’t find me again? That would not be good, would it?” The liquid of Henry’s tears drenched through her shirt and Emma gently bounced up and down to calm him down a bit, cupping his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her shoulder and instead of replying Emma chose to kiss the top of his head to reassure him, to tell him her anger mostly consisted of fear.

She breathed Henry’s smell in and let the air woosh back out in relief. Opening her eyes anew, she was reminded of his presence. Jones seemed perfectly content with just watching them, though.

Emma slightly frowned and claimed his attention with a soft voice, almost a whisper, “I thought you were on a cruise?”

“Ah,” was the first thing he said and it was followed by his hand disappearing into his hair. “I canceled it. Realized I wasn’t really a cruise kinda guy.” His lips moved into a smirk as he repeated her words from a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t really her place to question him about his whereabouts and he did just bring her son back to her. Something she hadn’t even thought about, hadn’t even thanked him for yet.

“Thank you.” Her head motioned toward the three-year-old in her arms.

In response, Jones’ shoulders went up in a minimizing shrug. “Don’t mention it, Swan.”

Of all the things she had noticed about Mr. Jones, the way he minimized his actions was one of the more surprising ones. Types like him often boasted about their accomplishments and acts of benevolence with a puffed out chest, but Jones always swept them aside to a point where one could think he was embarrassed by all the good he did, of all the fame he received in return. He had voluntarily spent hours with Henry to make her work easier and never once asked for something in return, insisting that he did not require anything. A thank you from Emma’s part had even been too much sometimes, his hand already waving it away before her lips could close around the word. Maybe Emma had miscategorized him, placed him in a group with people he did not belong with, with characteristics he did not have. But where did he belong? Who was Killian Jones?

Henry moved, leaving Emma’s shoulder that was functioning as a hiding place, and shyly looked up at her. The remnants of tears lingered on the edges of his eyes and Emma felt the sight tug on her heart, felt her motherly mode activate as she tenderly wiped them away and offered him some more consolation.

“You think you’re ready to see the monkeys and the tigers now?” she asked. Henry sniffed and nodded but the answer wasn’t enough to satisfy Emma. “But are you completely sure, because we could go home too, if that’s what you wanted.”

He leaned back, straightened his back and started shaking his head. First, slowly but as his conviction grew, the movement accelerated, shaking both Henry and her.

“No, no, no, no, no. Henry is ready. I wanna see all of the monkeys.”

Emma laughed, happy with the return of her kid, of how she knew him to be.

“Well, if that’s what you want, then we’ll go see all of the monkeys,” Emma confirmed before setting her son back on the ground. Holding him for longer periods of time was getting more difficult now that he was growing so fast. It all went by in a flash. She could still remember when small, little Henry was placed into her hands. It had changed everything and Emma would be the first to admit it had not all been a fairytale with rainbows and sunshine, but it had been real. Filled with pain and tantrums and wondering if their life would ever become better, but they had made it. Together.

Henry clasped his small hand around hers when her arms dropped him off on the ground and it seemed like he had momentarily forgotten about the presence of his beloved Mr. Killian too, because his eyes widened when he saw him.

“Mr—” His greeting was interrupted by a small hiccup, a side effect of the crying fit he had been afflicted with. “Mr. Killian,” he attempted again. “Mommy and Henry are going to the zoo. Will you come too?”

Emma should’ve seen this coming. Of course, Henry would want him to join them.

“Henry.” It was said in a mix of disapproval and regret she had perfected over the years. “I’m sure Mr. Killian has better things to do than to go to the zoo.”

It was a lie. She was anything but convinced, to be honest. Jones had been standing with them for a while, had patiently endured Henry’s meltdown, Emma’s soothing, their talking. If he had anything better to do, he probably would’ve excused himself, left right after he had reunited mother and son. None of that happened, instead, he stood across them with an expression Emma could not decipher.

“I don't actually,” Jones replied, confirming her suspicion. “If your mum’s alright with it, lad, I would love to come along.” His attention moved from Henry to her, and not for the first time, Emma found herself attacked by two sets of puppy eyes.

“Mommy, mommy. Please, please.”

To deny them their request, required willpower Emma did not possess. Or she did but it was not reserved for unforeseen situations like this where she would only make the owners of the puppy eyes sad by saying no. So, while she mentally prepared herself for a whole day in the presence of Jones, she nodded.

“Okay, fine. Mr… Killian—” She gestured towards him in surrender. “—can visit the zoo with us. But no shenanigans. From either of you.” She sent them both a warning look, one they both did not notice as they were happily smiling at each other. “Those are my terms,” Emma stipulated.

“Well, I have a condition too,” Jones said and Emma frowned. Surely, he must have realized he wasn't in the position of having conditions. She was the one granting him a day with them and he was the one gaining in this situation. He and Henry.

“My treat. The tickets,” he clarified. “I'll pay them.”

While it was a generous offer, Emma felt dismayed by it, almost offended.

“I don’t need you to be some kind of savior. I am perfectly able to pay for this myself.”

Jones’ hand came in front of him to calm her down, to reassure her that his motives were true.

“I know, Swan.” There was no irritation, no embarrassment, no smarty undertone. Just sincerity. He knew. “I simply wanted to thank you for letting me tag along.”

Oh.

The shame warmed her cheeks and turned her skin a rosy color. Her free hand brushed some hair behind her ear while attempting to cool off her face by subtly placing her palm on it.

“Sorry. Um… I had already reserved some tickets for Henry and me online but I'm sure you can just buy another one...”

An impatient pull snapped her out of the situation.

“Mommy. I wanna go to the zoo.”

“Yeah, kid. We're going right now.”

Jones was, though she shouldn't be surprised, a connoisseur of both sea animals and birds, providing all of them with elaborate background stories on the animals they saw, and was therefore, even more, Henry's hero. They walked and he pointed and by the time they had almost done the entire tour. Even Emma had learned new things and some interesting fun facts.

The zoo had a carousel, an old but well-maintained ride with horses, and Henry visibly lit up when he set eyes on it. As fast as his little legs could transport him, he ran until he stood before it.

He looked back at Emma and while he had not uttered a word, she knew he was asking for permission. In reply, Emma nodded, causing Henry to gleefully laugh at the prospect of getting a ride on the attraction.

A bench stood a bit further, far enough to avoid the bustle of excited children and hovering parents, but close enough to be able to keep an eye on Henry. Her feet were slightly hurting after the hours of walking they had done and the prospect of sitting down was far too alluring. She sat on one side and felt Jones covertly occupy the other one. With the utmost stealth, Emma risked a glance towards him. His eyes were on the carousel, focused enough for Emma to dare and turn her head completely, her stealth forgotten. She watched the curve of his jaw, the light stubble that adorned it, the way his eyelashes hit the apple of his cheek every time he blinked.

He must have sensed her watching him—not that she was that subtle—as he turned his head and met her eyes. His somewhat shy smile prompted Emma to ask something she'd been wanting to for a while.

“Did you actually cancel your cruise? Because I’m quite good at spotting a lie and I wasn’t kidding when I said you didn’t seem like a cruise kinda guy.”

“No.” His gaze flickered back to the carousel as he briefly shook his head. Emma couldn't say she was surprised by the answer but she did expect extracting it out of him would've been more difficult. “I did not cancel my cruise because I never booked it.”

It did not come as a shock to Emma, nor did the knowledge that he lied to her sting like it normally did. She abhorred liars, hated it when their words were badly received by the lie detector embedded in her brain. And once a liar, always a liar, especially if it involved such a small lie that could be avoided. If his first instinct was to lie, it always would be. But somehow, it was different with him.

The circumstances were the same; he had lied because he wanted to hide something and he'd told the lie twice. Emma's reaction to finding out, however, was not. She was calm and was ready to hear his story. Maybe it was her gut telling her that he was a good guy and his lie was not meant to hurt anyone, just to protect himself. How her gut had figured that out, she had no idea.

“Why did you lie?”

Jones wiped his hand on the jeans of his pants, rubbing and clenching, telltale signs of nervousness. Emma did not want to put him on the spot, force him to tell his tale to a virtual stranger when he was not ready.

“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse but as far as our colleagues know, I’ve gone on a cruise every single year since they’ve known me.”

“And you’ve never actually gone,” Emma concluded.

“No.” His eyes sought out hers only to break the connection again when they crossed. “I’ve spent every holiday in New York. To think of it, it’s a miracle I haven’t run into anyone sooner. It’s not like I’m in hiding or something.”

“Far from it, Henry was able to spot you from a mile away.” Emma softly smiled, simply turning the corners of her mouth upwards but keeping her lips glued to each other. “But why though? Isn’t it just easier to tell everyone you’re not going anywhere than lie?”

“I’m their boss.” Jones shrugged. “They all expect me to go on some extravagant trip around the world because that’s who they think I am, who they perceive me as. When I moved here, I wanted to start anew, not drag my past along, so I put on an act. And staying home all alone did not fit that act.”

Emma opened her mouth to react but was interrupted.

“Mommy!” They both changed their demeanor, pretended their topic of conversation was far lighter than it truly was and smiled when Henry came running. “It was so fun!”

Killian Jones was broken, Emma realized. It seemed like he genuinely enjoyed Henry’s company and that Henry acted as a distraction of his brokenness. She understood—the being broken, the solitude, the little sparkle of hope that Henry could be in a bleak existence. It would seem that they were a lot alike. Kindred spirits. That realization shifted the way she saw things. The way she saw him.

“Killian,” Emma addressed him for the first time, “I was wondering if you’d like to join Henry and me again tomorrow. We’re going to buy cupcakes and eat them in the park.”

Both Henry and Killian watched her with big eyes, the one in surprise and joy, the other in utter shock and confusion.

“Are you certain?” His dark brows furrowed. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, you won’t,” Emma assured. Her lips were a smile, her voice kind. “I’m sure Henry would love to spend some more time with Mr. Killian, wouldn't you, Henry?”

“Yes!”

Emma looked from Henry to Killian, her eyebrow raised to ask him once again but without words and Killian nodded in acquiescence.

“Then it's settled.”

His hands were sweaty, a clear external sign of his internal nervousness. Or perhaps it was excitement; or a sweat-inducing mix of the two.

Emma had invited him to spend another day together with her and her son after their run-in yesterday. This was different though; yesterday was one hundred percent coincidental, only occurring because Henry had seen him while he and his mother were waiting before the entrance of the zoo and as Killian was making his way to the docks. It was a joyful reunion. They had not seen each other in weeks and while he couldn't assume anything about Henry, Killian surely had missed his Tuesday companion.

It had taken Killian about seventeen seconds of Henry's babbling to realize that he was missing a blonde mother, or his blonde mother was missing Henry. He grabbed ahold of Henry and scanned the crowd in search of her.

He had found her, they had found each other and they had spoken and walked and watched animals and it had been a long time since he had had such a diverting day. Which was why, when Swan proposed another one, he had to put a break on his excitement so his wholehearted ‘yes’ would not seem too eager.

Which was why he felt nervous as he waited on a bench by the entrance of the park Emma had told him to be at three p.m..

There were still four minutes left until the levers of his watch would signal it was time. Killian had been watching them constantly, keeping an eye on the time, letting the minutes tick by. He was a punctual man, always had been. There was a whole backstory to why he considered tardiness as most irksome, one that was filled with pain and heartbreak. Liam and he quickly learned in life that people who tended to be late were often of the unreliable sort and they were to be banished from their lives, avoided at all costs, in order to prevent history from repeating itself.

He rarely took risks just because of that reason, because taking risks had led to losing people and losing people had led to sorrow, sorrow had led to drinking and losing complete control and that had almost ruined his life. So he took back the reins, got his life in order, started anew, and was always on time.

That hadn’t changed but this definitely was a risk. Everything involving Swan and her boy had been, and still, he pursued, continued bonding with them, kept on meeting them and accepted their invitation. Because not taking risks could be very lonely at times.

It was forty-nine seconds to three p.m. when they appeared in his sight, walking hand in hand, engaged in a vivid conversation.

Stretching his legs, Killian stood up as they approached to greet them properly. There was nothing fraudulent about the happiness that he beamed, this was truly what their company did to him.

“Emma, Henry,” he acknowledged when they came close enough.

“Killian,” Emma politely retributed.

“Mr. Killian!” Henry almost yelled, his childish enthusiasm taking over. “Look, pirates!” Henry’s small index went to point at his bright shirt that was indeed decorated with pirates and ships.

“That’s incredible, lad. I’m very jealous of your T-shirt.”

“Mommy.” Henry pulled on Swan’s white blouse. “Mr. Killian likes my pirates.”

Emma laughed. “I know, honey. I heard. You clearly chose the best T-shirt to wear today.”

They began to walk in the direction of the playground, Henry filling the small promenade with words that were occasionally difficult to follow and seemed to skip from one topic to another but that were very entertaining nonetheless. The boy’s imagination kept on astounding him time and time again. He’d make a fine author or storyteller one day, of that Killian was sure.

The time flew by as Henry went up the slide and down, swung forwards and backwards on the swing, and built and destructed a castle made out of sand.

“Hey,” Emma addressed him, “do you think you can handle Henry alone for a while? That way I could go get the cupcakes.”

“Aye, love. No problem. I’ll keep a close eye on him.” Killian solemnly nodded while promising the safety of her son in his hands—well... hand. Emma smiled and brushed her palm along his shoulder in a thankful gesture.

“You’re a hero. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She turned her heads. “Henry, I’m going to get our cupcakes. Behave yourself with Killian, okay?”

Waving, Swan left them alone. She trusted him. Enough to leave her son with him. She had done that before, multiple times even but there was a difference. His office bore fewer risks than an open, public playground especially with a child like Henry. Emma Swan trusted him. The knowledge brought a smile to his lips as he let it sink in.

“Mr. Killian, look!”

A woman walked by. She was older—mid-sixties Killian would presume, her perfectly coiffed dark hair streaked with grey and her tanned skin wrinkled—and was taking her dog out for a walk. It had the cutest set of floppy ears and a grey tail and as soon as Henry saw the dog, he ran towards it in typical Henry-like fashion. There was no stopping this boy.

“Henry, wait!” he yelled, trying to prevent him from attacking the dog and possibly spooking it, but the woman waved her hand to show it was alright.

“You don’t have to worry. Alma is a good girl, she won’t hurt anyone,” she spoke, a different culture coloring and shaping her words.

“Alma?” Henry asked, hands scratching Alma’s back. “That’s pretty.”

“Well, thank you. And what is your name?” The woman slightly kneeled—which was impressive considering the height of her heels—to diminish the distance between her and Henry.

“Henry.” He watched the woman with big eyes, attempting to take everything—the hair, the jewelry, the clothes—before him in. Killian was accustomed to these kinds of people, they were his biggest customers—who else would spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on the books and manuscripts Gold’s Auctioning House had to offer—but he could see that Henry was not. His eyes darted from one place to another, not knowing where to stop.

“Nice to meet you, Henry.” The hand that wasn’t holding Alma’s leash kindly shook Henry’s. “I’m Isabel and this is Alma.”

Alma reacted to her name, enthusiastically barking and startling Henry out of his reverie. His little feet were trampling on the grass in anticipation or longing to run and play with Alma and it seemed like Killian wasn’t the only one that picked up on that, Isabel letting go of her connection with Alma and giving the dog her freedom back. Henry looked at Killian and with a nod, he received the same.

“Mind if I join you?” Isabel asked Killian as he settled on a bench.

“Be my guest,” he said with kindness.

Their heads moved synchronously from left to right as if they were watching a match of tennis instead of the game of fetch Alma and Henry were participating in, both of them running and jumping and making sounds of exhilaration.

“How wonderful children are.” Isabel shook her head in astonishment, her brown eyes sparkling in delightment.

“They truly are,” Killian agreed softly, the same sparkle most likely reflected in his own blue eyes as well.

By the time Swan joined them again, cupcakes stored in a box between her hands, she began laughing at the scene—Henry peppering Alma with butterfly kisses—in front of her and continued to do so when Henry almost tackled her while chanting “Mommy!”

“Hey, kid.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Isabel said when Henry and Emma reached them. Killian rushed to intercept her but it was too late as she called Alma, the animal faithfully followed her order and approached the bench. She stood up, smoothed the fabric of her skirt and smiled at the three of them.

“You have an adorable family,” Isabel complimented.

He blanked, not knowing how to respond to the statement. They weren’t a family, only… well, Killian did not really know what they were. He was her boss, she was his employee, she was Henry’s mom. Nothing more.

“Thanks.” Emma accepted the compliment and smiled back at the woman she had only just met.

“Bye Alma, bye Izzie!”

Killian couldn’t help but send Swan a quizzical look once Isabel had turned her back.

“It's easier just to say thanks than to explain everything to a stranger.” She shrugged.

The sky had begun to turn that orangey-pink, the one that was quintessential to the beginning and the end of a day, without which the feeling of a new start and a content completion would be lost.

After devouring all of the cupcakes, they had played some more and talked some more. Killian couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself face that content completion so he tagged along to extend the day as long as he could. They bought a light dinner, the cupcakes still very present in their stomachs, and ate it too. He would’ve left if he felt unwelcome but the signals Swan was giving him were far from that. She was warm, tried to include him in every conversation, laughed with everything he said. She was making an effort and he didn’t know whether he should be grateful or wondering what had warranted the change. After dinner, Henry had almost collapsed on the grass they were picnicking on, the events of today so exciting and exhausting and all of the running and jumping catching up on him.

Emma watched his little chest inflate and deflate. “I hate it when I have to wake him up when he’s so soundly asleep, but we have to walk all the way home.”

Killian followed the direction of her gaze to the closed eyes of the three-year-old. He looked so peaceful and Killian understood Emma’s hesitance to interrupt that peace.

That was the only reason he made the suggestion to carry him home for her.

“Oh no,” Swan objected. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

“I’m offering, Swan.”

“But…” Her sentence died when he raised his eyebrows, challenging the words that were going to come out of her mouth. “Alright.” Her hands went up “Go ahead.”

It proved to be more of a challenge than he expected, lifting him without waking him and with only one hand to gently maneuver him, but with the very brief assistance of Emma, Henry ended up on a comfortable spot on Killian’s shoulder with only one small sound of displeasure.

The walk was mostly calm, quiet and without any conversation, as they both did not want to wake the slumbering toddler on Killian’s shoulder, but there were moments when he silently watched her and her gaze left the stones of the street to look at them, their eyes meeting. He shyly smiled, directing his eyes to the ground as the tingles ran up and down his arms.

By the time they reached her apartment, the streets had turned dark, streetlights diligently working to provide some sort of light and Emma used that light to find her keys. She let out a triumphant sound as her hand revealed the set and opened the door to grant him access.

Their apartment was small, tiny even in comparison to his average flat, but he could see Swan’s attempts to turn it into a home for her and Henry; the toys that were stacked in a corner, the drawings that adorned the walls, the soft grey that colored the room. She had tried to reach the best result with what she had available. It made Killian think of when he was younger, when he and Liam had to fend for themselves and try to survive in a very big and unfair world. It had been such a struggle but they had managed. So had Swan.

“You can put him in the room on the left.” She pressed the light switch and brought light to the room. Her head motioned towards a closed door as she was taking off her jacket and purse. A bit hesitantly, he followed her instructions, moving Henry to his left arm and grabbing the handle to enter the room. He could make out the vague form of a bed and moved Henry into it. His small feet still had shoes on them—the easy ones with Velcro’s thank god—and Killian quickly removed them and set them next to the bed. Checking if the boy wasn’t waking, Killian let his gaze fall on the bed one last time. He turned and opened the door again, leaving Henry with a final “Goodnight, lad.”

Once he returned to the small living room, there was no sign of Emma, at least until he tread close enough to the couch to be able to peer over it. In it she lay, asleep. Bright yellow socks on her feet, bright yellow hair across her face.

“Swan.” He softly prodded her to try and wake her but it was to no avail.  “Emma,” he whispered, but still no movement. For a second, he remained next to the couch, fiddling with his fingers, before deciding what his next move was going to be. Waking her seemed too drastic, especially if she was tired enough to fall asleep on her couch after mere seconds.Sleeping on her couch, however, couldn't be very comfortable since it seemingly belonged to the lumpy category of couches. Killian was going to make Emma’s rest as pleasant as possible. He searched the tiny apartment and came across a stack of blankets. He removed one, one that had small ships on it, and laid it over Emma's unconscious form.

He checked his surroundings for anything else he could do but nothing came to mind so Killian decided to go home. Before doing so, he reached into his pocket, took out one of his business cards that bore his number and wrote something on the empty white space with the pen that resided in the opposite one.

Thank you for today. -K

--/--

He got a text the next morning from a number neither he, nor his phone, recognized saying: You are very welcome. Henry wants to go to a museum tomorrow, wanna come? -E and promptly saved the number as Swan before answering: I’d love to.

--/--

With Henry’s obsession with pirates, Killian could not not take him and his mother out to the docks for a sail on the small ship he had the honor to call his. She was old and well-used but sailed like she was great a many years younger and was an absolute beauty, in her own, esoteric way. Killian went to pick up Swan and Henry with his car and drove them to where she lay, the spot where he spent so many hours painting and tinkering, where he began and finished all of his trips into the silence and calm.

Thinking back to their very first meeting, he remembered that Henry was somewhat disappointed to hear he was not and had never been a real pirate, but Killian was hoping seeing the Roger would make up for that and if it didn’t, a sail definitely would. Henry was a sailor in his heart and soul, not to forget, even if he was too young to have actually sailed a boat on his own.

“Is this it?” The boy pointed at a random boat swaying in the water.

“No, Henry,” Killian refuted.

“This one?”

“No.”

Impatiently, Henry grunted only to receive a very stern look from Emma’s part ordering him to behave.

“Here we are,” Killian said when they had reached her. With a quick gesture, he introduced them to the location they would be spending the next couple of hours in. “Swan, Henry, this is the Jolly Roger.” He was wishing they would not be disappointed by his humble ship and it seemed his wish was granted as he let out a small gasp as they stood still before her.

“Can we go on it?”

“We can and we will,” Killian chuckled, the relief encompassing him in one swoop.

The weather was perfect, even more perfect than he could have hoped for. The sun was bright and hot in the sky, the wind offering some relief against the rays of light heating their skin. The water lapped slowly, an affable welcome for both Henry and Emma who had not been on the water before. In spite of the good weather, it was calm around the docks and on the water, the side effect of it being Tuesday, but Killian was not complaining, far from it even. If this sail did not turn out to be the best day of this holiday, he would be the sole one to blame and he was going out of his way to avoid that.

Holding out his hand, he led Henry aboard, Swan following on his heels. He could see their efforts to steady themselves on the tilting surface, see the concentration on their faces as they tried to accustom to the peculiar sensation.

“Ready to set sail?” His eyebrow went up with his question.

Swan inhaled, her shoulders rising and eventually dropping as she let the air back out in one go, before nodding and wrapping her arm around Henry. “We are.”

Using the hook prosthetic he always wore while sailing, Killian opened a crate and retrieved two life jackets. Safety above all.

“A life jacket for you, young man,” he said, pulling the bright red contraption over Henry’s head and securing it in the right places. “And one for you, Swan.” Her eyes did not waver from his as his hand touched her neck, her shoulders, her waist. His hand almost trembled with the urge to linger, to caress her pale cheek and her soft curves. It almost trembled as he fought the feeling, painfully aware of where they were and who they were. She wasn’t his to caress and that was where it ended.

“All right,” Killian said, shaking himself out of his haze of self-pity and melancholy, summoning every ounce of excitement he had felt in the previous week, “You two are my first and second mate for today so I’ll need you to follow every order you get from me, understood?”

Henry’s bobbed rapidly as he agreed while Swan replied with a quiet “Aye, aye, Captain.”

They were eager guests, wanting to help wherever and whenever they could. Killian had to tell Henry on numerous occasions that he was too small for some things and the boy had countered every time that he would be four in less than a month—not that it helped to change Killian’s initial and final decision. Emma was more of a quiet learner, taking in everything he had said and turning it into practice only moments later, a little smile following when she was successful.

After a while, the hard labor of leaving the harbor was over and the Roger was calmly floating in the water, granting them some respite after all of the work they had done. Killian had provided a basket with some food and drinks and went to fetch it below deck. When he returned, Henry was slathering a thick layer of sunscreen all over his mother’s face and arms, Swan giggling along with her son as she, in turn, treated him to a coat of protection against the sun, albeit less chaotic than how her son was rubbing and applying.

“I think Killian needs some sunscreen too, Henry.” Swan smirked as she was well aware what her words would ensue.

Henry approached Killian with greasy hands and plastered them on his face. He threw her a dirty look and she just laughed in response. After their beauty treatments, they all settled on deck and started nibbling on all of the goods Killian had brought. Henry leaned against his mother’s chest while Killian sat across them, the perfect place to watch them enjoy.

The sun hit her skin and she glowed. Her skin, her hair, the gold flecks in her mossy eyes. They all lit up as she smiled. It was in that moment that he realized that she owned his heart. He could not return to his empty existence, lonely and on his own. It was frankly impossible to after her.

She was not his but how he wanted her to be.

--/--

“You already know where he belongs,” Emma told him later that day.

Killian was carrying a sleeping Henry again, a replica of the situation that occurred over a week ago. This time, it was not crossing along the playground but the sail that had completely exhausted him.

“Aye, that I do.” Killian couldn’t stop the warmth from creeping into his voice. He knew where to put Henry because they had been here before, together and somehow he had been granted an opportunity to do it all again. To spend more days with them.

“Sleep well, Henry,” he whispered to the dark room, fully aware that the boy had been sleeping for over half an hour and would not hear him. It was the gesture that counted.

Like last time, Killian went back to the living room but different than that time, Swan was awake on the couch. A quip left his lips before he could think about it.

“I'm surprised you're still awake, Swan,” he teased. “Last time you, very unceremoniously, fell asleep.” His lips formed a smirk as he came closer.

“Haha,” she replied, the sound without any humor. “I have a kid that decided to wake me up at 5:30 am last time.” Swan grimaced. “Luckily, Henry has learned that vacation means sleeping until at least eight.”

She was settled on the couch, jacket and shoes off like last time and a blanket slightly thrown over her legs. Her locks, that she had let loose during the day, were now gathered in a hastily thrown together bun at the top of her head. She was the image of relaxation. And he was awkwardly lingering around her. It was time go home, she was clearly ready to unwind and he did not want to overstay his welcome. As usual, his hand went up to rub his neck as he gathered his courage.

“Well, I'm not going to bother you any further. Good night, Swan.”

Her forehead creased as she tilted her head and rearranged her bun.

“You can stay a bit longer if you want,” she casually proposed. “I was simply planning to watch some Netflix so you definitely wouldn’t bother.”

“Oh… um. Aye, if you’re certain I won’t be a hindrance, it would be my pleasure.”

Swan made room on the couch, inviting him to sit next to her and assuring that he would not be a hindrance. Killian began with taking off his own jacket and shoes, placing them next to hers by the door. After a calming and somewhat heartening inhale and exhale, he finally joined Emma. He chose to sit down as far from her as possible. Of course, he would not have minded to sit slightly closer but he was in her home, was invited by her to watch some television and he did not want to take advantage of that or cross any borders. So, the corner of the couch, it was.

“Any preference?” Her blonde eyebrow went up along with the remote control, explaining her words.

“As long as it isn't anything horror, not a big fan of the genre,” Killian explained, internally cringing after he uttered the words. Way to go.

“I wasn’t planning on anything horror tonight,” she reassured with a wink. “That’s reserved for Halloween and Halloween only .”

Eventually, Swan ended up choosing a light comedy that did not require a lot of paying attention, but was truly funny and entertaining to the both of them. They laughed together over the antics of the characters and, in a moment of distraction, Killian noticed how Emma threw her head back as she laughed freely. It only made his grin grow even more.

Netflix began to count down until the next episode and Swan removed the blanket from her lap and stood up. Killian followed her steps to the fridge and saw her pull two beers out of the cold storage. Swiftly, she removed the caps, the metal clinking against the stone of her counter. The rough material of the couch did not shift as she sat down again, handing him a beer while sipping from the second one. As the title song of the show blasted through the apartment again, Killian noticed how they were suddenly sitting way closer than how they had begun.

“I know I've told you this before—” Killian began as another episode had ended and they both had decided to put a stop to it here. “—but Henry truly is a magnificent lad.”

Their empty beer bottles stood on the floor, their feet were in the couch, sometimes touching and sometimes not.

“You really like him, don't you?” Emma turned to face him with a soft expression. He nodded. “Henry adores you, he cannot shut up about you, so I guess the feeling is mutual.”

Killian already knew this. Henry had been pretty straightforward and open about what he felt, like any other three-year-old. He had even been too open at times. It was his mother Killian was still unsure about. He could read her and could see that she liked their time together but doubt and fear loomed in his mind. Did she reciprocate the feelings he felt—the feelings that had surprised him by appearing but also had been there from the start?

He still didn’t know what they were and even though defining a relationship, a connection, wasn’t always necessary, Killian needed this. To not go mad, to have some sort of footing. And a man at the edge of sanity did bold things.

“What about you, Swan?” he dared to ask, locking his eyes with her green ones. “Do you fancy me?”

He had expected her to frown, to be repulsed by his question, to order him to leave her apartment, but of course Emma Swan surprised him yet again by holding his gaze and smiling.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “What about you, Killian Jones. Do you like me?”

Words are overrated, he thought as he drifted closer to her. Words are overrated, he thought along with yes, yes, yes. I like you. So very much.

Emma caught on to what he was about to do and met him halfway the lumpy couch, her glance moving from his irises to his lips right before they took that leap of being more. It was the biggest cliché mankind had ever known but time stood still when their lips touched. It was weeks and months of build-up, of yearning looks and adoring gazes that lead up to the moment where clocks stopped ticking, the world stopped moving and he was kissing Emma Swan.

--/--

They spent an additional three days together, taking Henry places, doing things, and once Henry’ was asleep, truly enjoying each other’s company. They’d built their own little world, a bubble that was so lovely that he never wanted to leave, never wanted it to pop. But the more time they spent together, the closer the end of the two weeks of vacation got. And even though he only admitted it to himself, in the darkest hour of the night, he was afraid of what was going to happen when they did end. They were in a grey zone, somewhere where he wasn’t her boss, where they didn’t care about other people. They now were more than what they started as but less than stable. Less than stable would not work once they were forced to return to work, get back into the strenuous daily string of events.

He was desperate to hold onto this feeling, to them.

“What happens at the end of this week?” he attempted to keep the worry out of his voice, to uphold some sort of casual air and lightheartedness.

Swan’s feet were lying across his lap while she was scouring the Netflix menu. It was a picture of domesticity and they had gotten to it in under three days.

“We go back to work?” Emma answered innocently, apparently confused by his question.

“With us, Swan.” His attempts proved to fail as he suddenly sounded so very tired. It was the absolute dread that drenched his bones, the nights he spent mulling this over. She was unaware of those as he didn’t want her to know, but it was becoming more difficult to keep it all to himself

Killian felt Emma shift, sensed her feet pull back as she finally turned her head to him and moved into a position that acknowledged the earnestness of their conversation. Folding her legs beneath her, she sat upright with her hand in her lap.

“Oh.” Her eyes slightly widened, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. The serenity left her face as she crinkled her forehead. Her tongue darted out to assuage the dent her teeth were creating.

The fear was taking over, he could see it in the way her breathing accelerated, the way her couch was suddenly not big enough for the both of them. She was preparing herself to lift her walls again, figuratively mixing the cement to glue the stones together. This was what he was afraid of. Killian needed to interfere, or her wall would be blocking his completely bare heart

“Look, Emma.” Without actually moving closer, he attempted to reduce the distance between them. “I really enjoy spending time with you two and I don't want that to stop. I can understand if you’re uncomfortable with me being your boss and the thing,” he said, not knowing what else he could call it, “between us. There are no obligations whatsoever and if you’re feeling queasy about it all, you can just tell me. We can go back to how things were before the holiday, if that’s what you prefer.”

It would be the most difficult thing, return to work as if he had not seen and experienced paradise but it would be something he’d be willing to do for her if it meant her wellbeing.

“Really?”

With a sad smile, he nodded.

Before he could realize, Emma’s lips were on his and her hands were on his jaw. It was a soft peck, over in an instant, over before he could properly kiss her back. She lingered close, foreheads connected and her breath hot against his skin. Her thumbs were simultaneously rubbing circles against the apple of his cheeks as silence fell. He did not want to ruin the moment by asking her anything and she did not feel the need to explain the sudden burst of affection.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” she whispered, an admission into his skin that made his heart thump faster. “It’s going to be weird going back to work, but it would be weirder to not have this—” Her nose brushed against his cheek. “–—anymore. So, I’m completely okay with slowly figuring out what this thing exactly is.” It was a timid statement, a quiet, calculated one but it was all Killian needed. He wasn’t expecting her to make any promises that brought her into a state of panic or anywhere but her comfort zone. Reassurance that he would not have to leave them behind was enough.

Killian kissed her to substitute the words that had disappeared out of his mouth, his hand tangling in her light hair and arm snaking around her waist.  He gave and took, searched and found, was cherished and worshipped.

In the dimmed light of her apartment, they watched each other, their initial plans long forgotten. He could almost feel the veneration, it was almost tangible in the air around them; it lay heavy on his chest and yet, he would not want it gone.

“You have a scar here,” she noticed, drawing her own finger along her skin. It sounded like a report, as if he had not known the cut in his cheek had been there for over twenty-six years.

“I fell when I was two,” he explained, recalling the stories he had heard as his own memory failed to muster the image. “It was a nasty cut. Liam thought I was going to die because there was so much blood.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Killian shook his head.

Silence began to surround them again, almost bringing them back to the place they were before but it did not manage to do so as Emma broke it with a question.

“Liam’s your brother?”

She didn’t know. Killian was on the verge of sighing, but held the whiff of air in. They had so much left to discover about each other, so much of their stories left untold. She had the right to know all of him, but he did not want to burden her.

“Aye, he was.” As usual, the words were accompanied with a sting, “He died a couple of years back.”

Emma crawled closer, burrowing her head under his chin, encircling his chest with her arms, until there was no space left between them, until their breaths and blinks and heartbeats occurred at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” Killian felt her hand brush across his jaw.

“It was a devastating night. Liam wasn’t the only one who died. Milah, my girlfriend back then, died as well.”

His world had been destroyed, he had ceased to exist. How could he exist without the two people whom he loved most, without the only people that loved him? It had been stupid, so stupid. Milah and he were young, went out to party but had both drunk too much and driving home was not an option. Why waste money on a cab when he had a big and worried brother at home who would not mind playing taxi? But that big and worried brother had also just gone to sleep after a double shift and had fallen asleep at the wheel as he was driving them home. Milah died. Liam died. Killian survived. It was a reversed world. How could he live and they not? How was that fair? He wanted to stop living, breathing, existing but in the end, he just stopped taking risks.

There were tears gathering at the rim of Emma’s eyes as she listened, the glitters making her eyes seem bigger, even more innocent.

The ache, the absence that used to be a throbbing all over his body, was now softer, easier to live with. It had taken moving across the globe, starting all over in a town that carried no memories of them, with people who had never known them. But, he was doing better and that was a start.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Killian.”

He was doing better and a lot of that was thanks to her.

“I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is until I met you.”

The tears on the edge of her eyes now fell, Killian instantly reaching out to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. Emma leaned into his touch, closing her eyes while she basked in the feeling.

After a moment of calm, of letting the emotions steady again, she spoke, “So the Swans have finally conquered your heart?”

“You've had it for way longer than you realize.”

The fact that her boss was now also her boyfriend should be weird and awkward but it somehow wasn’t? Belle knew, including a handful of other people too but besides that, they had decided to keep it under wraps. While their relationship was very serious and came to be in a very proper and correct manner, people could think the contrary and start to trumpet false tales and gossip. And seeing that both their jobs were at risk if that were the case, as well as her child she needed to protect, a strictly business relationship on the work floor was as far as they went. And if they sometimes broke their own rules and succumbed under the tension by having a make-out session in his office after hours, Emma would attribute that to Killian’s divine looks.

But he was more than that.

Killian was sweet and funny and cheeky and just thinking of all of his characteristics made Emma break out in a grin and made her heart beat that tad faster; he was a catch and he was completely hers. Well, hers and Henry’s, but mostly hers. Ever since he’d come into her life, it had become so much better. From a better job and more free time, to helping with Henry and to feeling loved by a simple look and a small smile.

Emma couldn’t be more grateful for that one evening where Henry had run away and completely changed their future while doing so.

“Mommy.” Emma’s gaze left the dishes as she turned her head towards Henry, wiping her hands on a towel before walking towards her son. He was settled on the ground, face distorted in concentration as he attempted to build the puzzle Killian had given him for his birthday. “Is Killian my Dad?” he asked once she squatted next to him.

“What?” was Emma’s baffled reaction.

Last time she had heard this question was months ago, on that one night that made her freak out and tear Killian and Henry apart. She’d been so very wrong in doing so, she realized in hindsight, and eventually faith—or you could blame it on her curious child again—had made their paths and stories intertwine anew, this time into an inseparable mess that only became more interwoven.

“Is Killian my Dad?” Henry repeated impatiently. “He does all the things Avery does with his dad with me and he buys me puzzles and he is here all the time and I love him and Killian loves me. He should be my dad,” was his conclusion.

She wanted to freak out about what this meant and what she should reply but she couldn’t. Henry’s simple and matter-of-fact reasoning prevented her to do so. Yes, Killian did all of those things and yes, Killian loved Henry, of that Emma was sure. There had been no shortage of indications that he was all in, completely devoted to the both of them. And yes, the last couple of months Killian had been Henry’s dad, they just hadn’t used that specific term before.

So as the over-rationalizing swarm of thoughts left her brain and Emma could see clear again, Emma asked Henry a very simple question and the answer was going to determine the rest of their lives.

“Well, if that’s the case, you want to ask him if he wants to be your dad?”

There’s an angsty sequel of this fic coming at some point which will be called Trials so if you’re interested in that, keep your eyes open and if you’re not, you can easily pretend this is the actual end if angst is not your cup of tea ♥

#cs ff #captain swan #captain cobra #ouat ff #cs au #cs crew #my words and sentences #sorry for the mistakes I was rushing to actually publish this on Tuesday

[stephtastrophe]

I watched Bates Motel season 5 episode 8 “The Body” last night and it was really awesome.

In the aftermath of Norman calling the police about killing Sam Loomis, Norman got taken down to the station where in the beginning the sheriff actually thought he was making the whole murder of Sam Loomis by him up, she thought he was doing it because he was lonely and for attention. I can kind of see why I guess, I mean, he seems like a nice kid, he hasn’t got any family living with him any more so would be lonely. Plus, he kept changing his mind on where the body was actually.

I can’t believe when they put him in the cell that Norma came out, first she comforted him somewhat and then she went and knocked him out on the toilet bowl so she could take over and handle the situation. Because you know, Norma always got it. Norma knows what to do, or at least she thinks she does and what is best for Norman.

He blamed the confession on not taking his medication, she claimed Norman was so enthralled and in love with Madeleine, that he was covering for her, when really she was the one who had done it but he wanted to protect her so she wouldn’t get in trouble.

It was a pretty good idea, saying she was so much like Norma that of course he would fall for her, as she was and indeed is. They didn’t seem to mention the fact that she looks very much like her though, just that she dressed and acted like her which is also true.

Of course the police called her in but she said she just thought he had disappeared or whatever, as she didn’t know he was dead. But as Norma/Norman went past her in the door of the cop shop, she noticed the little sly grin he gave to her. Very Norma ...not very Norman.

Finally, Romero came back to town, upon entering the house he proceeded to find Chick in the basement with his recording playing of Norman and saying he was writing a true crime novel. After Chick had previously tried to get in but was turned away by the cops, he obviously snuck back after they’d disappeared.  Chick had said about Romero being a fugitive basically and when Chick was being pompous about his novel, Romero promptly replied by shooting him and killing him, which was somewhat of a surprise as he’s adding to his crimes. Not that he did the other one. So, it kinda makes him look bad if anyone finds out, not sure why he did it tbh. Maybe to take out his frustration of Norman out on someone else, or just so he couldn’t say he’d seen him, more likely I guess. Or maybe a little bit of both lol. Chick also revealed prior to death that Norman had dug up Norma’s body and had been keeping it there but must have gotten rid of it before the cops came.

The cops found the body of Sam Loomis in the woods, when one of the cops discovered the well and drug it up out of there.

It seems the attorney that Dylan had hired to help Norman might not be able to get him out of it after all, he’ll at least have to go to the mental asylum which he didn’t really want.

Especially since at the end when Norma thought she had it all handled, and said she even missed Norman which was kinda cute ...

But then bam, sheriff comes back and says he’s also being charged with the murders of Jim Blackwell and Audrey Ellis D:

Although, I’m sort of not sure why ... I guess it’ll be explained next episode, I mean he did it but how do they suddenly know? or how can they prove it now?

I can’t wait to watch the next episode and see what happens! <3

I can’t believe there is only 2 episodes left ever! I love this show so much <3

I can’t wait to see how it ends! I can maybe guess now from this episode.

Freddie Highmore and Nestor Carbonell <3

#bates motel #norman bates #freddie highmore #norma bates #vera farmiga #nestor carbonell #alex romero #max thieriot #dylan massett #chick hogan #ryan hurst #Isabelle McNally #Madeleine Loomis

[jhorend]

9,13,14,15,21,23 HAH

damn, aight let’s do this

9. Describe their personality in a paragraph.

(I always feel like I’m a bit off with these but w/e. They’re kinda short and I’m too tired to create a well constructed, concise summary for both but the additional responses should give some more insight)

Teokkin - Exceedingly loyal to the cause, pugnacious, and with an active strive for displays of wit, Teokkin fits many of the stereotypes associated with Inquest. He’s determined to earn the respect of his peers, preferably through trust but will resort to fear, particularly those that would not align themselves with Inquest. Of course, it can be a challenge to impose threats on someone when they go crying to the Peacemakers immediately, and so he often must opt to linger on the side of passive aggressiveness and careful wording. When a threat presents itself, he’s seldom the one that throws the first blow, but returns fire with swift retribution.

Nizktt - Reclusive, and a bit eccentric in a way different from most Asura, Nizktt is often more at home in the jungle, without any artificial structure over his head. It’s not quite a return to the race’s roots as tunnel diggers, favoring the above ground more, but caves are nonetheless his favorite dwellings. Even moreso when surrounded by his personal moa flock, to which he has named and carefully bonded with each and every one, having had as many as 18 of them. Some asura would go so far as to call him a savage, or a primate, but he has brushed such namesakes off and they do little to faze him now, regarding those that still call him such to be ignorant and myopic. Even if he spends his time far from laboratories and halls of study, his mind is as capably developed as any typical asura, having undergone the rigors of their education all the way through college before his life centered around the wilds.

13. What’s their favorite place in Tyria, and why?

Teokkin - Like any self respecting bookah-antagonizer, Rata Sum is Teokkin’s home and soul. Though some of his early years were spent beyond the cube, in Metrica, Sum is where he matured into the rat-bat he is now. It’s where he can be comforted by the familiarity, the congregation of great minds (but some are more great than others), a wealth of machines and magical artifice, and the distinctly infrequent presence of non-asuran beings.

Nizktt - Why, his moa cave of course. Most of its occupants have been recovered since Nizktt’s unfortunate imprisonment at the hands of the Magistracy and subsequent freedom granted to him by an opposition group, with credit to his great diligence towards finding the lost moa.

14. What’s their least favorite place, and why?

Teokkin - Any of the major cities of the other races. They are permeated with their smells, voices, and filth, and in far greater concentration than any town or outpost. It’s hard to say which one he hates the most, really. Divinity’s Reach is full of pompous, airheaded lunatics (he, of course, does not hate them because of their conceit, as that would be contradictory, but because they are horribly undeserving of wielding any pretense of superiority). The Black Citadel, or rather, Charr as a whole, in his eyes, embraces brawn over brains in many scenarios, which is just repulsive to him. He has somewhat of a guilty curiosity for their machinations however, outwardly claiming he sees them as horribly rudimentary and primitive like many asura, but knows that is an unsagacious lie after learning of the raw, brutal, and pants-soilingly intimidating destructive capability some of their more inspired creations possess. Hoelbrak on the other hand does not even make an attempt at such creations, and beyond that, essentially takes everything Teokkin dislikes about Charr and magnifies it to a greater scale. Finally, The Grove is a spectacle of both natural and magical biology, but tainted by the utterly obnoxious personality of the many Sylvari inhabiting it. And since Teokkin never was much of a florist, the Grove just isn’t anywhere near appealing enough to overlook the constant pestering and infuriatingly curious nature of the natives.

Nizktt - Speaking of the imprisonment, it’s fairly easy to imagine why Nizktt very quickly developed a terrible dread for that facility. It’s not only the severe trauma it inflicted, which he thankfully was resilient enough to keep forced out of his thoughts after some recovery time but nevertheless seethes with emotion at the memory. It helps that he has an… unusual connection with a species of flightless birds that give him something to ventilate unpleasant feelings to (In a positive way! he’d never hurt precious birbs). The loss of Rizzi though, his longest time traveling and hunting companion, had felt like part of himself perished with her.

15. Describe a high point in their story, and then a low point.

Teokkin - Probably the time he saved Kezza while Gerik was off flirting with Oola, if I’m remembering the name correctly. Teokkin felt a bit of pride in that moment, knowing he’d earned some of Kezza’s favor and elevated her respect of him over Gerik. I still need that RP log tbh… But as I look back on it, Teokkin doesn’t really have any very significant high points; there are lesser ones but Teokkin’s life is more often permeated with misfortune. So, moving onto that:

Let’s look at his more distant past instead of reviewing what happened in RP, cus why not. After Teokkin completely alienated his birth family, being on a tenuous enough relationship as it was, by spontaneously razing their laboratory (the materials within igniting the facility into a veritable inferno at a rate unprecedented even by the krewe utilizing them) through a combination of intentional mischief and innocent negligence which nearly caused the death of them (it DID spell an unfortunate end for some of the other lab technicians on site), he was cast into foster care. It was devastating to him; he didn’t know what he was expecting as punitive action for what he did, especially since he was already lectured on multiple occasions not to play with fire, but to be displaced from the family entirely by his own parents was an outcome not even hinted in his thoughts. It manifested an intense feeling of loneliness that he was quite vividly reminded of in recent times after claiming the position of Magistrate at the expense and subordination of former Magistrix Kezza and Disaggregator Gerik, brought on by their responses.

21. What are their biggest strengths? Biggest weaknesses?

Teokkin - He’d like to say it’s his intellect, but that’s any asura. Loyalty stands out in him, a product of the shame he feels from his rebellious, hoodlum upbringing. Perhaps it’s also intimidation, but that’s a tool he uses surprisingly sparingly, and too many things bigger than him do not take his threats seriously, making bluffs a difficult proposition when the scenario does not allow for violence but still requires a subdued target. Neutralization by electrocution has made a suitable substitute in many scenarios. As an elementalist he’s grown quite proficient in most fields however, and features some martial capability with his convertible, mechanized staff-spear; it’s a shame so much of his prowess goes unused within the constraints the Magistracy places on utilizing violence, as it’s seldom the primary option, but he draws from that ability as a source of confidence all the same. So yes, for an asura that claims to prefer intellectuality and discretion, he’s quite fond of simply projecting near-lethal quantities of electric current upon a victim, or impaling them on a fiery spearhead.

That can just as much be a weakness, and misdirection from the likes of a Mesmer or skilled rogue can easily catch him off guard. Both best be careful to avoid an outburst that would spare little in the vicinity, however. Expounding further, Teokkin’s young, pyromaniacal tendencies were not the product of themselves, but symptoms of a more subtle desire for power, and the respect gained through it; this occasionally manifests in borderline maniacal conniptions that can be a short term boon in combat scenarios but typically ends with prolonged exhaustion and several moments of confusion and self-loathing. These fits are not, however, restricted to direct confrontations, and he simply isn’t in enough battles for him to feel that the results outweigh the negatives of the outbursts. Because of them, Teokkin accepts the Magistracy’s reduced tolerance for violent action as a blessing, and frequently expresses a great deal of self restraint on both starting fights and then elevating them to destructive levels, which can be a limiter for him in attack.

Nizktt- He prides himself on his ability to adapt. He, naturally, was a Statics alumni, finding solutions through re-purposing already existing materials. All it takes to recognize this sort of resourcefulness is for one to notice his handmade bow: crude only in appearance, it is expandable from a shortbow into a longbow, and equipped with blades that are just as suitable for cutting through thick underbrush as it is for slicing and dicing flesh.

He is deeply connected to his moa however, and while they are certainly capable of hiding or defending themselves as well as coming to the aid of one another, they are still animals with limited coordination and intelligence, and instinct that can override rationality. Rizzi was his closest and one of the first he befriended, and he is reminded of that loss constantly when around his moa. Indeed, if something were to inexplicably happen to his flock, it would scar him deeply. Fortunately for him, while it’s usually immediately obvious he has a connection with moa as he almost always has one following him, very few know about the flock and who it belongs to.

23. Give them an AU, any AU.

Teokkin - For funsies sake, it’s exciting to imagine a near-godmode Teo that annihilates everything in his path, the Inquest having acquired him from when he was but toddler-aged, having removed him from his family by force, and amplified his capabilities to essentially use him as a living weapon. Something like the biotics from Mass Effect; like Jack, even. It’s not the most original trope but it’s fun to think of.

Nizktt - Tarzan edition, raised-in-the-wild-by-moa, of course. As if they didn’t have enough of an influence on him. With a hint more seriousness but not really much, Disaggregator Nizktt is an occasional, funny thought.

#long post #askbox meme answers #gw2 #teokkin #nizktt #i wrote like 90% of this while my eyes were screaming for sleep #so it's probably quite incoherent #i feel like i at least got my points across so

[patheticlizardman]

Some thoughts on thew first Loki Episode

Hi, I just need to get some things out of my head about the first episode and where if not tumblr? 

 - Loki really IS just a grumpy emo teenager trying to give a middlefinger to the entire world, huh?

- they really stripped him from everything he knew to be true before. This Loki just broke apart from his family (which was very dysfunctional to begin with) and started war on Midgard (and the whole Thanos-thing in between if the show counts that as canon) and he still clings to the thought that he is meant to win eventually, that he is meant to rule and show his family that he IS worthy of glorious purpose. And the show just destroyed all the little hopes he had left

- Which is actually really interesting because when Mobius interviewes Loki the first time he is still very convinced about his plans to rule the nine realms to be logical and his only path. That being angry and hateful and murderous is the only way to achieve happiness and his own goals. But after he sees his life, sees his family really loving and supporting him and him growing to be a better person, he actually changes his views a little bit. For one because nihilism hits him really hard and nothing seems to be worth it - you fought for all this just so some purple grape could snap your neck after you finally got back together with your family - but also because he saw that this Loki at one point stopped taking the path of hate and murder. And if he can´t have his throne, can´t he at least have that

- AND IT´S SO DEVASTATING BECAUSE NO! HE CAN´T! BECAUSE HE CAN´T GO BACK TO THE TIMELINE WHERE HE GETS LOVE FROM HIS PARENTS AND BROTHER!

- also idk if this is just me but the guy in the line before Loki that eventually gets pulverized? one of the many parallels I think this show will throw at us. I think this is all a set up to confront Loki with different versions of himself and, while that guy wasn´t Loki, he acted very similar to him. Loud, pompous, self-important. Thought that was a neat little detail. 

- Also until today I hadn´t realised that Loki in some way is responsible for the death of his mother. God, my poor boy. 

- I don´t trust Mobius. I don´t trust the TVA. I think they fucked up with Loki before and now they don´t know how to fix it and they will give Loki a sense of belonging so he can help them catch ... himself? And then something happens that reveals that to stop Variant! Loki they also have to get rid of our Loki and everything will be chaotic and backstabber-y. 

- but yeah Mobius is buidling up the be a wonderfully emotionally abusive buddy. 

- also you know who´d I like Variant Loki to look like? Not Lady Loki bc tbh why does Lady Loki have to be the villain villain. Nope, but remember old old marvel comics Loki? Wasn´t there a comic series where young Loki was afraid of turning into that old more demonic evil version of himself? You know it would be a real treat to see a more monstrous version of Loki that is truely evil, that really embraces wreaking chaos and murdering the Minutemen just BECAUSE so Loki can reflect on himself and how he wants to live and that he actually really does not want to be a villain.

- the fact that Loki was just a little stabby boy because he was actually just a really afraid little boi ...... my god. 

-  FRIGGAS FUNERAL SONG PLAYING IN THAT ONE SCENE??? fuck you marvel my HEART

- TARA STRONG! I recognized her voice immediately and I loved the animation part. 

- I need someone with more brain cells to explain to me how Endgame Steve fits into this. You are really going to tell me that the time lizards were ok with him fucking around with the timelines and then just staying in the 40s? That was your plan? Are the time lizards the russo brothers in disguise? 

- his small fear of being a roboter ......... big heart melt

- THE FUCKING INFINITY STONES!!!!!!!!! that was so heard breaking. Like, Loki doesn´t even know how much depends on these stones in his timeline. He knows that infinity stones are important, he´s holding the tesseract after all but my god. That just hit the nihilism, didn´t it. 

- I don´t know who the Cooper guy is/was but Tom looked good and I judge Heimdall fore not being precise enough to beam all that money back to Asgard 

- also WHAT BET DID THEY HAVE and why was Thors idea to make Loki steal a bunch of money xD _DOES JANE KNOW_ 

Ok I think this is everything so far, might add onto it later