#also the over the top scene of the hot cocoa being served

[casualshrimp-but-undertale]

WTH THIS JUMPSCARED ME ON MY FEED WHA- WHAT— HE SAID THE THING HE SAID CHOO CHOO!! (SHAKING /POS)

Doodle comic based on THIS

Seems the phrase has grown on him, just a little

Code sans by @callmeherry

Elated sans by @knobe07o

[after-witch]

A Christmas Interlude [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: A Christmas Interlude [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: A (late) Christmas snippet, set in the Oh Sugar Sugar series.

Notes: yandere, kidnapped

[Christmas is an incredibly busy season for bakers. Juggling special orders, Christmas cakes, lookie-loos and families eager to warm up after walking around admiring the Christmas lights can bring stress, stress, stress. There’s hot chocolate to be made, fresh warm cookies to pull out of the oven, window trees to be decorated. So much to do in very little time.

But it’s also… fun. It’s a blast to decorate Christmas treats, which can be much more elaborate than everyday bakery goods with no need for justification. Miniature gingerbread houses with teeny M&M snowmen, macarons stacked like little trees, and more peppermint than you can shake a stick at--pun intended. Planning out what goodies you’ll be hosting seasonally is an intriguing and rewarding challenge and let’s face it, there’s nothing more comforting than a warm cup of hot chocolate at the end of a brisk Christmas workday.

Not that any of that matters.

Not that you’re doing anything for Christmas this year.

Or rather, not that you’re doing anything you want for Christmas this year.

“It’s not very pretty.”

Your captor’s voice cuts through your bittersweet thoughts so starkly that you almost jerk, coming close to ruining what progress you’ve made on an admittedly pitiful looking Christmas cake.

How can it be pretty? You think. I’m in your bare-bones kitchen. There’s nothing to decorate it with but frosting and food coloring and old birthday candles. And oh, yeah, I’m making it under duress.

You weren’t quite at gunpoint, no; L didn’t order you to make it. He didn’t say if you didn’t make it, he’d do something bad. Really, the worst he’d done (aside from kidnapping you) was force you to be around him. Force you to listen to him talk and rant and ask questions that you hated answering. But if you didn’t answer, he’d wheedle it out, somehow poking and prodding at every sensitivity without you ever saying a word.

And so, the cake was your reprieve. If you make him a Christmas cake, he’ll let you do anything you want for Christmas. Aside from leave, he’d said, but that was a given. 

You feel him leaning down over your shoulder and cringe. He likes invading your bubble. Does he like that you hate it? You can’t really tell, and you don’t want to ask him because that might make him think you want to know more about him. For all that he’s asked about you--whether you answer or not--you’ve refused to indulge in his desire for you to play along.

You sigh and scooch the kitchen stool down, just enough to give yourself some space.

“It’s hard to make it look pretty when I don’t have anything to work with.”

L raises his eyebrow just in time for you to glance over.

“What do you need to work with?”

You chortle, and it’s probably the first time you’ve made a noise other than annoyed, angry, frustrated, sad, and helpless inside your prison. L almost looks… surprised.

“I thought you were into baked goods? I need…” You stop, and you think about your bakery, think about all the supplies you’d normally have arranged out every morning for decorating. “… sprinkles. Different kinds. Big and small and sparkly. Better food coloring, this stuff is too runny and it’s not vibrant. Royal icing for harder bits, so, confectioner’s sugar, little bit of lemon juice, real butter. Flavorings--extracts, you know. Almond, cherry.”

As you continue listing off the goodies, an image of a pretty cake comes to mind. A tiered cake, topped with little house, though not gingerbread--you can’t stand the stuff--but a pretty little cake house with royal icing frames and snowmen made of cake balls and a peppermint chimney on top. Christmas flowers adorning the other tiers, sugar or frosting bows. Simple but elegant, whimsical and cute. It would be on a display case in your shop and you’d smile when customers asked you if it was for sale; “No, a labor of love--but you can special order something similar.”

What becomes a theoretical shopping list has turned bittersweet and you trail off, resting your head in your hand and sighing, all in the hopes that you won’t start crying. He’s so damn analytical when you cry.

You do jerk when you feel L’s hand on your back suddenly, soft and light and rubbing up and down.

Oh. Oh no.  That’s new. He’s trying to comfort you and it might just be more aggravating than his desire to analyze. You squirm, but there’s nowhere to go and you’re forced to accept yet another unwanted intrusion in your life.

“I’m going to take a nap,” you whisper, and you ignore his little noise of protest as you set down the spatula and leave your unfinished cake sitting on the countertop. Ugly and unfinished and pointless. You hate that you can relate to the feeling, but a nap will wash it away, like it always does. At least until you’re forced to confront your reality again.

**

Still groggy, you walk back into the kitchen and the unexpected sight you find there hits you so hard that you think you might still be dreaming. But the softness of your nap has long worn off, and there’s no denying that the items in front of you are real, solid--and delicious.

It’s… your list, more or less. Neatly arranged on the now-cleared countertop, your earlier cake set to the side. He even got out the bowls and whisks and other little odds-and-ends that you would have chosen yourself, if you were willingly setting out ingredients for a baking session.

L is standing behind the counter, half-looking at you, half-looking at the goodies in front of him. He idly pushes a spatula around on the counter, waiting for you to say something, anything, about this… turn of events.

There are a lot of things you could say. You might say. You want to say. But for now, you’ll make do with a simple query:

“Did you get any chocolate chips?”

He smiles. And pops one into his mouth. 

**

The cake is beautiful--was beautiful, before you took the sharpest knife in the kitchen and ceremoniously cut into it, creating picture-perfect slices that ruin the look but fill up a cake plate just right.

You serve yourself a heaping slice, then cut a second for another plate you pulled out of the cupboard. You don’t want L to get ideas about you being domesticated or humbled or anything of the sort, but, a gesture--cake on a plate--was better than having to actually say “thank you” to the man that’s holding you against your will. 

The second mug of hot chocolate, topped with a swirl of cream and cinnamon, is a habit. You always make extra when you’re eating sweets at Christmastime with--friends. But L is not a friend. A habit, you remind yourself, just a habit.

You settle down on the sofa and watch as L fiddles with the remote, looking for the Christmas movie you’d asked to watch as your reward for making the cake. It’s tradition: you always eat something sweet, drink homemade hot chocolate--not cocoa--and watch your favorite Christmas movie in the evening. He makes a little noise of triumph when he finally spots it, and you suppress an amused huff. He has weird habits. You do too, you suppose, being kidnapped notwithstanding.

You stare straight at the screen. Straight at the opening music and opening scene that you’re oh-so-familiar with. You don’t want to see him spot the cake, don’t want to see him eye the mug of warm, delicious hot chocolate. You don’t want to see if he’s pleased or surprised or humbled or if he looks patronizing and slaps on a I-told-you-you’d-come-around smug expression.

You don’t look, but you feel the sofa dip next to you as he nestles in with his own treats. He’s close and warm and munching away happily at the slice in front of him. 

Well, shit. You forgot to include “you have to sit somewhere else” as part of your agreement.

[gojology]

The Start of Winter Break. (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I FEEL RLLY SAD CUZ I WANTED TO DO THE SUKUNA BUT I DONT KNOW THE STORY ON ALADDIN SO I OPTED FOR 2 INSTEAD IM SORRY ANON. anyways i wanted to feed u guys rlly well and actually took the time to write and edit. I’M REFORMED also writing on google docs is so hard?? (reposting cuz i think im shadowbanned)

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3798

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Food Play, Nipple Play, Oral (Fem Receiving), Degrading Nicknames (I didn’t really proof read that hard but I know there’s like, a mention of one nickname along the lines of that.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s the first day of Winter Break, and you want to surprise Gojo with a cup of hot cocoa, instead, Gojo surprises you.       Blinking your eyes furiously, you adjusted to the dark room. Immediately, you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn’t have to wake up at such an early hour, and for once you woke up refreshed. It was finally the first day of Winter Break, you had overworked yourself, making sure that you were to spend the end of the year work-free and available for as many Christmas parties you wanted to attend.        Yawning, stretching as you did so, you look over your shoulder. There’s a slight smile dawning on Gojo’s lips.  His long eyelashes fluttered when he slept. He slightly snored, grabbing at where you once slept in his arms.   The room was unusually cold. You had always awoke to sunlight streaming from the window, realizing that could only mean that another day of work was ahead of you. But now, the room was dim, and freezing might you add. You couldn’t wait to snuggle with Gojo, this was perfect cuddle weather.   Tearing your eyes away from Gojo’s pretty face, you instead looked at the door. Years of photos with Gojo absolutely slathered the poor thing, past memories all flickering before your eyes. Pictures in Disneyland, bright colors in contrast with the rather dark clothes he always seemed to wear.   Once in a while, you would see pictures of Yuuji, Shoko, Megumi, Nobara, just about every Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School member there was, and even Utahime, celebrating good times with Gojo.      You didn’t find yourself in many of the pictures, but the ones you did find yourself happened to be some of your fondest memories.   Far more common were pictures of you, with ridiculous, shit, you’d even go as far as to say downright ugly faces while he told you a stupid joke were also taped sloppily, some photos were even slanted.    Gojo had made it a firm promise to take pictures of you when you least expected it, because that’s when he always found you the cutest.   You peek at Gojo’s sleeping face once more, a slight giggle rising from your throat that you struggled to silence. His mouth, slightly agape, was now drooling onto the pillow he oh so gracefully rested on.     Jerking your head up and snapping out of your Gojo daze, you realized that you were supposed to make your daily morning coffee for you and him today. You had chewed him out multiple times, telling him that the way he made coffee was nauseating. Usually, Gojo would always accompany the bitter drink with 8 sugarcubes, which was not your thing.   He always seemed to forget, honestly you couldn’t really tell with him, giving you a mug of absurdly sweetened coffee every morning. You always foolishly assumed that he had listened to you from the last scolding, so you would always sip it, letting the coffee coat your pallet, but promptly spit it out as soon as you realized how sickly sweet it was.     “Satoru! This is too sweet!”   “Honeybun, you’re the sweetest thing in this room, what do you mean the coffee could be too sweet? Not possible.” he would inquire innocently, tilting his head to the side.   You’d frown, shaking your head and muttering about the acts of distaste you’d do to him before Gojo bursts into a fit of laughter, pointing at you and watching you unenthusiastically look back. Most likely fuming silently, but you didn’t want to tell him that.   “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, (Y/N).”     “Satoru, I can literally not survive the day without coffee. Whatever you’re serving me is definitely not the coffee I want, and sooner or later I’ll be dropping dead.”     He would shrug playfully, as if he didn’t even understand the core concepts of what you were trying to tell him. But you knew he did, he just didn’t want to do it.    You would clench your fists, trying to look threatening. Your back straightening, and on your tippy toes even though you knew you could never be as tall as him. It never ever worked though, he would just continue to laugh harder, but that was just the routine.    “Then do it yourself, sweetie. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to make you a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but that’s the best show of love.”      “Oh I will. I’ll do it well.”      And so, you weren’t lying. The two of you began to take turns. You woke up even earlier than you did for work, and made him his coffee (with extra sugar, just as he likes it) while also making yours, making sure to relish the bitter and frankly delicious black drink, void of any sweetening. The next day, he would as well. He never listened to your sugar lectures though, making sure to add 3-4 cubes just to make you angry.    You had pretty much given up on all hope of ever getting your ideal coffee from Satoru, it was beyond him to even listen. Besides, you had grown to like the sweetness.   Speaking of brown sweet liquids, it was a perfect hot cocoa morning. The snow was beginning to pile up outside, pure white blanketing just about everything. You hastily threw on an oversized sweater Gojo owned, which you had found strewn on the ground.   You rolled your eyes, that guy was a mess. What would he do without you?   Trudging and stumbling your way into the kitchen like a newborn fawn, you flicked on the lights. As soon as the lights came on, you shielded your eyes from the brightness. Cursing as you pulled out a chair, your eyes slowly adjusting, pulling the chair over to the shelves and cabinets out of reach.   Now standing on the wooden chair, you grumbled. So much for being a good girlfriend, your legs ached for some reason, so every time you stood on your tippy toes, you winced.   Knocking down a bottle of vegetable oil into the sink, you were startled by such an incredibly loud noise. Your eyes widen and your legs tangle as you scramble, almost falling backwards. Grabbing onto the cabinet’s ledge, you breathed a sigh of relief as the chair stabilized.    This was a blessing in disguise, as the chocolate syrup came into view.   A feeling of triumph flooding you, you happily hummed gently pulling it out. Setting it down on the counter, you got down, moving the chair over to the right.   Standing back onto the chair, you placed a finger on your lips, slightly rubbing them. Your memory wasn’t doing you very well, forgetting where all the extra add-ons for baked goods were.   Your tongue stuck out to the side, swinging a random cabinet’s doors wide open. You had guessed correctly, sprinkles of various vivid colors stood idly, eye-catching colors on full display. A fine coat of dust had settled on the caps.   You coughed into your arm, now rummaging through the many sprinkles that Gojo would insist on buying because, “they were too cute to pass up.”      Sometimes, you swore the guy was a middle-aged Pinterest mom.   Yanking out a half opened bag of Jumbo Marshmallows, you did a small victory dance. Normally, Gojo would inhale the darned things, but he was asleep, and very soundly at that. Finally able to have your first taste of marshmallows in a while, you popped a couple in your mouth, practically melting.   So sweet.   Strolling over to the fridge while popping more marshmallows in your mouth, you lazily threw the bag onto the counter. Swinging the fridge door wide open, you shivered at the cold air, hauling a jug of milk out.   As usual, it was half full. Gojo would insist on eating all his cookies with milk, and if he didn’t have milk with his cookies, he would not eat them, stating that it was against his beliefs to even begin to stare at a cookie without a cold glass of milk at the side.   He was probably a 9 year old trapped in a 28 year olds body.   Humming a short tune, you poured the milk into a mug that Gojo had bought for you as a souvenir on a business trip. Painted onto it was a beautiful scene. Flourishing, vibrant flowers only half-heartedly concealing an undisturbed pond, deers frolicking around it. The mug was your favorite cup, and even Gojo, who most likely had the memory span of a goldfish when it came to unnecessary facts such as this one, knew it.   You flipped the chocolate syrup bottle upside down, smacking the top. Making a note to yourself to buy chocolate syrup the next time you went out. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer.   “Boo.”   Startled, you twirled around, expecting a rather friendly home invader, or something along the lines of that. Instead, you were greeted with Gojo Satoru’s face. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, looking at you with an amused expression.   “Scared? We’re on the same boat.” he snickered, “woke up to some loud ass bang.” Gojo sleepy whispered into your ear, ruffling your hair with his large, calloused hands. His chin now resting on your right shoulder.     “I dropped the vegetable oil on accident.” You ignored the light, fluttering feeling when he touched you.     “Gosh, you’re a clumsy one aren’t you, sugar?”       Scoffing, you whip your head back to the hot chocolate. An unhealthy serving of chocolate syrup was splattered inside the mug, already blending with the milk.   “Don’t turn your back on me, pumpkin.” whining playfully, tugging at your left shoulder. There was something about such a playful, childish Gojo that you loved. You wished you got to see it more often.    You pretend to be annoyed, looking at him, now standing up without the support of your shoulder, in the eye now. A flicker of mischievousness over his face, he looks down at you.   “How thoughtful.” kissing your temple, he yawned. “Making hot chocolate for me? Oh hey- you even got the exact same amount of chocolate I like.”   “Satoru.” hands on your hips, you were bemused. How could one even like sugar this much?    “This is an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and can NOT be good for you.”   His warm gaze stared back, a slight curve to his lips now. You swear you could die a happy girl now, Gojo wasn’t sleepy very often, so when he was, you made sure to relish it. Usually, when you were lucky enough to be in the presence of a sleepy Gojo, he was always softer. Giving you small, coy smiles. Your retort didn’t even seem to register in his brain in the slightest.   “I want it, though.”   You sighed, facepalming.     “Ooooh, marshmallows!” suddenly bursting with energy he never exhibited before seeing the sugary treat, his long arm extended over to the bag, tugging at it to get it closer to him before finally shoving 3 or more into his mouth.   “Satoru!” you yank his hand back from the entrance of his mouth, able to save a few, albeit a bit ugly and smooshed, marshmallows.   “Wha?” he rubbed his eyes, chewing noisily on the marshmallows he was lucky enough to get into his mouth.   “Baby. We need those marshmallows, here, can you microwave a bowl of them? Save a few for later.”   He nodded obediently, tugging a bowl out of the “washed dishes” section of the sink. Wiping it down sloppily with a towel. He dug his hand into the marshmallow bag, throwing a few handfuls into the bowl before carefully placing the bowl into a microwave, sneaking a few more into his mouth before jabbing at a few buttons.    “There.” he gave you a crooked grin and a thumbs up, walking back over to you, placing warm fingers against your cheek, suddenly jumping back.   “Holy shit, babygirl, you’re cold.”   About to respond, you too realized how cold you were. Lightly shivering, your hands seemed to be blocks of ice.   “Babe, can you go get an extra sweater-”   Hands under your sweater (well, technically his) suddenly, his warm, big hands massaged your breasts. You yelped, the hot contact against your cold skin was electrifying. His thumbs, rubbing over your nipples lazily, sent even more shivers down your spine. Quietly moaning, you looked back at Gojo, who seemed to thoroughly savor every little sound you made.   “Like that, lil girl~?”   “S-Satoru! Not now… I’m making you s-something!”   “Hot cocoa doesn’t take a chef to make.” he placed kisses on your neck, lightly suckling on your bare skin.   “I-I know, but just… N-not now.” you stammered, he was now tweaking your nipples, gently pulling them. He didn’t seem to register the request though, but instead was drawing lazily  on your breast.   “That better, missy?” he questioned, watching you catch your breath and gulp. Resting his chin on your shoulder once more.   “Mmmmm.” you responded, thoroughly enjoying his warm touch. Closing your eyes, enjoying the mystifying feeling his hands always gave you.    Loudly, the microwave beeped. Suddenly jumping up from the loud occurrence, Gojo cursed under his breath and jogged over to the microwave, swinging the handle open.   “Great news, (Y/N). I didn’t burn the marshmallows!”   Grumbling under your breath, and wishing all hell to the microwave for disrupting such an intimate event, you nodded, giving him a few weak claps for his rather stupid achievement. Gesturing for him to bring the bowl over, you pulled out a spoon from the drawer beneath you.   As soon as Gojo placed the bowl on the counter, he zoomed back to where he had left off, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. This time, he was massaging one of your shoulders.   Your breathing was heavier when he did this, Gojo noted, watching as you struggled to mix the chocolate syrup and milk together. He did this for a while, eyeing the cooling marshmallow.   He swiped up a dollop, wiping it down your neck. Letting out a gasp by the sudden warmth, you assumed it was Gojo’s mouth. To your surprise, it wasn’t.   He licked the cloud of fluff, before straight up placing his entire mouth on it, lightly sucking and licking your skin. Your panties were getting awfully wet.   “L-love, we n-need the fluff to a-add the finishing touch to t-the hot cocoa.” you would mutter, trying not to collapse from the pleasure.   “You getting wet?” now lightly nibbling on your skin, his hand left your breast, dunking his hand underneath the fabric of your panties. He sneered, realizing the puddle that had seeped itself into the material.   “Aw, you’re absolutely wet. Fuck am I saying?” he swirled his finger around your entrance, lightly dipping one of his fingers in before he took it out. Whimpering, your walls clenched around something that wasn’t there.   “Anyways, let's get back to the hot cocoa!” innocently licking his glistening finger, he looked at you.   ‘What? Y-you can’t do that to me-!”   “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he chirped back, smiling devilishly.   “That’s what I wanted before-”   “Hush up, slut.” he rubbed your head with one hand, the other, stroking your cheek.     You didn’t realize how hot you got when he called you a slut, whimpering, the hot cocoa long forgotten on the counter as you leaned into his chest.     “Aw, you’re so cute.” tugging on your cheeks softly, you look up at him, while he looked down. Even though you were his girlfriend, you didn’t really see his eyes often. They were a brilliant shade of aquamarine, flecks of a darker blue were also sprinkled amongst the sea of various shades of blue.   “You want something? You’re giving me those puppy eyes.” Still pulling at your cheeks, he stared down patiently, unable to hide the smile on his face.   “I hate when you tease me.” you blurt out, surprisingly coherent, even though Gojo was pinching your cheek. Another flicker of amusement on his face.   “That’s not how you ask for something you want.”   He stopped pinching your cheeks, now staring at you. You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking about, his face was blank, eyes cloudy.   “Mmm, I’ll give you one last chance before you get punished. Now missy, what do you want?”   You tugged at the hem of his pants, still making eye contact.   “You can’t have that, sweetie.” he straightened you back up, so that you weren’t leaning on his chest any longer. “It’s way too early.”   “Then what was the point of teasing me?” you groaned, clasping your hands together and looking at him. “Please?” you were sure to have your eyelashes flutter.   He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, princess.”   You groaned, getting down onto the cold floor, getting onto your knees, looking at his pleasurably entertained face.   “...What about now?”    He chuckled, rubbing your head again. “No, baby. I’m just not in the mood, but I can make a recommendation that works with me. Although, you’re really cute when you’re on your knees for me.”   You nodded, nervously anticipating whatever he wanted to do.   You didn’t need to wait, though, he carried you over to the table, like a princess, unclothing you quickly. Throwing his sweater onto the floor once again, you felt your heart jump a little. A small pile of clothing consisting of the sweater, your panties, and a t-shirt was crumpled up on the floor.   He cupped your breasts, leaning over the table to look at them. His expression softened, placing delicate kisses on each breast, making you gasp a little.   “So cute.” whispering, rubbing your nipples once again.   Your hands found their home in Gojo’s hair, now clenching onto his snowy white locks. He grunted a little as you pushed his head further into your chest, effectively telling you to start suckling on the now slightly abused domes.    “Just a sec, (Y/N).” extending his impossibly long limbs to grab the marshmallow fluff bowl, his long fingers danced at the rim, then pulled it closer to his chest. Yanking the spoon out of the bowl, he spread the lukewarm fluff on your body, you weren’t expecting such warmth, and you let out a yelp, realizing what he was slathering onto you.   “Satoru! D-did you forget what I said e-earlier?”   “Nope, I just don’t care.” sadistically grinning, he ducked his head down, the space between your breasts and his face non existent. He had practically smooshed himself into your embrace, your arms around his head. He was good with his tongue, you had to admit, too good.   Goosebumps grew on your skin, no matter how many times you two fucked senseless, he still had such an effect on you. His tongue swirling around your nipple, fingers rubbing and teasing the other. You felt his hot breath against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think how good it felt.     Strands of hair tickled you as he began to noisily slurp, before coming back up again. Your breast was glistening with spit, few thin lines of marshmallow fluff left over. He licked them up, before scooping up a few dollops of marshmallow fluff onto you, looking hungrily at the attention-starved breast, before diving back down. Fingers now giving the spoiled nipple almost close to 0 action.     He licked the hard nipple a few more times before sucking onto it, as if he was a baby. I mean, he probably was. Afterall, he was a manchild. Regardless, you found yourself heavily breathing, hugging his head like it was the last thing you’d ever do. His teeth lightly nibbled, making you jump a little. Now biting onto it, you squealed.   He glanced up, before going back down, licking the sensitive bud. You felt a rush near your lower regions, a familiar warmth rushed to your cheeks.   “S-Satoru! I think I’m gonna-!”   You weren’t even going to finish the sentence, the white, hot liquid pooling out of you as soon as you uttered a few words. Gojo’s attention was now focused on you, before looking down.   “Woah, lil girl. That’s a large mess. I didn’t know your pussy needed any attention.” he directed his gaze towards your pussy, spreading the folds and softly examined it.   “How pretty.” he muttered, he flicked his thumb on your clit, making you moan loudly.   “FUCK!” you threw a hand over your mouth, he laughed, his breath tickling you.    “You’re really wet.”   Without any warning before hand, he dove in between your legs, beginning to noisily slurp at your folds, dipping his tongue into your entrance.   You began to practically scream louder, you were fuzzy, your body, your mind, everything. Unable to cover your moans, you began to grimace at the stares your neighbors would give you when you went out for the mail. Gojo would laugh, telling you that, “He was just trying to show the world you were his.” and not pay any mind, cursing him for being so skilled, you struggled to contain all the noises you were making.   You felt his tongue tease your entrance playfully, flicking your clit a few times for extra measure, you were now wildly thrashing, and you knew Gojo couldn’t wait to ridicule you over dinner.   About to straight up shove his head closer into you, his tongue finally stuck inside of you. Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with added pleasure, he skillfully lapped at your juices. Noisily slurping away at you, he glanced up.    You were trying to sit up, but were struggling as you did so. The waves of pleasure sent you crashing back down onto the table.   You felt him exhale through his nose, tickling you once again. He closed the little space between you and his face, as soon as he was in contact with your skin, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to close the distance that wasn’t there.   Now, his tongue was reaching you in places you’d never think he would. Flush, hot skin was sweating against the table surface, but you paid no mind, promising yourself to wipe the top later. Hair strands practically glued to the sides of your head due to the sweat, you whined again, feeling yourself close to cumming.   You were about to speak again, warning Gojo, but you couldn’t. Before the words could even spill out of your mouth, you felt yourself burst.   Gojo, seemingly unaware, was still lapping at your walls. You looked at him, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, and you felt him stop licking for a while, before you saw him gulp and stand back up.   His eyes twinkled a little in the light, and you straightened, sitting on the table, your heart still beating rapidly.   “You never told me you were gonna cum.”   You turned your head to the side, about to retort, before you realized the empty bowl of marshmallow fluff.   “Satoru! I told you to not use it all!” (resposting because i think im shadowbanned, please interact if u saw this!)

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cottage on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1

Chapter 2

Five days later...

  Her eyes sting painfully as she stares at the folded scrub cap printed with green shamrocks one last time before she places it on the metal casket that holds her colleague. She sets a red rose on top of the cap and steps back, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hand before someone hands her a tissue.

  She turns to her head and smiles at an elderly lady who had earlier told her she’d been one of his patients. “Thank you.”

  Emma had retrieved the scrub cap when she’d gathered the strength to clean out his locker yesterday. She got it for him a few years ago as a gag gift at the hospital’s annual Christmas party. Knowing Graham's sense of humor fairly well, she had strategically chosen the one with green shamrocks because she knew he would get a kick out of it, rather than take offense. She was right, and not only did he get a good laugh, but he also claimed it as his lucky scrub cap. 

  Cleaning out his locker was one of the most difficult things she’s ever had to do, and that’s saying something since she'd performed many surgeries and occasionally has to deliver grievous news to the family of her patients. 

  Wiping her tears with the tissue, she catches a glimpse of the bootlace she’d unlaced from one of his boots and tied around her wrist. While most of the surgeons at the hospital wore clogs, he preferred boots because he said the operating room was a battlefield so he wanted to be prepared for the guts and gore that sometimes escaped during surgery. 

  Emma still can’t believe he’s gone. No more friendly sparring, no more friendly bickering about who’s the better surgeon, no more trying to mock his accent, but miserably failing. No more Graham Humbert. 

  His death was not only shocking but came way too soon. He was too young. Way too young. He was only thirty-eight. And on top of that, he was murdered in cold blood. Someone showed up to Storybrooke General, snuck past the security and drove a blade into Graham’s heart.

  The last time she saw him was the night he was murdered, when they were standing outside the bar, when he kissed her cheek. She had no idea when she said goodbye to him that night, she was saying goodbye to him for the last time.

  She returns to the hospital for her post-op patients after the funeral, relieved to replace her high heels for crocs, but unfortunately doesn’t have time to change out of her dress. She hates dressing up, and even though she wore a skirt every day in the courtroom, she couldn’t justify throwing on something casual, and instead wanted to put some effort into her attire for her friend, so she wore a dress to the funeral. 

  Emma is still reeling from his death, as is everyone who knew him. There was a large turnout at his funeral. He was well-liked and highly respected. And he was good at what he did. He wouldn't have been appointed Chief of Surgery if he weren't. After checking on her post-op patients, she briefs three others for their surgeries tomorrow morning. 

  The sky is pitch black when she finally leaves the hospital and strides across the parking lot to her car. She continuously peeks over her shoulder with an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach. She glances over at the guard on duty, but it doesn't make her feel any more at ease considering a murder took place five days ago even though a different guard had been keeping a vigilant eye out. She’d heard he took some time off after he found Graham dead in the parking lot. The reminder of that horrible tragedy fills Emma with dread.

  After safely making it inside her car, she releases a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding.  She has crossed this parking lot hundreds, probably thousands of times and never once has she ever looked over her shoulder… until she found out Graham was murdered in this same parking lot. 

By the time she pulls into her garage that night, she’s bone-tired after a long, emotionally draining day. She’d performed her morning rounds and two surgeries before the funeral that thankfully went smoothly. She’s so glad she didn’t have to break any bad news to anyone today because that would’ve made the funeral much more difficult to handle. In hindsight, she probably should’ve moved each surgery to a future date, but she’d already rescheduled them once before because of the ten days she served as a juror and didn’t want to further inconvenience her patients. She knew Graham would have understood.

  Emma trudges through the kitchen door from the garage, scanning the mail she’d retrieved from her mailbox before she’d pulled into her driveway. She’s ready to crawl into bed after a long, dreary day—no, after the long, dreary few weeks she’s had—but first, she needs to wind down. She could definitely use a hot cup of cocoa. So as soon as she deposits her bag and mail on the table, she makes a cup of hot cocoa, but not from the powdered stuff. 

  She boils fresh ingredients on the stove and adds some milk to the pot before removing it from the heat and adding vanilla extract. She whisks the mixture until it’s frothy and pours the beverage into a mug, but she purposely doesn’t choose her World’s Best Surgeon mug she received from Graham on her thirty-eighth birthday. It’s her favorite mug, but it’s too soon. Maybe after the shock of his death wanes, she’ll be able to use it again without breaking down into tears, but right now she just can’t. She turns the mug around so the words are facing the back of the cabinet, and she grabs a mug with kittens printed on it instead. 

  After adding cinnamon and whipped cream, she grabs her phone from her purse, sipping her delicious beverage as she checks her notifications, one being a reminder for Anna and Kristoff’s wedding. It’s next Saturday evening, which is doable, but having to dress up is just one of the many reasons why she doesn’t enjoy going to weddings. 

  Everyone’s always ragging on her about never accepting invitations to social gatherings though, especially her cousins, Anna and Elsa. Despite living with the sisters for five years, she became estranged from them after she went off to college. Now she barely sees them at all because she’s always working. She’s missed so many Thanksgivings and Christmases, it would be odd to show up to one of their family gatherings now. But they’re right. She should get out more. 

  Hard work and no play, topped with the trial and her colleague’s death has pretty much drained all the life out of her, and she could use an escape. Actually, what she could use is some time on her ranch with her horses. Her home away from home is an hour outside of Storybrooke where Kristoff owns a neighboring ranch, and he and his fiance take care of Emma's horses when she’s in Storybrooke. That’s about the only interaction she has with Anna these days—when she calls to ask about her horses and the ranch. She hasn’t even told her cousins about the trial she was a juror on.

  Emma grumbles under her breath when she listens to a voice message from Detective Nolan who’d questioned her and everyone Graham worked with attending the celebration at the bar the night he was murdered. The detective got her number from the hospital, which she is not happy about. Now he wants to meet with her to discuss Graham’s murder, even after she told him everything she knows, so it’s a complete waste of his time. And hers.

  After finding no urgent messages or calls, she goes to her living room and looks up from her phone screen. Her heart leaps out of her chest and the air leaves her lungs so quickly, the mug falls from her hands, and the ceramic breaks into pieces when it crashes to the hardwood floor. She clutches the phone to her chest after almost dropping it as well. Normally she'd be quick to clean up the mess; she’d hate the idea of leaving her floor sticky for the housekeeper to clean up and have her shoes stained from hot chocolate as the dark brown liquid pools around her feet, but she’s too focused on what's on her coffee table to peel her eyes away.

  An enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in a crystal glass vase.

  “What the fuck?”

  She’s frozen in place, her face draining of color. Not only is it a very rare occurrence for her to receive roses or romantic gifts of any kind, but someone has broken into her home to give them to her. Her heart is pounding as she scans the room. Nothing else in the living room is amiss, but the thought of someone breaking into her home makes her skin crawl. 

  She stares at the fifty roses for a long time, her mind reeling with how or why someone broke into her home to deliver the flowers. It’s not her birthday, and even if it were, no one else has a key to her home, except for her housekeeper. Perhaps Johanna was here when the roses were delivered and brought them in. Yes, that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation of how the roses ended up on her coffee table. 

  Except her housekeeper would have mentioned it to her or sent a text or something so Emma would not be freaked out like she is right now. And it still doesn’t explain the reason for the roses in the first place. The roses look expensive; the vase looks expensive. Someone went all out just to gain her attention, but who? And why? She’s currently single, very single , and hasn’t had so much as a one-night stand or a dalliance in a very long time. 

  Perhaps the roses are from a grateful patient? But no one except family and a few friends know her home address. If this were five days prior, she would've suspected Graham after he'd kissed her cheek. He's one of the few people who knew her address. But he never would've broken into her home to give them to her.

  After recovering from the initial shock, she’s able to move again, willing her feet to step forward and warily make the trek around her couch to the coffee table. There’s a silk red ribbon wrapped around the top of the vase, tied into a large, perfect bow. The sight of a blank, white envelope tucked into the foliage behind the bow catches her eye. 

  Hoping there’s a reasonable explanation for the roses and possible break-in, she reaches for the envelope, and with trembling hands—hands that have worked miracles and saved lives, hands that are normally steady under intense pressure—she removes a card from the envelope and reads the fancy calligraphy used on six typed words.

  I’ve got a crush on you.

  Goosebumps cover her skin and she shivers, almost dropping the card. 

  Who the hell would be sending her flowers and an anonymous note, declaring their affection for her? 

  She calls Johanna, desperately hoping the roses were delivered and that her housekeeper is the one who brought them into her home and not some psycho who broke in.

  “Hi, Johanna, sorry to call so late,” Emma mumbles through the phone, her voice shaking slightly. She’s normally cool under pressure, but the roses and card have certainly gotten under her skin, which she’s guessing was the intention behind the gifts.

  “It’s no problem. I haven’t made it to bed yet. What can I do for you?”

  “Did I receive a delivery while you were here today?”

  “No, ma’am. Were you expecting something?”

  Fuck.

  Then who the hell broke into her house? 

  “Um… yes,” she lies, not wanting to concern her housekeeper. “I was on the lookout for a small package I ordered a couple weeks ago.”

  “Did you track the package?”

  “Yes, it's due to arrive soon.”

  “Well, if it arrives while I’m here, I’ll be sure to bring it in and leave it on the kitchen table so you’ll see it when you come home.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. How are you doing? The funeral was today, wasn’t it?”

  Emma closes her eyes, breathing slowly, her heart cracking at the mention of Graham’s funeral. “Yes, it was. I’m doing okay, I suppose. It was all just very shocking.”

  “I can imagine. You shouldn’t stay at home alone after losing a friend, you know? You should stay with someone, at least for a few days.”

  Emma smiles faintly at her housekeeper’s concern. “I’ll be okay. Just need some sleep is all.”

  “Make sure you eat something first. You shouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. But I don’t have to tell you that, you’re the doctor,” she teases.

  “You know me too well, Johanna,” Emma remarks with a small laugh.

  “I’ve known you to miss a meal or two,” Johanna points out in a motherly tone. She’s not wrong. Working as much as she does, Emma tends to forget to eat.

  “I’m actually about to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich,” she lies again. Though toasted bread and gooey cheese in the middle does sound appealing, her stomach’s all twisted in knots. She’s too freaked out to even shove anything into her mouth right now.

  “Good, I’ll let you get to it then. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Emma.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Emma ends the call and stares at the note again for a good five minutes. Then she searches her house for any more unwanted gifts but finds nothing. She examines her front and back door and all the windows for any signs of forcible entry, but there are none. She even checks the closets, under her bed and in her bathtub to see if whoever broke in is still there; but even after she finds no one, she still has an uneasy feeling in her gut. Whoever broke in could very well do it again. 

  She briefly wonders if she should call the police, but what would she even tell them—someone broke into my house just to give me flowers and leave a note to tell me they have a crush on me? It sounds too ridiculous, they’d probably laugh in her face. Though the gifts and the fact that this person found out where she lives are probably grounds for having a stalker, it could also be a practical joke. But the only person she can think of who would pull such an awful prank on her is… well, he’s dead. 

  She disposes of the roses in the trash, but stores the vase in the cupboard and places the card in her nightstand drawer in case she needs to present the items as evidence for having a stalker on her hands. But she's not sure how helpful the items would be considering the words were typed and the card was unsigned with no name or any other indication of whom the flowers or card came from.

  Still on edge, Emma cleans the mess she'd made. Then she takes a shower, changes into her nightgown and slips into bed. But she highly doubts she’s getting any sleep tonight.

  ~*~

  “On the night Dr. Humbert was murdered, you were at the Rabbit Hole with him, correct?” 

  “Along with several other people there that night, yes,” Emma replies in a narked tone. She came here to the police station after her morning surgeries because Detective Nolan insisted on interviewing her even though he'd already questioned her after Graham's death.

  “Have you questioned them to this extent?” her lawyer, Mr. Hopper chimes in.

  “I’ve questioned them, yes,” Detective Nolan answers without confirming exactly who he questioned and to what extent. “Did you go to the Rabbit Hole alone?” 

  Emma nods. “That’s right.” 

  “I understand there was a celebration at the bar that night. What was the reason for the celebration?” 

  “We were celebrating Graham’s promotion to chief of surgery.” 

  “And how did you feel about his promotion?” 

  “I was happy for him,” Emma replies sincerely, though it's delivered in a flat, emotionless tone due to her lack of patience and because she's not happy about the insinuations of the question. 

  “Mhmm,” Detective Nolan hums before taking a sip of his coffee. “You were also under consideration for that position, weren’t you, Dr. Swan?” 

  “I was. And I deserved to get it.” 

  Mr. Nolan's brows climb his forehead, his eyes flashing with intrigue. “More than Dr. Humbert did?” 

  “In my opinion, yes,” she replies calmly. “He deserved the position as well, but I deserved it more.”

  Mr. Hopper raises a cautionary hand to stop her from continuing. “Dr. Swan, I highly—” 

  “I’m only telling the truth,” she states, cutting him off as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the detective. “But I’m sure you regard being denied a job promotion as a motive for murder, don’t you Detective Nolan?” 

  He looks her dead in the eye. “I don’t believe you killed anyone, Dr. Swan.” 

  “Then why did you request this interview?” 

  “Because you failed to mention the promotion when I first questioned you.”

  “It was irrelevant.”

  “Maybe so, but it doesn't hurt to go over anything I might have missed the first time around. You also failed to tell me you left with Dr. Humbert that night. Is that true?”

  “I didn’t leave with him,” she states defensively. “He walked me to my car and then went back inside.”

  “And that was it? He only walked you to your car? Were there any words exchanged?”

  “I congratulated him and we hugged,” Emma tells him. She doesn’t deem it necessary to mention the kiss on the cheek, but in case someone had witnessed the kiss, she doesn’t want the detective to think she’s withholding any other information. “He also kissed me on the cheek and we said goodnight. Then I got in my car, watched him walk into the bar and drove away.”

  “Was there anything romantic going on between you and Dr. Humbert, casual or otherwise?”

  She shakes her head. “No, there was not. We were friends who’ve known each other since we were residents, that was it.”

  He nods, seeming to accept her answer and moves on to the next question. “Did you go home immediately after you left?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anyone to corroborate that?”

  “No.”

  “Did you go anywhere else that evening?”

  “No, I had to work the next morning, so I went straight to bed. And no, no one can corroborate that either.”

  The detective throws her a few more questions before bringing up the trial she served as a juror on, which infuriates her because the trial had nothing to do with Graham’s murder. 

  “Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted Mr. Gold.”

  “And were you or were you not the forewoman?”

  “I was,” she replies with a tight smile. “But you already knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.”

  He nods. “That’s correct. I’ve already interviewed the other eleven jurors.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe Dr. Humbert’s killer was hired. He wasn’t robbed, and he has no known adversaries… other than you, Dr. Swan.”

  His remark rattles her, not only because the detective is accusing her of being Graham’s adversary or because of the implications his statement carries, but because he believes someone was hired to murder Graham. 

  She explains she made a decision after exploring every facet of the case. The evidence was entirely circumstantial, the defendant could not be placed at the scene of the crime and he had an alibi. She also has to elucidate to Detective Nolan she doesn’t believe the defendant was innocent, only that she was not convinced he was guilty. And yes, she had persuaded the other eleven jurors to vote for the acquittal, but after two days of deliberation, each juror voted according to his or her own conscience.

  After everyone in the interrogation room agrees there is nothing further to ask, Emma heads back to the hospital, still reeling from what David had said about Graham’s murder being a contract kill.

  Her mind drifts to the roses and the card she’d received the night prior. She thinks about how the defendant—an accused contract killer—kept staring at her in the courtroom. It was creepy, disturbing, just as breaking into her home to leave roses and a note that says, I’ve got a crush on you was creepy and disturbing.

  Could Neal Gold be the one who broke in and left the roses and card? 

  The thought makes Emma physically ill. 

  Once Emma returns to the hospital, she trades in her red blazer for a white lab coat and checks on her post-op patients. Tired of wearing skirts and dresses, she put on her red, two-piece suit of amour for her interview that morning.

  She's called on to perform three emergency procedures, which include treating an intestinal obstruction, a strangulated hernia and a perforated ulcer. Immediately following each procedure, she speaks with the patient’s loved ones to report on the condition of the patient and to explain the procedure she’d done. She makes notations in the charts of her post-op patients.

  When she’s done, she returns the charts to Tamara, the nurse on duty. “Please page me if any of these patients take a downward turn.”

  “Certainly, Dr. Swan,” she says with a smile. “So, has the board made you Chief yet?”

  The question takes Emma off guard. The last thing on her mind is a promotion. “Um… no, but even if they offered me the position, I couldn’t possibly take it. It would just feel wrong to benefit from Dr. Humbert’s death.”

  Tamara nods. “That’s very noble of you. But even so, I hope you get it, Dr. Swan. You deserve it.”

  Emma is stunned by Tamara’s words. She had no idea the nurse had thought so highly of her. “Thank you,” she says with a tired smile. “Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  Emma turns around and heads for the elevator. As she leaves the building, the buzz from her phone breaks through the ominous silence of the night. She grabs the device from her purse, seeing it’s from a restricted number. Reluctantly she answers the phone, bringing it to her ear with furrowed brows. “Hello?”

  There’s silence on the other end as Emma makes her way across the parking lot, but then she can hear someone breathing heavily into the phone.

  “Hi, Emma.”

  She halts in her tracks, wild-eyed at the whispered voice on the other line. “Who is this?”

  “Oh, come now, Ems, don't you recognize my voice?” he says, as though they’re best friends. “We spent almost two weeks in the same room together.”

  Emma sucks in a sharp breath and frantically searches the parking lot for any signs of him, heart pounding in her ear. Spotting her car several feet ahead, she bolts for it while trying not to draw too much attention from the guard. When she gets in her car and locks the doors, she manages a faint whisper. “Gold?” 

  He chuckles. “So, you do remember me? I knew you would.”

  Of course she does. She’d recognized his voice immediately but was desperately hoping it wasn’t true. The way his dark eyes connected with hers in court made her skin crawl. How could anyone forget him? 

  “And baby doll, please, call me Neal.” 

  Emma cringes and her stomach turns. “How did you get my number?”

  “Let’s just say I have connections. Did you like the roses?”

  Her heart skips several beats, then restarts, pounding double-time. Now that she knows the roses were from him, she wants to pretend she doesn't know what he's talking about, but since he had placed them inside her house, there’s no way she hadn’t seen them. “How the hell did you get into my house?”

  Gold laughs, this time more loudly, more sinister-like. “Please, Ems, getting into your house was child’s play to me.”

  “And why’s that?” she challenges, even knowing he won’t take the bait. He’s incredibly clever and resourceful, otherwise he couldn’t have escaped prosecution for all his misdeeds, including the most recent murder he’d been tried for. 

  “I thought you’d like red roses, baby doll, since you wore red lipstick every day of the trial,” he comments, completely evading her question. “I like your red suit by the way, the color compliments your complexion.”

  Emma clenches her jaw, and her fingers grip around the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles turn white. She scans the parking lot from her car. Not only did he break into her house but he's following her too? What the actual fuck. “Stop calling me baby doll. Or Ems. In fact, stop calling me at all. I’m hanging up now, Mr. Gold.”

  “Wait, please don’t. I only wanted to thank you,” he says in a gentle voice, bordering on sweet, but she won’t go so far to admit that.

  “Thank me? For what?” she demands, growing agitated. No, she’s beyond agitated. Ever since this fucker showed up in her life, her world has been in complete disarray, from the trial to Graham's murder to the unwanted gifts to the scrutiny from the police department and now this.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

  “I didn’t save your life,” Emma snaps.

  “Oh, you did, baby doll. If it weren’t for you, I’d be on death row.”

  “I did nothing. A jury of twelve made the verdict,” she clarifies. It feels like she’s had to clarify that a lot lately.

  “Maybe so, but one of your fellow jurors said you led the campaign for my acquittal. She said you argued for my side and that your arguments were inspired and… passionate,” he says as though he’s speaking to a lover. “You have no idea how badly I want to touch you… thank you properly.”

  Emma’s pretty sure she’s going to vomit all over her front seats. “In your dreams, you creep. Now fuck off.” She ends the call and throws her phone into the passenger seat like it had burned her. 

  She squirms and flails her arms as though large, disgusting rats are crawling all over her, and she gags. She wants to go home as quickly as possible so she can strip off her clothes and burn them. She feels sick, beads of sweat dotting her forehead, heart pounding erratically as she starts her car and takes a deep breath like she’s preparing for an intricate, life-threatening surgery. 

  Now she’s glad she didn’t report the break-in to the police because if they find out Neal is her secret admirer, it might raise red flags; it might be just another reason for the detectives to point a finger at her for the involvement of Graham’s murder. 

  Oh god.

  Something occurs to her, hitting her like a brick. Gold said one of the jurors told him how passionately Emma argued his side. Which means she probably told Nolan the same thing when he interviewed her.

  Even though Archie had tried to assure her the detective’s insinuations and persistence were standard police tactics, there are two questions that have been gnawing at her since the interview, other than whether or not it was Gold who broke into her house. Questions that make her skin crawl.

  Does Detective Nolan actually consider her a suspect? And does he think she hired Gold to murder Graham Humbert?

A/N: For those of you who are wondering when Killian will appear, he's introduced in the next chapter, so sit tight. I will be posting chapter 3 next week. Thanks for reading!

Take a peek at the next chapter: Chapter 3 Sneak Peek

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo​ @snowbellewells​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

[the-nysh]

Waaait uhhh, can I hear about some prominent season one characters; Sonic, Mumen Rider, the S classes (in particular; Tatsumaki) and Lord Boros?

Oho, ok let’s see... :D Again, I read the manga before s1 aired, so I’m basing my honest first impressions off of that (and what I can remember).

Sonic: from his first introductory panels, I remember being excited/intrigued he might be a girl! :O Like, ‘ohh?? A ruthless dark assassin who’s female? That’s pretty fresh/neat!’ Until he was revealed as a dude and I was like, ‘oh. ok.’ Then my interest in him honestly waned. ;o; Simply put, his character’s appeal in the fandom just wasn’t ‘my type’ either. Also because many of his appearances and use in the story were mostly for gags, it wasn’t until ONE finally fleshed out his backstory with Flash (in the webcomic, yes it took that long) that I was like, ‘oho, NOW we’re getting somewhere!’ 8′D That his character finally gained more appeal/substance to me rather than being mostly used as the butt end of a joke. So whew;; I was so glad ONE finally wrote him seriously to be able to appreciate him for real. :’D

Mumen Rider: back then, he went by ‘Licenseless’ in the fandom. A very good, wholesome lad who’s self-aware but also knows what’s best and when to act when it’s the right, helpful thing to do. :’) He feels like the warm comfort of a mug of hot cocoa on a brisk, chill winter morning~

S Class: at first, nothing resonated about them in particular, other than recognizing they were all outlandish & traditional character tropes (on purpose, yes even the offensive/outdated ones to western eyes) that ONE was playing around with and/or deconstructing for the lulz.

Tatsumaki: a little bratty and grating in attitude at first, but seeing how she’s an honest workaholic and asserts her strength brought to the workforce...yes, that’s something I can work with. A bit shockingly heartless in the wc, but the manga fleshing out her character more, and demonstrating both her prowess and efficiently as a hero, now that’s definitely served her well. If it weren’t for Blast’s placeholder then yes, Tatsu would be the top, most active hero! I’m impressed.

Boros: a very flashy and flamboyant dbz parody. Extremely (unfortunately) short-lived too. His presence almost feels out of place in the story looking back in hindsight. But his character marked the end/turning point of opm’s ‘introduction/prologue’ saga, before it could switch from something episodic into something more legit/serious with an ongoing plot~ So I kinda look back at him ruefully, but appreciate how the story transitioned because of him too. :’)

I also wanna hear what you thought about some season two characters other than wolfie; Fubuki, Suiryu (tho I remember going real far back in your blog and you being blunt about not liking the tournament arc, unless I'm misremembering ^^'), Lord Orochi & Gyoro Gyoro. (Also ofc gotta ask if you feel for King's "persona". I remember being genuinely shocked lol.)

Part 2 with s2 characters continued! (Oho other than wolf boy~)

Fubuki: other than her gorgeous face and inferiority complex vs her sister (giving her flaws with which her character can grow), it was specifically her manipulative behaviors (trying to recruit Saitama with ulterior motives, rather than being honest/upfront about it) that honestly put me off about her. Since manipulative characters are not my thing. (Also some trivia: when I showed my mom s2, who yes liked Genos the most in s1 and got feels for Garou in s2, even she disproved of Fubuki too!) So yes, I can honestly say I generally prefer Tatsu over her. However, I feel Fubuki’s strongest character moment is when she finally confronts and asserts herself vs Tatsu in the wc’s post-Garou arc. Which made me honestly proud of her progress. :’) So I hope to see that part (and Fubuki’s true strength) Murata-adapted someday.

Suiryu: so the manga’s tournament arc in general wasn’t my thing either (but I believe gofancy was the one who was most openly blunt about not liking how it overstayed its welcome + real estate.) Simply because it was the first major diversion from the wc, and I remember how Murata’s pace was pretty slow back then too, leading many fans to dropping and/or putting the manga on hold for a while. :’) Suiryu’s initial character wasn’t my type either, for the overconfident, dismissive, sleazy/lazy, self-serving flirty/womanizer traits. Also wasn’t my thing. But I felt his incoming Gouketsu-beatdown was...unfairly brutal. D: Made me feel honestly bad for him. (Yikes, ONE doesn’t hold back at all when characters get their humbling comeuppance.) I’m glad he’s since had a change of heart and seen the value/light of true heroism (which warmed me up to him), but I still don’t know what to think about his wc’s counterpart (which honestly surprised me to see ONE use a previously manga-only character!) Wc Suiryu feels different in vibe, like he’s yet to undergo that same character development. But it seems ONE’s got further plans for Suiryu’s use in the story this way, so I’m eager to see what that’ll be..

Orochi & Gyoro (Psykos): first time seeing Gyoro in the manga I was like !!! 8D because it meant wc Psykos was incoming~ But seeing Orochi I was like w h a t. Because Psykos (Gyoro) was supposed to be the MA’s figurehead, but she was tiny and unassuming compared to...this new guy puppet (??) (She’s now the villain mastermind behind the scenes -played straight- I guess!) So there was confusion at first to what in the world ONE was thinking by presenting them this way! And well, by now Orochi’s inclusion (as the ‘monster king’ to rival what wc Garou would have dominated) has certainly escalated things and wreaked havoc....but we’ve still yet to see how things will resolve following their fusion. So...a big unknown of uncharted territory that’s difficult to form an honest impression about, other than...I’ll wait to see what happens.    

King: I personally found his ‘persona’ reveal to be a brilliant twist. :’D He’s also eternally suffering and can’t easily escape from what others assume of him, so wow, I do feel for him. Also probably one of most self-aware, sound of mind (Reigen-equivalent) characters with the most common sense in opm, so that’s pretty fresh/valuable to have. I also personally find his moments to be some of the funniest/absurd in the whole series (especially his wc staredown vs the MA cadres, that’s hilarious) for how he -an otherwise non-powered but anxious guy- manages to survive and bullshit his way out of increasingly ridiculous scenarios! So yes, a very unique and entertaining character who brings some interesting spice to the opm character roster. :D

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Second Chance Part 16

Bucky x Reader

Main Masterlist

Bucky comes back from Wakanda with Steve, ready to begin his recovery from his days as the Winter Soldier, but there’s one thing he doesn’t take into account - you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, anxiety, protests. 

Word count: Approx 3100

Bucky considers a more domestic life while figuring out his current position in the Avengers.

His Second Chance is back! Sorry about the short break, anxiety coupled with a tough week and writers block for this story got the better of me. Hope you all enjoy the rest of your weekend!

ALL TAG LISTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN 💖 feel free to come and chat, my blog is always open for you 💕

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Bucky Barnes. Definitely a domestic man and comfortably so. Bucky proudly pulled a batch of muffins out of the oven, hair tossed up in a messy bun with a few loose strands framing his face. He wore your yellow apron, that was far too small on him and barely kept the flour and cocoa powder off his clothes, but he didn’t care. A wide grin stretched across his lips as he set the baking tray down, inspecting his newly made cakes. The sound of the elevator opening and thudding footsteps entering the apartment, a set of much more delicate steps following. Your soft giggle reached Bucky’s ears and he couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not my fault I’m too short to reach, it’s like you’re askin’ me to use my powers.” You argued playfully. Steve laughed and Bucky wondered what he was doing to you when you let out a loud squeal.

 Steve walked into the kitchen with you thrown over his shoulder in your workout gear. Bucky quirked a brow, taking in the sight for a moment as he pulled off his oven mitts. His face is far too close to her butt. “You look ridiculous.” Steve chuckled, pointing at Bucky’s tough guy outfit, which consisted of an old black Henley shirt and ripped black jeans with the contrasting yellow apron thrown over the top. Bucky let out an exaggerated humph. “I thought it suited me.” Bucky shrugged. “Can I have my girl back?” Bucky asked, moving to take you from Steve. You suddenly felt Bucky’s hands grip your middle and you were pulled away from Steve and into Bucky’s soft embrace.

 “She cheated at basketball.” Steve complained, almost childishly as he leaned in to sniff Bucky’s freshly baked muffins. “Can I have one?” Steve asked. “Uh, no.” Bucky half-heartedly smacked his hand away. “How’d you cheat?” Bucky asked, leaning against the countertop. “Stevie set the net too high for me to throw to or reach so I had to use my powers to get the ball anywhere near it. If anything he’s the one cheating with super soldier serum.” You gave Steve a sidelong glare, followed by a little crack of a smile. “Can I have one?” You veered back to the muffins. “When they’ve cooled, dollface.” Bucky spoke softly, gently pushing some of your hair back from your face. “Hey! I get a blank no and she gets a ‘when they’ve cooled dollface’.” Steve frowned, crossing his arms and repeating Bucky’s sentence in a mocking tone. “What? You wanna be called dollface too?” Bucky teased, causing Steve to chuckle.

 “You’re so pretty, doll.” Bucky smiled at you while you not-so-delicately shoved a piece of muffin in your mouth. You gave him a soft smile, complete with a few chocolate crumbs on your lips before your cleaned yourself up. “I’m not very graceful.” You remarked after swallowing down your cake. “You are to me.” Bucky smiled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “So uh, you know those psychological assessment papers I got a while back?” Bucky looked down at his hands nervously.

What if she doesn’t think you’re ready?

Are you kidding? Of all people she’ll support you.

“Mhm.” You nodded, popping some stray chocolate chips in your mouth. “I signed the papers for it this morning, sent them off to Pepper.” Good, you didn’t cut yourself off, good job Barnes. You gasped a little, turning to face him properly on your kitchen stool. “I’m so proud of you!” You grinned widely, throwing your arms up to give him a quick hug.

 “You think we’re ready for the meeting?” You asked, fiddling about with the plans and papers the boys wanted to make sure were presented to Fury. “I hope so.” Bucky chewed anxiously at his lip. What if this goes wrong? What if I get sucked into full scale missions? Oh god that’s overwhelming, that’s too much. “Bucky?” You gripped his metal hand, your fingers so small compared to his. “Even if it gets refused, we’ll work through this together. If this doesn’t work, we’ll find something else that will.” You reassured him.

 “Hell, we could even leave this all behind and open a bakery together.” You giggled. Aw, dammit, shoulda thought of that first. Should still open a bakery, adopt some cats, make half of it a bookshop and second hand books could be free for- okay you’re getting carried away. Bucky smiled down at you, his metal hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. “Consider it a backup plan, doll.” Bucky chuckled. Still want a bunch of cats though. “Come on, Sergeant, the meeting’s in five minutes, we should head up.” You took his hand in yours before tugging him along behind you.

 “I’m sorry, it’s just not possible.” Fury shook his head, pushing the plans and papers away from him on the meeting table. You sat at the edge of the table opposite Fury, you weren’t exactly the focus of the meeting and you hadn’t even said anything yet, letting the three soldiers take most of the talking. Bucky huffed, he was frustrated, disappointed, confused. “What could make it possible?” Steve asked. “I’m just not convinced the recourses will be worth creating a local unit, Captain Rogers.” Fury said apologetically. You weren’t ready to let this go, but the anxiety of being in the presence of Fury was causing you to stay quiet. He was exactly intimidating to you, but being the Director, it did make you nervous around him, especially since you were asking for something so large.

It’s okay, cats are always an option.

 You sat forwards in your seat, drawing in a deep breath. “If I may, Director Fury.” You cut in; voice much quieter than you had intended. Everyone turned to look at you, making you feel even more anxious. Bucky’s hand slipped onto your lap, resting on top of your shaky hand. You cleared your throat as you flitted between the sets of eyes that settled on you. You got this, doll. “The unit could serve as local training for recruits before they go out on the field.” You finally spoke up again. Fury looked at you curiously, a hand coming up to rub his chin as he considered your words. “And how do you propose we do that, Agent?” He asked, keeping his voice a little softer for you as he leant forwards on his desk, eyes trained only on you.

 For a moment, you were able to block out the others in the room, making it much easier to concentrate on talking to Fury without feeling half terrified to speak so formally. “We would be a local version of SHIELD operatives. Not all tasks would have to be genuine, we could have training tasks set up for the recruits, low risk but high stress situations. We could also use it to alleviate the pressure on the NYPD concerning high security risks.” You explained, gaining a bit more confidence as you spoke, the feeling of cool metal fingers gently rubbing the back of your hand was certainly helping. Fury hummed, leaning back in his seat, his eyes still locked on you and your anxiety started to come back, your composure fraying at the edges.

 Fury thought for a moment, the tension in the room felt like you could cut through it with a knife. Bucky could see you out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep your breathing even and trying to stop your leg from bouncing. Instead you wrung your hands together, biting at your lip and Bucky’s cool metal fingers trailed back over your hand. You looked up at Bucky, his expression calming you a little, he looked concerned and he gave you a quick, tight lipped smile, eyes soft and brows tipped in worry. Bucky gently coaxed you to trace your fingers over the metal plates on his hand and wrist. That’s it, keep calm doll, you did great.

 “Alright.” Fury finally spoke up after a few long, excruciating moments of consideration. You perked up at that, waiting with bated breath. “I’ll approve it.” He agreed. “On one condition.” Fury’s eyes settled on Bucky. “You take your psychological assessment.”

A moment seemed to pass, the room falling quiet, but Bucky was the least concerned out of the four of you. I can do that. I can do this. Bucky was becoming determined, the prospect of leading a local unit ignited the desire to pass his assessment. It was a far cry from how he’d felt months ago when he’d pushed the opportunity away, convinced he was not ready. Perhaps at the time he wasn’t, but Bucky was sure he was now.

 The meeting came to a close, Bucky grinning from ear to ear as you both exited the room. Yes, we’re doing this, it’s a thing now.

I still want cats though.

 Face hot and flushed, fingers tapping, leg bouncing. Bucky became hyper aware of everything, the chair creak, the way the wind whipped against the windows, the soft typing on the keyboard from the receptionist, the odd sound of paper being moved and shuffled about. Bucky looked to his left, a steady heartbeat in his ears as he listened. You were as calm as anything, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, fingers holding your book open, lips pouting a little as you concentrated with your brows slightly furrowed. Whatever you were reading was intensely interesting, perhaps it was an argument or an angsty scene, perhaps people were fighting or at war, or perhaps it was just a love scene you were absorbed in. Bucky took note of the way your hair was tucked behind you ear, stubborn pieces hanging freely. You tugged your lip between your teeth, a sharp intake of breath as you read.

 “Mr Barnes, we’ll be ready for you in a few minutes.” A young woman announced into the waiting room. You instantly perked up at that, sliding your bookmark between your pages and snapping the book shut. “What if it all goes wrong?” Bucky whispered. “Oh, Buck, I believe in you, I think you’ll do great and even if it doesn’t we have other solutions.” You reassured him. “I’ll be right here when you get out, I promise. Then we can go and do whatever you want.” You smiled encouragingly. “Can we get a cat?” Bucky blurted out. You almost burst out laughing at how random that request was, but you stopped yourself, only allowing an amused smile to appear. “M’not sure our boys would agree with having a cat around, but perhaps they’ll warm up to it.” You winked, neither saying yes or no.

Okay, cats are still an option. I’m going to annoy Steve with at least two.

But she’s right, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine Barnes. She’s here for you, that’s all you need, right?

“God, I love you. You’re the fucking best.” Bucky took your face between his hands, leaning forwards and kissing you gently on the lips. “I love you too, Bucky.” You smiled. “Good luck, Sergeant. I’ll be right here, I’m always right here for you.” You spoke softly, keeping your words only for him. A little smile cracked across his lips before Bucky pressed another kiss to your lips. You managed to sneak one last kiss to his cheek before he was called through.

 It’s just a psychological assessment. You got this, Barnes.

 You sat in the waiting room, absorbed in your book for the majority of the time that Bucky was in his assessment. Towards the end, the growing sound of chatter and noise was disturbing your quiet read and after struggling to pay attention to your book for a good ten minutes, you finally cracked and looked out of the window.

 Reporters. And crowds of them. You should have known, Bucky Barnes who was one of the most controversial people to be let back into society was having an assessment to see if he was able to work on the field again. Just great. There was no way you were going to leave this untouched; you had no intentions of making poor Bucky wade through that crowd on the way out, especially not after the trouble you saw him go through with the court cases prior to him returning home.

 You chewed your lip anxiously as your phone dialled. “Hey sweetheart.” Steve seemed happy, unaware. “Stevie-.” You cut yourself off, peering down at the crowd again. “There- there’s reporters everywhere.” You spoke quietly. “What? Oh shit.” Steve huffed. “Hold on, let me sort this out sweetheart, hang tight.” Steve muttered. “Don’t leave the building, I’m going to make some calls and I’ll pick you both up, alright?” Steve spoke down the line. “Okay, hurry Stevie, it looks like there are protesters arriving.” You peered out of the window, almost scared you’d be seen as you watched small groups of people gather outside. “I’m coming sweetheart.”

 There weren’t many, but there was a minority of people who were opposed to Bucky. The protests were mixed during his trial, while most people were showing support for the former Winter Soldier, there were groups, particularly violent groups that were against Bucky being allowed to be freed and now with the prospect of him joining the Avengers to fight for the innocent, there was bound to be at least some backlash.

 Bucky heard them. He could hear them during his assessment and it only spiked his anxiety, the distraction causing his assessors to apologise profusely to him, not that there was anything they could have done about it. As soon as he left the assessment room, he was met with you peering out of the window, brows knitted together, lip between your teeth. Your fidgety body language screamed anxious and all Bucky wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms.

I just wanted coffee and a cat, dammit.

 Bucky felt like you were more anxious than he was, it was like he could feel the nervous energy coming off you in waves as you watched the protest grow in size. “Hey Sarge.” You greeted him, just above a whisper. “Hey, pretty girl, you alright?” He asked, approaching you and pulling you against his chest. “I suppose, how did your assessment go?” You avoided the question, looking up at Bucky. “M’not sure, that crowd threw me off half way through.” Bucky sighed, nodding his head in the direction of the reporters and protestors. “I called Stevie, he’s coming to get us, said he’d make a few calls.” You squeezed him around the middle. “I hope they didn’t fuck up your assessment.” You stressed, voice small and quiet.

She hasn’t been through the protests before, you have, need to tell her it’ll be okay, need to comfort her. “Hey, it’ll be alright, Steve will take us home, hopefully we won’t even have to walk through that crowd.” Bucky spoke softly into your hair. “It’ll be alright.” Bucky kissed the top of your head. Who are you trying to convince here? You or her?

 Steve arrived not even five minutes later and ushered you both out of the building behind him. Gotta stay calm, breathe deeply. You’ve done this before and it was worse back then. This should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

As soon as you left the side entrance of the building, the shouting grew louder, protestors crowding around the fencing that separated them from you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, breathe, for fuck sake breathe deeply Barnes. Bucky forced in a breath, but his heart near stopped when you yelped, falling into his side and practically trying to merge bodies with him. “What- are you alright?” Bucky asked, voice not his usual sweet tone, coming out gruff and frustrated as he fought his own anxiety. “They’re throwing stuff, Bucky.” You sounded so panicked and Bucky’s heart almost broke. “Steve, can we hurry this up?” Bucky called in front of him, gripping you tightly and pulling you around the other side of him so that he could act as a shield.

 With a fast pace, you all made it to the SUV Steve had brought. The windows were tinted black and it was safer than a regular car, more secure and in the event of an attack, you would be much safer in there than just a regular car. You slid into the back with Bucky, Steve getting into the driver’s seat in front of you. “You’re bleeding, sweetheart.” Steve noticed you in the mirror. “Oh fuck me, they’re protesting against me and they hurt her!” Bucky growled, his face softening quickly as he turned to look at your anxious features. “Lemme clean you up, dollface.” Bucky went soft again, his usual calm demeanor taking over, his anxiety fading when he went into protective mode, his focus entirely on you rather than himself.

 “Alright, let me just wipe this up. Breathe deep and slow for me.” Bucky cooed, trying his best to keep his voice soft as Steve slowly manoeuvred the SUV through the street, crowds approaching the car. Bucky gently wiped your forehead with a clean tissue, pressing soft kisses to your temple as he did. Protestors started hitting the side of the vehicle and you flinched, your already uneven breathing was getting even more erratic. Oh fuck me. “Don’t look, don’t look, jus’ focus on me, pretty girl.” Bucky held your face in his hands. “Focus on me, breathe with me.”

“In…”

“And out.”

Bucky coached you through it and just as you got your breathing under control, Steve managed to get the SUV out of the crowds and was finally able to drive away from them. How did you not freak out? That’s a fucking miracle, Barnes.

No, it was because she was panicking, I can’t panic if she’s panicking, gotta keep her calm.

“You alright doll?” Bucky asked, Steve glancing at you in the mirror, silently checking you over as he stopped at an intersection. “Sweetheart?” Steve spoke over his shoulder, concerned eyes landing on you. “I was supposed to be the strong one.” Your eyes met Bucky’s. “I was supposed to be the one comforting you.” You felt so embarrassed, how had Bucky been feeling while having to look after you? God, you felt like you’d gotten in the way, been a burden in a stressful situation. “You were strong, sweetheart. You did alright considering that was the first time you went through an angry protest.” Steve cut in, glancing in the mirror at you as he continued to drive. “We’re alright, doll.” Bucky spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

 “Are you okay, Bucky? That was scary.” You finally settled down, a lot calmer now. “I was fine, darlin’, focussed on makin’ sure my girl was alright.” Bucky smiled softly, holding you close to his side.

“M’not sure I’m worth all this trouble.” Bucky smirked. You were about to protest and tell him he was worth all the trouble in the world, but he continued. “Perhaps a bakery isn’t such a bad idea after all.” He grinned lazily at you.

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[lovelylogans]

love light gleams

previous chapter | chapter two | next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen 

words: 57,686

notes: it took my catholic-raised ass three months into writing this story to realize all of the goddamn religious implications i wrote into this story, and that realization was spurred because of the scene that gets introduced in this chapter, so, enjoy!

so, the sky is dark, but patton genuinely has no idea what time it is. god, he really hopes that the diner’s open. he could probably steal back to the inn and see what they’ve got leftover, or maybe get the cheapest thing on the menu at al’s pancake world, but. he’d really like to see virgil.

logan starts crying midway through the walk, so that means that patton has to steal inside the town’s gas station to check if he needs anything, but of course, he doesn’t, it’s his colic, and the reason patton doesn’t know what time it is is because he’d fallen asleep in the kitchen , somehow, without logan’s crying to wake him up for however long, so he’s probably held in the crying for a while, and—and it’s still upsetting, he knows that logan’s crying and it feels like he’s a bad dad because he can’t fix whatever’s wrong because something has to be wrong because logan’s crying, but he can’t fix it, he can only bounce logan and walk him along and hush him the best he can.

logan’s still crying—not screaming, but still crying—by the time he walks into the diner, so when he enters the diner he steals into the nearest empty booth in order to keep bouncing logan and rest his aching feet.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” patton chants to him. “shh shh shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, i wish i could fix whatever’s wrong—”

he keeps talking to logan, trying to keep his voice quiet so that he isn’t disrupting the other diners, and eventually logan quiets, staring at him with red, watery eyes, and patton blows out a slow sigh of relief, air streaming toward his bangs.

“okay,” patton whispers. “okay. are you feeling better now, little love? yeah?”

logan sniffles a little, makes a babyish kind of hiccuping noise, and patton adjusts his hold on logan so he can wipe the tears off his face, and then, with one hand, smear at his own face. god, he’s so tired. shouldn’t a nap have made him less tired? 

“hey, what can i get—”

patton and the woman stare at each other for a few seconds. some of those seconds patton’s spending frantically searching through his brain to see if he’s forgetting that he’s met this woman before, or—

“i’m so sorry, but, um, are you new here?” patton says uncertainly.

“funny, i was gonna ask you the same thing,” the woman says, cocking out her hip. she looks familiar, with dark hair and blue eyes and ohh.

“wait, are you virgil’s sister?” patton asks.

“one of ‘em, yeah,” she says, and gestures. “i’d offer to shake your hand, but, ya know. baby holding takes priority. i’m technically winifred, because our parents hate us all, but i go by fred slash freddie. mostly freddie.”

“okay,” patton says. “freddie, hi, nice to meet you. um, i’m patton, this is logan.” he pauses, before he explains, “we moved here about a month ago.”

“ohh, that’d do it,” freddie says, sticking the pencil behind her ear. “i moved away—oh, i guess about a year ago now for work, so.”

“oh, what do you do?” patton asks, seizing on a socially acceptable way to do small-talk, but it’s as if those words are some kind of secret code that he’s shattered, because virgil bursts out of the kitchen, eyes wild, plonking the baby carrier on patton’s table as if to prove his point.

“ no feet on my tables or counters, no hands on my counters, do not do any backflips, frontflips, sideflips, or fancy acrobatic tricks i don’t know the names of, and no you can not show him your weird tricks that prove that mom and dad had your spine removed at birth—“

“—it’s called contortionism—”

“people are eating, that sh—stuff is gross,” virgil finishes.

“you aren’t the boss of me,” freddie says.

“no, but i’m the boss of here,” virgil says, and freddie blows a raspberry at him.

“sorry about her, patton,” virgil says, and now that they’re side-by-side, patton can see the whole sibling resemblance thing even clearer.

“oh, don’t be, i think she’s funny,” patton says.

“ha! see? i’m funny,” freddie says.

“why did you stick around here again?” virgil says.

“mom and dad were going to a museum’s diorama opening,” freddie says, and raises her eyebrows for emphasis. “a diorama opening, virgil. so if it’s between that and—”

“—not getting out of my hair?”

“spending time with my beloved baby broooo-theer,” she coos, and virgil ducks out from any of her attempts at a hug like getting his hand off a hot stove, and patton tries to stifle his laughter against his hand.

“just—go back to the counter, winifred jane, ” virgil huffs, and freddie curtsies and prances, dramatically, back toward the counter.

“so, she’s an ...acrobat?” patton guesses as he starts to situate logan in the carrier.

“acrobat, wannabe circus woman, dancer, stuntswoman on occasion, yeah,” virgil says wearily. “the dream’s cirque du soleil.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says. “i went to one of those shows once, a few years ago, it was—” a time he remembers fondly with his parents, which sends a stab of regret through his chest, makes him think of the papers that are practically burning a hole through logan’s diaper bag—“i mean, wow. that’d be a really interesting job. she seems like she’d be really good at it.”

“please don’t say that where she can hear you, her ego will grow three times too big.”

“grinch reference?”

virgil smiles, just a little, and patton clears his throat, digging around.

“um—i’m happy you came over, actually, i meant to drop this off yesterday but well, you know,” he says, and makes a vague hand gesture with one hand, digging in the bag with the other, before he presents it to virgil, flushing just a little.

he’s not the best knitter, but. it’s the best he can do really. and it doesn’t feel like even a fraction of enough, in terms of a gift for virgil, but—virgil’s face does something at the sight of it.

“it’s a scarf,” patton elaborates, because, well, to be fully honest, it’s kind of difficult to tell. “um, for your birthday. so. happy late birthday. again.”

“oh,” virgil says. “patton, that’s—that’s really cool, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“this was seriously the least i could do,” patton says firmly.

“well,” virgil says, and picks it up carefully, ignoring the bit at the end that patton didn’t knot very well and is therefore unraveling as they speak, “thanks. hey, it’s purple!”

“well,” patton says. “yeah. it, um. it’s your favorite color. isn’t it?”

virgil then unfolds it.

“oh, you—you don’t have to wear it right now,” patton says.

“no, i love it,” virgil says stubbornly, carefully winding it around his neck. he smiles a little, touching it gently, as if to ensure it won’t unravel anymore. “thanks. no one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“oh,” patton says, perking up a little. “well, um, you’re welcome!”

“it’s nice and warm,” virgil says, and readies his notepad. “do you want—?”

“oh! um, one more thing,” patton says. “i had—well, part of the reason i couldn’t drop it off is because i had lunch with maria yesterday, as, like, a check-in kind of thing,” and to drop off the papers that will definitely be like in the top three of major life-changing decisions i’ve made this year , “and apparently christmas pay is first come, first serve, and since i’m the most recent hire, i, uh. i guess logan and i are coming to your family christmas? if that’s still okay?”

“of course that’s still okay,” virgil says firmly. “that’s great. um, i will let you know that freddie will also be there, so if you want a get out of jail free card now, i can pretend you never told me—”

patton laughs, even as he swats at virgil. “she’s your sister.”

“yeah, i know,” virgil says. “which is why i’m offering you the get out of jail free card.”

“i dunno, it seems like it’ll be kinda fun,” patton says. “i’m an only child, so. siblings are kind of a mystery to me.”

“god, i wish that were me,” virgil mutters under his breath. 

“it’ll be fun!” patton says. “you called your sister by her full name, am i gonna hear you get middle-named by your parents, at some point?”

( god, virgil hopes not; he’d panicked a couple weeks ago when patton had been talking about names, said that his “oh, my confirmation name was thomas” and patton had gotten so excited about him and logan and virgil being “middle name twins! or, triplets, i guess!! that’s so cool!!” and virgil had said “HAHA YEAH HOW COOL IS THAT” all while dedicating himself even more to locking down his full name so no one will hear it, because god virgil wishes his name was virgil thomas!)

“uh, maybe,” and then, “what do you want for dinner?”

oh, so it’s dinner time, patton thinks. he’d been a little nervous he’d slept straight through the night, almost to the dawn. according to the stuff he’s been reading, that probably won’t happen for another month and a half, and for it to happen regularly until logan hits six months. 

“hot cocoa/coffee,” he starts, and virgil groans, and logan makes a babyish noise, as if to support patton, and patton decides to resort to using the baby to get him caffeine.

it’s worked before, and patton’s banking on it working again.

(it does.)

⁂

it takes patton slightly embarrassingly too long to tune in to the abnormal thing on his schedule, the next morning.

it’s probably because patton got about an hour of sleep in snatches, between trying to calm logan and when he was lying on his back, staring sleeplessly at the cracked ceiling of the poolhouse, turning the emancipation situation over and over and over in his head.

because on one hand, he fills out the emancipation form. which is the logical thing to do, at this point—sixteen-year-olds can file for emancipation and teen parents have an even better chance of getting approved, especially since he has a job and a place to live. he fills out the emancipation form, he stops feeling the urge to look over his shoulder all the time, no more fear of his parents sending a detective after him to try to find him or anything—honestly, he’s surprised they didn’t file a missing persons report. he knows they haven’t, he’s been checking.

but he files for emancipation. and then what? his parents would hate him. any chance patton might have at forgiveness gets slimmer and slimmer by the day, like a rope fraying, a rope he’s clinging to despite the fact that he’s got a pretty decent foothold in the mountain that he’s climbing, and filing for emancipation would be like taking out an axe and chopping the rope so with one misstep he’d start free-falling. emily and richard sanders are proud people. patton filing for emancipation would be like a slap in the face.

and then what? they’d be furious with him. they might never, ever forgive him. they might never even talk to him again.

and on the other hand, if he doesn’t—then that means that that looming threat of being dragged back home still hangs heavy over his head. and then what? he’d be locked up in his room, for the next two years, at least? thrown back into chilton? sent right back to his life before, before he’d gotten a taste of a world being free of being emily and richard sanders’ child first and the continuation of the sanders line second and any anything about himself third, of being expected to go to an ivy league and be a house spouse and join a thousand societies and go to a hundred balls and luncheons and meetings a year and just, what? be a pretty bird, in a gilded cage, and miss any chance of seeing logan through these baby years and his childhood? maybe even be forced to give logan away, or make him be kept at his parents’, be logan’s older “brother.” he doesn’t even know what they’d do to him—and that would be the nice option.

but. but, if he doesn’t... his parents might forgive him for running away. oh, not immediately, of course not. but there’d be a hell of a lot better chance of them forgiving him if he doesn’t actively turn away.

yeah. so. patton’s lost a lot of sleep he’s got a lot on his mind. he missed something atypical on his schedule. he’s tuned into it just in time.

so, he manages to tidy up the last room before his lunch break a bit quicker than usual, and, after being waylaid by changing logan, manages to slide into the kitchen.

“sorry,” patton pants. “am i—am i late?”

“you’re early, actually,” cindy says, and patton blows out a slow breath of relief, trying not to clutch the stitch in his side.

“good! good, i was worried i’d be late. um—how do holiday parties usually go around here?”

“oh, they’re pretty casual here,” cindy says. “eat some snacks, drink some drinks—well, you’ll be having soda, i guess—play some music, you know. casual. maybe a game, if someone gets too into it, but it’ll be charades or some other party game like that.”

“uh-huh,” patton says, whose experience with christmas parties are mostly his parents formal events with the really good apple tarts and really terrible small talk, “casual, okay. i can do that.”

“and probably,” they say, with a wry smile, “a round of pass-the-baby, but that’s pretty normal around here now.”

“well, as long as everyone washes their hands, i’ll be fine with that,” patton says, already moving to remove the baby carrier (and logan in the baby carrier) from his chest. 

“since they’re coming into my kitchen, they better be,” cindy says.

their coworkers start gradually filtering into the kitchen over the course of the next few minutes; patton hands logan over to rafael, as he makes the first claim and is the first to finish washing his hands to cindy’s satisfaction. patton’s kind of glad, because he can chit-chat pretty easily with rafael; he usually ends up hovering nervously the whole time anyone else is holding logan, so this at least gives him an excuse other than looking like a hysterical, overprotective nervous nelly.

"so,” patton says, “do you have any plans for the holidays?”

it turns out raf’s wife is jewish, so they’re celebrating hanukkah already (”it’s not as major a holiday as, like, rosh hashanah or yom kippur, but she loves latkes, so i’m going to eat potatoes for the whole holiday, which is the opposite of a problem”) so they’re already in the middle of their holiday celebration. 

and then hector wants to hold logan, so patton starts talking to hector—he’s going to see his daughter and his granddaughters, and he hands logan back in time to dig out photos and proudly show them off (which frankly is the exact kind of dad and, oh god, potential grandpa he wants to be) chattering patton’s ear off about how little ana is so smart, reading already, and sofia might only be a bit older than logan but she’s already a strong one, nearly broke his finger with how strong she was holding it last time. 

and then logan starts fussing, so patton takes him and ducks into the nearest unoccupied room to check on him, and when he walks out—

“oh! excuse me,” patton says, before he realizes who he’s talking to.

“not a problem at all,” meredith says warmly. “oh, hello, logan!”

“can you say hello?” patton prompts, even though he knows it’s about eleven months until logan will start using basic words like hello or bye-bye, but he doesn’t so much as babble.

patton smiles apologetically, but she laughs.

“he’s a newborn, i don’t expect any of that yet,” she says reassuringly. “i heard from virgil that we can expect to see you at the family christmas?”

“oh, yes,” patton says, shifting logan in his arms. “turns out holiday pay is a first come, first serve thing, which i probably should have expected. thank you again, so much, for inviting me, by the way,” he adds hastily—he can hear his mother lecturing him about rudeness now, and then even the thought of his mom makes him sad—and she smiles.

“well, it’s just nice to meet a friend of virgil’s after,” she says, hesitates, and continues, “well, it’s just nice to meet one of virgil’s friends.”

that’s a strange way to put it. look, patton knows he’s practically sleepwalking, but that’s a strange way to put it, right?

“well, it’s nice of you to have us,” patton says.

“oh, my, what do we have here?” maria asks, as she comes down the hall. “patton, i hope she’s not corrupting you.”

“maria,” meredith says warmly.

“no, no, not at all,” patton says. “um, i was just thanking her for inviting me to the family christmas.”

maria smiles at meredith, putting a hand on patton’s shoulder. “well, how nice! i hate to steal patton from you, meredith, it’s just that if my employees don’t have a baby in the room i fear they’ll riot. honestly, they’ve been the best-behaved they’ve been in years when there’s a baby to be held.”

“why do you think mark and i kept having them?” meredith says dryly.

“we should get coffee, sometime, before you leave for the holiday,” maria says. 

they exchange a look that’s a bit too loaded for patton’s exhausted, sad brain to unparse right now.

“so lovely to see you back in town!” maria says, patting patton’s shoulder, which he takes as his cue to go.

“coffee, maria, really, i know where to find you,” meredith, and adds, “i’ll see you three later!”

“bye, mrs. danes!” patton calls.

“it’s meredith—”

“oh, mer, i’ve been trying to break him of his manners for a month,” he can hear maria say as he edges back into the kitchen, “i wish you luck with it.”

he enters the kitchen, and someone is at his side.

“i’ve washed my hands,” pauline says stiffly, and patton grins.

“pauline, would you like to hold the baby?”

“if you insist,” she says, as if she does not immediately cuddle logan close to her as soon as patton puts him in her arms, logan’s chubby fists opening and closing as he reaches for the fine silver chain that supports the modest, everpresent cross that hangs from pauline’s neck.

there’s the soft ting-ting-ting, and patton turns his attention to maria, who’s holding a glass and spoon aloft. 

"i’d say i’ll keep it short, but all of you know much better than that,” maria says cheerfully, to a chorus of chuckles. “now! it’s been a wonderful year so far, and i have high hopes that it will continue to be a wonderful year when i leave you all to fend for yourselves after tomorrow. and to ensue in our yearly tradition—”

“our yearly what?” patton says in an undertone to pauline, but pauline’s handing logan back and everyone’s getting up and standing in a circle, so patton hastens to follow.

“now,” meredith says, “we’ll start with cara, and move down the line.”

with a rush of aww s and chuckles, cara walks into the center of the circle with a bowed head and flushing cheeks. 

what’s happening? patton would ask, except everyone so clearly knows what’s happening already, so he just sinks a little further back into the round to see what—

“cara,” pauline says, “you are a great speaker. you have a natural ability to best explain to guests any plans thoroughly and articulately, all while answering any questions before they can be asked.”

“aw, thanks, pauline,” cara mumbles, face still bright red.

“cara,” rafael says, “you can solve problems for me in ten minutes that would take me six weeks to figure out.”

oh, patton realizes. it’s a compliment train.  

“cara,” maria says warmly, “i know that when i leave for the day, or i’m not there, i am leaving the inn in spectacular, capable hands, and i know that any inn you decide to work in once you’re done with your degree will be just about the luckiest inn in the world.”

and round and round they go, until they get to patton, who says, “cara, you really helped me settle in here, and i always know that when i walk by the front desk i’ll be greeted with a kind word and a smile. you’ve been so gentle with logan, which sets me at ease faster than anything when someone holds logan. you’ve given me a lot of comfort and i really hope you have a lovely holiday with even half the tenderness you’ve shown him, because you really deserve it.”

“oh,” cara says, a little choked up, “thanks, patton.”

“and let’s give it up for cara, everyone!” maria says, and everyone applauds. 

hector, rafael, cindy, maria, more and more, every employee of the inn has their time in the center of the circle. patton tries his hardest to impress on each and every one of them how welcome he feels, how grateful he is for them helping them, and he knows it’s not enough, not even close to enough, but the looks on their faces at least make patton feel like he’s at least started to pay them back somehow, and then—

“last of our new hires but certainly not least,” maria says warmly, “patton.”

patton’s face feels like it’s on fire, and he tightens his hold on logan as he steps cautiously into the center of the circle. 

“you parent us so effectively, and we’re older than you. logan’s going to turn out so well with you there to teach him everything—you are such a mixture of a teddy bear and a papa bear and i love it!”

“patton, you always try to build everyone up and you’re always so supportive of everything anyone does—you’re encouraging, and you always make an effort to reach out and compliment someone, which really means a lot to me when i’m having a rough time.”

“patton, you always try your hardest to do the right thing, and whether it’s as big as raising that beautiful baby of yours or as small as messing up a customer’s bed, you will always, always strive to make it better than it was before.”

“you are such a nurturing, loving, caring friend, and you are already an amazing father. logan is going to be so lucky to grow up with a dad as kind, understanding, and supportive as you.”

“patton, you always try to greet everyone with a smile and you are such a ray of sunshine to absolutely everyone you meet, it’s incredible. you are just such a... such a good person, like, disney levels of good, it’s almost like birds should do your hair every morning.”

around and around and around it goes, and when it gets to maria she steps forward, face creased with concern, and that’s when patton realizes he’s crying. 

“sorry,” he gasps out, and sniffs, loudly, wiping under his eyes with his sleeve. “sorry, sorry, i’m sorry—“

“oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry,” maria says. “if this is too much—“

“no,” patton says, and tries for a wobbly smile. “sorry, um, it’s—it’s hormones, i think, i’m okay, i’m just—” he swallows, and forges on. “i’m just really grateful for how kind and welcoming everyone has been, and everyone—everyone’s been so nice to me, and i just—” don’t deserve this, i don’t deserve this, why are you being so nice to me? i’m me, you shouldn’t be so nice to me, “ thank you.”

maria gently wraps an arm around his shoulders. “do you think you can handle one more?”

patton, sniffling, nods, smearing his sleeve under his eyes again.

“you have been,” she says, “a spectacular new hire. you’ve been a great employee, you’ve caught up well with your training, you clearly get along well with your coworkers—“

a rush of agreeing noises pour forth, and patton sobs, just a little, and maria squeezes him around the shoulders.

“—you have been so kind and welcoming. guests take notice, and we have taken notice, and patton—you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, as long as you need. i think that you are a remarkable young man who is working through a variety of unfortunate circumstances, but you face them admirably with a level of strength that i marvel at every day. even with everything that has happened to you, you have not let that affect you, and you remain to be one of the most unique, shining rays of kindness that i have ever met. you are gentle, and sweet, and a good father, and a good boy, who i would be privileged to watch grow into a good man. you are welcome here, and you are loved. more than you know.”

he’s trying to look at maria, but her face is blurring up and he can feel his face crumpling up, and there’s something lodged in his throat that won’t let him say “thank you” in anything louder than a rasp.

“yeah, we love you, patton,” rafael says warmly, as maria draws him in for a hug.

“we love you, patton!” cindy.

“te amo como un hijo!” hector.

patton buries his face in maria’s shoulder, just for a second, trying to get it together enough to thank them, to try to communicate how much it means to him, how much he loves it here, and how much of that is due to the people.

whatever he says, he knows it won’t be enough.

it won’t ever be enough.

but, patton thinks, as maria squeezes his shoulder and murmurs “truly, we do,” in his ear, maybe it can be a start.

⁂

patton doesn’t even know what day it is, really, but cara had been put under instructions re: making patton go for walks and eat something other than inn leftovers, so she’s shooed him out of the front room for dinner. taking logan on a walk and getting some fresh air sounds like a great idea, until—

“oh, shoot,” patton says in an undertone, as soon as he feels the familiar plop! of a cold drop on his head, and immediately places a protective hand over logan’s head as he rushes for safety under the nearest building’s eaves.

and not a moment too soon—it seems like as soon as he gets safely under the roof, that weird precipitation that’s somewhere between rain and snow pours upon the sidewalk, and patton directs a stream of air toward his bangs.

right. he’s stuck here, then, at the...

oh.

he’s at the church.

he’s seen the church, of course; it’s within eyesight of the diner, near the center of town, so of course he’s seen it. he knows that the priest and the rabbi share the space, since the town is so tiny it can’t really justify two separate places of worship, so all of them shared the historical building. it’s pretty, and big, but nothing like the stone behemoth that his parents usually attended—this is white, with a big black door and a steeple, just big enough that it would hold a congregation. 

he hasn’t been to this one. he hasn’t been to a church in a while, actually. well, he’d gone before he’d told his parents about pregnancy, trying to win them over before he had to dump life-changing news on them, too, but prior to that had been them inviting over reverend boatwright to talk to patton about the gift of his “virtue” and that had gone over with about the grace and subtlety of a lead balloon. he hadn’t been to church in a long time, really. ever since, well—ever since he realized he was a he.  

his feelings toward church have skewed toward complicated since then.

patton chews at his lip. on one hand, it’s the middle of the day, but on the other, it’s in the middle of the christmas season, which meant that there might be a service, which he really doesn’t want to interrupt. he can peek in and see if it’s busy, he figures. that’d be a good compromise.

still keeping his hand over logan’s head, in case of any stray raindrops, he slowly ascends the stairs and reaches the big black door, which has two signs on it. patton squints, adjusting his glasses to read them—one details the jewish services, the other christian. both say all are welcome.

apparently, there isn’t much going on right now, but they’ve got something happening soon.

patton takes his chances. he takes a deep breath. he eases open the door as quietly as he can. 

no one’s in the opening section of the church. it feels strangely anticlimactic.

patton cautiously removes logan from his chest, adjusting so that he’ll cradle logan in his arms instead, and settles carefully on one of the benches that’s relatively out of the way.

“all right, love, we’ve got some time to kill,” patton says. “how’s your day been?”

logan babbles at him, and babbles even more, culminating in waving his arms around and a smile, and patton makes a shocked face.

“goodness, you did all that?! where was i, for all this?”

logan pulls a face at him, scrunching up his nose, as if to say silly daddy, and patton laughs.

“yeah, you’re right, i’m sure,” patton says, and surveys his surroundings. it’s decorated, but not in the way he’d expect; cloths of gold and silver descend from the ceiling, like streamers, almost, a christmas tree in a corner, menorahs gleaming proudly in the windowsills, a manger tucked away in an alcove, poinsettias overflowing from anything that might have been an empty space. it’s warm in here, really—warmer than patton would expect.

logan babbles more— pay attention to me! — and patton obligingly turns his attention back to him, tickling logan’s belly, feeling his heart swell up as logan smiles again. 

god, patton had had no idea he could love someone so much.

patton leans to kiss logan on the forehead, before he asks, “tummy time, d’you think?”

logan doesn’t really respond. which is fair, he’s a baby.

“tummy time it is,” patton says, and carefully adjusts so that he’s lying on the bench, legs awkwardly splayed and spilling over the edges so that he can stay balanced, and carefully eases logan onto his chest, on his stomach. he is kind of worried that logan isn’t getting enough time on his stomach, since patton carries him around so much and then when patton’s sleeping he’s in the crib, so he’s trying to do it more and more. the trouble is, it’s difficult to do that when his job has him on his feet so much.

logan thumps his fist on patton’s chest, and patton tries not to wince, before logan settles in place.

“there we go,” patton says. honestly, he’s not very comfortable at all, but, well. as long as logan is, that’s what matters. “how about that, huh?”

logan settles, and so does patton.

it’s been a fairly calm day. even though the holidays mean that there’s a lot of people flocking to sideshire to see relatives, everyone’s so frequently out of their rooms that it’s been easy for him to steal into rooms and tidy them up. a lot of employees are taking leave for their holiday plans, maria included, but it seems to even out.

really, patton’s kind of at a loss—he isn’t sure if this is a holiday thing, or if it means he’s getting used to the way things go here. on one hand, he’s happy about that. he likes it here, he wants to stay here, and it’s a good sign that he’s settling. on the other...

well, he’s settling here. not back with his mom and dad. thoughts of going back to school at chilton are starting to seem strange, foreign; why would he need to learn geometry proofs? that isn’t going to help him take care of his baby.  

patton lets out a sigh, watching logan rise and fall on his chest, and fixes his eyes on the ceiling.

he’s spent his nights since he got the papers biting his nails down to the quick and worrying about this. he won’t worry about it now.

he won’t.

honestly, if he wasn’t so uncomfortable on this bench, he’d be close to falling asleep. the sound of the rain pattering on the roof and pavement, the warmth of the room, the gentle twinkling lights strung about the room—there’s something inherently calming about it.

of course, that’s when logan starts crying.

“oh, honey,” he says, dismayed, sitting up carefully, “oh, oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

he doesn’t need a diaper change, and, after a quick sojourn to the bathroom (god, patton loves the prolific presence of unisex, family restrooms in sideshire, no gender strangeness about going into the one that usually has a changing table and no lack of a changing table when he goes into the one for the gender he is) logan isn’t hungry, which means it’s probably colic, which means that patton has to, mostly, wait it out.

patton mumble-sings “blue christmas” as he walks laps around the church’s reception area, bouncing logan as he goes, and then “rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,” then “joy to the world,” then “twelve days of christmas.” none of them really help, and patton keeps darting nervous glances toward the church, hoping that the crying baby isn’t disturbing whatever might be going on in there, and—

“oh, i don’t think i know you,” and patton turns, flustered, patting logan on the back.

“i—no, i’m new in town,” patton says. “i’m so sorry, usually i’d take him outside, but with the rain—“

“no, no,” the reverend says—and he has to be a priest or a reverend, he’s wearing the clerical collar—and gestures. “just david and i here, decorating the main space. is it colic?”

patton huffs a breath toward his bangs, trying to get his curls out of his eyes. “yeah, how’d you know?”

he smiles. “lucky guess. how old is he?”

“about seven weeks.”

“i’ve seen babies for baptisms for years. may i—?”

“oh!” patton says, even more flustered. “um, of course, sure, just—”

pattno carefully hands over logan, and, with a practiced, professional flip that still makes patton jolt forward, heart in his throat, hands up as if to catch logan if he dropped him, the priest positions logan so that he’s on his stomach, his head still pillowed by the priest’s elbow, body balanced along his arm, and, with several firm pats to logan’s back, logan hiccups and falls silent.

“i,” patton says, “how did you—how did you just do that?”

“colic carry,” the priest says, lifting logan slightly, as if in demonstration. “uncommon trick, and really it doesn’t usually work this quickly, but. still useful.”

“oh,” patton says, breathless. “i—thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he says. “your name...?”

“oh!” patton says, shaking himself. “right, i’m sorry—i’m patton, i moved here about a month ago.”

“archie skinner,” he says. 

“nice to meet you,” patton says. “would you mind, um. showing me how to hold him like that?”

the priest smiles, and shows patton how to position his arm, before he gently transfers logan back to him, and patton adjusts to this new, unfamiliar, frankly miraculous way to hold him.

“forgive me for asking, but are you religious?” archie asks. “i don’t think i’ve seen you, but of course you might be more familiar with david—“

“i,” patton begins, and huffs a breath. “to be fully honest, that’s a good question.”

“oh?”

“i used to go to church a lot more when i was younger,” patton explains. “but then i, um, well. at my parents’ church, they didn’t seem very pleased that i was... well, like i am.”

archie frowns. “i’m sorry you had that experience.”

“yeah, well,” patton says, and shrugs, mindful of how he’s carrying logan. “it is what it is, i guess.”

“well, i’d invite you to sit in, if you like,” archie says, “except for the next few hours, we’ll be doing reconciliation.”

patton frowns. “i thought that was an easter thing?”

“traditionally, yes,” archie says. “however, some parishioners prefer a more frequent opportunity, so we do it once every three months or so.”

patton absorbs this, and archie gestures.

“well. if you and—?”

“logan.”

“—logan would like to come in, we certainly won’t make you sit out here to wait out the rain.”

“thank you,” patton says, and he follows him into the (church? temple?) worship space. 

there is a man with a yarmulke in a corner—david barans, the rabbi, patton guesses—who’s making sure that a gold cloth stays affixed, as archie disappears into the confessional.

eventually, david leaves too, and patton slowly relaxes back into the pew as people slowly filter in.

he falls back into the sort of lull he’d been in before—the rain, the soft piano music in the background, the low, flickering light of the candles, logan falling asleep and staying asleep when patton cautiously eases back onto the pew and sets logan on his chest for pseudo-tummy-time, cradling logan’s head—and startles a little when someone sits beside him.

“i didn’t know you were catholic,” pauline comments, and patton rubs at his eyes.

“mostly on a technicality,” patton says. “went to church growing up, that kind of thing.”

pauline nods. “well. reverend skinner has good sermons each week, if you’d like to join.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and shrugs. “weekend hours, you know.”

“yes,” pauline says. “i do.”

a long pause.

pauline’s an older lady, with hair that’s a strange shade between blonde and gray, and an ever-present cross around her neck. she almost always wears twinsets, sweaters and slacks, skirtsuits that remind him of his mom, tights that never have runs in them, sensible, neutral-colored heels. her hair’s cropped close to her head. it’s curling a little, just at the edges, probably from the stray drops of rain that had gotten to her, despite the umbrella folded up in her left hand. 

“are you going to penance?”

“oh—i, um, i just got caught up in the rain and i ran for cover, ‘cause, you know,” patton says, lifting logan ever so slightly.

“hm,” pauline says. “well, you might think about it. i’ve found that penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it may be difficult, but when i walk out of the church, i feel... lighter. it might give you some form of closure. perhaps it would help.”

patton sits, silent, not quite able to meet her eyes. yeah, patton, starting to cry because people were too nice to you at the christmas party was a great move.

“i know you’ve had quite a year,” she says. “acknowledging that may help you move forward, in anticipation of the new year. but either way,” pauline says, and offers her hand. “though it’s not mass... may peace be with you.”

patton smiles, and shakes her hand. “peace be with you.”

“i hope that for you,” pauline says. “genuinely. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.”

patton folds his lip under his teeth and swallows. “thank you,” he croaks. “that’s—that’s very nice, pauline. i appreciate it.”

pauline nods, and she stands, smoothing her hands down her skirt, before she moves to where the line has dwindled to one person for reconciliation.

penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it might give you some form of closure. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.

patton blows out a slow breath. “all right,” he says under his breath. “what could it hurt?”

and so, after pauline enters the reconciliation confessional, patton stands and slowly moves toward the line. 

when she exits to see him there, she looks startled, only for a moment, before she offers him a rare smile.

“i’ll be praying for you,” she says.

“thank you,” patton says softly, and he slowly enters the confessional, settling in the seat, shifting logan just slightly.

patton takes one deep breath, two, before he admits, “it’s been a while since i’ve done this, i can’t remember—”

“forgive me father, for i have sinned,” archie prompts gently.

“right, right,” patton says, and swallows, swiping his free hand along his jeans to get rid of the sweat, then swapping his hold on logan so he can do the same for the other. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. it’s been... i think two and a half years since my last confession.”

“may god the father of all mercies help you make a good confession,” the priest says formally.

patton swallows, hard, eyes suddenly stinging. 

“um, i’ve. i’ve lied,” he says. “to my parents, teachers, and friends. about who i am, what was happening to me. if i was happy or sad. if i’d done the work that was asked of me. about where i am, and what my plans were. are. i was—i am— deceitful and secretive.”

no response. patton guesses he’s just supposed to keep going, then.

“i’ve been angry,” he says, and suddenly it’s difficult to look at logan, and the guilt that comes from saying all of this out loud, and how is he supposed to feel lighter? “about—about the way others treated me, and i know i’m supposed to turn the other cheek, but i—i didn’t, sometimes, and i spoke in words of anger or hurt, but it doesn’t take away the fact that it was mean.

“i’ve been sad,” patton says, “and ungrateful, and i didn’t properly cherish what i had, what i could have. i’ve been prideful, and greedy, and lustful, and wrathful, and envious. it feels like i’m making my way down the list of the deadly seven, so. there’s that.

“i’ve drank—alcohol, i mean—and i’ve drank too much, a few times, and i can’t remember all the stuff i’ve done then but it was probably pretty bad. i’m not sure if that’s a sin, but it feels like it should be, especially since i’m not of age.”

he chews his lip, and says, “i’ve snuck out of the house, and lied about where i was, and shut out my parents for asking where i was. sometimes, i’d just... disappear. sneak out of the window, or wait until they were asleep, but i’d just sneak out of the house. i’m sure i’ve worried them terribly.”

“i’ve been...” he says, and his voice cracks. “i’ve been a terrible son. i’ve lied to my parents. i’ve been cruel to them. i ran away from home without a word, and there’s only been one phone call to tell that i’m not dead, which feels like i’m being unthoughtful at the least. i’ve caused them so much worry, and pain, and i’m stuck in the middle of a choice that will either hurt me and my son, or hurt them even more, and i—i don’t know if it’s a sin, choosing to hurt them, but it feels like it should be. and i—i don’t know what to do?”

a beat, and then patton adds, “oh, i guess i had premarital sex, too. um, that’s a sin,” he says, with a sobbing kind of laugh, swiping his fingers under his eyes. “i don’t know if having a child outside of marriage is a sin, but it probably is, ‘cause of the whole sex thing, so add that one on there. i’ve done a lot of bad things over the past couple years, but i think i covered the big ones and i wouldn’t want to keep you for hours.”

“that’s quite a list,” archie says, and patton gulps.

“yeah.”

“it must have weighed on you quite heavily.”

“yeah,” patton says, and a sob escapes him, involuntarily. “it—yeah.”

“and you are truly seeking repentance?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i think i—yeah.”

“well,” archie says. “i’m afraid my advice mostly follows on what you’ve been doing, which is changing your ways—you’re making a living, you’re caring for your son.”

patton blinks, sniffling. “isn’t the advice usually to pray my rosary five times, or something?”

“well, if you feel it’ll help, you can certainly do that too, i’m sure mary wouldn’t be opposed,” archie says reasonably. “but repentance —true repentance, in my mind—is a marked, vested interest in change. i certainly think that you’re doing that.”

“i’m changing,” patton says wearily. “trust me, i’m changing. to say the least.”

“quite,” archie says. “and... i suppose the rosaries and stopping by more church services couldn’t hurt, wouldn’t you say?”

patton manages a giggle—a snotty, gross one, but a giggle. “sure. i’ll say some rosaries.”

“all right,” archie says. “do you remember the act of contrition? i can walk you through it, if you like.”

so archie walks him through it, before he says, “god, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the holy spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. through the ministry of the church, may god give you pardon and peace. and i absolve you from your sins in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit.”

“amen,” patton says.

“now,” archie says. “go forth, and go in peace.”

patton hesitates, before he says, “thank you” and quickly scuttles out of the confessional.

he’s re-strapping logan to his chest out front, listening keenly for the rain, by the time archie re-emerges from the church.

“oh!” patton says, “um—“

archie holds up a hand, and says, “if you prefer, i can stick very firmly to the whole ‘confessionals are private’ aspect of it.”

patton blows out a slow breath of relief. “yes, i’d appreciate it.”

he makes sure that logan’s secure in the carrier, and archie nods at him.

“well,” he says, “you’d certainly be welcome at our christmas mass, if you like.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and admits, “i’m spending christmas with the danes’, so i’m not really sure of my schedule.”

“oh, they’re fine people,” archie says. “have a nice day, and a merry christmas.”

“you too, reverend,” patton says, and opens the black door, about to step out into the square, before—

“patton?”

“yes?” patton asks, turning around.

archie smiles thinly, before he says, “you do realize that who you’ve been offering to pray to—well, mary was an unwed teenage parent too, you know.”

patton’s lip quirks. he runs a hand over logan’s downy hair.

“huh,” he says thoughtfully. “you know, i guess she was.”

⁂

“hey. hope you didn’t get caught in the rain.”

“no, no,” patton says, and tilts his head. “well—i did, a bit, but i managed to steal away into the church so we didn’t get too drenched.”

“oh, that’s—good,” virgil says, and similarly tilts his head. “i didn’t know you were—?”

“raised catholic,” patton says. “i like church better here, i think. it seems less—”

“homophobic slash transphobic, yeah,” virgil says dryly. “archie’s nice, he and david stop in here sometimes.”

“that’s good,” patton says. “how’s, um, the family being in town going?”

“good enough, i guess,” virgil says, scratching at his temple with the eraser-end of his pencil. “um—they’re over there.”

patton glances to where he’s gesturing to see freddie, meredith, mark, and three people he doesn’t know in a booth.

“esther and silas,” virgil elaborates. “they’re twins, second and third oldest. oh, and essie’s fiancée annabelle, too, she’s the one in pink. wyatt’s coming sometime tomorrow morning, he’s oldest.”

“the surgeon?”

“the surgeon,” virgil confirms. 

“should i go over and introduce myself?” patton asks uncertainly.

“mom and dad will take care of that for you,” virgil says. “can i put in your order?”

“pasta with marinara and parmesan cheese?” patton asks.

“side salad too?”

“sure, side salad too. and—“

“don’t say it,” he says, trying not to sigh.

“c’mon, please,” patton begs. “i need caffeine, c’mon, look at that face. look at that little baby face—“

“don’t bring the baby into this—“

“i have to bring the baby into this, he’s why i need it to stay awake to make sure i can take care of him, virgil, and you want him taken care of, don’t you?” patton wheedles. virgil hesitates. wavers. sighs.

“you’re on a limit, you hear me?”

“‘course,” patton says happily.

“i mean it,” he says sternly.

“uh-huh, sure,” patton says. 

“i’m serious.”

“of course you are,” patton says, and he must do a better job of looking less gloaty that time, because virgil sighs and notes it and heads back to the kitchen.

and, true to virgil’s word, meredith gets up and then gestures for everyone else to get up, and patton hastily waves at her, trying to get her not to, because really he’s just one person (well, one person and one very tiny person, who is easily carried) and that’s six people, so he quickly cuts across the diner before they can move to get up.

“hi,” patton says. 

“hi!” meredith says cheerfully. “this is our son, silas—“

silas, who looks the most like virgil of any of the siblings patton has seen so far, nods his head in a little jerk of acknowledgment. 

“—our daughter, esther—“

“essie,” she corrects, in a voice that’s bright and cheerful, and patton likes her immediately.

“—and esther’s fiancée annabelle,” meredith finishes.

annabelle, whose hair is pulled back into twin puffs, smiles at him, her white teeth a contrast against her perfectly smooth, dark skin.

“nice to meet you,” she says.

“nice to meet you too,” patton says. “um—i’m patton, this is my son, logan.” 

my son. still so new, so wonderful to say.

“would you like to have dinner with us?” meredith asks.

“oh!” patton says. “well, i mean—you don’t have to, i know it’s probably family time, and—”

“nonsense!” meredith says. “plenty of space, you’re joining us for christmas, the proximity to a baby—“

“please distract them,” essie says, jokingly, “dad keeps asking about wedding plans and i think he’s the only one who cares about napkin colors.”

“details are important,” mark says.

“not when the wedding’s still nearly two years away, they don’t,” annabelle quips.

“i—okay,” patton says, and so they end up pulling an extra chair at the table and mark basically immediately lays claim to holding logan first. 

virgil exits from the kitchen, looks confused, before he lays eyes on patton and strides over.

“your caffeine, which again you know is limited,” virgil scolds.

patton’s about to say something teasing, like you’re not the boss of me or something, but a voice cuts in.

“surely he’s old enough to decide if he wants caffeine if he has a baby,” the brother—silas—says, and patton falters, fingers withdrawing from the mug. there’s just—something. in his tone. that reminds him of withdrawing into a corner at chilton. which isn’t—it’s stupid, it’s his tone, it’s not like he’s said anything especially hurtful, but—

“ silas matthew,” mark says.

“what, he does,” silas says. 

“yeah, he does, but he’s my friend and i don’t want him overdosing on caffeine, si,” virgil says, and silas scowls.

patton tries to come up with something to say, fails, and ends up shifting in his seat as virgil and his brother glare daggers at each other, before virgil double-checks that everyone’s drink is okay and going back to the kitchen.

he’s my friend.

well—of course, patton had thought that virgil was his friend, he’d said when they met, hadn’t he, i’ll be your person, but he just kind of figured that virgil was being nice and helpful, but—

he’s my friend.

no one other than christopher has voluntarily called patton their friend since he came out. (and even christopher was pretty leery about doing that in public.)

patton directs his smile into his mug of hot cocoa/coffee.

the conversation moves on swiftly. annabelle ends up prodding essie into telling a story from work, and she’s apparently a coding analyst (seriously, the array of jobs in this family???) and has a horrific coworker. really, it’s mostly annabelle venting about how essie gets taken advantage of at work, and essie going “well, i wouldn’t say” and annabelle going “no, you deserve better,” and the only time essie really indulges in the venting is when it comes to the way the coworker treats other coworkers. 

honestly? patton can admire a partner sticking up for their partner. he’d like to have a partner like that one day.

oh, great. and now he’s thinking of christopher, and that distinct, bittersweet but way more bitter than sweet ending, and his “what are you going to do?” and patton doesn’t know what he’s going to do and now he’s gotta redirect his train of thought now .

“hey, pat, watch out, hot plate,” virgil says, and patton lets out a sigh of relief that he hopes isn’t too noticeable. “plus, salad.”

“thanks, v.”

“aaand parmesan,” he says, setting the little adorable bowl with the little adorable spoon that the diner uses to give out things like parmesan. 

“it looks great,” patton says truthfully, and, after virgil withdraws, patton folds his hands in his lap. 

it takes a couple minutes for meredith to glance sidelong at hm.

“are you not hungry, patton, sweetheart?” meredith asks, and oh no, now everyone is looking at him, and—and patton, sweetheart, the same way he says logan, sweetheart, is that just a parent thing or?

“oh, no i am, but—“ patton says, ruffled, “but, i, um, it—the way i was raised, you wait until everyone has gotten their food before you start eating, or else it’s—or else you’re being rude. so.”

“what planet are you from?” silas asks, and sure, said by anyone else, it could be a joke, but—but it’s that tone again, and—

“silas,” essie hisses.

“ what, i know you’re thinking it too—“

“look, i—maybe a little, before i met patton, but look at him, he seems perfectly nice, he’s been nothing but polite, he doesn’t seem anything like—”

“kids,” meredith says, clipped, and both fall silent. patton swallows.

“you can eat,” meredith says gently. “really, eat. even the best pasta never tastes very good cold. i promise we won’t think you’re rude.”

patton chews his lip for a few seconds, but everyone is staring at him still, and just to make them stop he picks up his fork and starts mixing up the salad, so the dressing’s more easily dispersed, and taking a bite.

(if he eats his salad first, it’s almost like he’s the only person who ordered something during the salad and soup course, and that—that isn’t rude, refusing to eat that would mean that a waiter wouldn’t come to clear it away and everyone would have to wait longer for their food, so eating that quickly was polite, so there!)

he manages to make eating his salad last until everyone else’s food gets there, and so, cringing only slightly, licks off his fork and uses the same one to eat his pasta. when he’d first asked for an extra fork, virgil had asked if his had fallen on the ground, and he said, “no, you just forgot to give me a salad fork,” and virgil had laughed for about ten seconds before saying “oh, you’re serious?”

he can practically feel his etiquette teacher entering death throes at the faintest whiff of what he’s doing right now—well, if everything else patton had already done wouldn’t have killed her first.

he digs into his pasta a moment after meredith takes a bite out of her french dip.

everyone eats slowly; patton stays mostly quiet, listening as attentively as he can, as they reminisce about family times past, laughing at jokes when he understands them, passing condiments when necessary.

so he listens and learns things. it turns out annabelle’s a pediatric nurse, and silas installs and repairs electrical power lines. esther’s food-themed nickname is pumpkin and silas’ is peanut, and meredith and mark spend a solid minute attempting to debate one for annabelle, now that she’s just about part of the family. apparently, the danes’ do a big breakfast-for-dinner thing on christmas, which sounds delicious, frankly, and patton should not be sad about the slim-to-none chance of them having something apple-tart-adjacent being snatched away, it was absurd to even privately hope for it anyway. it turns out that that tone wasn’t just a silas thing, wasn’t just how silas talked, it’s just how silas talks when he talks to patton ; he seems quiet, like virgil, and patton guesses virgil’s dad, which is fine, of course, it’s more than fine, but—but what did patton do? he didn’t say anything mean to him, he wasn’t rude, he was just—he’s just patton.

well. it’s not like silas is the first person to dislike patton just because of who he is. and it’s not like people usually tell him the reasons why, other than the transphobic ones.

other than that—which really patton should have seen coming, honestly, he’s him, sideshire had been too good to be true, it’s almost a sign that patton hasn’t exited reality now that someone sees and acts like he's unlikeable again, a near-comforting return to earth—the dinner’s really nice. annabelle and esther are an adorable, lovely couple, and mark and meredith are welcoming, which he knew already, and even silas is kind of funny—a little like virgil, but virgil’s funnier than silas, and virgil’s much less acidic about it.

when patton moves to stretch his back, he can’t help but notice that the diner’s practically empty. it’s just them, and a few workers, and virgil at the register, punching some order or other in. the family starts drifting slowly out, and logan, of course, starts crying, so patton says his goodbyes and bears logan away to the bathroom to see if he needs anything. 

it turns out he’s hungry, and patton hates the prickle of unease he feels in his stomach, every time. he’d read books, articles, and so many talked about the joy of feeding your baby, and the joyful bonding with your baby, and yes, there are parts of it patton likes—the way logan seems to reach for him, relaxing in his arms, the opportunity to sit down alone with logan and just be with him, and to be sure that he’s well-fed and happy. that stuff, patton likes.

it’s all the rest of it—the technical, practical, actual stuff that tends to come with feeding logan—that patton really strongly heavily dislikes. which he feels terrible about, and then feels terrible that he feels terrible, and it’s this terrible, terrible cycle. 

so patton tries his best to focus on the parts he likes, and not the aspects of dysphoria that nearly crush him, he tries, he really does, but it’s hard.

but he does it. and he breathes a sigh of relief when it’s all done, the way he always does, before he walks around and burps logan and makes sure they’re both all settled in and ready to present themselves to society, the routine ending parts that he uses to redirect his thoughts and not think about top dysphoria.

patton’s about to turn the corner to walk back into the diner, where silas is the only one left at the table, knotting his scarf around his neck, except—except there’s a shadowy figure looming at the door, and then the person walks in.

he’s never even seen this person before and frankly, there’s a lot to look at. sure, he doesn’t know everyone at sideshire, but complete and total strangers that he’s never even seen before have been rarer and rarer.

this man, he would have remembered.

though he doesn’t look very old, he’s got a strong white streak in his hair that patton isn’t entirely sure is dye. he has a mustache, too, one of the ones that an old-timey villain strapping some poor damsel to the train tracks would have, and bags under his eyes that might even rival virgil’s. but what really makes him stand out is the outfit.

he’s wearing a velvet-y looking tophat, black with a moldy green ribbon wound around the base of it, sitting jauntily slanted on his head, like it’s about to fall off. the ribbon matches his moldy green, velvety suit jacket that he’s wearing over a t-shirt that patton’s pretty sure says art thou nasty? in that old-timey, blackletter font that’s always in storybooks. he’s also wearing overalls, or maybe just really high-waisted pants with matching suspenders, patton can’t tell, with an eyewatering hawaiian-shirt type pattern in too-neon oranges and greens. and heeled boots, with a curled toe, the kinds elves are always shown wearing in santa’s workshop.

if his fashion sense is always like that, patton really would have remembered seeing him.

silas, on the other hand, looks like he definitely knows who this man is—he almost bares his teeth in a kind of snarl, which the man doesn’t notice.

“oh, virgil!” the man trills in a nasally, somewhat unpleasant voice, and virgil peeks in from the kitchen.

“remus, hey, man,” virgil says. “we’re closing up, so food’s probably out of the question, but i could get you some coffee or someth—“

“can’t a man see his old buddy, old chum?” the man—remus, patton guesses—says, with a twirl of his hand.

“i mean, i guess,” virgil says. “why... now, though?”

remus grins, and turns in his seat to wiggle his fingers at silas with a near-flirtatious wink. silas looks like he’s fuming.

“yeah,” virgil comments. “okay, i see your point.”

remus turns back in his chair, and, in the process, locks eyes with patton, who’s just—he doesn’t know why he isn’t walking out into the diner, but now they’re in the middle of a conversation and it would be awkward— and winks again, before turning his attention fully back to virgil.

“ anyway,” remus says. “today, i bring forth the news that pregnancy is, quite possibly, one of the most disgusting things to happen to the human body and i am enamored with the concept.”

“you’re telling me this on the day before christmas eve?” virgil says.

“seriously, i mean, think about it,” remus says. “your body thinks that thing is a parasite. you pee yourself a little when you even sneeze. your nose can just start bleeding out of nowhere, like you’re possessed or something! isn’t that awesome?”

“not for pregnant people, i’m sure,” virgil says.

“puking, rashes, random lines appearing all over your body, drooling and hemorrhoids and weird ankle swelling, and you can see the baby moving under your belly like it’s about to be a chestburster from alien, ” remus rattles off happily. “did you know that the whole start to giving birth is losing your mucus plug? that even sounds nasty!”

“man, rem, if only you could get pregnant to have all these joyous experiences,” virgil says, with the expression that makes it seem like he’s heard monologues like this before and that this is not, even in the slightest, a weird occurrence for this man.

“well, with my help, isadora is, and that’ll have to be good enough,” remus says.

patton’s never seen virgil’s jaw drop before. it’s kinda funny.

“i,” virgil says, and, clearly looking for something to say, mouth moving with words he’s trying to articulate, but he can only say “ what?”

remus tosses something like he’s throwing confetti, and patton recognizes the familiar filmy texture of a sonogram as it flutters through the air, landing on the counter with a crinkling noise as it folds on impact.

“it’ll be three months on the seventh, so she’s finally cleared off her threats of practicing very elaborate knife tricks on me so i can start telling people now,” remus says. “and i am telling everyone. everything. about pregnancy. it is so gross. it’s practically seven novels worth of gross. i can’t believe people just walk around pretending like it’s all pregnancy glow and gentle little kicks and slightly odd cravings, people can crave lead and babies can break ribs, you know?”

virgil slowly picks up the prints, paging through them, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“that is either going to be the weirdest baby on the face of the planet, or the most terrifyingly disciplined one, and i can’t figure out which idea freaks me out more,” he admits.

“yes, isadora thought the combination of our genes would be a gamble, but frankly it is a gamble i was very willing to make,” remus says. 

“you’re having a baby,” virgil repeats, and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “holy shit, man, you’re having a kid. congratulations.”

remus grins. patton isn’t sure if that’s his “i’m very happy” smile or what, but he looks... just slightly deranged. maybe that’s just his face, though, patton shouldn’t be passing judgment.

“so. that’s what i wanted to tell you.”

“yeah, good thing you did,” virgil says. “wow. a kid .”

a pause, before virgil continues, “i feel like i should get you something—you want coffee, on the house? that’s about the most i can do right now, i don’t have champagne or anything.”

“with mayonnaise and orange soda, remember.”

patton nearly pukes. god, he hopes he means all of that separately.

“how could i possibly forget, you absolute freak of nature,” virgil says, and he sounds fond. “i’ll be right back.”

a brief pause as virgil vanishes into the kitchen.

“fuck you,” silas says.

“aw, honeyface, you say the nicest things,” remus says, “i know you’re straight, you know i’m gay, but even i have to draw a line at fucking the tedious big brothers of my friends. i mean, look at you. you’re just too vanilla for me, sweetiebear, you couldn’t handle all this without your mind melting out of your ears like jell-o with fruit inside.”

patton’s nose wrinkles at that mental picture. ick.

“you know what i mean, you psychopath,” silas says. “stay away from my brother.”

“oh, but he wants me here, si,” remus says.

“don’t call me that.”

“—i mean, at least i’m his friend, you couldn’t get along with virgil if your life depended on it,” remus says, almost amused. “doesn’t that just frustrate you, si? don’t you want to put those big, strong hands of yours around his neck and choke him, you get so angry?”

“shut up,” silas snarls.

“you can tell me to shut up all you like, but i never will,” remus says, grinning, and he definitely looks more than slightly deranged. “i know you’ve thought about it, si, you must have, or are you forgetting those times he’d show up to me with a bloody nose and i’d come up with a plan?”

“we were—we were fucking kids, that’s not—“

“oh, it’s not the same,” remus simpers. “it’s not the same, anymore, of course it’s not, you’re both big boys, i bet your brain has gone into those big boy scenarios. what do you think would work best?”

patton shrinks further and further behind the doorway, a mounting sense of horror growing with remus’ every word.

“knife, do you think? it’d be ironic if you killed him in his own diner, with his own knife. or maybe you just nudge him the wrong way and he trips on down the stairs and just a tiny little broken bone in exactly the right place, that’s all it would take. or—“

“i’m not killing my brother,” silas says. “i want you to stay the fuck away from him.”

“oh, of course not you’re not killing your brother, si,” remus says. “but i bet you want to kill me. that’d keep me away for a very... long... time , wouldn’t it?”

a silence looms, so great and so dense that even patton, who isn’t even involved in the conversation, feels like he’s being crushed under the weight of it. patton holds his breath, and clings to logan, praying that he doesn’t wake up and start crying and draw attention to where patton is hidden away, where he can see virgil emerging from the kitchen.

virgil pauses, a gently steaming to-go cup in his hand, and surveys the room, where silas stands with shaking fists and remus lounges indolently at the counter. he surveys them for one moment. two.

“sorry, remus,” virgil says quietly, breaking the silence, but not the tension. “i think you better go. but it’s, um. bottom of the pot, near-burned stuff. just like you like it.”

“right, right, closing and then yelling at your brother, i get it,” remus says, swiping the to-go cup and taking an experimental sip and sighing exaggeratedly. “you’re good to me, v. it’s absolutely horrific. merry christmas, happy hanukkah, jocund kwanzaa, mirthful yule, blithe saturnalia, all that jazz. i’ll sacrifice a goat for you.”

“even after all these years, i can never tell if you’re joking,” virgil says.

“and,” remus says, with a doff of his cap before he puts it on, just as crooked as before, “you never shall. ta-ta, honeyface, bye, shmoopsie-pudding, call me up if you ever want death via hookup!”

he jumps in the air, clicks his heels, and twirls his way out the door.

well , patton thinks. that’s certainly a first impression.

and there’s that silence again, before—

“what the fuck is he doing here.”

“you heard him, silas, he’s gonna have a kid,” virgil says, sounding exhausted. “he wanted to tell me.”

“does he come around often?”

“yeah, shocker, he comes to one of three places to eat in town sometimes,” virgil says. “leave it.”

“am i supposed to leave it when you start breaking windows at doose’s grocery again?” silas retorts, and patton blinks.

virgil’s jaw works, for a few seconds, before he says, “remus is my friend. did we do dumb shit? yeah, we did. is it any of your business? no, so—”

“it’s my business, you’re my brother,” silas snaps. “this was mom and dad’s diner, i’m not going to let you ruin it—“

“i’m not going to fucking ruin it, i’ve been running it just fine on my own—“

“—if you keep talking with him, you are going to ruin it, you ruin everything,” silas bites out.

virgil removes the towel on his shoulder and throws it down on the counter furiously. “i didn’t realize we were seven again, si—”

“don’t call me—”

“—i’m running the diner well, it’s going fine, and just because you’re bitter that i happen to like my job and you hate yours—”

“—you’re going to ruin it, like you ruined mom and dad when you were acting like you did with him—”

“i did not ruin mom and dad,” virgil says sharply. “do they seem ruined, to you?”

“—they were worried about you all the fucking time, because they knew when you’d get home you’d have some other shit that you got into because you just surround yourself with bad people—“

“—you included, apparently,” virgil mutters, not quite under his breath.

“and that kid that’s coming to christmas now?”

virgil tenses; patton draws back further into the shadows, praying and praying and praying that logan will stay asleep.

“what’s his fucking deal, then?” silas snaps. “how old is he, fifteen, and he’s got a baby? i mean, jesus christ, could he not stop to think for five seconds?”

patton swallows, hard, staring at his own feet.

“shut up, silas.”

“what, is he like, the teenage version of remus, now? god, poor kid. poor remus’ kid, seriously, there should be a ban on people like that procreating—“

“i said,” virgil says, looking angrier than patton’s ever seen him, “shut the fuck up, silas. he’s a good kid, he needs help, what kind of shit are you going through to push your issues with remus onto him ?”

“i mean, seriously,” silas says. “where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—“

“get the fuck out.”

silas stops. “what did you just say?”

“i said,” virgil says, “get the fuck out, silas.”

“you can’t do that,” silas says, “you aren’t the boss of me.”

“no, maybe not,” virgil says. “but i’m the boss of here. it’s my name on the building and the lease, so it’s pretty within my rights to tell you to get the fuck out.”

silas hesitates.

“do you need me to come out from behind here and throw you out?” virgil barks, and silas sneers, grabbing his coat and throwing it on, before walking out with a much angrier jangle of the bell, and the slam of the door.

virgil plants his hands flat on the counter and bows his head, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and letting it out. again. again.

“i know you’re there, patton,” he calls wearily, and patton flinches. 

“i’m not mad at you,” virgil continues. “you can come out, it’s okay.”

patton chews his lip, before, sheepishly, he shuffles out into the diner.

“how much of that did you hear?”

patton chews his lip more, shifts his hold on logan. “...snippets.”

“all of it, then,” virgil says, and patton sighs.

“just from, um. the man—remus?—coming in.”

“okay, yeah, all of it,” virgil says, and rubs a hand over his eyes. “ shit. i was hoping si wouldn’t do that this year, i thought distance would help. i’m sorry he dragged you into it.”

“i mean, it’s—“ patton says, and he frowns. “i mean, it isn’t okay, but—“

“yeah, it’s not okay,” virgil says. “christ, i’m so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault,” patton says.

“i mean, seriously, him assuming stuff about your situation was so not okay, on so many levels, and i just—“

“it’s not your fault,” patton repeats, because he really doesn’t want to think about it. 

“i just—“ virgil rubs a hand over his eyes. “ god. silas has always hated remus, and, i mean, the rest of my family didn’t like him but at least they were polite about it, and—”

“why?”

“why what?”

“why didn’t they like remus,” patton elaborates.

virgil hesitates, before he sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “it’s kind of a long story.”

“i mean,” patton says, and tugs over the baby carrier before he settles logan inside, “we’re friends, right? friends can tell each other long stories.”

virgil hesitates, surveying his face, before he sighs. “yeah, all right. you should probably know in case it comes up tomorrow slash on christmas, anyway.”

patton hops up onto the barstool, eager to leave the part of silas and virgil’s argument about him and his situation behind.

“uh, well,” virgil says. “god, okay. um. so, you know i have anxiety.”

“right.”

“i wasn’t—“ he sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “i wasn’t in the best place, i guess, i was... i was lashing out a lot, or isolating myself, and my parents are saints, you know, but i mean—i don’t blame them for kind of losing it with me, sometimes? they had five kids, and the diner, and me saying rude sh—stuff, right, the baby, sorry—me saying rude stuff and refusing to make peace and just ignoring them every day couldn’t have been easy, you know?

“so, to make a long story a little shorter, i ended up kind of... identifying with outsiders, you know? and there’s no bigger outsider in sideshire than remus duke, so that’s who i hung out with. he’s older than me, by a few years, but he never—i mean, he never held that over my head, like silas did sometimes, and i’d tell him things, and he never really seemed to judge me for it. 

“he was... well, you saw him, you heard him. he’s a strange guy. and sure, sometimes the stuff remus would do would scare me, but—but he was a good guy, deep down, you know? he helped me. the whole, like, being an outsider thing, and then kind of waking up to everything that i could do that would be way worse than, say, running a diner, it helped, in a really weird way, but—but i did some stupid stuff.”

“you were like me,” patton realizes quietly.

“not exactly,” virgil hedges. “i walked the line of juvenile detention a lot more than you, tagging and graffiti and egging houses and that kind of thing, but—but yeah. i can sympathize with doing stuff that might not be the best for you when you’re a hurting teenager.” 

there’s a pause, before virgil clears his throat and says, “anyway. it's not like silas and remus ever got along, but it got way worse after i became friends with him, i think silas got it into his head that remus was influencing me, or peer-pressuring me, or that i’m just a bad person instead of someone who made some mistakes, and he’s just held a grudge about it since. so.”

patton has the feeling he’s getting the shortest possible version of the story, with almost all the details cut out, but. he thinks he gets it. 

“and now your family doesn’t like him because... because you did that stuff?”

“yeah, essentially,” virgil says. “or, well. they think i’ve grown up, and they think remus hasn’t.”

well—patton doesn’t think they’re wrong. goading silas while virgil’s outside of earshot didn’t seem like the most mature thing to do, but.

“i think i get it,” patton says. “i mean—you aren’t doing stupid stuff now, so. it’s not a crime to be friendly with someone.”

“yeah, exactly,” virgil says. “ exactly. remus is a good enough guy when you get to know him, when his kid’s born i could introduce you and logan, since i guess they’d be in the same grade, and i just— god , silas is such a word i can’t say in front of the baby sometimes, you know?”

patton nods, and it’s like it sets loose the floodgates. virgil rants about silas (”mom and dad say it’s because we’re both too alike, but god , the things he says sometimes i’d never even dream of saying to a person’s face, you know?”) and the various arguments they’ve had over the years, and how virgil gets along with his siblings, most of the time, but there’s just something about silas that’s always gotten under his skin, and vice versa, and silas had always been a bit more sporty than he had and so when virgil hit his growth spurt late it almost seemed like silas was disappointed they couldn’t get away with “childish rough-housing” anymore, and silas didn’t like his job, everyone in the family knew that, but seriously if it was getting this bad to the point where he’s being this mean (well, virgil said a different word, and then said, “sorry, right, the baby, sorry!”) then it may well have been worth it just to quit, even if there wasn’t a paycheck waiting for him, and virgil loves him because he’s his brother but if they weren’t brothers, virgil really doesn’t know how he’d feel about him, he really doesn’t, and—

“god, patton, i’m sorry,” virgil says. “i’m so sorry.”

patton blinks. “sorry for what?”

“well, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—“

“virgil, stop,” patton says quietly. “i mean—i’m kind of glad that you’re ranting like this.”

virgil stops. “you are?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i—i dunno, this might be weird, but everyone’s been treating me so nice. which isn’t bad, of course it isn’t, but hearing about someone else’s problems and being talked to about them, it—it makes me feel more like a person and less like a charity case, you know?”

virgil considers this.

“i don’t know, maybe it’s weird, and it’s just a me thing,” patton says quickly, looking off to the side, away from that contemplative gaze.

“no, no, i think i get it,” virgil says. “it’s... taking your mind off things. letting you focus on something else.”

patton lets out a breath of relief. “yeah. yeah, exactly.”

“and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of,” virgil says, and patton looks down, guilty, chewing his lip.

“what?” virgil says.

“i just—” patton chews his lip. “no, it’s not your problem. i should be able to handle it just fine.”

“i,” virgil begins, looking concerned, before he says, “you’re sure?”

“yeah, i’m—i’m sure,” patton says. he’s trying to figure out if he wants to be emancipated or not. that kind of shows that he should be independent, right? he shouldn’t go around putting all of his problems on other people. they’re his problems.

“okay,” virgil says. “just—this whole ranting to each other thing is a two-way street, you know.”

“one you haven’t crossed until tonight,” patton says, and leans to pick up logan. “no, it’ll be okay. i should probably get back to the inn anyways, it’s late.”

“do you want me to walk you back?”

“no, no, that’s okay,” patton says. “um. thanks for dinner and stuff tonight, and—and for the whole family christmas thing tomorrow. i’m looking forward to it.”

“well,” virgil says. “good. i’m glad. and i’ll try to have a word with silas about not being a jerk to you.”

“i appreciate it,” patton says, walking slowly back to the door. “um. night, v.”

“night, pat. night, logan,” he adds, and patton opens the door and lets it shut behind him.

where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—

god, patton, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—

and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of.

there is. there is a lot to keep his mind off of. he has a colicky infant. even with a paycheck, patton’s funds are rapidly depleting and he should have started paying attention to his finances sooner. he broke up with his boyfriend (?) his childhood best friend, the closest thing he thinks he’s ever had to love (he loved christopher, he loves him, and now—) he ran away. his emancipation. his parents’ reaction to both of those things. seeing his parents again. will he see his parents again? what’s he going to do about school? what’s he going to be about logan’s school? his body is an absolute nightmare of dysphoria—he can’t bind down his chest for at least four more months, if not longer, and he knows that feeding logan is supposed to be a time for bonding but patton can hardly bring himself to look most of the time, tries to do it in the dark when he can, and his bodyweight is all out of whack and his appetite comes and goes and he’s only just stopped bleeding and thank goodness it’s done now but god, no one had warned him that he’d be bleeding for so long after giving birth. he’s achy and exhausted and sometimes when logan starts crying and keeps crying in the middle of the night patton will cry right with him, sobbing even as he tries to bounce logan into calming down, and—

—and there’s a lot to keep his mind off of. but virgil—god, not for one second, not for one second was virgil one of the things he was worried about hurting him. he never would be. the rest of his life, though...

he wonders, bleakly, how many minutes of sleep he’ll get tonight between the colicky baby and the stomach-churning guilt.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Caffeine - Dallon Weekes x Reader

Request: For my birthday, can I please please have a Dallon x Reader coffee shop AU with the prompt "I’m worried about your coffee dependency" with Dallon as the barista and the reader as the over worked, over caffeinated customer? Thank you!!!

Word count: 2 375

A/N: Happy birthday to an amazing fellow writer! Everyone go over to @robinrunsfiction and wish her a happy birthday! The poor girl is the one I go to when I want to read something that I don’t want to write myself ;)

With every ringing of the bell above the door, Dallon’s eyes shot over, checking who was entering. He knew it was too early for you to come by, and you were always on time, but he could never help but hope. He was just done preparing a big cappuccino for one of the customers, adding the cocoa power, when the small bell chimed again, and sure enough, as his eyes flickered over to the door this time, he spotted you slipping into the shop.

An involuntary grin made itself onto his face as he handed the cappuccino to the lady who had ordered it, and received the money. And then there you were, next in line. As always you had circles under your eyes, your hair was dishevelled after a long day at work, probably because you had run your hands through it countless times.

It was just after 5pm, you had left the office exactly at five, as Dallon knew, and then, every day, like clockwork, you came over the street into the small shop. And not only once a day. Originally Dallon had gotten to know you from his morning shift, but when he found out that you came in after work as well, he had started preferring the afternoon shifts, since they allowed him more time to talk to you, after all, you had nowhere to be.

Expectantly, hoping your absentminded gaze would finally drift back into reality, he bounced on his heels, and his happy smile faltered a little, as he took your state in. You looked pale, a little as if you were sick. Even during the most stressful times you always had a glow in your eyes, but that was nowhere to find today, and your fingers played around with the hem of your thin jacked.

“Dallon to (y/n),” he eventually asked, snapping you out of your mindless gazing.

Surprised you widened your eyes at the realisation that it was your turn to order, but luckily there was no one behind you who could have gotten impatient.

“Hi,” you whispered with a tired smile, but it was honest.

Your smile was always honest when it came to Dallon. How couldn’t it be?

“Hi,” he greeted back, placing his hands on the counter, and leaning on them. The action brought him a little closer to you, and honestly, every inch that did not separate you from him was gold.

“The usual, I guess,” you finally remembered to order, Dallon smile having thrown you off temporarily.

“The usual it is,” Dallon nodded, and pushed himself away from the counter, starting to prepare the hot beverage.

In the meantime you moved to sit on one of the bar chairs at the counter. It was your favourite spot to sit at, since you could overlook the entire café. The door was within your view, and so were all the tables, in the summer the fan, and in the winter the heater, were pretty close, and you were able to talk to Dallon.

When he strode back to you, carefully balancing the cup of hot coffee, he glanced at you worriedly.

“Bad day,” he asked, putting the cup down in front of you.

You just huffed, and happily picked up the mug, wrapping your cold finger around it. But as you should have known, Dallon was pretty insistent. He looked at you, until you eventually started talking. Damn that man, he was better than any therapist.

“Couldn’t sleep last night, and then we had this really stupid meeting in the morning, and I was just super fidgety all the time,” you explained, “which was horror by the way. And then my boss came with about fifty impossible requests, what I have to do, and I just don’t even know where to start.”

Finally lifting the cup to your face, you took a deep inhale, and closed your eyes contently at the familiar smell. You could hear Dallon shuffle behind the counter, but you did not care. He probably only went to serve and other customer.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much coffee,” he suddenly suggested, his voice being a lot closer than you had expected.

Confused you opened your eyes, taking a tiny sip of the hot drink.

“Why not,” you wondered, tilting your head confused.

“With the amount of caffeine you consume daily it’s not a surprise you don’t sleep, and then you top it off with one of these coffee bombs in the morning, which could kill every normal person… of course you get fidgety.”

He looked at you with his huge blue eyes, concern written all over his face. You were tempted to reach out over the counter, and hug him, trying to make him understand that you were fine, but you refrained from doing it; instead you just shook your head.

“I’m fine Dallon, it’s just the stress,” you tried to calm him down.

But the way he almost slammed his hands down on the counter in front of you, showed that he was far from calm.

“Caffeine is literally a drug; you do know that, right? Just like alcohol and nicotine. And instead of pushing yourself to your limits constantly with the support of this stuff, you should take a step back, and maybe go on holiday sometime. You’re ruining yourself with this behaviour!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Dallon,” you hissed, “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but I really need my job, and if I don’t do everything I’m being told to, I’ll get fired. And if caffeine helps me to deal with this pressure, then so be it!”

Rage flared through your veins, and with a burst of energy you jumped off your chair.

“You’re making yourself sick! What use is gonna be a job that kills you, (y/n)? I’m worried about you, don’t you see that?”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s not your place to tell me what to do with my life!”

You regretted the words as soon as they had left your lips, and the hurt expression on Dallon’s face just proved how royally you had fucked up.

Tears stung in your eyes, not only because you had probably ruined the best friendship in your life, but also because you knew Dallon was right. He was right, and you hated him for that. And that was the reason you did not apologize. You were hurt, just like you had hurt him, and you were too proud to admit it. So you turned your back, and left the coffee shop.

Dallon watched you leave, unable to move. He wanted to run after you, tell you that he was only so concerned for you because you meant the world to him, but he was frozen in place. When he eventually snapped back into reality, he brushed his hands over his eyes, to make sure there were no tears anywhere, and turned to clean the coffee machine, a routine that always seemed to calm him down.

“They’ll come around.”

The voice of the customer he had served before you had come in, made him snap his head around. Of course the whole shop had witnessed the scene, but luckily nobody seemed offended. Instead they all looked kind of sorry for him. Great, he thought, definitely very professional of you Dallon.

The lady smiled at him reassuringly, and left a tip in Dallon’s jar, before she left.

You, in the meantime, had stormed out into the evening air, rage still bubbling inside of you, while the words both Dallon and you had spoken fluttered around in your head, like a bunch of scared butterflies. When you had eventually walked down enough streets to wear out your feet, which had happened rather quickly, in these stupid fancy shoes you wore to the office, you stopped. Leaning against a lamppost in the dimming daylight, you turned your face towards the sky. A slight drizzle fell down to your face.

You needed to go back. You needed to talk to Dallon. You needed to apologise. And you needed to do it now, not tomorrow, but today. You would be a mess if this would not be resolved as quickly as possible.

Again the painful realisation came to your mind that Dallon was right, that stressing yourself so much, and then making your body work with caffeine could not be healthy. But that still posed the question why he got so upset over it. He had enough other customers like you, and he just served them, and let them go on their merry way, why did he have to go this crazy when it was about you? A part in your mind tried screaming that it maybe was because he liked you the same way you liked him, but you shook that thought off, and pushed yourself off the lamppost, slowly making your way back to the coffee shop.

It was almost closing time when you arrived at the café, and waiting a few more minutes, until the last guests had left, did not bother you. When they had finally gotten up, you made your way over the street, and slipped in while they were on their way out. Dallon was standing behind the counter, rinsing off a few cups before putting them into the dish washer. Your mug was still standing on the counter where you had been sitting. Had he hoped you would come back?

Not sure what to do, since he had not noticed you entering, you eventually cleared your throat.

“We’re closing in a minute, sorry,” Dallon answered without looking who he was talking to.

“Still got my coffee,” you answered, your voice wavering slightly as you stepped further into the room, walking towards your seat.

Dallon shot around, taking you in quickly before he walked over to your seat and took the cup, pouring the contents into the sink.

“Hey,” you were about to protest, but Dallon shook his head.

“No more coffee for you,” he decided, but his voice was lacking the usual cheerful tone you were used to.

“Can we talk,” you asked, walking to your seat anyway, and sitting down by the counter.

Dallon did not answer. Instead he grabbed two cups from the shelf and started working on preparing drinks for both of you.

“You were right, okay,” you told him, while watching him work, “I shouldn’t be pushing myself like this, and especially not with artificial help.”

Dallon mumbled something under his breath, and you could have sworn it was something along the lines of “Damn right.”

“And I’m sorry I got so upset about all this, I just-,“ you looked down on your hands which were folded in your lap, “I didn’t want to hear it, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

Wordlessly Dallon placed a huge mug with a soft brown, steaming, sweet smelling drink in front of you.

“What’s that,” you wondered, looking up at him.

“Hot cocoa with vanilla and cinnamon,” he answered, wrapping his hands around his own cup, and taking a deep breath, inhaling the delicious smell, “always helps me to calm down.”

Slowly he walked out from behind the counter, and sat down on the chair next to you. You had never sat like this before, and not really certain what to you, you just took a sip of the cocoa. It tasted like heaven.

“I’m sorry too, I overstepped my boundaries,” Dallon apologised.

“No, that’s fine. Someone had to tell me eventually,” you sighed, “and hey, if I wouldn’t know you were right, I wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

Playfully you bumped your knee against Dallon’s, but instead of smiling, he just turned to you, still a frown on his face.

“I’m worried about you,” he told you seriously, “That’s why I got so upset when you wouldn’t hear it. I know, like you said, it’s not my place, but… I care about you, and seeing you driving yourself sick like that, it just kills me, you know.”

For a long while you just looked at him. His blue eyes were still filled with sadness, and concern was written all over his face, as if he expected you to run away all over again.

Sighing, you broke eye contact, and took a big sip from the cocoa.

“Well, in that case, I guess I really have to look after myself a little better. ‘cause I couldn’t stand it, if you are down because of me.”

Placing your cup on the counter, you turned to Dallon again.

“I care about you too. I like you, a lot. And- and being criticised by somebody who I look up to and admire so much, it’s just painful. But necessary.”

You pressed your lips together, anxiously waiting for Dallon to say something, to tell you that he liked you too, but not like this, and that even though he cared, he did not care for you like this.

But he did not answer. Instead he thoughtfully placed down his cup as well, and gently placed his warm hand at the side of your face. Following an instinct you leant into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. He was not mad, that was at least something.

A moment later you felt his lips on yours, but just for a second, and surprised you opened your eyes, finding Dallon was finally smiling again. It was a soft smile, a loving one, which made you heart warm up and jump happily.

“From now on no coffee in the afternoon anymore,” he decided, “otherwise you’ll never be able to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, but only if you make this delicious cocoa for me instead,” you told him smiling, and reached over to brush a strand of his dark hair out of his forehead.

Pleased you noticed how he immediately leant into the small touch.

“That’s something I can live with,” he grinned.

“Good, then it’s a deal,” you nodded, making him giggle.

“Ya, it is,” he agreed, “And just for the protocol-“

You looked up at him, not being able but getting a tad bit anxious about the serious tone he suddenly had back in his voice.

“I like you too, a lot.”

And with that he kissed you again.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Halloween Special Villains

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Ah, Halloween, that magical, spooky time of year where ghosts and goblins come out to play and children dress up in the hopes of getting some delicious Halloween candy. But what about all of us who are trapped at home on the night of this pagan costume and candy festival? What do we have to keep us entertained?

Why, Halloween specials of course!

If there’s one thing Halloween delivers on almost as well as Christmas does, it’s spooky Halloween-themed episodes of cartoons, where the show is allowed to get darker and more disturbing than it usually does in some cases. And what is any special without a special one-shot villain? Gotta have someone stirring up some Halloween trouble on this spooky night. And since these characters are usually one and done with little in the way to go super in-depth about, I’d figure we’d look at five of them at once! They are:

Jack O’Lantern from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

Pumpkinator from The Fairly OddParents

Bun-Bun from Underfist

Fright Night from Danny Phantom

Ron Tompkins from Toy Story of Terror!

I’m sure some of you feel there are some glaring omissions. Where’s the Flying Dutchman? Where’s Stickybeard? Well, I decided that this time around I’d go with characters whose major appearances and debuts are Halloween episodes; both those guys had major roles in non-Halloween episodes as well, so I’ll be saving them for full reviews at a later date. Also of note: I am aware the story of Toy Story of Terror! does not take place on Halloween, but it is aired as a Halloween special, so I’m counting it.

Actor: So if there’s one thing these guys aren’t lacking in, it’s the actor department, and this isn’t a huge shock since when you’ve got a holiday special you want to splurge a bit, you know?

Jack has one of my favorite actors ever, the always-awesome Wayne Knight. Knight just has that sort of voice that’s perfect for smug jerk characters like Mr. Blik or Dennis Nedry, so really it’s pretty fitting for a pranking trickster like Jack, though I will say that it’s hard to match Knight’s voice to the human version of Jack when you see him in a flashback.

Ron Tompkins isn’t too far behind in the impressive VA department, being voiced by none other than Stephen Tobolowsky, who you may remember as the overbearing Ned Ryerson from GroundHog Day (and how can you forget him? You see him repeating the same scene about thirty times). He does a great job at making Tompkins cartoonishly evil and mostly enjoyable, a tall order for a character who steals toys from children to sell online.

And if you thought the list of awesome actors was done, boy were you wrong! Star Trek’s very own Michael Dorn voices the Fright Knight, and Dorn’s voice is absolutely perfect for a cool, evil, undead knight.

Bun-Bun is voiced by Dave Wittenberg who is an insanely prolific VA, playing characters such as Henry Wong from Digimon Tamers (AKA the beast season of Digimon) to none other than Kakashi from Naruto. I think it goes without saying a VA this versatile manages to make the role work.

And finally, we have the Pumpkinator, who is played by Dee Bradley Baker, and if I sat here listing all the notable roles this man has played we’d be here all night. But here’s a small sample: Appa, Momo, Squilliam Fancyson and Bubble Bass, Klaus the goldfish, Cow and Chicken’s dad, Cinderblock and Plasmus, the Alien and Predator in Mortal Kombat, Lion and Frybo, Numbah 4 and the Toilenator, Remy Buxaplenty, most of the animals in The Legend of Korra… you get the picture. This guy’s a legend. He’ll do any sort of role, big or small, so even if he’s not playing the most complex character here, he’s at least giving it a unique spin with his voice because man, this guy has RANGE.

Motivation/Goals: Jack has a rather simple motivation: revenge. You see, ages ago he managed to steal Grim’s scythe when he was about to be reaped, and bartered for the scythe’s return, asking to be made immortal. Grim reluctantly gave him this, but, as Grim is not someone who likes being tricked, also cut his head off. As anything cut off with Grim’s scythe is permanently cut off, Jack had to replace his head with a pumpkin (of course). This lead to him being shunned as a freak, which just made jis desire for vengeance even stronger; I mean, wouldn’t you want revenge if you could only go to the ding-dong grocery store to get pudding once a year?

If you want to get even simpler, the Pumpkinator is your guy! He exists simply to blow up planets. Tat’s it. He’s very much just an obstacle Timmy needs to overcome so that he can undo his wish for every Halloween costume to be “real and scary” before the consequences end up destroying the world.

Bun-Bun is rather simple as well: he just seems to be a jerk. But they don’t just make him a simple jerk, no, this is a Billly & Mandy spinoff so things have to be taken to their ridiculous extreme. Bun-Bun turns out to be behind numerous extremely petty actions that affected the lives of the main heroes, having haunted Hoss as a child and made him afraid of monsters, made Billy afraid of spiders which estranged him from his son Jeff, and, uh, sawed off Fred Fredburger’s tusks. The fiend! As you might guess, there’s no real rhyme or reason to this, it’s just goofy absurdist over-the-top sort of thing you’d expect from Maxwell Atoms.

Ron has a relatively simple motivation, but frankly it might be the most evil out of all of these: the man steals toys from the children who stay at his motel to sell them for monetary gain. Yes, this is more evil than attempting to blow up the planet, you heard me. I have no idea how sick and twisted you have to be to think that stealing toys from children is acceptable. Funnily enough, this is the same sort of motivation Al (who was played by Wayne Knight, funnily enough) from Toy Story 2 had, though Ron takes it above and beyond.

And finally that brings us to Fright Knight, Much like most of the ghosts on the show, Fright Knight seems to just want to cause a ruckus after he’s released, attempting to take over Amity Park when Danny foolishly releases him. Later in the show he is freed to serve Pariah Dark, and after Dark is beaten he joins up with Vlad. In his final appearance of any consequence he is seen serving the Ultimate Enemy in the bad future. Basically the guy is just a really cool overhyped henchman.

Personality: So let’s get the easy one out of the way first: The Pumpkinator doesn’t exactly have a personality, because it is a big generic doomsday villain meant to act as an obstacle for Timmy to overcome. However, when it returned later in the episode where Timmy goes to Unwish Island, it did have one notable personality trait: an undying hatred for Timmy Turner, It’s a pretty relatable trait the more into the series you watch.

Bun-Bun is also rather evil and simple. He’s just a petty jerk, as can be seen by his crimes listed up under motivation. There’s not much else to him, same with Fright Knight who, again, is mostly just an overhyped henchman who acts as the hardcore badass serving whatever big bad of the week is out to get Danny (or he would have, but more on that later).

Out of all of these, Ron and Jack have the most personality. Jack is an unrepentant prankster who, at least when alive, was heavily implied to just not get he was taking it too far with his pranks (“too far” in this case being tricking people off of cliffs, at the least), and simply morphed into a bitter, jaded, vengeance-seeking supernatural entity after hundreds of years of rejection by society and isolation. Jack’s honestly pretty tragic in that regard, though it obviously doesn’t excuse his actions.

Ron is just a straight-up jerk, putting up a facade of being a charming, friendly motel owner while stealing toys from under his guest’s noses. As the truth comes out about him, he becomes more cartoonish and hammy, which really doesn’t help his case at all, and in his final scene he actually does something so cartoonish he almost feels like he doesn’t belong in the Toy Story universe.

Final Fate: Funnily enough, Pumpkinator actually gets the happiest ending out of anyone here: after being unwished by Timmy, he goes to Unwish Island and, after Timmy eventually journeys there, gets to have fun tormenting Timmy clones for the rest of time.

Ron probably has the second happiest ending, for a given definition of “happy.” Bonnie’s mother calls the cops on him for his theft, and when they show up, he somehow manages to trick them, run away, steal their car, crash it into a telephone pole when backing up, and then run off before they even move a muscle. It’s ridiculously cartoonish, and there’s no way this guy is gonna be getting off easy after that little display.

Onto Bun-Bun. Bun-Bun made one simple mistake: he put any trust at all int Skarr. For those not in the know, Skarr was the “Starscream” to Hector Con Carne, always hoping to overthrow him and take over his world domination schemes for himself before he ended up retiring from that life and becoming a reoccurring character on Billy & Mandy. So, when he joins up with the villain by betraying Underfist, what do you think he does? He betrays the villain, pushing Bun-Bun into hot cocoa and melting him, using his power of treachery and backstabbing to help his team save the world. It’s pretty amusing in that classic Billy & Mandy way.

Good ol’ Jack ends up getting sent to the underworld this time since Grim wasn’t putting up with his crap anymore, and it seems Jack still hasn’t learned his lesson about pranking. When last we see him, he’s now tormenting demons, who all start moving in on him while he laughs at his dumb pranks. The screen cuts to black and we hear a squishing noise. It’s safe to say he won’t have to worry about that pumpkin head causing him problems anymore.

Fright Night is easily the most tricky one to talk about because his entire intended purpose in the show got aborted. After he was brought back to serve Pariah, he ended up under Vlad’s control by episode’s end, but for some reason, nothing ever came of this and it was never mentioned again – well, except in the “Ultimate Enemy” special, in which the Fright Knight cameos at the beginning, acting as something of the hype man for Dan Phantom, softening up Amity Park for Dan’s attack. After that, though, he’s basically out of the series, save for a couple of brief cameos here and there.

Best Scene: Jack has the flashback to his origins, because not only is it perfectly dark for a show’s Halloween episode, you have to give props to anyone who managed to outwit Grim, even if he did end up paying a steep price for it.

Ron has his aforementioned escape from the police. I do think it’s a bit too cartoonish and silly for Toy Story, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t pretty hilarious either way.

The Fright Knight has the aforementioned scene where he mentions he’s serving The evil future Danny. Considering that’s his last real role in the series, at least he got to go out on a high note, though it still sucks nothing ever came of the plotlines set up for him.

Bun-Bun’s best scene is when he revealed that he was the architect of most of the protagonist’s woes. Again, it’s just classic over-the-top Billy & Mandy silliness, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

The Pumpkinator… just doesn’t have one. Sorry.

Best Quote: While most of these guys aren’t exactly a goldmine of quotes, Jack has one of my favorite quotes from anything, ever, and I even already referenced it above: “Three hundred and sixty-four days a year, I can't even go the the ding-dong grocery store to buy pudding! And do you know why?" The why, obviously, is the fact he has a pumpkin for a head.

Final Thoughts & Score: Frankly, this batch of Halloween hooligans is a very mixed bag. We didn’t fare quite as bad as Charlie Brown did on Halloween, but we only got one King Size candy bar out of this lot.

I guess let’s just start with the black licorice of the bunch: Fright Knight. God, I wish I could love Fright Knight, I really do, but considering the overwhelming quality of most of Danny’s rogues gallery and just the fact this guy was totally shafted and everything set up for him was ignored there’s just no excusing how lame this guy looks, Michael Dorn or no. He has a great design and a cool concept, and the ideas for interesting stories with him were there, but he ends up being a 3/10, saved only by his cool first outing, great voice work, and awesome design.

Worse still is the pile of weirdly flavored candy corn that is the Pumpkinator. He has a cool design, but he’s not much of an antagonist to be honest. He’s just a cool-looking robot who wants to blow up the planet. That’s about it. There’s really not much to say about this guy, and his only other appearance doesn’t really add much. I suppose he serves his purpose, but I have to wonder, why even bring him back if he wasn’t going to do anything remotely interesting? I don’t like generic doomsday villains at the best of times, but if you’re gonna bring one back, at least try and do something interesting with them to justify their existence, otherwise they’re just gonna end up getting a 2/10.

Finally, we get into the good candy! Let’s start off with the tasty marshmallow bunny we got, Bun-Bun (isn’t that more of an Easter candy? Weird). Bun—Bun is a funy, goofy, cartoonish villain, perfect for the first (and sadly, only) outing for Underfist. The fact they went above and beyond to cement him as this ludicrous mastermind who just screwed with everyone’s lives for no apparent reason other than the fact he’s a jerk is pretty funny. I don’t think he’s gonna win any Villain of the Year awards, but I think a 6/10 is good enough for this above average nuisance.

Oho, what’s this? A… candycane? Well, it’s a bit out of season, but it’s still tasty! And that’s kind of where Ron is. I do like just how unabashedly scummy he is, and there is precedent for people like him in the Toy Story universe, but I feel he takes things to a cartoonish extreme. For crying out loud, the guy has a trained iguana that acts like a dog! He feels like he belongs in a different series than this one, but again, I don’t really think that’s a bad thing, because at the very least he is funny. He gets a 7/10, a bit higher than usual just because I love how ridiculously nasty his whole scheme is. Stealing from kids, what the actual hell.

YES! A King Size candy bar! Just what I was looking for! It’s just a generic Hershey bar, but hey, that’s a lot of chocolate, so who’s complaining? And that’s Jack, he is simply put a perfect Halloween special antagonist. Most of this comes from his voice work, since Wayne Knight is a national treasure, but his backstory and concept are worth praising too. His origin story is something of a twist on the old legend of “Stingy Jack,” the origin story of the Jack-O’-Lantern appropriately enough. While obviously there are liberties, such as substituting Grim for the devil, it’s a mostly accurate retelling, something that would go over most people’s heads unless they’re really into classical folklore. Jack’s a lot of fun as a character, earning himself a nice big 8/10, only being held back from a higher score because despite being rightfully beloved by audiences, he never really had a major role again, getting a minor shout out in Big Boogey Adventure and… that’s it. I think Jack could have been a really entertaining reoccurring antagonist in the same vein as fwllow ensemble darkhorse Eris, but alas, it was not to be. Maybe if Underfist had been picked up he could have been brought back for that, but the fact is it just didn’t happen. Oh well, might as well appreciate what we got.

And that’s it for this batch of Halloween goodies. Halloween specials seem a lot less prevalent than Christmas specials, but they’re no less important or fun, and as you can see, they do produce at least mildly interesting villains, sometimes. If only they could produce a villain so devilishly Halloweenie that he could perfectly embody the spirit of the holiday…

Hey, what’s that at the bottom of the bag…

Wait… is that…

OH NO.

[jbuffyangel]

Truth and Lies: Arrow 6x18 Review (Fundamentals)

I love Vertigo. We get the best Olicity episodes out of this drug and "Fundamentals" did NOT disappoint. Angsty Arrow driven mad by his own internal demons and the love of his life fighting through the darkness to reach the light within him? 

If you are wondering why this review is delayed it's because I've been watching "Fundamentals” on a loop. And binging Westworld, but that's not my fault. @callistawolf​ told me to watch it. But really also watching "Fundamentals" on a loop. There’s so much to unpack that this took me three days to write and another full day to gif.   

I am prepared to say 6x18 might be my favorite episode of the season. I think I liked it better than the wedding AND the wedding RECEPTION. I know I know. That's crazy talk, but that's what Vertigo does man. EMBRACE THE INSANITY BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME.

Let's dig in...

Olicity

I'm not really sure how to divide this review into sections primarily because it's just a mass of Oliver losing his shiznit, punctuated with extremely excellent scenes with Felicity. So we're rolling fast and loose on the headings. Cool? Cool.

I like angst. No, that's not right. I LOVE ANGST. You really can't survive seven years of watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer live, in your formative teenage years, and not come out with the ability to embrace the pain. But I don't enjoy angst that's just angst for angst's sake. (Yeah that's a sentence. I think.) I want angst with purpose. I want it to move the characters somewhere or at the very least reveal truths. Maybe they are truths we already know and simply need confirmed once and awhile. Maybe they are truths we didn't even know existed. Regardless, if angst has a point then I'm in.

Some may disagree with me regarding the angst in "Fundamentals." It may feel like ground we've already covered, and I can certainly understand why some may have that opinion. I have a differing one, however. I feel 6x18 unearthed some new truths regarding Oliver Queen and his journey this season that I have not previously considered.

Source: @olivergifs​

The opening is familiar, but new. The Arrow is back! It's been so long since we've seen Oliver as the Arrow that the action felt fresh. Immediately there was a different vibe compared to all the other action scenes we've seen over the past three years. It is dark, brutally violent and fast. And extremely hot.

The Arrow moves like a shadow and creates a visceral reaction of fear. That piece is familiar. The skill set of the Arrow and the Green Arrow remain the same, but their tactics are not. The Green Arrow works within a team. He is quick, but deliberate. Strategic, but adaptable. He is threatening, but instills a sense of calm. The Green Arrow doesn't shy from the light the same way the Arrow does. Both masks serve justice, but one instills hope while the other instills fear. We are supposed to notice a difference between these two personas, which is why "Fundamentals" opens fast and hard with the violence of the Arrow. It's to remind us of Oliver Queen's evolution and how far he's come. What drives and fuels the Arrow is something the Green Arrow does not have:

Rage.

Oliver has opened up his heart over the last six years. He rediscovered brotherhood and friendship. Oliver fell in love and became a father. The anger created by the injustice all around him and his five years of trauma is no longer burning him up inside. Oliver faced the worst parts of himself, and by doing so, the anger gave way to something else. Something more hopeful. The Green Arrow fights injustice just like the Arrow, but the tactic is not merely to beat it down. The Green Arrow wants to build upon the ashes of injustice. Oliver also recognizes the mask is not the only avenue in which he can be of service to Star City. He finally realized the man behind the mask can also have an impact.

Or at least... that's what Oliver tried to do. As usual our hero fails as much as he succeeds, but real change does not come without failure. The problem is Oliver does not understand where he went wrong. Team Arrow has fallen apart. Rene and Dinah betrayed him. Curtis turned his back on Oliver. And John Diggle, his brother, left him.  

"You've become a better man, but a worse leader."

John's words are haunting Oliver because he doesn't understand them. How can he be a better man, the man John always asked him to be, and a worse leader?

Listen, I am 100% on Team Oliver with this one. That's straight up bonkers and Diggle doesn't have Vertigo as an excuse. We're also supposed to wonder what in the blazing hell happened to Oliver that he's wearing the Arrow suit, going full rage-a-thon, and walking into what is obviously a suicide mission (even for him).

*Drugs, drugs, druggidy, drugs* Oh sorry. We're supposed to be pretending we don't know why Oliver is cuckoo for cocoa puffs right now. My bad.

Source:  felicityssoliver

So, we're flashing back to ten hours earlier. Now it's really important to remember we are supposed to be confused with the timeline. Both the police captain and the DA have accused Oliver of firing them to impede the Green Arrow investigation . Unfortunately, Oliver just fired them because they admitted to being Diaz's lackeys and not because he has actual proof. I think. Last week's episode was so many levels of screwy I kind of stopped paying attention to some of the details. Anywho, Oliver begs his genius wife to get some rock solid evidence against them so he can hold onto his day job. Also, avoiding prison would be neat.

The SCPD security monitors go white noise at exactly 10:13 every night, so Felicity rapidly deduces Diaz is monitoring his lackeys at that time. Oliver agrees and wouldn't you know that's prime Green Arrow time! Felicity immediately tells Oliver he can't go in there alone because suicide, but he's too jazzed about ending all his Diaz problems to listen.

Source:  felicitysmoakgifs

Felicity, bless her heart, decides to play marriage counselor one more time and parent traps Oliver and Diggle into meeting into the bunker. Yes, she actually uses the words "parent trap" and it's awesome. I love one cupcake. Also, the original Parent Trap with Hayley Mills will always be the superior version. Come fight me.

It's a disaster. Both Oliver and Diggle are still extremely pissed off at each other, which is fair. This was one horrid fight. Diggle informs Oliver he's considering taking a job at A.R.G.U.S. and Oliver offers a solid burn in return:

“Last time you needed something from A.R.G.U.S., you had to steal it.”

I, once again, am on Team Oliver on this one. I don't mind the snippiness and think it's fairly warranted. If John is looking to find a purpose beyond Oliver Queen and live outside his shadow (and he is - even if he can't admit it yet), then I fail to see how A.R.G.U.S. is any different. Diggle needs a purpose of his own. As much as I will love seeing a Dyla team up, I don't think it really solves John's problem all that much. A.R.G.U.S. is Lyla's purpose. It always has been. I'm not saying John can't find purpose with his wife and her employer. He certainly can, but a lot of John's argument against Oliver was about striking out on his OWN. This isn't exactly an independent venture. So, I understand why Oliver may see some hypocrisy on the wall.

Diggle: Oliver, you keep up that attitude man you are gonna end up all alone.

Oliver: I've listened to your advice for the last six years. I think I've earned a reprieve.

Oliver has taken, what I feel, is a lot of unnecessary shit from everyone and quite frankly it's way more entertaining to see him swinging back than simply taking it. Felicity is disappointed her little make up session didn't end with bromance hugs and kisses, but Diggle is not surprised. He essentially tells Felicity Oliver is stubborn, alienates people with his attitude, and likes to be alone - and nobody knows that better than her.

It's an irritating comment and not a fair one. If that was all true than Oliver would have never married Felicity in the first place. Diggle keeps throwing ALL of Oliver's past mistakes in his face (and now Felicity's) to continue making his argument as to why Oliver is a crappy leader. Again, Diggle's beef and his snarky comments would have made so much more sense in SEASON THREE. 

The real goal of the comment is to make Felicity worry Oliver will ice her out next, which is as about as mean as John Diggle gets. However, it's primarily intended to make us worry about the status of their marriage. I RAISED YOU BETTER THOUGH.

Oliver has a meeting with Councilmen Kullens who tells him he can't fire the very people who are investigating him. That looks really bad. Oliver insists the two are working for Diaz.

Kullens: From what I understand, Ricardo Diaz is a second rate drug dealer who was released from prison on a technicality.

He got the second rate part right. Kullens cannot fathom how a two bit hood like Diaz could possibly coerce city officials like the DA and police captain and oh my god it's even more stupid when I type it. Can we put an arrow in this guy? He bugs me. Kullens informs Oliver impeachment proceedings begin that afternoon and he'll have a chance to please his case then, which means Oliver is on the clock and needs to get some evidence FAST.

Oliver races home to check in with Felicity and take William to his science fair. The kid cloned cabbage. Yes, CLONED. 

This is one character we never want to have a dark spiral on Arrow. Use your powers for good William. That's all I'm saying son.

On top of being a child genius, William is also extremely OCD about time. So, when Oliver comes in late his son is extra anxious to get going. This is my child in TV form. She puts her winter coat and snow pants on 20 minutes before she leaves for the bus, stands in the kitchen watching TV, so she's in direct eye line to clock because GOD FORBID she's a micro second late.

Unfortunately, the evidence Felicity compiles against Diaz is only something a police department to get their hands on or... the Green Arrow.

Oliver drops to that lower octave which increases the hot by several levels.

Felicity tries to joke her way out of it by telling Oliver to inform the council he's married to a super hacker and HUBBY IS NOT AMUSED. It's one thing for him to get imprisoned, but he cannot joke about it happening to Felicity. Ugh. I love him.

Unfortunately, Oliver's adorableness is short lived. He rapidly spirals into an asshole. Felicity tries to explain that she tried to set up a believable trail for the evidence but that she ran out of time.

Oliver: You ran out of time because you're focusing on making John and I reconcile instead of doing your job!

HIT THE DECKS. HUBBY IS ABOUT TO BLOW! I think my husband values his life to much to ever say something like to me, but he's been at this a little bit longer than Oliver. Give him a decade. He'll learn.

Felicity is WTF and rightfully so. They segue into arguing about whether or not Felicity is on Oliver's side.

(She is you big, angry tree trunk).

William chooses this exact moment to interrupt their argument by reminding his father that they are running late. When my parent's fought I found the nearest exit.  Read the room kid.

Oliver blows. Big time. He yells at William while simultaneously destroying the science fair project. Ah man, that was cloned cabbage dude. That would have made an interesting salad.

Cue awkward silence and horrified looks from Felicity and William. I am so uncomfortable. This feels voyeuristic. *She says while having zero issues watching Olicity sex scenes on a loop.*

Source: @olivergifs

Oliver tries to apologize to William, who storms out, and explain to Felicity it was an accident but she tells him to get the fuck out. I added the fuck because that was the tone and if we were on cable it would have absolutely been there. 

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

MAMA BEAR MODE ACTIVATED.

Nobody messes with the cub. Not even Dad. Honestly, the addition of William was one of my big worries for Season 6 because I questioned how Arrow would integrate the child into the story lines. But William has become one of my favorite parts of the season, particularly when it comes to his relationship with Felicity. Felicity becoming the world's best step mother is not remotely surprising, but it doesn't lessen the joy watching it develop on screen. William has come to depend on her just as much as Oliver. Maybe even more because they bond frequently over their genius level IQs.

Sometimes you need to tell your child "Not right now" in a stern voice. Sometimes raising your voice is required. Sometimes you blow a fuse as a parent. We are, after all, only human and humans are imperfect. Parents make mistakes. Oliver raising his voice to William didn't bother me too much. Although, I think he could have directed a little more tough love when his son wandered off from the bunker into the field and almost got himself blown up. Screaming over being late to the science fair was a gross overreaction. A stern "take a number buddy" would have sufficed just fine. And yeah, sometimes you have to tell a kid twice because he’s a kid.

What bothered me was the violence of Oliver's reaction. The way he whirled around at William, breaking the science fair project as he did, wasn't simply frustration. It was rage. We haven't seen this level of rage from Oliver in an extremely long time. Even in his fight with Diggle, he tempered his anger and fought defensively during the brawl.

Oliver has a temper. It's a fact of his personality. Nearly every person in Oliver's life has been on the receiving end of it at one point or another - including Felicity. However, Oliver has directed a violent reaction to those who can physically take him on - Diggle, Roy, Rene and Dinah.

Oliver has always been calculated, even to a certain extent controlled, as to who he responds physically to in anger. He has NEVER reacted violently against those he views as physically defenseless against him. 

His physical altercation with Thea was defensive even though Thea can kick his ass. He never took Laurel on even after she became BC and I know there were times he just wanted to lay her flat on her ass. The only real exception was when he confronted Moira as the Green Arrow, but she shot him so we see how that went.

There is only one time I can recall Oliver using his body in a physically threatening way against Felicity. Although, there was so much sexual tension I often wonder if he just used the moment to get up in her bubble and enjoy a little physical proximity. Regardless, there's a reason the first time Oliver Queen got in Felicity's Smoak's face was the last time. SHE was the one who put HIM down hard. Strength doesn't have to equate to the physical kind. Felicity Smoak is Oliver's match in every way. She puts his alpha male ass in its place every time he's ever tried to pull this nonsense with her, which is why it only happened once. Any time after was often in defense of others. Felicity always makes Oliver back down.

But this moment is different. The hair trigger rage we often saw in the early seasons of Arrow has returned and Oliver directed it at his son, a defenseless child. There's no excuse for it. Yet, Felicity's reaction is no different than the one we saw in 1x15. 

She steps from behind the counter and defensively approaches Oliver with so much speed and protectiveness over William he is the one who immediately backs away. 

Source:  mingrose

The movement immediately forces Oliver to turn his attention away from William and direct it to Felicity. It's essentially Felicity putting her body between William and Oliver. That said, she always uses her anger and strength to deescalate the situation. Felicity essentially puts Oliver in a time out by kicking him out of the apartment and rightfully so.

So, obviously we are supposed to be asking what the hell is wrong with Oliver? Diggle's words are supposed to haunt us. Perhaps Oliver hasn't changed after all.

Oliver descends to his bunker of solitude. He's obsessively watching the video feed of white noise on a loop, so he's in a super healthy space.

The scrambling of the video and the white noise in between is symbolic for what's happening in Oliver's mind. He's on a loop of white noise that he can't figure his way out of.

There's a knock at the bunker door and this should have immediately tipped everyone off to something being amiss. Why would Felicity knock? When Oliver turns around she just appears. Out of nowhere she's standing behind him. He's startled and Felicity wonders why. Oliver tries to explain what he heard, but can't. The knock had a pounding, distant, echoing sound to it. Like someone trying to open a tightly shut door closed long ago. It's the sound of Oliver's past beating it's way open. He just doesn't know it yet.

Felicity has her arms tightly crossed and keeps her distance from Oliver. He immediately tries to explain what happened, but again he can't because Oliver doesn't understand it himself. He doesn't know why he lost it on William other than things are beginning to pile up.

That's as far as he gets. Felicity coldly and resolutely tells Oliver they should take some space. Oliver is heartbreakingly confused until he looks down at Felicity's crossed arms and realizes she took her ring off. 

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

The devastation rapidly begins to overtake his confusion, but even then this has to be a joke right? 

Oliver almost laughs until he realizes it’s not. Then he becomes helpless as his world begins to crumble.

Source: @olivergifs​

Felicity tells Oliver he crossed a line with William. A line he should never cross.

Felicity asking Oliver for a separation sounds like a protective measure for William, but it still doesn't make sense. It's a 180 degree turn. It's too fast. Too abrupt. If you are still harboring PTSD from the Olicity break up in Season 4, and particularly if you read cast interviews previewing the episode, it's understandable why this scene would be extremely alarming. For some, I am sure it was confirmation of a deeply rooted fear Arrow is going to divorce Olicity soon after they married them. This is just another stop in the never ending "will they/won't they" ride.

But there is something in Felicity's speech to Oliver that should have tipped you off something else was going on.

No matter how disappointed or angry Felicity is with Oliver this is simply not something she would ever say under any circumstance. Felicity never believed, not even for a second, that Oliver was the violent, rage filled, monster he tried to portray himself as and believed himself to be. And that's the key right there. This is something OLIVER would say. 

William discovering the monster within is a deep rooted fear of Oliver's - not Felicity’s. She never believed the monster existed. 

When Felicity looks at Oliver all she has ever seen is a man with a deeply good heart. Felicity always saw the light within Oliver, even when he could not see it himself. Especially when Oliver couldn't see it. 

Felicity has admitted she fell in love with Oliver the first moment she met him because of what she saw. Her love is rooted in that belief.

That's not to say Felicity's belief in Oliver's goodness has not been challenged over the years. Particularly when Oliver was doing everything he could to make Felicity believe the monster was real and he was beyond change. Yet, time and again she saw through the facade of darkness to the truth - the light within.

Oliver has "killed" Felicity via LOA gas and shattered their life together with a lie that seemed almost impossible to forgive. I'm not saying yelling at William and shattering cloned cabbage wasn't bad, but I wouldn't rank it in the top ten worst things Oliver Queen has ever done. Let's remember she fell in love with him when he had a penchant for breaking necks. All I'm saying is, Felicity has a high threshold for Oliver Queen darkness.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

So, surgically cutting the cord on their marriage like this feels offs. Extremely off. It is Oliver who fears William will learn of his father's darker side. Not Felicity. Felicity confirming Oliver's worst fear, that he is truly a monster, doesn't sound like her voice. It sounds like Oliver's voice.

Now would be a real good time to remember Diaz and BS maniacally laughing over their last vile of Vertigo at the end of last week's episode. Although, I will give Arrow kudos. They did their level best to fool everyone with the way they cut this episode together.

Source: @olivergifs​

The knocking returns after a heart to heart with Lance. This time it is louder and more insistent. Oliver cannot ignore it. Instinctively he picks up a gun, walks to the elevator doors as they open 

Source: leraswift13

and there stands Adrian Chase. 

Prommy is back to play mind games! TIME FOR SOME CRAZY!!!!

Oliver doesn't understand how Adrian can still be alive because, ya know, bullet to the brain. Adrian's response is basically, "It's Arrow man.. Didn't you fall off a mountain once? Nobody ever really dies."

Now, I know Oliver is trippin on the light fantastic, but that's some solid logic under Vertigo. I give him credit. Prometheus still scares the ever loving crap out of me and the ensuing battle with Oliver is more exciting than all the villains combined this season. I miss you Josh Seggara. Please come back.

Oliver holds Adrian in the same neck hold in 5x23. He dares Oliver to do it and once again we see the moral struggle tearing Oliver apart. He fights the urge once more, but then Adrian reminds him that his mercy cost the mother of his child her life. Oliver snaps when Adrian threatens William and Felicity once again. He snaps his neck. 

Source: @olivergifs​

Sparing Adrian's life was a moment of triumph for Oliver in Season 5. It was proof to Oliver that he was not the man Adrian Chase accused him of being. He knew the threat Adrian posed, but taking his life would simply be confirmation Oliver was a monster. Killing Adrian Chase would be proving him right.

If Oliver killed Adrian the island would have exploded and everyone, including Oliver, would have died. His mercy didn't stop Adrian from killing himself and ultimately killing Samantha, but that choice was Adrian's. Not Oliver's. There was no avenue Oliver could choose that would not result in the spilling of innocent blood. It is why Adrian Chase is so diabolically evil. Yet, Oliver still harbors guilt over Samantha. Particularly since Diggle used her death as a knife to twist in his back. He still believes there's a way he could have saved everyone, which is the curse of being a hero. The God Complex is often more crippling than any villain.

If you didn't figure out Oliver is hallucinating by the time Adrian pops up alive again, then I can't help you my friend. But if it helps Oliver figures it out and tells everybody what's going on.

Source: @olivergifs​

Hallucinating Adrian Chase is the pitch perfect choice to show the manifestation of Oliver's fears. Refresher course - this is what Vertigo does. It really makes you wonder why anyone willing takes this drug if all you get from the high is seeing your deepest fears become real. Can't say that's a party favor I'd be interested in partaking in.

Oliver Queen essentially created Prometheus, so therefore Adrian Chase represented Oliver's darker half. Prometheus is what Oliver could have become if he never met John Diggle and Felicity Smoak. He was Arrow's most effective villain because he was a living confirmation of everything Oliver feared he was.

I give you The Adrian Chase As Oliver Queen's Inner Voice highlights:

Adrian: I always was the one person who saw you for the murderer you are. What are you doing? Oh you are running a blood test. you think you've been dosed with something. You know there is another explanation. A more likely one in my considered opinion. You're finally going crazy. It's completely understandable, Ollie. You've lost everything, even the people I couldn't manage to take from you. I really like this Ricardo Diaz. If he didn't exist I'd have to think of him myself. He's going about this exactly right. Don't hurt the people that you love. Just get them all to abandon you. It's actually the easiest thing in the world. I told you this Ollie. I told you this man! Everything you touch dies. What you're going through right now, losing your team, your wife, the impeachment, all of it is happening just like I told you it would. And nothing in that blood test is gonna change that.

Adrian: It's tough to say you're in a good place when your oldest friend leaves you high and dry.

Oliver: John made his choice.

Adrian: And deep down you know he's right. You've changed Oliver. Sure, maybe you are a better Oliver Queen. A happier Oliver Queen. But it has sure made you a worse hero. You have a wife, son, you're the mayor - all of which yes may be going away, but still it's a fair assumption. You are stretched too thin buddy. Maybe you've gotten so good at being Oliver Queen that the Green Arrow's mission is suffering. You may be happier, but the people that you love - they're not.

Yes, I typed that all out because every line is gold.

Source: dctvgifs

It's very difficult to watch Oliver's brain beat the shit out of him so effectively. Stay strong my son!

In a nice reverse from 3x01, Oliver and the Arrow come face to face once again. Only it's not Oliver Queen who is the villain. It's the Arrow. 

For those wondering haven't we déjà'd this vu already, the answer is yes. But the point is to show the flip. Oliver isn't afraid of being Oliver Queen anymore. His fear has shifted into something else entirely. Oliver is afraid being Oliver Queen isn't enough.

He's become everything John and Felicity believed he could be. Oliver has embraced his humanity and in doing so has become a better friend, lover and father. He is actively trying to save the city during the day and in the night. Oliver is trying to be everything to everyone all the time. And yet everything is falling apart. Oliver is still losing everyone he loves. He is still all alone.

It's one thing to be afraid of embracing his humanity. It's another for Oliver to realize even when he does he still falls short. The city is still in shambles, people he loves still die, his team betrayed him, his best friend, wife and son left him and Star City is intent on taking not only his job, but his freedom. And it all happened when Oliver was being the very best version of himself.  

Oliver compartmentalized himself because he feared if he merged the two personas then all that would remain is a monster. 

It took a very long time, 

and facing the absolute worst in himself, to realize there is a good man 

under the mask. 

However, now Oliver has combined those two personas and yet nothing is getting better. Trying to be everything to everyone and yet still not feeling like enough is crushing.

It's almost more comforting to believe he hasn't changed at all - that Oliver can understand. If Oliver Queen "the hero" is simply a facade, and the monster who fails and alienates everyone while leaving a trail of bodies in his wake still remains, then this all makes sense. As much as it terrifies Oliver, he can understand why everyone has finally left him.

Oliver chose to stop hiding from love. 

It is the bond that tethers him to his humanity and what allows the light to break through all the pain, loss and trauma. He has chosen to love with everything he has, and to his horror, it's not enough. His love for his city is not enough. 

Source: @olivergifs​

His love for his team is not enough. 

His love for his brother is not enough. 

His love for his son is not enough. 

His love for his wife is not enough.

Source:  feilcityqueen

This is a different ballgame. It's not a repeat of Season 4. Oliver tried being his best self and FAILED. 

Season 6 he succeeded, but it did not create any different result. 

It's a confirmation of his worst fear. Any version of Oliver Queen is alienating. Any version of Oliver Queen is a failure.  

Oliver always had the mask to blame. He always had the monster to hide behind as the reason why everything he touches he destroys. 

But that's gone now. 

He conquered his demons. 

So, all he's left with is Oliver Queen, but he is incapable of building anything. 

He will never be the man he wants to be, the man Oliver promised his father he would be, because that man still falls spectacularly short. That's almost a fate worse than death for Oliver. We've asked Oliver to try for six years. He did. He failed. So now what?

Source: @olivergifs

The only conclusion Oliver can come to is... he was right all along. The monster and the man are one in the same. Oliver will never escape the darkness because he is darkness. Whatever light he has is ultimately powerless to overshadow it.

So, suffice it to say Oliver is spiraling down the insanity hole. The drug is taking a stronger hold on him. He can no longer distinguish the lies from the truth. If he was right all along then the only option is to shut Oliver Queen down again. He lost sight of the mission and losing everything even as Oliver Queen proves to him that the mission is all that matters. He has become the mask and only the mask. The only way he can truly serve it is the way he originally intended. Alone and as the Arrow - the conduit for the darkness within.

If you think Oliver is off his rocker then you'd be right. HE'S ON VERTIGO. He's supposed to be off his rocker. None of this is right. Our boy is so many levels of wrong it'd take me another six years to explain all of them.

Oliver decides this is still a really excellent time to make decisions that will absolutely impact his ability to live as a free man. 

Oliver hands over the evidence because it's the only card he has to play to stop the impeachment.

AND QUENTIN LET’S HIM! For the love of God man don't hand Oliver the bullet and help him load the gun! Tackle him. HE IS HIGH AS A KITE. This is not the time we allow Oliver to make decisions. This is the time we tie him to a chair!

Then, Adrian/Oliver convinces himself to go after Diaz.

Adrian: The only way to prove you are the hero you say that you are and keep being mayor is to take down Diaz tonight.

The way Chase uses his finger as a gun to Oliver's head when he says, "I'm in here" sends chills down my spine. It's a striking parallel to the last image we saw of Prometheus. 

Adrian always believed Oliver would be the hand causing his own destruction and we are alarmingly close to him being right. Even closer than we were in Season 5.

Source:  oliverxfelicity

Felicity and William return from the science fair and her purse starts beeping. Felicity has a GPS on Oliver's bow because that's the smart thing to do when he's fighting crime every night. So the newbies can pass me with their royal indignation. Don't want to get dead? Then get okay with trackers dipshits!

Enough of this hallucination bullshit. Let's get down to what is REAL and TRUE. 

Felicity calls Quentin after Oliver doesn't pick up his cell and he fills her in on what's really going on.

Quentin: He said you kicked him out.

Felicity: No, I didn't. I would never!

For all those worried Arrow will eventually take another Season 4 route with Olicity, it’s time to let it go.

Arrow is not interested in will they/won't they with Olicity anymore. Admittedly, they drove that arc into the ground, but THIS episode is about the shift not only in Oliver and Felicity's relationship, but in the way Arrow views it.

Yes, they are going to have angst. Yes, they are going to face problems. Yes, they are going to fight. But none of this will break them apart. Their love is Arrow's anchor. It is what holds this show steady. 

The pattern is the same Every. Single. Year. We get snip its of Olicity scenes punctuated by big episodes. 6x18 is a big episode with a big purpose. Arrow played on the audience's fears and insecurities with the promo and cast interviews, because they are Oliver's fears and insecurities too. The show is giving Oliver and the audience one last scare (because it's a television show and that's what television shows do), but now it's time to get down to business. Now it's time to deal in truth.

Oliver and Felicity are married. There are no more break ups. This is forever. PERIOD. Oliver will never leave Felicity and Felicity will never leave Oliver.

FUNDAMENTAL DEFINITION:

adjective

1. serving as, or being an essential part of, a foundation or basis; basic; underlying: fundamental principles; the fundamental structure.

2. of, relating to, or affecting the foundation or basis: a fundamental revision.

3. being an original or primary source: a fundamental idea.

noun

5. a basic principle, rule, law, or the like, that serves as the ground work of a system; essential part: to master the fundamentals of a trade.

There is a double meaning to the episode title. Yes, Oliver is returning to what he believes were the core “fundamentals” of the mission. However, Arrow is outright stating that the solidity of Olicity’s relationship is also a fundamental of the show. 

Still don't believe it? Well, then buckle up because Arrow is going to show you how true it is with what can only be called FANFICTION COME TO LIFE.

William, bless his pure soul, eavesdrops on Felicity's call and is all in on mission "Save Dad." 

Source:  dctvgifs 

He hands Felicity a pair of running shoes and holy mother of freaking crap I've never seen the show make this much sense! Felicity is wearing practical shoes in the field y'all!!!!!!!!! 

Quentin does his best to stop the beast, but he's no match for Oliver on a regular day. Oliver high on Vertigo and reverting back to the Arrow? Umm... no chance Quentin. Oliver knocks him out cold. A for effort though bud.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Felicity channeling her inner B*rry All*n to save her batcrap crazy husband is a big mood. 

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Felicity saying she's going to save her husband is an even bigger mood. And Felicity saying the word husband is hotter than Oliver saying wife. I don't know why. 

This is not the first time Arrow has used Felicity to break through Oliver's delusion, 

but is the first time they've used such a direct approach. What follows is probably one of my all time favorite Olicity scenes - and that's saying something after being on the air for six years.

Source: feilcityqueen

Everything swimming in Oliver's mind is lies, so Felicity has to use the truth to break through. At first she tries using William because he used to be a hindrance to Oliver's willingness to sacrifice himself. However, even in the haze of crazy Oliver knows if he dies then William still has Felicity. He will never be alone. Typically, this should be a comforting line, and while it remains a beautiful commentary on the bond Felicity and William have formed, it is utterly terrifying to hear Oliver so willfully discard his own necessity in his son's life. And that's because of the lies in his mind. His love for his son is not enough. He is a monster. He is a failure. William will be better off.

So, Felicity uses another truth. It's the one she finally confessed to Oliver the day she asked him to marry her. The day all Oliver's dreams came true. Losing Oliver is Felicity's worst fear realized. Would he willingly do that to her? Will Oliver abandon her again?

Oliver believes he can't abandon what he doesn't have. Felicity left him first. Another hallucination Felicity can only combat with what is real.

Felicity calls Oliver baby. It's canon. 

I really wish I could sew worth a damn because I'd embroider "I'm glue, baby" on a pillow. Also, be prepared for me to abuse that gif in asks. Fair warning.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Oliver hears her voice and the truth in her words. He desperately wants to believe she is real, but he is so terribly lost. Oliver cannot see what is real with his mind. So, Felicity tells him to feel with his heart instead.

From the moment Felicity Smoak entered Oliver's life she found a way to not only touch his heart, 

but to break it wide open. 

Felicity has found Oliver every moment he's been lost.  

Vertigo is not a challenge for Felicity Smoak. 

She found her way through Oliver's darkness and showed him the light within. 

He hears her words, feels the certainty of her love against his chest, 

and Oliver knows who he is again. 

Felicity's truth is the very beat of Oliver's heart.

Oliver reaches for Felicity's hand, holds her close, and lets the light guide him through the dark. Just like they've done before. 

Just like they will always do. 

Light can travel without end. It is infinite and so are Oliver and Felicity.

The relief Oliver feels is overwhelming and he smiles.  Just like that the Arrow fades and Oliver Queen returns.

Diaz gets impatient and decides to attack,  

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

which means we get an old school Olicity stunt.

I am super chill about it.

Felicity offers Oliver a Vertigo cure all based off of her hard core partying days of the past. 

My kingdom to see Goth Felicity Smoak at a rave... high.

Quentin commends the bad assness that is Felicity Smoak while he recovers from his absolute trouncing.

All it takes is Felicity calling Oliver her man and he becomes a friggin rainbow. He is putty in her hands. 

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs​

I cannot even believe we are getting these lines.

There is so much eye sex in their trip down memory lane that I am convinced they took the Arrow suit home for their own special kind of spin. 

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

You know Felicity has fantasized, so I think it's high time they make it a reality.

Oliver's high on crazy has given way to clarity. 

This is worrying given everything we've heard his brain say over the last hour. He's not completely throwing the baby out with the bath water. He remains committed to being a husband and father. He’d like to remain mayor, but finds out he's going to be impeached. Still, Oliver believes in the good he can do as the Green Arrow. However, he is reverting back to doing things alone.

Source:  dctvgifs

Felicity stresses what a colossally bad idea this is back at the apartment, but Oliver is determined to separate his worlds again.

Source:  oliverfelicitygifs

Lord, boy. It took us five bloody years to get you to this spot, one fight with Diggle and some bad crack, and we're right back to Compartmentalization Oliver.

Oliver regresses in some way every single season. It's always a mistake and it always reveals some greater lesson Oliver has to learn. Comparatively speaking, this is fairly late in the season for Oliver to be regressing which in and of itself shows some character growth. It probably means we'll be dealing with the consequences of this choice into the beginning of Season 7.

So, where do I think this road leading? The fundamental and inescapable truth is compartmentalization does not work. Oliver was on the right track merging his two selves. Quentin is right. Oliver is a better man, but everyone's reaction to it (fueled by their own issues) is throwing him off.  He will fail even as Oliver Queen and the Green Arrow, but that doesn't mean the path is wrong.

This road Oliver is about to travel alone is only going to lead to more problems. The season trajectory is pretty clearly moving from Oliver united with those he loves to Oliver separated from those he loves. My guess is prison. But I don't believe Oliver is the character who needs to change the most. My hope is watching Oliver travel this road alone, and still fighting to be the hero he is, will trigger change in the supporting characters. A fallen hero could stop all their childish nonsense and make everyone realize they have to stop blaming Oliver for everything and take responsibility for their own lives. I include Oliver in this as well. For better or worse, Oliver holds himself responsible for EVERYONE. And that's what he has to learn. Oliver is enough, but he cannot be everything.

Source: olivergifs

Quentin and Oliver

Quentin Lance is firmly wearing his Team Oliver hat this episode and it's a welcomed reprieve from his usual crazy pants talk.  I guess since Oliver is going insane Quentin had to sober up - mentally speaking.

The scenes between Oliver and Lance are some of their best all year if not the duration of the show. 

Source: @olivergifs

Oliver is still a young man trying to make his way through the world. The fact that he's also an orphan seems magnified now that Thea and Diggle have left him. Captain Lance, bless his soul, steps up into the father figure role Oliver desperately needs right now.

Oliver tells Lance Diggle quit the team and blames Oliver for its disintegration. Lance is quick to defend Oliver, who to his credit, does remind Quentin he's not there to witness Oliver's leadership style.

Source: @olivergifs

STANDING. FUCKING. OVATION. 

A supporting character is talking sense y'all! 

And it's LANCE. Did not see that coming given his trajectory this season. He's spot on. What Oliver has wanted more than anything from Quentin Lance is his respect and he has it. Oliver earned it with six years of hard work and NOBODY gets to take that away from him. Not even John Diggle.

Oliver calls Lance to give him the evidence that clears him of impeachment but incriminates him as the Green Arrow. Quentin asks what Oliver is going to do and he answers helplessly, "I don't know." He tearfully tells Lance that Felicity wants a separation and that he lost his temper with William. Oliver is as lost, alone and heartbroken as we've ever seen him. Quentin accurately points out that losing his shiznit on William is more of a night on the couch punishment and a separation is extreme. Ummm.... YEAH. 

But Oliver simply believes Felicity has left him like everyone else. UGH.

Source: @olivergifs

This might be one of the most heartbreaking lines Oliver Queen has ever spoken

and again shows how much he's grown. The old Oliver would simply shut down and solider on. The fact that he's allowing himself to feel this pain and question where everything went wrong shows Oliver embracing his humanity rather than hide from it.

Quentin has probably the best answer and gives the most insight into what is going on with all the people in Oliver's life - particularly John Diggle.

Source:  clevercloudpoetry

Can I get an amen? 

This is as close as Arrow has come to confirming my suspicions about John Diggle. Oliver becoming a better man means he doesn't need John in the same way. That's incredibly painful for Diggle and would certainly cause him to question his life and purpose.

I am the youngest of three girls. My parents sold my childhood home when I graduated from high school and moved away to college. My father was anxious to move out of our increasingly violent area, but my mother had other motivations. She told me the house made her sad. Every where she looked was another memory of raising her babies and now we were all moved out. We didn't need her in the same way anymore and it hurt. My mother needed a fresh start - a new purpose. The new house was really good for her and allowed her to shift into the new phase of life with my father more easily.

Oliver has grown up and moved away to college for lack of a better word. Everywhere John Diggle looks on Team Arrow is another memory and a stark reminder that he's no longer needed in the same way he once was.  He's looking for a fresh start and a new purpose. John needs something beyond raising Oliver Queen the same way my mother needed something beyond raising her children. Unfortunately, Diggle hasn't dug deep into any of this yet. Instead of some self reflection, John has relied on an old standby to explain his rudderless direction - it is all Oliver Queen's fault.  John believes this is a stagnancy in Oliver's growth, and not his own, when in fact the direct opposite is true.

What has not changed is the power of Diggle's words and the impact they have on Oliver. He acknowledges what Quentin says might be true, but also fears Diggle may be right - that he hasn't changed at all. Quentin delivers another humdinger of a line:

"Come on. I don't buy that. From what you've told me about John and Curtis and all those guys - they've got their own issues alright? They're just putting them on you."

Hello Quentin Lance. I have missed you.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

Oliver's voice breaks when he asks Quentin about Felicity, but Lance is unwavering. He adamantly reassures Oliver that Felicity loves him and this will all blow over eventually. He just needs to stay the course and Quentin will be by his side. Robert and Moira Queen could not have done any better and I have never loved Quentin Lance more than in this moment.

While this speech gives me all the feels it also fills me with dreaded certainty. Lance is reminiscing about the past. He's admiring how far Oliver has come and is basically the perfect father figure. These signs tend to point to full character evolution. We are on episode 18. This means one thing:

Quentin Lance is going to die.

Just mentally prepare okay? His character arc has circled the drain all season with this "BS is my daughter" crazy. Now he's done a 180 by embracing sanity and offering wise and sage advice for Oliver. You know who else offered sage advice to Oliver just before their deaths?

Sara.

L*urel.

Sageyness is one of the seven signs of impending death on Arrow. Particularly when it comes to Lances. Prepare your souls.

Oliver and L*urel

Speaking of L*urel, we are paid a visit from Oliver's departed ex when he hallucinates his way back into the Queen Mansion (I miss the mansion y'all). There is L*urel, 

Source:  supercanaries

wearing her Red Coat of Pain.

Since Oliver's deepest fears often equate to his deepest guilt then seeing L*urel at her most innocent, before she knew about Oliver's cheating and the consequences for all parties involved that it unleashed, is not surprising. 

Source:  katie-mcgraths

In some ways, Oliver kept L*urel frozen in this time even when she was alive. The image of who Oliver saw L*urel as, eternally innocent and broken by his deceit, never quite matched up to the woman we saw on screen. Particularly when Arrow went above and beyond to show L*urel was anything but innocent.

Sara: Do you remember when you spilled that beer on me at Tommy’s party? Well, I wasn’t even supposed to go. But I snuck out out of the house because I knew you were gonna be there. And I had this embarassing crush on you. And, Laurel she knew it. And that’s why the party got broken up by the cops. She tipped off our dad. Then I was grounded for a month and the next thing I knew... you and Laurel were together.

Oliver: You think she did all of that on purpose?

Sara: Not everybody is what they seem.

L*urel was not broken by Oliver's deceit, but by her own anger.

What's important to remember is this isn't Adrian's voice we're hearing. This is Oliver. So everything Adrian is saying is what OLIVER believes. 

How he really feels about L*urel becoming the BC is not a pretty picture.

Adrian: My question is why did you let her become the Bl*ck C*n*ry in the first place? She's a lawyer. What, after a couple self defense classes and a few sparring sessions you think she's ready to go handle thugs and killers?

I mean... he's not wrong. 

It's refreshing to actually HEAR Arrow admit to the unbelievability of L*urel's training. Yeah yeah, I know she trained with a boxer/vigilante for a couple episodes. Somehow that's supposed to equate to the years Oliver spent training with martial arts experts, an ASIS agent, a highly skilled and lethal Russian mob organization, and an elite member of the League of Assassins. Or the years Sara trained with the League of Assassins. At least they gave Thea six months of intensive training with Malcolm Merlyn, who was also trained by the LOA. 

Oh that's right. She trained with Nyssa too. For three episodes (that we saw). L*urel was barely able to stop a knife attack in 3x21 (after supposedly training with Nyssa for several weeks) and then suddenly she's taking several armed LOA members down in 3x22. But you bet, totally believable arc. Made total sense.

Oliver harbors serious guilt over L*urel's death and this hallucination is simply a manifestation of that. There are truths, but also a hefty dose of lies. 

Source:  supercanaries

The primarily lie being Oliver believing he could have stopped L*urel from becoming BC, or is responsible for the life she chose, or her death in any way. The truth is Oliver wasn't supportive of LL becoming BC and he did everything he could to stop her. 

In fact he told L*urel, to her face, he thought she was a liability, a loose cannon in the field, and was going to get herself killed one day.

And he was fucking right.

Oliver begrudgingly accepted her decision, but that was primarily because Diggle and Felicity illogically had L*urel’s back. 

JOHN DIGGLE IS A SPECIAL FORCES SOLIDER AND HE SIGNED OFF ON LL IN THE FIELD WITH NO TRAINING AT ALL. AGAIN, MAKES TOTAL SENSE SHOW.

Quite frankly, Oliver had bigger fish to fry in Season 3 and he had to move on. 

 After L*urel resurrected Sara in Season 4, who then tried to kill Thea and put her in the hospital, she threw another "it's all about me" bitch fit 

and Oliver folded. 

He helped get Sara's soul back and all of their issues were swept under the rug. 

Then Arrow killed L*urel.

So, listen buddy.  Sure, L*urel eventually worked her way to capable, but to be frank you had very little to do with it and THAT'S where the guilt comes from. The sparring sessions you speak of only took place a few episodes before she died. This is Oliver's God Complex rearing his ugly head again. Maybe if he trained L*urel more (or at all), maybe if he protected her better in the field, maybe if he found a way to keep her out of the field entirely - then she would be still be alive.

Nope. Sorry fella. None of that would have worked, because L*urel was L*urel and she was gonna do what she damn well pleased. Never mind the fact that Damien Darhk magically froze the team and they were all essentially defenseless when he killed her, but that's just details. Oliver thinking he is somehow responsible for her death in any way takes away from the legitimate heroism L*urel earned. 

He understood that in Season 4, but he's pretty high right now. So, I'll give him a pass this time.

Legit question though. If you are a LL fan - why are you still watching Arrow? 

I am curious, because I have never seen a show so willingly shade their own creation at every turn like Arrow does with LL.  They flat out called her BC arc a bunch of illogical nonsense. 

I appreciate the brutal honesty from the show, but it's a zing that packs some punch. After six years of this aren't y'all tired? A few interspersed scenes of Bl*ck S*ren should as hell wouldn't keep me around.

Straight Thoughts

I've never felt so spiritually connected to Felicity Smoak in all my life. Source: felicitysmoakgifs

I appreciated that Arrow used a flashback during Oliver's hallucination with Rene to show his injury was not remotely Oliver's fault. I like when my show talks sense.

Oliver's hallucination of the newbies was the most accurate. They are petty babies in real life too.

Adrian's scar on his temple from the bullet wound is unnerving.

Don't ever kill Raisa again, show. My heart can't take it. Not even when it's fake.

"I always wondered why nobody just does that. Kill you straight." Diaz needs to watch Season 3. See how that option goes.  Source: dctvgifs

"Not a great track record when it comes to hiring DA's though." Of all of Adrian Chases' lines are fab, but this is my fave.

This evil cupcake.  Source:  olivergifs

"He's buying us expensive gifts if he knows what's good for him." Felicity wifes like I wife.

I love this kid. Source:  olivergifs

Arrow wisely previewed an Olicity kiss for the all villain ep this week. 

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 6x18 gifs credited.

[classywastelandbread-blog]

Honored Spirits Bonus Chapter: Sleepover

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, so this is to commemorate it. 

Yay?

The mission hadn’t gone wrong per se, but it had certainly taken a hard sideways turn. No one had died and there were no injuries that required more than a few hours in a biotic field under Mercy’s tender care. The payload had been secured with no civilian casualties and only a little damage to the streets and buildings.

Still, mistakes had been made and friends had been injured. It marked the first major mission since Hanzo and McCree had returned from their...explorations and while it seemed to go well, clearly it had not.

It didn’t matter that they had on hand the best that modern medicine had to offer - no one liked being patched up by nanites or in the itching, lukewarm clutches of a biotic field. Worse in some ways was Mercy’s Caduceus staff, which everyone - including Mercy herself - agreed was one of the most uncomfortable sensations that any of them had experienced. They should not be able to feel flesh and bone and muscle knitting back together but it served as a good deterrent to caution against reckless behavior in battle.

(No one dared mention Ana’s biotic rifle, even if the sniper didn’t seem to be around. She was not so petty that she would withhold healing for a teammate that needed it - and held still long enough for her to shoot them with her darts - but she would make sure that it hurt before the pain was soothed and their wounds healed.)

Dinner after they had returned and debriefed was a quiet affair and almost immediately they all dispersed, still lost in their thoughts.

McCree wasn’t surprised that he woke up shortly after attempting sleep and wasn’t too surprised to find his room light up with a gentle blue glow. He caught sight of Soba perched on the edge of his desk, its tail twitching and curling in nervous arcs of pale blue scales and golden fur.

“I could use something to drink,” McCree said out loud into the oppressive silence of his room. It was a sensation like tinnitus - the quiet yawning like a chasm so much that his ears rang with it. “Lemme get a shirt on and then we can go to the kitchen.”

Soba’s talons clicked against the top of the desk until he gestured to it and it drifted over, far quicker than McCree was used to, to tangle itself around McCree’s shoulders and waist. Just as he was about to step out of his room, he paused and grabbed the beat-up paperback he had read with Soba as they hunted down Hanzo’s targets. As if in reward, Soba nudged the side of his jaw. It still didn’t speak and McCree knew that it was a sign that it was particularly upset.

That in turn meant that Hanzo was upset.

“Why don’t you tell Han I’ll be out in just a sec?” McCree suggested, reaching up to tickle the underside of Soba’s jaw. It didn’t settle but submitted with ill grace to the scritches. If it indeed spoke, he couldn’t hear it but Hanzo still seemed to expect him and hand a mug of tea ready.

They smiled wordlessly at each other and McCree leaned down to press a bold kiss to Hanzo’s cheek as he picked up his mug, a silly thing that they found covered in dust and grime in one of the old storage rooms with the Overwatch logo on one side and the words, You don’t have to be crazy to work here. We’ll train you.

Hanzo looked up at him, his smile hidden in his eyes as he sipped from his mug, a joke that Hana had gotten for him that said, Might be vodka. His eyes also said the other things he wouldn’t say out loud. Udon rippled beneath his skin.

“Brought a book,” McCree said, wiggling the old paperback novel as he sipped at the tea. “If ya wanna join me.”

He was only partially surprised to find Hana on the small loveseat in one of the corners, bundled up in a blanket. She had a similarly haunted look and yet another mug of tea in her hands, this one bearing her logo.

“Wanna read with us?” McCree asked as he settled on the couch. “It’s Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton.”

McCree sighed, settling himself and then holding still for Soba to settle itself in turn. A moment later, Udon peeled itself away from Hanzo’s skin and curled up, restless and shaky in his lap while Hanzo himself curled up against McCree’s side. Hana joined them wordlessly, forcing the two of them to shift so that McCree was in the middle of the couch; she tucked herself against McCree’s other side.

Disgruntled, Soba tucked its head beneath the collar of his shirt and flattened itself along his skin. Hana’s eyes were sharp if a bit unfocused but she made no comment on it, curling herself further into his side.

“You want us to start over?” McCree asked as he thumbed to one of the pages marked with a small sticky-note marked with Udon’s name - the last place they had all left off. Another one with Soba’s name was further in the book.

Wordlessly, Hana shook her head; she bent her face over her mug and curled up tighter.

“Alright,” McCree said and took a sip of his own mug. Dirty leaf water he may tease Hanzo, but the warmth was very much welcome to chase away the bone-deep chill of night terrors.

Three pages in, Soba had peeled away from McCree’s skin, now laying on it and draping its body across his shoulders. Leaning against his arm, Hana toyed with the tuft at the end with both hands as she listened to McCree read.

Hanzo served them more tea after two more pages. As he was coming back to his spot, Angela walked in with Ramen draped across her shoulders; after making herself a cup of hot cocoa surprisingly heavy with milk and Ovomaltine, she found a spot on the loveseat. When asked if she wanted them to start over, she shook her head and asked for a brief summary of where they were in the book, claiming to have once read it a long time ago.

Though he could tell it wanted to join Soba and Udon where they were tangled around him and Hanzo, Ramen remained with Angela, occasionally nudging its snout against her cheek reassuringly.

McCree continued to read. When he finished reading about a scene that talked about Tim’s love of dinosaurs, Soba spoke for the first time. I don’t like Tim’s father, it said petulantly.

Smiling, McCree reached up to stroke the underside of its jaws. Hana mumbled sleepily as the motion jostled her.

It’s a trope, Udon grumbled. The father that isn’t as understanding as he should be.

On his other side, Hanzo stiffened and McCree casually looped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. Shimada Sojiro was like Tim’s father, Soba said, twisting so it was spread out over Hanzo, McCree, and Hana’s laps.

“Why’d you stop, cowboy?” Hana mumbled sleepily.

“Sorry,” McCree murmured back. Across the room, Angela stirred her cocoa with a tired smile; Ramen yawned adorably from its perch on her lap though McCree knew that the dragon spirits had no need for sleep. He turned the page and resumed reading.

A page and a half later, they were joined by Mei and Snowball, who both seemed surprised to see the group. While the kettle warmed again they went out to get as many blankets and pillows as they could find and returned with Lena in tow. They derailed their storytime to construct a crude blanket fort.

Childish, Udon sniffed, but it was by its suggestion that they use the tables placed on their sides to make the enclosure larger. Regardless, Udon got the other spirits in the air until everyone was able to settle down on makeshift pillows and blankets.

Hanzo claimed a spot tucked up against McCree’s right side while Hana resumed her place on his left, curled up and not quite touching him. He knew better than to push her and his left arm was needed to hold the book anyway.

At his nod, the dragons settled again. Soba curled up on his right side, a long cool line from collarbone to ankle as it balanced along the seam created by McCree and Hanzo; Udon mirrored its pose over McCree’s other side, though at his hip its hips and long tail curled to drape over Hana’s as well. It curled the tufted end of its tail under her neck and let her toy with the silky strands as she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

Ramen curled up with Angela, Mei, and Snowball, letting the little drone rest with a happy trill against its belly and forelegs. Angela, Mei, and Lena were propped up against the long side of the couch, the kettle of hot water resting on an insulated pad between them; Ramen had draped itself over their laps when they were settled.

Continue! Ramen said imperiously.

Smiling, McCree waited for Hanzo’s sleepy “translation” and obeyed.

The next morning when Ana made her way to the common room, she found a small crowd outside the doors.

“What is it, Jack?” she asked quietly. Soldier 76 twisted to scowl at her, an expression only visible in the furrows carved into his brow above the mask. “Oh right,” she said with false sympathy. “That’s not your name now, is it?”

Soldier 76 grunted. “Told you not to call me that,” he agreed gruffly.

Waving him off, Ana pushed past into the kitchen. Reinhardt smiled widely at her and gestured for her to be quiet. He was very carefully pulling out ingredients for breakfast and she eyed him before looking for her kettle.

“Looks like the kids had a sleepover,” he said, his thunderous voice as soft as he could reasonably make it. Looking where he gestured, he indeed found the “kids”.

They had created a blanket fort out of the couch cushions and assorted blankets she recognized as the plain, ubiquitous things from Storage. Mattress pads provided cushion for the “floor” of their fort - to ease the aches in backs that may be used to feeling the ache of the hard ground but were becoming too old to comfortably enjoy it - and more sheets and blankets hung over the short-legged tables tilted on their sides to give it the appearance of a nest.

McCree and Hanzo were curled up together like two matching puzzle pieces; Hana Song lay tangled in the comforter next to them, one foot sticking out, bare to her knee as the motion of her tossing and turning hiked up the leg of her pajama pants. Her hand lay draped tentatively over McCree’s metal wrist. To their side, Mei, Lena, and Angela leaned against each other. Empty mugs lay tilted on their sides, some of them with contents that had spilled to the carpets and others with empty stains that marked where they had been filled with tea or cocoa.

The dragons were tucked around them: Soba and Udon rested on the now-cushionless couch like glittering blue-and-gold gargoyles while Ramen perched on the edge of the table with Snowball, in power-saving mode, resting on its shoulders. A book was held carefully in Soba’s jaws, the page delicately saved between its teeth.

“Let’s let them sleep a little longer,” she said to the immortal spirits. “Bring me the book, Soba, and I will mark the page for you.” The dragon obeyed and she used a piece of napkin from the kitchen to mark their place as promised. “If they wake up and are hungry, will you tell them that we’re at the lower kitchen?”

Soba twisted in the air around her head but from its perch, Udon nodded regally. Smiling, Ana shooed the curious observers out and helped Reinhardt pack up the ingredients to take to the other kitchen as promised.

“I think they earned themselves some rest, don’t you think?” Reinhardt smiled agreeably.

[bulbspoon9-blog]

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are a simple, low carb, sweet treat that are so easy to make and loaded with rich chocolatey flavor. This low carb chocolate muffin recipe comes with alternative sweetener options as well, so if you aren’t doing the super low carb thing or if you just want to make these Keto Chocolate Muffins ASAP with pantry staples you already have on hand you can get on in right away.

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are little bit different of a recipe for me. I am not big on baking or sweets and I am also not generally one for using alternative sweeteners, not that there is anything wrong with some of them, necessarily, but it’s just not my scene. Most of the time, if and when I am going to have a little something sweet, I will use a very small amount of maple syrup or honey or a little coconut sugar. We’re talking a small amount, because it’s totally fine and I will be fine and honey and a little sugar won’t kill me.

When I developed this particular Keto Chocolate Muffins recipe, however, I wanted to make a low carb muffin recipe that would be versatile for my different readers and their different needs. I know for many folks eating keto or a low carb diet, they find themselves there due to diabetes or a metabolic condition of some sort where tracking their blood sugar becomes of high importance, so they do have to be more mindful and aware then those of us just choosing this lifestyle to feel good. Having several people in my life, close to me, that are diabetic, I love creating recipes that I know they can enjoy, too and I can feel good knowing they aren’t shoving those super scary artificial sweeteners into their bodies (splenda and the like).

These Keto Chocolate Muffins can be made several different ways. To be fully low carb and low glycemic, I tested the recipe with this Monkfruit Maple Flavored Syrup, which I have found is a nice replacement for baking recipes that use maple syrup or honey.  There is a very subtle maple flavor, however, so you are aware, but I find that flavor pairs so nicely with these muffins. It’s not too distinguishable in this recipe, but in other recipes it can be more prevalent.

By using the monkfruit, these Keto Chocolate Muffins (by my calculations) clock in just over 5 net carbs per muffin! Not too shabby.

Go For It, Honey!

I tested this same muffin recipe using both honey and maple syrup, for the folks that don’t want the alternative “natural” sweeteners and aren’t necessarily super low carb or maybe you’re looking for a sweet treat for a carb-up. It works just as wonderfully. Obviously using honey or maple syrup makes these not quite as low carb / low sugar, but if you use honey, one muffin is around 18.5 net carbs, so a nice post-workout sweet bite on those days you want a little more. I really love these muffins made with honey!

Keto Chocolate Muffins Add-Ins and Ons

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are incredible with cacao nibs or your favorite chocolate chips, they are also delicious with hemp hearts, walnuts, pecans and I especially love them with a sprinkle of freeze-dried raspberries inside and on top. That tart little bite, is so nice!

These beautiful plates are from Amy Hamley Ceramics

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

2¼ cups blanched almond flour

¼ cup + 1 tablespoon cocoa powder (or cacao powder)

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon sea salt

3 large pasture-raised eggs (room temperature)

½ cup liquid monkfruit syrup (you can also use honey or maple syrup)

¼ cup melted coconut oil, grass-fed butter or ghee

¼ cup cocoa nibs (or dark chocolate chips), freeze dried raspberries, roughly chopped nuts like walnuts or pecans, hemp hearts, etc

Preheat oven to 350˚F. Line a muffin tin with paper liners.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the almond flour, baking soda, cacao powder and salt.

In a separate large mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Whisk in the monkfruit syrup (honey or maple syrup) melted butter or coconut oil and whisk to combine. Stir in the almond-flour mixture, then carefully fold in any add-ins you are including.

Divide all of the the very dense batter into the prepared muffin tin and bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until the tops are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool the muffin pan on a wire rack for 5 minutes. Gently pop the muffins out and cool 10 minutes more on the rack. (Don’t cool them longer than 5 minutes in the hot pan or they’ll get soggy).

I find these muffins do best stored in the refrigerator for u too 5 days or freeze them for up to several months.

The nutrition facts shared with the net carbs being 5.2g / per muffin are for the muffins made with coconut oil and the monkfruit syrup, without any additional add-ins like cacao nibs, nuts or dried raspberries. As always this information cannot be 100% accurate!

Serving size: 1 Calories: 252 kcal Fat: 21.5 g Carbohydrates: 12.3 g Fiber: 7.1 g Protein: 8.6 g

3.5.3229

  Looking for another simple muffin recipe, try my versatile Almond Flour Muffins

Source: http://tasty-yummies.com/keto-chocolate-muffins-gluten-free-paleo/

[stockbeaver96-blog]

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are a simple, low carb, sweet treat that are so easy to make and loaded with rich chocolatey flavor. This low carb chocolate muffin recipe comes with alternative sweetener options as well, so if you aren’t doing the super low carb thing or if you just want to make these Keto Chocolate Muffins ASAP with pantry staples you already have on hand you can get on in right away.

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are little bit different of a recipe for me. I am not big on baking or sweets and I am also not generally one for using alternative sweeteners, not that there is anything wrong with some of them, necessarily, but it’s just not my scene. Most of the time, if and when I am going to have a little something sweet, I will use a very small amount of maple syrup or honey or a little coconut sugar. We’re talking a small amount, because it’s totally fine and I will be fine and honey and a little sugar won’t kill me.

When I developed this particular Keto Chocolate Muffins recipe, however, I wanted to make a low carb muffin recipe that would be versatile for my different readers and their different needs. I know for many folks eating keto or a low carb diet, they find themselves there due to diabetes or a metabolic condition of some sort where tracking their blood sugar becomes of high importance, so they do have to be more mindful and aware then those of us just choosing this lifestyle to feel good. Having several people in my life, close to me, that are diabetic, I love creating recipes that I know they can enjoy, too and I can feel good knowing they aren’t shoving those super scary artificial sweeteners into their bodies (splenda and the like).

These Keto Chocolate Muffins can be made several different ways. To be fully low carb and low glycemic, I tested the recipe with this Monkfruit Maple Flavored Syrup, which I have found is a nice replacement for baking recipes that use maple syrup or honey.  There is a very subtle maple flavor, however, so you are aware, but I find that flavor pairs so nicely with these muffins. It’s not too distinguishable in this recipe, but in other recipes it can be more prevalent.

By using the monkfruit, these Keto Chocolate Muffins (by my calculations) clock in just over 5 net carbs per muffin! Not too shabby.

Go For It, Honey!

I tested this same muffin recipe using both honey and maple syrup, for the folks that don’t want the alternative “natural” sweeteners and aren’t necessarily super low carb or maybe you’re looking for a sweet treat for a carb-up. It works just as wonderfully. Obviously using honey or maple syrup makes these not quite as low carb / low sugar, but if you use honey, one muffin is around 18.5 net carbs, so a nice post-workout sweet bite on those days you want a little more. I really love these muffins made with honey!

Keto Chocolate Muffins Add-Ins and Ons

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are incredible with cacao nibs or your favorite chocolate chips, they are also delicious with hemp hearts, walnuts, pecans and I especially love them with a sprinkle of freeze-dried raspberries inside and on top. That tart little bite, is so nice!

These beautiful plates are from Amy Hamley Ceramics

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

2¼ cups blanched almond flour

¼ cup + 1 tablespoon cocoa powder (or cacao powder)

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon sea salt

3 large pasture-raised eggs (room temperature)

½ cup liquid monkfruit syrup (you can also use honey or maple syrup)

¼ cup melted coconut oil, grass-fed butter or ghee

¼ cup cocoa nibs (or dark chocolate chips), freeze dried raspberries, roughly chopped nuts like walnuts or pecans, hemp hearts, etc

Preheat oven to 350˚F. Line a muffin tin with paper liners.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the almond flour, baking soda, cacao powder and salt.

In a separate large mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Whisk in the monkfruit syrup (honey or maple syrup) melted butter or coconut oil and whisk to combine. Stir in the almond-flour mixture, then carefully fold in any add-ins you are including.

Divide all of the the very dense batter into the prepared muffin tin and bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until the tops are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool the muffin pan on a wire rack for 5 minutes. Gently pop the muffins out and cool 10 minutes more on the rack. (Don’t cool them longer than 5 minutes in the hot pan or they’ll get soggy).

I find these muffins do best stored in the refrigerator for u too 5 days or freeze them for up to several months.

The nutrition facts shared with the net carbs being 5.2g / per muffin are for the muffins made with coconut oil and the monkfruit syrup, without any additional add-ins like cacao nibs, nuts or dried raspberries. As always this information cannot be 100% accurate!

Serving size: 1 Calories: 252 kcal Fat: 21.5 g Carbohydrates: 12.3 g Fiber: 7.1 g Protein: 8.6 g

3.5.3229

  Looking for another simple muffin recipe, try my versatile Almond Flour Muffins

Source: http://tasty-yummies.com/keto-chocolate-muffins-gluten-free-paleo/

[biteblue81-blog]

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are a simple, low carb, sweet treat that are so easy to make and loaded with rich chocolatey flavor. This low carb chocolate muffin recipe comes with alternative sweetener options as well, so if you aren’t doing the super low carb thing or if you just want to make these Keto Chocolate Muffins ASAP with pantry staples you already have on hand you can get on in right away.

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are little bit different of a recipe for me. I am not big on baking or sweets and I am also not generally one for using alternative sweeteners, not that there is anything wrong with some of them, necessarily, but it’s just not my scene. Most of the time, if and when I am going to have a little something sweet, I will use a very small amount of maple syrup or honey or a little coconut sugar. We’re talking a small amount, because it’s totally fine and I will be fine and honey and a little sugar won’t kill me.

When I developed this particular Keto Chocolate Muffins recipe, however, I wanted to make a low carb muffin recipe that would be versatile for my different readers and their different needs. I know for many folks eating keto or a low carb diet, they find themselves there due to diabetes or a metabolic condition of some sort where tracking their blood sugar becomes of high importance, so they do have to be more mindful and aware then those of us just choosing this lifestyle to feel good. Having several people in my life, close to me, that are diabetic, I love creating recipes that I know they can enjoy, too and I can feel good knowing they aren’t shoving those super scary artificial sweeteners into their bodies (splenda and the like).

These Keto Chocolate Muffins can be made several different ways. To be fully low carb and low glycemic, I tested the recipe with this Monkfruit Maple Flavored Syrup, which I have found is a nice replacement for baking recipes that use maple syrup or honey.  There is a very subtle maple flavor, however, so you are aware, but I find that flavor pairs so nicely with these muffins. It’s not too distinguishable in this recipe, but in other recipes it can be more prevalent.

By using the monkfruit, these Keto Chocolate Muffins (by my calculations) clock in just over 5 net carbs per muffin! Not too shabby.

Go For It, Honey!

I tested this same muffin recipe using both honey and maple syrup, for the folks that don’t want the alternative “natural” sweeteners and aren’t necessarily super low carb or maybe you’re looking for a sweet treat for a carb-up. It works just as wonderfully. Obviously using honey or maple syrup makes these not quite as low carb / low sugar, but if you use honey, one muffin is around 18.5 net carbs, so a nice post-workout sweet bite on those days you want a little more. I really love these muffins made with honey!

Keto Chocolate Muffins Add-Ins and Ons

These Keto Chocolate Muffins are incredible with cacao nibs or your favorite chocolate chips, they are also delicious with hemp hearts, walnuts, pecans and I especially love them with a sprinkle of freeze-dried raspberries inside and on top. That tart little bite, is so nice!

These beautiful plates are from Amy Hamley Ceramics

Keto Chocolate Muffins gluten-free, paleo

2¼ cups blanched almond flour

¼ cup + 1 tablespoon cocoa powder (or cacao powder)

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon sea salt

3 large pasture-raised eggs (room temperature)

½ cup liquid monkfruit syrup (you can also use honey or maple syrup)

¼ cup melted coconut oil, grass-fed butter or ghee

¼ cup cocoa nibs (or dark chocolate chips), freeze dried raspberries, roughly chopped nuts like walnuts or pecans, hemp hearts, etc

Preheat oven to 350˚F. Line a muffin tin with paper liners.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the almond flour, baking soda, cacao powder and salt.

In a separate large mixing bowl, beat the eggs. Whisk in the monkfruit syrup (honey or maple syrup) melted butter or coconut oil and whisk to combine. Stir in the almond-flour mixture, then carefully fold in any add-ins you are including.

Divide all of the the very dense batter into the prepared muffin tin and bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until the tops are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool the muffin pan on a wire rack for 5 minutes. Gently pop the muffins out and cool 10 minutes more on the rack. (Don’t cool them longer than 5 minutes in the hot pan or they’ll get soggy).

I find these muffins do best stored in the refrigerator for u too 5 days or freeze them for up to several months.

The nutrition facts shared with the net carbs being 5.2g / per muffin are for the muffins made with coconut oil and the monkfruit syrup, without any additional add-ins like cacao nibs, nuts or dried raspberries. As always this information cannot be 100% accurate!

Serving size: 1 Calories: 252 kcal Fat: 21.5 g Carbohydrates: 12.3 g Fiber: 7.1 g Protein: 8.6 g

3.5.3229

  Looking for another simple muffin recipe, try my versatile Almond Flour Muffins

Source: http://tasty-yummies.com/keto-chocolate-muffins-gluten-free-paleo/

[ryancanedy]

Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene

Chari Herndon of Chic Home Style loves the holiday season. It was no surprise that she embraced the Christmas spirit and decorated her house to the nines for this years Holiday Style Challenge.

Check out how Chari transformed her living room to make it feel like Christmas morning.

Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene

Christmas has been my absolute favorite holiday since I was a kid! I have the fondest memories of opening presents, writing letters to Santa, and leaving out milk and cookies. I distinctly remember reading the classic book The Night Before Christmas, watching my favorite movies like Home Alone, and being so anxious about Christmas morning. When The Home Depot asked me to join their 2017 Holiday Style Challenge I immediately knew that “Christmas Morning” would be my theme for the challenge. My parents always made a big deal of Christmas. Believing in the magic of the holiday was everything to me as a child. I wanted to incorporate some of the nostalgic memories I had into my styling.

I started with deciding on a color scheme for my space. Lately, I’ve been into cobalt blue and gold, so I thought it only made sense to incorporate the colors into my holiday decor. When I was a kid, red was a color we used most often for the holidays. I opted to add pops of reds to my space for a bold contrast.

Red Metal Bow

The Home Depot sent me the Martha Stewart Living 19 in. Red Metal Bow. My task was to incorporate this piece into my decor: I decided to hang in on my balcony door. I measured to find the center of the window, then I hung the metal bow using a Command Hook.

Christmas Tree

Next, I made a list of items I wanted to purchase for my space. A Christmas tree was at the top of my list. Since my ceilings are 11-ft. high, I knew I would need one a little taller than average. I chose the gorgeous Martha Stewart 9 ft. Pre-Lit LED Sparkling Pine Artificial Christmas Tree for my space. The tree was super easy to assemble, and it comes pre-lit and lightly flocked with “snow” and glitter. Have your vacuum cleaner handy, as the glitter can get a little messy. I have to say that this is the best artificial tree I’ve ever owned! I was amazed at how real it looked!

Determining the right size tree for the height of your ceilings is very important. A good rule of thumb is to allow at least 1½ ft. between the top of the tree and your ceilings; and remember to account for the height of the tree topper you want to use. Also, equally as important is making sure that you account for the girth of your tree. My tree has a 52 in. base diameter so I made sure I had enough room for about 5 ft. This gave me ample area to fit my tree in the corner and to give enough space between the furniture.

I chose a few items to decorate my tree, including the Home Accents Holiday 2.3 in. Shatter Proof Ornaments in Gold, and I added a few festive gold and white gift boxes underneath the tree.

Wreath

I thought it would be neat to add a large wreath inside the apartment. I was excited to find the Martha Stewart 48 in. Battery Operated Pre-Lit LED Winslow Artificial Christmas Wreath. The wreath was already pre-decorated so all I needed to do was hang it, fluff it, and add batteries. I love that it has a timer setting which automatically turns the lights on/off every 12 hours. It really makes a great impact in my living room and complements the Martha Stewart 9 ft. Pre-Lit LED Sparkling Pine Artificial Christmas Tree really well!

DIY Ornaments

I was on the hunt to find cobalt blue ornaments to match my décor, but couldn’t find the right tone of blue. So, I opted to make my own DIY ornaments using Americana 2 oz. Cobalt Satin Multi-Surface Acrylic Paint. This is how I created the perfect ornaments to complement my space.

Materials

Americana 2 oz. Cobalt Satin Multi-Surface Acrylic Paint

2 Small Brushes

Gold Metallic Spray Paint

60mm Glass ornaments

Gold Gilding Sheets

Gilding Adhesive

Thin Satin Ribbon of your choice

Scissors

Step 1: Remove Ornament Tops

First, start by removing the tops of your ornaments and set them aside.

Step 2: Paint Ornaments

Next, squirt a generous amount of paint into the ornament.

Cover the top of the ornament with your finger and shake until the paint is evenly covered.

Step 3: Allow Paint to Dry

Turn the ornaments upside down and let them sit for at least 24 hours to allow all the excess paint to drain completely. I used my ornament storage box as a “drying station” you can use a plastic cup or another alternative for this step.

Step 4: Add Gilding Adhesive

Now you’re ready to add the gilding adhesive.

I used a water based adhesive so a little goes a long way. I applied a small amount to my cup and lightly dipped my brush into it. Be careful not to over saturate your brush, a little dab is plenty.

Next, apply a thin layer of the adhesive to your ornament in the spots you want the gold foil to cover.

Step 5: Apply Gold Leaf Foil

Allow the adhesive to dry until it becomes tacky. While I waited for my adhesive to dry I went ahead and cut my gold sheets to prep them for application.

I used Martha Stewart’s gilding sheets which worked the best for me. Each foil sheet has a wax paper backing making it easy to apply.

Gently place your foiling sheet onto the ornament with the wax side up. If you missed any spots simply use any excess gold foil to cover any gaps.

The wax paper will easily separate once the gold leaf has been applied. Set aside any excess to use later.

Step 6:

Use your clean brush to burnish the gilding and brush away any excess flakes for a clean look

Step 7: Add Ribbon

Finally, spray paint the tops using a gold metallic spray paint, add ribbon of your choice and you’re all set to hang these beauties on the tree!

Festive Christmas Morning Décor

After decorating my tree, I focused on some of the fun details I remembered as a child. I incorporated a couple of my favorite books and a handwritten note to Santa that was written for me by a calligrapher.

Leaving milk and cookies out for Santa was a must. I couldn’t resist a little magic by adding Santa’s footprints.

Wall Decal

On the opposite wall, I decided to switch things up a bit by  bringing in a little holiday cheer with a decal. I found this Happy Holidays Wall Decal at The Home Depot and it was the perfect fit for my blank wall space.

Christmas Morning Hot Chocolate Bar

To complete my Christmas morning scene, I styled a self-serve hot chocolate bar cart for entertaining! I love to entertain so I thought this would be the perfect way to “bring good cheer.”

Add a few hot cocoa K-cups and topping options for an easy way to make the perfect cup of goodness in a matter of minutes.

I had personalized cup sleeves written for me and my girls by a local calligrapher for a unique touch.

Head over to my blog for a complete tutorial on how to make these hazelnut-chocolate spread flavored rims for your hot chocolate cups. It’s going to be a hit for the holidays, I’m sure!

A special thanks to The Home Depot for inviting me back for another fun Holiday Style Challenge. My Christmas morning scene wouldn’t be complete without them! I look forward to having a wonderful season in my newly decorated living room.

For more DIY holiday ideas, see other articles in our Holiday Style Challenge series, and follow our Holiday Style Challenge board on Pinterest.

Visit The Home Depot’s online Holiday Decor Department for more decorations to spruce up your living room and create the perfect Christmas morning scene.

The post Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.

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Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene

Chari Herndon of Chic Home Style loves the holiday season. It was no surprise that she embraced the Christmas spirit and decorated her house to the nines for this years Holiday Style Challenge.

Check out how Chari transformed her living room to make it feel like Christmas morning.

Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene

Christmas has been my absolute favorite holiday since I was a kid! I have the fondest memories of opening presents, writing letters to Santa, and leaving out milk and cookies. I distinctly remember reading the classic book The Night Before Christmas, watching my favorite movies like Home Alone, and being so anxious about Christmas morning. When The Home Depot asked me to join their 2017 Holiday Style Challenge I immediately knew that “Christmas Morning” would be my theme for the challenge. My parents always made a big deal of Christmas. Believing in the magic of the holiday was everything to me as a child. I wanted to incorporate some of the nostalgic memories I had into my styling.

I started with deciding on a color scheme for my space. Lately, I’ve been into cobalt blue and gold, so I thought it only made sense to incorporate the colors into my holiday decor. When I was a kid, red was a color we used most often for the holidays. I opted to add pops of reds to my space for a bold contrast.

Red Metal Bow

The Home Depot sent me the Martha Stewart Living 19 in. Red Metal Bow. My task was to incorporate this piece into my decor: I decided to hang in on my balcony door. I measured to find the center of the window, then I hung the metal bow using a Command Hook.

Christmas Tree

Next, I made a list of items I wanted to purchase for my space. A Christmas tree was at the top of my list. Since my ceilings are 11-ft. high, I knew I would need one a little taller than average. I chose the gorgeous Martha Stewart 9 ft. Pre-Lit LED Sparkling Pine Artificial Christmas Tree for my space. The tree was super easy to assemble, and it comes pre-lit and lightly flocked with “snow” and glitter. Have your vacuum cleaner handy, as the glitter can get a little messy. I have to say that this is the best artificial tree I’ve ever owned! I was amazed at how real it looked!

Determining the right size tree for the height of your ceilings is very important. A good rule of thumb is to allow at least 1½ ft. between the top of the tree and your ceilings; and remember to account for the height of the tree topper you want to use. Also, equally as important is making sure that you account for the girth of your tree. My tree has a 52 in. base diameter so I made sure I had enough room for about 5 ft. This gave me ample area to fit my tree in the corner and to give enough space between the furniture.

I chose a few items to decorate my tree, including the Home Accents Holiday 2.3 in. Shatter Proof Ornaments in Gold, and I added a few festive gold and white gift boxes underneath the tree.

Wreath

I thought it would be neat to add a large wreath inside the apartment. I was excited to find the Martha Stewart 48 in. Battery Operated Pre-Lit LED Winslow Artificial Christmas Wreath. The wreath was already pre-decorated so all I needed to do was hang it, fluff it, and add batteries. I love that it has a timer setting which automatically turns the lights on/off every 12 hours. It really makes a great impact in my living room and complements the Martha Stewart 9 ft. Pre-Lit LED Sparkling Pine Artificial Christmas Tree really well!

DIY Ornaments

I was on the hunt to find cobalt blue ornaments to match my décor, but couldn’t find the right tone of blue. So, I opted to make my own DIY ornaments using Americana 2 oz. Cobalt Satin Multi-Surface Acrylic Paint. This is how I created the perfect ornaments to complement my space.

Materials

Americana 2 oz. Cobalt Satin Multi-Surface Acrylic Paint

2 Small Brushes

Gold Metallic Spray Paint

60mm Glass ornaments

Gold Gilding Sheets

Gilding Adhesive

Thin Satin Ribbon of your choice

Scissors

Step 1: Remove Ornament Tops

First, start by removing the tops of your ornaments and set them aside.

Step 2: Paint Ornaments

Next, squirt a generous amount of paint into the ornament.

Cover the top of the ornament with your finger and shake until the paint is evenly covered.

Step 3: Allow Paint to Dry

Turn the ornaments upside down and let them sit for at least 24 hours to allow all the excess paint to drain completely. I used my ornament storage box as a “drying station” you can use a plastic cup or another alternative for this step.

Step 4: Add Gilding Adhesive

Now you’re ready to add the gilding adhesive.

I used a water based adhesive so a little goes a long way. I applied a small amount to my cup and lightly dipped my brush into it. Be careful not to over saturate your brush, a little dab is plenty.

Next, apply a thin layer of the adhesive to your ornament in the spots you want the gold foil to cover.

Step 5: Apply Gold Leaf Foil

Allow the adhesive to dry until it becomes tacky. While I waited for my adhesive to dry I went ahead and cut my gold sheets to prep them for application.

I used Martha Stewart’s gilding sheets which worked the best for me. Each foil sheet has a wax paper backing making it easy to apply.

Gently place your foiling sheet onto the ornament with the wax side up. If you missed any spots simply use any excess gold foil to cover any gaps.

The wax paper will easily separate once the gold leaf has been applied. Set aside any excess to use later.

Step 6:

Use your clean brush to burnish the gilding and brush away any excess flakes for a clean look

Step 7: Add Ribbon

Finally, spray paint the tops using a gold metallic spray paint, add ribbon of your choice and you’re all set to hang these beauties on the tree!

Festive Christmas Morning Décor

After decorating my tree, I focused on some of the fun details I remembered as a child. I incorporated a couple of my favorite books and a handwritten note to Santa that was written for me by a calligrapher.

Leaving milk and cookies out for Santa was a must. I couldn’t resist a little magic by adding Santa’s footprints.

Wall Decal

On the opposite wall, I decided to switch things up a bit by  bringing in a little holiday cheer with a decal. I found this Happy Holidays Wall Decal at The Home Depot and it was the perfect fit for my blank wall space.

Christmas Morning Hot Chocolate Bar

To complete my Christmas morning scene, I styled a self-serve hot chocolate bar cart for entertaining! I love to entertain so I thought this would be the perfect way to “bring good cheer.”

Add a few hot cocoa K-cups and topping options for an easy way to make the perfect cup of goodness in a matter of minutes.

I had personalized cup sleeves written for me and my girls by a local calligrapher for a unique touch.

Head over to my blog for a complete tutorial on how to make these hazelnut-chocolate spread flavored rims for your hot chocolate cups. It’s going to be a hit for the holidays, I’m sure!

A special thanks to The Home Depot for inviting me back for another fun Holiday Style Challenge. My Christmas morning scene wouldn’t be complete without them! I look forward to having a wonderful season in my newly decorated living room.

For more DIY holiday ideas, see other articles in our Holiday Style Challenge series, and follow our Holiday Style Challenge board on Pinterest.

Visit The Home Depot’s online Holiday Decor Department for more decorations to spruce up your living room and create the perfect Christmas morning scene.

The post Create the Perfect Christmas Morning Scene appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.

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