#ive said no so many times and its a waste of breath unless i can justify it

[abbynx]

La Squadra Housemate, College AU Part 1

Genre: Platonic

This has been in my drafts in like... forever and i got sick staring at it. Enjoy the culmination of my delirium induced by sleep depravity!

It was one of those days again. The empty feeling settling between your chest, as you resume to your daily activities, head on autopilot because that's just how repetitive your days were, just slaving away in your desk, be faced with things to do such as the essays, the math equations, essay analysis... The lessons and lectures were different everyday, and yet all the same. You didn't even cared to take a break anymore, knowing full-well of the works which awaits you so why delay it? It's not like your homemade snack will make you feel any better. 

Another term paper finished, time to pass it tomorrow and have the professor tear it in front of you just in case you had a minimal typographical error, before you resort to picking it up to see where the hell did you go wrong. It ached the first time, but as time goes by, you just simply move on and comply, hurting inside but what's the point of getting it all out? A waste time, that is. You've been over it and quite frankly, it was getting so excessively pointless. 

Setting the paper aside, you went to get a hold of another one of the work next in line with a sigh. Exhaustion lingers on with the emptiness within, powered by forced determination to finish everything within your plate and burn yourself out in the process. I mean, isn't this the way to success all of them have been saying? If you resume to do this and go through the route of life, then you'd end up walking everywhere with an IV tube up your arm. 

There was a knock at the door you didn't hear and acknowledged, until the person from the other side of the door lets himself in. 

 "Hey Y/N, I said Illuso made some overcooked crap downstairs. Get your ass down and take a break." Sorbet would usually leave upon relaying the message in mind, but he remained standing by the doorway anticipating for your response, an acknowledging nod would be enough to send him on his way but your unresponsiveness prevailed.

 "Y/N! How many times do we have to call you, huh?! Get your ass down or we'll eat without you!!!" Ghiaccio's shrill voice boomed from downstairs, prompting Sorbet to wince and lift a finger up to his ear to plug it up. 

 "Go ahead, I'll catch up later." Your recent attitude alone has gotten all of your housemates concerned but they let you be because days like these were inevitable amidst the hectic days in university, but it's been weeks since you let your works take a hold of your reigns. 

 "Oh no, you don't. you're not sneaking in the kitchen at three in the morning to eat cold pasta. Come on now, take a break for once." Sorbet approached you, hand on your shoulder. "It's been weeks since you took your sights off those damns books. Just eat, okay?" 

 "I don't know, Sorb's... I have things to do and get done-- you know that, right--?" 

 "I know and it's tiring. Come now, just take a break for a moment. I promise you'll feel better." 

 For a moment you contemplated and reconsidered rejecting his offer, seeing his point but you were in dire need to be responsive with your work. You took a deep heave of breathe, lifting your palm up to cup your forehead, thumb brushing over your temple pulsing with headache you've yet to soothe. He's right, you haven't eaten anything at the duration of the day, as you've barely left your study desk in your room.

 "Okay. Just wait a moment, I'll be there--" Sorbet interjects sharply by pulling you by the wrist before you can touch anything on your desk, knowing full-well you wouldn't leave it alone unless someone were to physically drag you off it.

 "Ah Y/N, good to see you out of your cave." Proscuitto remarks with slight scrutiny, setting a plate on your usual spot on the dinner table. 

 "What's taking you too long anyways? Are you--" Formaggio positions his hand above his crotch, making a jerking off motion, which warrants him a smack from Sorbet. 

 "They were studying, you perv." The dark haired housemate narrows his glare at Formaggio as he seats himself on his usual spot, beside his boyfriend Gelato.

 "Says the one who got caught jacking it off in the hallway." Illuso scoffs, leaning his back against his chair. 

 "Oh yeah?" Formaggio challenges, leaning on the dinner table, clenching on his fork. Before anything can escalate, Risotto clears his throat. 

 A small laugh slips from your lips as you pulled yourself a seat between Ghiaccio and Melone. For a moment you forgot about the paperwork waiting for you back in your room, but it can wait. It's not like they'll leave. Sorbet was right, a quick break or two will make you feel better. 

~0~

 Sorbet bit his lip to fight his anxiety back, his clammy hand hidden at the depths of his shallow pocket to feel around its content whilst Formaggio starts the game. Here's to hoping nothing too terrible happen. 

 "I'm passing this phone to someone with the shortest temper." Formaggio bites his bottom lip in front of his front camera, rubbing his chin before passing the phone to Ghiaccio. 

The cerulean blue haired narrows his gaze at the phone owner, before recording himself. "I'm passing this phone to someone who's too obsessed with themselves." 

 Illuso raises his brow at the current phone holder, a hand instinctively landing atop his chest, before he gets ahold of the phone and pressed record once again, "First of all, I'm not obsessed with myself and second, I'm passing this phone to someone who planted a fake positive pregnancy test in the bathroom for fun." 

 "It was for scientific purposes!" Melone exclaims, before claiming the phone. "I'm passing this phone to someone who dropped their cookie but instead of throwing it out, gave it to me and watched me eat it." The lilac head playfully tosses the phone back to its owner, in which he catches it just in time it hits the wall. 

 "Pfft, it's your fault you fell for it." Formaggio cackles. "I'm passing this phone to someone who belted out G10 in the shower when the lights blacked out." 

"You're never gonna let me live that down, aren’t you?" Pesci reaches for the phone with red in his cheeks. "I will be passing the phone to someone who's the sanest in this household—"

 "BOOO! BORING!" 

 "Oh shut it," Sorbet smacks Formaggio, before collecting the phone from Pesci's grasp. "I'm passing this phone to someone who thinks pineapple on pizza is superior." He rolls his eyes, before passing it to his boyfriend. 

 "Um, sir— it does taste great! You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I would've torn you apart." Gelato snatches the phone from his boyfriend before focusing on the camera. "I'm passing the phone to someone who doesn't know how to cross the road because they're scared." 

 "Ugh, rude!" You took the phone from the blond with a roll of your eyes. "I'm passing the phone to someone who left me on the other side of the busy highway to cross a busy road." 

 "You were too slow, that's why. I'm passing the phone to someone who screamed at us for a solid minute, accusing that one of us stole his glasses whilst his glasses rested on his head." Risotto hands the phone to the person who has yet to receive the phone. 

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who burned the whole kitchen at three in the morning because they left to stove on to cook peanut butter because we ran out of peanut butter." Prosciutto hands you the phone.

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who was petting and cooing at a pile of laundry thinking it was a cat." You glared at Prosciutto, before passing the phone to Formaggio. 

 "What? It was finals and I barely got any sleep!" He whines, before sighing. "I'm passing the phone to someone who has been passed around like this phone." 

 A choked gasp pried itself away from your throat as soon as he hands you the phone with a grin. "Well I'm passing the phone to someone who accused me for taking their red lacey thong but it turns out we own the same product." 

 "Wow, you're bold, I like you." Melone chuckles, before taking the phone. "I'm passing the phone to someone who was hungover during finals and managed to pass." 

 "Pretty impressive if I do say so myself." Sorbet smirks at his achievement, proudly reaching for the phone. "I'm passing this phone to someone who faked smoking at a party to impress a girl." 

 "Well I don't smoke! I don't like how it tastes!" Pesci insists. "I'm passing the phone to someone who got out of the house with his shirt inside out and backwards and didn't realise it until he was going home." 

 "I'm passing this phone to someone who cried when I pranked him with a fake electric razor." Melone smirks as he passes the phone to Illuso. 

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who's first instinct to nonchalantly say 'Nice' before going back to his business after receiving a nude pic from his then girlfriend." Ilusso gives the phone to Ghiaccio.

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who doesn't pick their hair clumps in the bathroom after taking a bath, clogging the shower drain." 

 "Well, I'm passing the phone to someone who screamed at the professor after he said Venice." 

 "I'M PASSING THE PHONE WHO THINKS IT'S OKAY TO SAY VENICE INSTEAD OF VENEZIA!" 

If it weren't for Illuso's quick response, the phone would've crashed against the wall and permanently putting it into a broken state. "Heh, okay then. I'm passing the phone to someone who has been with my man Gelato through thick and thin." 

 Sorbet gulps, his heart hammering in his chest as he reaches for the phone. His hand that has been hidden in his pocket since the very start of the game finally came out, with a small, black velvet box. Gelato glances at his longtime boyfriend, confused for a moment until the blond saw the little box resting within Sorbet's grasp. In shock, the blond's hands shot up to cover his lips and nose, his onyx gaze watering. Everyone in the room has their thoughts race rapidly with incoherent thoughts. 

 "I'm passing the phone to whom I want to marry and be with for the rest of my life, because without him I feel so empty and alone." Sorbet hands the phone to his longtime boyfriend, before taking a knee and opening the box. "Will you marry me?" 

 It would be a miracle Gelato would come to thank later as he didn't know he would still be able to respond despite being so deep in cloud nine. The entirety of the squad stood behind Sorbet at the edge of their seats, watching their carefully crafted plan unfold before them. 

 "Oh, yes. YES!" With the key word uttered, the once tensed room burst into excitement, jumping and screaming whilst the couple slipped on each others engagement rings before engulfing each other into a passionate embrace.

 "WHOOO YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING 'BOUT!" Formaggio cheers amidst the screams of excitement. 

 "Oh you guys, c'mere!" Sorbet caught you and Risotto's necks, before pulled in for a hug. Soon the others joined in for a group hug, almost squeezing the couple in the middle but it was all so worth it.

#la squadra x reader #college au #platonic #housemates

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Lepidopterophobia

Shinobu Kochou x Fem Reader

A/N: Heyyyyy its been awhile! As far as warnings go, there will be some swearing and butterflies and that’s it as far as I can tell. Bye!

The Butterfly Estate. A beautiful place of refuge for injured demon slayers to rest in the care of the gentle and skilled Hashira Shinobu Kochou, and her attendants. Or as (Y/n) liked to call it, the house of nightmares. (Y/n) feared butterflies immensely. It was something that she would never openly admit. After all, who slays demons with no problem but screams and jumps away from the fluttering of fragile wings? She got enough teasing during her childhood, thank you very much. So, she never told anyone and that would have been fine, it’s not like the information would ever have an opportunity to be brought into conversation. Well, unless you forgot about the large estate that literally had the word “butterfly” in its name that was supposed to be a safe haven for demon slayers like her. (Y/n) was very careful. The last thing she wanted was to be injured and sent off to the Butterfly Estate to heal. She was lucky enough to find plenty of wisteria houses in the event that rest and healing were needed. At least, she was lucky until tonight.

“Aughhh, damn it!” (Y/n) cursed, sucking a sharp breath through her clenched teeth. She glared at the demon as its body crumbled away and she leaned her own battered body on the trunk of a tree. Her hand shook as she pulled it off of her side, gazing at the blood that painted her palm. (Y/n) had managed to behead the demon, but not before it shot off an attack of its own. (Y/n) craned her head up to the sky and saw her raven circling above, cawing loudly and clearly distressed. “Mochi!” (Y/n) hissed, not nearly loud enough for the bird to hear from that height, “Mochi, I’ll be fine! We just need to find a wisteria house...” (Y/n) grunted as she pushed off of the tree trunk she was resting on and staggered forward. She took off her haori and tied it tightly over her waist to slow the bleeding. “Help! Help!” Mochi cried, the bird was too panicked and high up to be reasoned with, but as the raven continued to circle (Y/n) felt a sense of dread pool in her stomach. Her raven was definitely calling for any Kakushi in the surrounding area to come to her aid. (Y/n) quickly jerked her head toward the sound of approaching footfalls and clumsily attempted to hide herself from view. “There she is!” “Hey, don’t worry we’re here to help!” “Shit,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath, leaning back against another tree and turning to face the two Kakushi that were approaching her. She forced a smile, “Oh, hey, thanks for coming, but I’m fine, really. My raven tends to blow things out of proportion, it’s really not that bad an injury.” “Doesn’t look like that to me,” One of the Kakushi answered gruffly. “Ow!” The other one elbowed him in the ribs and approached (Y/n) with concerned eyes peeking through their uniform. “Even so, we are more than happy to guide you to safety. The night is still young, more demons could come.” “That’s fair,” (Y/n) huffed once it was clear they were not going to leave. “I could use help getting to the nearest wisteria house.” “A wisteria house? There isn’t one for many kilometers,” the more gentle of the Kakushi informed. “Damn, where can we go then?” “Don’t you know where you are?” The Kakushi asked, eyes twinkling. “You don’t even realize how fortunate you are my friend! We’re not too far from the Butterfly Estate, much better than any old wisteria house in my humble opinion.” A cloud of darkness swirled over (Y/n)’s face. One would presume from blood loss, but being privy to (Y/n)’s fear, one would quickly know that blood loss wasn’t the cause. “Come on, lean on us, we’ll get you there in no time,” the other Kakushi spoke, closing in. “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary,” (Y/n) weakly waved her hands. “I’m, uh, I really rather go to a wisteria house.” “What? Don’t be ridiculous, you’d never make it in this state. You’re wasting time,” The more grumpy Kakushi said, grabbing her forearm. “Be gentle!” The other Kakushi chided, grabbing (Y/n)’s other arm and swinging it over their neck. (Y/n) began to panic in earnest now, dropping her previous act to struggle against the two Kakushi at her sides. “No! Please, don’t take me there! Anywhere but there!” “What the hell, lady!?” The grumpy Kakushi yelled as (Y/n) elbowed him in the gut. “Please stop struggling, we’re here to help you!” The other added, tightening their grip. “Help! Help!” Mochi yelled, dive-bombing their heads. It was all just absolute chaos. “Enough already!” Grumpy Kakushi swiftly chopped at the back of (Y/n)’s neck, causing the girl to fall unconscious and slump forward. “Oh my gods, why did you do that?” Gentle Kakushi scolded, adjusting their hold on (Y/n) so she wouldn’t slip to the forest floor. “She was being difficult and she’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to Kochou-sama quickly,” Grumpy Kakushi huffed, heaving (Y/n)’s other arm over his shoulder. They sprinted through the woods with practiced ease, eventually approaching the wisteria grove that guarded the estate like a natural barrier. They brushed passed the beautiful blooms and rushed to the infirmary. “New case!” The gentle Kakushi called as they burst into the infirmary. “Place her in that cot and I’ll asses the damage,” Shinobu called from the opposite side of the room as she finished changing the bandages of another patient. The two Kakushi heaved the unconscious girl onto the cot and Shinobu came over and observed the girl with a trained eye. “Unresponsive, this must be serious,” Shinobu frowned. “Well, you can thank him for that,” the gentle Kakushi poked. “He knocked her out!” “She didn’t give me much of a choice! She was adamant that we not bring her here. She was making it impossible,” Grumpy Kakushi explained. “Really? How peculiar,” Shinobu hummed. “I wonder why she would be so averse to coming here...” Shinobu would be lying if she said she wasn’t just a tad offended by this information. Nevertheless she thanked the Kakushi and dismissed them from the premises. She removed the blood soaked haori and the upper half of (Y/n)’s uniform the properly observe the wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the gash was rather nasty. Shinobu dabbed over the wound with antiseptic and washed away the blood with water. She then stitched up the wound with practiced ease and covered the area with gauze to protect it. Once that was done, Shinobu raised a thin sheet over (Y/n)’s body to cover her bare torso. With one last check of the girl’s vitals, she left her side and continued her rounds. *** (Y/n) groaned as she awoke the next morning. She rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up, only to fall back against the cot and gingerly grip her sore side and stomach. She took a moment to assess the damage and cringed at the old gauze rolled over her wound. Then she realized she was shirtless and pulled the thin sheet tightly over herself as she tentatively looked about the room. She was in an infirmary, that much she could tell. There were only two other patients in the room and both appeared to be in worse shape than herself if the missing limbs, thick bandages, casts and IVs meant anything. “Oh good, you’re awake. I was just coming to change your gauze.” (Y/n) startled slightly and turned to put a face to the soft voice that was addressing her. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes roamed over the face of the woman beside her. Gods, she was beautiful. (Y/n)’s eyes caught the purple tint of the woman’s hair and followed the pleasant color upward and took in a sharp breath through her nose and shuffled away before she realized that what was pinning the woman’s hair back was an accessory, and not an actual giant butterfly. Still the damage was done, and the woman gave her a puzzled look. (Y/n) assumed that, along with the audible in take of air and the sad distancing attempt, she had also had a stupidly fearful or shocked look on her face. “No need to be frightened, you’re safe here. I would never dream of hurting you in any way,” the woman spoke gently as she approached the side of (Y/n)’s cot, misreading (Y/n)’s momentary fear of her hair pin as fear directed at her. “I’m Shinobu Kochou, the Insect Pillar. You are in my home, the Butterfly Estate, recovering from a mission.” Fuuuuuuuuuck (Y/n) looked around the room nervously. So those Kakushi had managed to drag her to the Butterfly Estate and it wasn’t all just a bad dream. That would explain the hair pin. Not only that, but she was in the presence of the Insect Hashira herself and- oh, a Hashira! “It’s an honor to meet you Kochou-sama!” (Y/n) spluttered out, bowing her head as best she could lying down as a sign of respect. Shinobu laughed and the sound hit (Y/n)’s ears pleasantly and she shivered as an unexpected heat rose to her neck and cheeks. “It’s alright, no need to be so formal. You are here to recover after all,” Shinobu smiled. “Speaking of which, would you mind letting me check your wound?” “Oh, um, sure,” (Y/n) awkwardly shifted the sheet to cover her chest and left side, causing Shinobu’s smile to look a bit more sympathetic. “Sorry, can you drop the sheet, please? The shadows it’s casting is making it hard to see what I’m doing,” her smile quirked up a bit on one side. “I promise to be nothing but respectful and professional.” (Y/n) felt her cheeks begin to sting as they were positively on fire. She averted her eyes and dropped the sheet, allowing Shinobu to remove the dressing and check the sore skin tissue that started a bit above her navel and curved upward near her bottommost rib. “So, what’s your name?” (Y/n) almost forgot to answer, she was too busy focusing on the feather light fingers as they applied some kind of salve to her wound. “I’m (Y/n).” “Well, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/n). Have you been a slayer long? How are you adjusting?” Shinobu asked, closing the jar of salve and reached for the gauze. “I’d say I’m doing pretty well, I’ve been at it for almost four years now. I just reached Kinoto rank two weeks ago. So minus that last fight, yeah, I think I’m doing okay,” (Y/n) answered, a small yet proud smile formed over her lips. “You’ve been in the corps for almost four years and I’ve never had you as a patient?” Shinobu’s brows knit together as if she was contemplating something or she just got a new piece to fit in a puzzle that she did not like. “I dare say it’s not because you’ve never been hurt before, there are a few other scars that I can see here,” Shinobu leaned in and scanned over (Y/n)’s face, checking for any micro expressions as she spoke. “Now that I think about it, one of the Kakushi that brought you in claimed that you fought against their help and refused to come here. Have you been purposefully avoiding this place?” Me? (Y/n) found herself unable to look away from Shinobu’s eyes. They were like an amethyst abyss and (Y/n) felt like it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she could sink into them and float around aimlessly forever. She cleared her throat, “No! Not at all, I just- most of my missions are farther away from here actually. It’s just more convenient to stop at wisteria houses. This time, it just so happened that here was closer!” (Y/n) let out a breath of air that was supposed to be a laugh as the Hashira’s eyes bore into her own. Shinobu stared a moment or two longer before closing her eyes and straightened herself so her back held better posture. “I see, well, allow me to formally welcome you,” Shinobu smiled. “Who knows, perhaps in two weeks I’ll be begging you to leave,” Shinobu teased, her eyes gleaming. (Y/n) barely managed to stop herself from having her eyes pop out of her head. “Two weeks?” She squeaked out, cursing the way the words left her mouth. “Yes,” Shinobu tilted her head suspiciously. “I really don’t want to discharge you before you’ve healed properly. Is there a reason you seem to be in such a hurry to leave?” “What? No... who is hurrying? I’m in no hurry, I’m cool as a cucumber.” (Y/n) wanted to slap herself. “Okay, cool cucumber...” Shinobu said each syllable with such excruciating slowness, (Y/n) thought she might as well have flossed a piece of sandpaper between her ears. “Mind putting this on? Then we’re going to move you to another room that’s a little less... depressing,” Shinobu frowned as she looked over at the two other demon slayers who were still dead asleep. “Sure,” (Y/n) took the clothing from Shinobu and pulled the top over her head and carefully switched her pants without straining her injury too much. Shinobu smiled and offered (Y/n) her arm for support as she shakily rise to her feet. Then the pair slowly made their way out of the infirmary and down the hall. “Here we are,” Shinobu slid open the door to reveal a small, but homey room. “I bet you must be tired from the walk over here so I’ll leave you to rest in just a moment. One of my attendants, Aoi, will be helping you with day to day things like recovery training and meals. Of course I’ll be checking on your progress from time to time as well. Aoi will drop by in an hour or so with food so in the meantime if you can’t sleep, there are books on the shelf and there is also a lovely view of the garden from the window if your interested,” Shinobu smiled sweetly. “Thank you,” (Y/n) returned the smile and sighed once Shinobu left the room and the door closed behind her. (Y/n) took in her room and nodded appraisingly. It was really nice, nicer than any wisteria home she had visited before, and besides Shinobu’s hair accessory and her surname, (Y/n) had yet to see an actual butterfly in the whole place. She felt a little foolish. She had expected the estate to be a giant insectarium where all the butterflies would roam free without restriction. If this was all she had to deal with, she would have come here sooner. (Y/n) walked over to the window to check out the view, pulling back the curtains she froze for a moment before jerking the curtains back in place and jumping back several steps. “Shitfuckcunt!” (Y/n) clasped her hands over her rapidly beating chest and stared back at the window with fearful eyes and slightly erratic breathing. There must have been at least seven butterflies of various sizes resting on the mesh of the window. (Y/n) cursed some more as she tried to calm her heart and felt the throbbing of her wound. Alright, so may haps she spoke to soon. Apparently there was some truth to the horrible scenarios her brain came up with. Luckily, the threat laid outside, she should be safe in here, right? Please? There was a curt knock on the door and (Y/n) turned to see it open to reveal a stern faced girl with piercing blue eyes. “I heard yelling, what’s wrong?” She asked, approaching (Y/n). “Oh, I’m fine I just... stubbed my toe on the bookshelf,” (Y/n) laughed, nervously. “You shouldn’t be wandering around, if you want to heal you should be resting in bed,” Aoi said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re right, sorry. I’ll do that now.” “Right,” Aoi sighed, watching (Y/n) shuffle over to the bed and sit on it. “I’m Aoi, I’ll be helping you recover over the next few weeks. If you need anything let me know, I’ll be back in about forty-five with lunch, then we’ll do some light stretching.” “Alright, sounds good. Thank you, Aoi-san,” (Y/n) said, wincing as she laid against the mattress. Aoi nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Then she walked down the hall to where Shinobu was waiting for her. “Were you able to find out what that outburst was about?” “She claims she stubbed her toe on the bookshelf, but I can’t say I believe it. Her feet looked fine, she wasn’t even near the bookshelf when I came in,” Aoi informed. “I wonder what is going on with that girl,” Shinobu pondered. “Keep a close eye on her, please. Let me know if you find out anything about her odd behavior.” “Of course, Shinobu-sama.”

*** Just one more night, one more night and (Y/n) would be home free and no one had yet found out about her fear. There had been some close calls, one of the more notable being when Kanao came back from a mission with a butterfly clinging to her uniform and then it decided to flutter around the hall. (Y/n) yelled and tried to disguise the sound as a sneeze and then excused herself, claiming she forgot to feed Mochi before bolting off back to her room. She was sure no one actually bought that excuse, but she didn’t really care since no one questioned her about it. Shinobu however, seemed to grow ever more suspicious of her manic behavior so (Y/n) always had to stay on her toes around the Hashira as she would ask seemingly innocent questions, but her eyes were sharp and calculating like she was waiting for some kind of slip up. Needless to say, (Y/n) tried to keep her interactions with Shinobu to a minimum, no matter how attractive she found the Insect Pillar to be. (Y/n) was brought out of her thoughts as another wave of pain washed over her body. She grit her teeth together as Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho painfully stretched her body and Aoi prepared her antibiotic for the day. “Are you sure you don’t want to continue recovery training outside? It’s a beautiful day and you could use some fresh air,” Aoi advised. “Um, nope, I’m good.” (Y/n) squeaked, her arm popped as Naho tugged it back with all her might. “It’s pretty hot, I don’t do well in the heat,” she added, looking into Aoi’s skeptical eyes. “If you insist,” Aoi sighed. “Shinobu-sama will be coming to check you over tomorrow morning before you can leave. She wanted to know when she should stop by your room,” Aoi said, giving (Y/n) the medicine as the younger girls finished assaulting her muscles. “I’m fine with whenever,” (Y/n) shrugged, taking the medicine. She was just so ready to get out of this place. She was tired of flinching every time she saw a butterfly hair clip in the corner of her eye or worrying about the occasional open window or door. She was ready to go back on duty and put this whole thing behind her. All the girls were sweet, and she was happy to have met them, but being constantly on edge was tiring. “Am I good to turn in for the night?” (Y/n) yawned. “(Y/n)-san, it’s noon. We haven’t even had lunch yet,” Aoi said, crossing her arms. “Haha, you’re right, how silly of me,” (Y/n) cringed internally. Well, she had to try. She just felt safer in her room where she had more control over her environment. “Come on (Y/n)-san, let’s eat!” Sumi excitedly called. “We prepared lunch before we started stretching, it’ll be so good!” Kiyo smiled. “Okay, I’m coming,” (Y/n) smiled weakly as the younger girls pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. “She seems excited to be leaving, don’t you think?” Shinobu smiled sadly, startling Aoi with her sudden presence. “I wouldn’t say excited, she seems to be... relieved?” Aoi answered. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Shinobu sighed, “We haven’t done anything to her, why does she hate it here so much?” “I don’t understand her at all, Shinobu-sama. It’s probably best to just leave her be and send her on her way. Tomorrow we can all go back to normal,” Aoi said. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Shinobu frowned. “Well, I’m going back to the infirmary. Inosuke is raising hell again.” “Good luck with that.” “Thank you, something tells me I’ll need it,” and with that, Shinobu disappeared from the room.

*** (Y/n) released a relieved breath as her back hit her now closed bedroom door. She had gone to the infirmary to get her stitches removed and was bombarded by a crazed teen in a boar mask that kept demanding a fight. He chased her throughout the estate until (Y/n) finally managed to lose him and circled back to her room. She stood with her back pressed against the door a moment longer with her eyes shut, but they snapped right back open as a voice addressed her from the other side of the room. “(Y/n)-san, good evening. What a surprise. Do you need anything?” (Y/n)’s head jerked up to see Shinobu standing in a thin, shimmery yukata. Her hand poised over a fish tank as goldfish swarmed after the bits of fish food that slipped through her fingers. “Kochou-sama! Sorry, um- I must have gotten turned around. I could have sworn this was my room,” (Y/n) turned and fumbled with the door to try to make a quick escape, but Shinobu was faster and placed a delicate hand over the door, keeping it firmly in place. “No need to rush off, why not stay awhile? I have tea,” Shinobu singsonged. “I don’t want to bother you, it’s getting late. I’ve got that physical exam tomorrow and you probably have important things you need to do-“ “I’m not busy, it’s just a cup of tea, nothing too strainful for someone who has nearly recovered such as yourself,” Shinobu said, guiding (Y/n) to a little table and motioning her to take a seat on the matted floor while she glides to the other side of the table and poured tea into the two conveniently placed tea cups. “Thanks,” (Y/n) mumbled into the cup Shinobu had given her. “You’re very welcome,” Shinobu said, breathing in the aroma of her own cup. “Hospitality is an important value of the Butterfly Estate after all. I hope we made you feel comfortable and welcome here during your stay.” “Oh yes, I think you are all wonderful people. You all take your jobs seriously. I think I feel better now than before I was injured,” (Y/n) answered. “I’m glad to hear that,” Shinobu took a sip from her cup. “I just wish I understood then, why you seem to think you just can’t get away from us fast enough.” “Oh no!” (Y/n) gasped, nearly spilling her tea. “It’s not like that at all, I swear! I’m just- I’m a busy body. I just can’t sit still. I’m just excited to get back on duty,” (Y/n) explained. She was being truthful for the most part, but (Y/n) was also dancing around the major issue that probably brought about this conversation in the first place and it seemed like Shinobu knew it. “Busy body? I never would have guessed what with all the time you spend in your room. I believe Aoi told me you never once accepted her offers to go outside either. Why might that be?” Shinobu asked. “It’s summer, it’s hot! I hate how it’s so hot!” (Y/n) yelled defensively, feeling her back bump against a metaphorical wall with every word Shinobu spoke. “Why are you so interested in what I choose to do with my free time? I’m sure you have plenty of other patients to concern yourself with.” “I’m concerned about you in particular,” Shinobu stated simply. “You don’t need to be. You’ve done nothing wrong, no one has, I’m just ready to go.” “(Y/n)-san?” “Yes?” “I don’t believe you.” (Y/n) scoffed in disbelief, looking at the smiling woman before her. “Well, I don’t know how I could possibly change your perception,” she said, crossing her arms. “You could start by telling me why you are so uncomfortable here,” Shinobu prodded. “Just drop it, please.” (Y/n) sighed wearily. “I obviously don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be leaving tomorrow so there is no point in discussing it.” “So there is something.” Shinobu frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, there’s nothing you can do about it,” (Y/n) assured, placing a hand over Shinobu’s without even thinking about it, then awkwardly she tried to withdraw it. Shinobu caught her hand though, keeping it clasped in hers. “We won’t know for sure what I can do for you unless you tell me. I want to help you, (Y/n)-san.” Why did this have to be so difficult? If only Shinobu knew how ridiculous this whole thing was, but (Y/n)’s pride was too great and she wasn’t going to suddenly drop the truth on Shinobu after all of that so she just shook her head and slid her hand out of Shinobu’s. “I really need to go to sleep, Kochou-sama. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for my exam. Thanks for the tea,” (Y/n) mumbled. Shinobu tried to get her to stay, but (Y/n) left before she could even finish her sentence. The Hashira, frowned and looked at her hand. It still tingled with the feeling of (Y/n)’s calloused fingers against her own. She gripped her fingers tightly to form a fist, a determined fire blooming in her eyes made it clear that this was far from over. “Shinobu!” Inosuke called as he kicked open her door. “I got the girl here just as you asked! I’m getting tempura tomorrow, right?!” “Yes,” Shinobu sighed. “But you better fix my door first.”

*** When Shinobu entered (Y/n)’s room the next morning, she was pleasantly surprised to find the girl was still sleeping. She decided to grab a book and wait for (Y/n) to awaken, but not before opening the window, as it was rather stuffy in the room. As the pleasant breeze wafted into the room, Shinobu moved the desk chair next to (Y/n)’s bed and began to read. Occasionally she would glance up and observe (Y/n)’s peaceful expression as she slept, making Shinobu’s heart flutter unexpectedly but it was not an unwelcome feeling. Shinobu observed a few stray butterflies from the garden flutter aimlessly through the window and grinned as one took roost in (Y/n)’s hair. Her book forgotten, she watched the insect slowly fan it’s wings as another came to rest on the nape of (Y/n)’s neck. The tickling feeling on (Y/n)’s bare neck caused her to stir in her sleep her hand made a move to scratch her neck and luckily the butterfly had the sense to fly off before the hand made contact. However it’s next perch was perhaps worse than the first. (Y/n) exhaled sharply through her nose as an unexpected light, fluttering weight rested just under her nose and on her upper lip. She immediately bolted upright and rubbed at her lip, looking sleepy and befuddled as the butterfly floated just out of her line of vision. “Good morning, (Y/n)-san. Did you enjoy your wake up kiss?” Shinobu chuckled “My what?” (Y/n) blushed, her sleep addled brain quickly becoming more alert. “I must say, you’d do very well here, the butterflies seem to compliment your beauty wonderfully,” Shinobu complimented. “Huh?” (Y/n) squinted her eyes and tensed her body. “...What are you talking about?” (Y/n) asked, as if she was afraid to know the answer. “The butterflies, they float around you-“ Shinobu stopped speaking abruptly as (Y/n) screamed and tore her covers off of her body and jumped out of her bed. Shinobu watched with shocked eyes and her mouth slightly agape as (Y/n) shook and curled defensively into herself as she darted into a bare corner of the room. (Y/n)’s eyes scanned the room and her breathing became more labored as she noticed a large butterfly blocking the door and three sitting on the window sill. There was one on the bed and one fluttering near the bookshelf. “(Y/n), look at me, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked, trying to make eye contact. (Y/n)’s eyes finally focused on Shinobu and she looked as if she had forgotten she was in the room. “Kochou-san, help me! I- Get me out, get me out!” (Y/n) spoke rapidly, clinging to the Pillar as a butterfly flew in too close for comfort. “Okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Shinobu pulled the girl into her side and ushered her to the door. She met some resistance as they neared the giant butterfly, but Shinobu shooed it away and it sluggishly flew over to the desk. Shinobu opened the door and (Y/n) bolted out and ran down the hall. The Insect Pillar cursed under her breath and ran after the clearly frightened girl. “(Y/n)-san, you’re safe now,” Shinobu called gently as (Y/n) reached a dead end. The girl turned and Shinobu’s heart ached when she saw the fearful expression upon her face. She walked up to (Y/n) and gently grasped her clammy and trembling hands in her own, squeezing them gently. “I um, I think I understand why you wanted to leave so badly now,” she smiled emphatically. “Yeah,” (Y/n) croaked. “No coming back from that. Just, please don’t make fun of me. I know how ridiculous my fear is, but it doesn’t make it any less frightening for me,” (y/n) mumbled. “I’m not going to make fun of you,” Shinobu said seriously. “I mean, it’s going to be very hard not to tease you about it, but I’d never do it maliciously,” she added. “Are you... going to tell everyone?” “I think we can keep this just between us,” Shinobu smiled. “Now, I’d like you to close your eyes for a moment.” “Why?” “A calming exercise. You look like you could use one.” “Okay,” (Y/n) closed her eyes and Shinobu released her hands and instructed her to breath in deeply through her nose for three counts and exhale through her mouth for another three counts and asked her to repeat the exercise ten times. As (Y/n) breathed, Shinobu carefully reached for the butterfly in (Y/n)’s hair and the calm insect crawled onto her finger with no problem. Then Shinobu carefully opened the conveniently placed window and released the butterfly back outside and quickly closed the window and returned in front of (Y/n) with two cycles left to spare. “Can I open my eyes now?” “Mmm, one more thing,” Shinobu simpered. She leaned forward and lightly kissed the tip of (Y/n)’s nose. “There, now you can open them.” “Okay,” (Y/n) squeaked.

*** After Shinobu cleared (Y/n) for returning to duty, (Y/n) changed into her uniform and prepared herself to go back on the road. She thanked Aoi and the others for their help and was about to make her way out of the mansion when Shinobu caught her at the doorway. “How do you plan to leave the estate with those winged beasts guarding the grounds?” She asked, sweetly. “I was just gonna run like hell,” (Y/n) admitted. “I... I suppose I won’t be seeing you again,” Shinobu said. Her words sounding more like a statement than a question. “Probably not,” (Y/n) sighed. “Nothing against you of course. You’re awesome. It’s just, there’s a lot going on here.” “I’m awesome, hmm? Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” Shinobu hummed. “Gee, thanks,” (Y/n) laughed. “I think I might actually miss you. In fact, just meeting you almost makes being dragged here against my will worth it.” “Was that supposed to be a compliment? If so, you aren’t really good at it,” Shinobu chuckled before speaking again. “You know, this doesn’t have to be goodbye. I wouldn’t mind seeing your raven coming around if you ever wanted to send me a letter. I’d return the favor with my own crow of course. “I’d like that,” (Y/n) smiled. “Perhaps we can make plans to meet again on a more even playing field. Maybe then I can see what you look like when you aren’t stiff as a board!” (Y/n) stuck out her tongue and landed a surprise attack on Shinobu’s nose, causing the Hashira to gasp at the Kinoto’s audacity. Then (Y/n)’s lips set into a small smirk. “I’ll be sure to write! Bye, Kochou-sama!” (Y/n) darted out of the door and Shinobu watched as the girl booked it across the lawn and laughed as she nearly tripped before jumping over the fence and out of sight. Shinobu stood there a moment longer as she swiped her sleeve over her damp nose, her eyes trained on the spot where (Y/n) disappeared over the fence. After her nose was wiped dry, she walked to her office to start drafting the first of many letters.

#kny oneshots #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #demon slayer oneshots

[722alycat]

Face Down 

pt i, pt ii pt iv

Masterlist

Summary: Kenny is an abrasive bastard, sure, but he teaches you and Levi how to survive. You feel like a natural at Kenny’s lessons, in fact, especially next to Levi’s clumsy attempts. 

an: sorry this took so long! It was a monster to write and edit, and I had a busy few days! Hope you enjoy :)

Kenny's motto in life is similar to that of an old proverb. "give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. teach a man to fish and he will eat for his life.”

But, you reflected as you watched him scold Levi yet again for his stance, much more violent.

"Look, brat," he sniffed, "if I killed every motherfucker down here, you'd only be safe until the next batch of thugs came in. Now fucking hold the damn knife right."

Levi growled under his breath, and went back into the pose that Kenny had drilled into him religiously while you watched. He curled his fingers around the grip of the blade, and proceeded to flip and throw it, quick-changing his hold for different angles to stab and slash.

You grinned snobbishly at him as you flipped your own knife, over and over in your hand. "Hey, Levi, check this out!" you called, quickly flicking the blade so it danced through your fingers, before catching it back in your palm, now poised for a downward strike.

He scowled at you, while Kenny looked on, indifferent as always. 

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, little lady." Kenny finally intoned, "Levi will overtake you by leaps and bounds, if he's really an Ackerman."

You grinned cheekily, “Well, we all know how Miss Kuchel felt about taking in orphans!” You teased.

Levi scoffed at you, and you cackled. Your head tossed back, hair falling past violently shaking shoulders. Your laughter echoed through the dimly lit home you had purchased after selling some of the drugs you had pilfered from that shop. The place was small, really more of a postage stamp than anything else, and it was tucked away in a damp and dreary corner of the Underground, but even so...

It was beginning to feel somewhat like home. 

When your giggles finally died out, you rolled your head back upright. Tears of mirth sparkled on your lashes, and when you caught sight of Levi...

The boy was staring at you, eyes wide and mouth gaping. You watched in confusion as a flush began to creep slowly up his neck, over his high cheekbones. He looked... flustered, in a way. 

You cocked your head. What on earth...?

“You feeling alright, Levi?” 

Kenny grinned, all teeth and squinting eyes. It made him look roguish, when he wasn’t doing it in a cruel way. It almost made you curious as to how Levi would look with such a devil-may-care smile. All he’d done lately, or ever really, was scowl.

“Don’t you worry, kiddo,” Kenny snickered, throwing an arm over your shoulder and leering down at the red faced boy, “I think Levi here’s gonna be doing just fine.”

And so time marched on. 

Days without Miss Kuchel turned into months, turned into a year, then two. You rounded into your 10th year of life, and then hurtled straight into puberty. You continued to outpace Levi by leaps and bounds, even as he began to outgrow you in height. Your moves became flashier and more complex, attacks became quicker and more lethal. Kenny scolded you frequently, telling you in a real knife fight, you were rather average, and tricks like those would only get you killed. 

Still, you found it exceedingly fun to twirl a blade between your fingers, to flick it through the air and catch it, only to send it twirling back out again. You excelled, as Kenny soon realized, at throwables. Knives, rocks, hell, even the old axe they had tried to barter off a local seller, and then later stolen when he wouldn’t budge on price. You were more likely to get praise from him due to your deadly aim than you were for being able to spin a knife like a top on your finger, even though the latter was much more impressive in your opinion.

“What can I say, Kenny,” you had crowed one evening, after he scolded you for wasting time practicing tricks, “I’m a show-man!”

Kenny swiftly came to the ragged end of his patience regarding your lackadaisical attitude towards the offensive moves he’d been teaching you. In true Ackerman fashion, he decided to rip you a new one. 

“The only thing a performer is good for down here is laying on their back, girl, so unless you want to be like Kuchel and your mother, I suggest you take me a little more seriously.” 

You snarled, baring your teeth at him, the picture of teenage obstinance, “Like there’s shame in being a whore!” You objected, as you had done so often before, knife spinning faster in your hands. 

He laughed shortly, shaking his head, “Being a whore gets you killed, and the dumb ones die even quicker, so you’d better stay out of the business. Besides, is that the life you want for yourself? For Levi?” 

You stalled out at this, thinking of how anxious Levi had been every time his mother had a client. He was so scared she would be harmed, or he’d find her beat to death in her bed... you didn’t want to see him like that again.

You pursed your lips, suddenly sullen from the memories, twirling knife stilling in your hand, “No.” 

Kenny grimaced, bringing his hand up to rub the tension from between his brows. “Look, y/n,” he began, gruffly, “as of now, you’re better than Levi at defending yourself. I don’t know how long that will last, but for now, if something were to happen while I’m out on business... he might need you. And you need to be on top of your game if you want to help him.” 

You were two parts guilty, two parts proud for outdoing Levi at every turn. You took to holding a knife like a duck took to water. You dodged Kenny’s blows like you were a dancer. Sure, you weren’t as strong as Levi, and it took twice as many hits from you to equal one of his, but... 

You felt like you could thrive, out there in the underground, if you wanted to. If you had Levi beside you.

If you had been like this when Miss Kuchel was sick, that store owner never would have been able to stop you. You could have gotten back in time. Guilt rose like bile up your throat as you remembered seeing Levi, curled up by his decaying mother, looking sunken away and dead himself. All because you’d been too loud and got caught, because you were too slow to dodge that storekeeper grabbing you, because you weren’t fast enough to get that medicine to Miss Kuchel and barely fast enough to save Levi, and if you fucked up like that again, maybe next time you wouldn’t be fast enough to save Levi and then he would- no.

Never again.

“Kenny...” you finally murmured, forcing yourself from your panicked thoughts, “you always speak of Levi like he’s going to... evolve, in a way. Like he’ll simply pick up everything he can’t, now. Its been confusing me for quite some time. You aren’t the kind to patronize people, so... what are you doing?”

Kenny took a moment to consider you. He thought how you picked on Levi, how Levi shoved you around, how you bickered relentlessly with each other. He thought of how you never cried, how you held yourself in an echo of Kuchel, how you would wrestle Levi, and how now that he was getting bigger, he was winning more often, but you smiled just as wide when you lost. He thought of how neither of you could fall asleep without being beside eachother. He thought of you, curled around his sleeping, emaciated nephew all those years ago, pint-sized and wielding a shard of glass like a dagger and snarling at him like a wildcat. Leave Levi alone, you had said, before you knew he was more friend than foe. 

He sighed. He could trust you, he knew. “I know Ackermans...” he finally muttered, glancing down at you, “Some, up on the surface. They all have an uncanny ability within them. They call it the Ackerman Instinct. In a time of great stress, it awakens in them. Everything clicks into place. They become machines. Killers. Weapons. The only thing that can best an Ackerman is an army. One day, that’ll awaken in Levi, and then... he’ll be invaluable.”

You grimaced, disgusted by his description of the boy you had grown up along side, the calculation behind his words. “You talk about him how that old pimp used to talk about me,” you said, repulsed, “If you think you’re gonna turn him into some kind of... some kind of tool, you’re wrong. Doubly so if you think I’ll let you sell him. Not Levi. Not while I’m here.” 

Kenny grinned sickly at you, “Not while you’re here? Little girl, what is it that you think you can do?” he asked, drawing himself to full height as he glowered down at you. 

You snarled. resembling that wildcat he’d seen curled around Levi years ago, now nearly grown into her paws. “I’ll fucking kill you if you try to take him from me,” you promised, “I swear to god, I’ll do it. It’s not like you’re some kind of Ackerman Killing Machine, or anything. Should be fucking easy.”

Kenny tried to keep a straight face, he really did. But confronted with your fury wrapped up so tightly in a thirteen year old body, hissing and spitting at him, and unknowingly telling Kenny ‘the ripper’ Ackerman he wasn't an Ackerman Killing Machine.... It tickled him. More than he had been in years. He broke out into rib breaking guffaws, your pouting face and insists that you were serious only adding fuel to the fire. 

Christ you were a fucking hoot. 

When he managed to get his breath back, he grinned down at you, lazily. “Don’t worry, little lady. I’m not here do nothing to Levi, and I suspect the little shit would put up a mighty fine fight if I tried to separate you two. He’s quite fond of you, in his own pint-sized psycho kind of way. I just... knew Kuchel.” Kenny was unsure of why he was telling you this, even as he said it, “We grew up... nearby each other. I want to do right by her brat, that’s all. Did I pass your test, Livewire?”

You pursed your lips, deliberating, as you looked up at the man who had been with you for years. To know that he and Miss Kuchel were close... that he wasn’t simply a besotted client who chose to do right by her kids as Levi and you had assumed...

You grabbed his wrist, dragging him to where your friend was curled outside the house. 

“You knew her... tell us what she was like.” you bargained, curling beside Levi like a cat, hand instinctively seeking his wrist as you leaned comfortably against his side. 

He glanced at you, startled out of his thoughts, confused and wary of what you may be up to. You grinned at the sight, knowing he was still waiting for you to repay him for putting an earthworm on your pillow last night. But revenge would have to wait, you had found bigger game to hunt. You turned your sharp eyes on Kenny, demanding. “Come on, old timer. I’d kill for someone to tell me stories about my mom. You’d be doing us sad orphans a mighty fine favor.”

Kenny sighed, squatting on the other side of Levi and lighting a cigarette. He had it halfway finished but the time he finally decided to give into your fidgeting, and Levi’s confused and annoyed expression. He huffed, and drug a hand across his face. Slowly, like each word was being pulled from him, he began. 

“Kuchel was... strong. She was a true Ackerman.”

Levi stiffened beside you, having never heard your crochety guardian talk about his mother before, and his hand went to where yours rested on his wrist, before his body slowly went lax beside you. You wormed your way closer to his warm side, and for once he didn’t wriggle and complain.

You and Levi listened to Kenny tell stories about Miss Kuchel until sunrise, side by side, eventually nodding off like that, snuggled against each other. 

It was a rare night off for the two of you, where Kenny wasn’t running you both ragged. He told you he had business regarding the recent arrival of Military Police into the underground, and went off without any telling when he’d be back. 

You were almost unsure of what to do. Kenny had become a constant in your lives, his sharp tongue and acerbic nature driving you to do better, to be better. His constant reminders that while someday something would awaken in Levi and cause him to become a killing machine, today was not that day, and you needed to learn to protect him, to protect you.

You wondered if he preached the same sermon to Levi. You wondered, even, if it was all a lie, and nothing would awaken in your dark haired friend. You didn’t mind, really, him being subpar with a blade. But every time you watched him fumble, you remembered Kuchels words. The only way to make money in the Underground is as a thug or a whore. 

The statement rang brutally true, even now. You knew, whatever Kenny’s business what those MP was, it would involve being the former. You giggled suddenly. Unless... Kenny was on the other end of the spectrum?

Levi looked at you, startled at your sudden laughter, and you waved him away, “Just imagining Kenny in one of Miss Kuchels dresses. One of the puffy ones, even.” 

Levi’s mouth twitched, “The blue one would compliment his eyes.��

You guffawed. Levi had slowly been coming back to you, you realized. He rarely joked, over the past few years, locked deep inside his own head despite your efforts to drag him back out. The morning you woke up outside, snuggled together, had been awkward, but you didn’t quite understand why. You always slept beside each other, even if you weren’t touching. You didn’t quite understand why Levi couldn’t meet your eyes the next day, why he seemed to skitter away from your touch. To you, it had really only felt natural to wake up with him beside you, still warm from his body heat. 

His joking demeanor now bolstered yours, and you grinned at him, happy and carefree. The grin turned sly, and you batted long lashes at him, like you’d often seen Miss Kuchel do when she wanted something. 

“Levi... can you help me?” you asked, sidling closer to his side, hand finding his wrist.

He looked at you, wary once more, and you took it as a sign to continue. “Lets get on the roof,” you suggested, grinning devilishly at him, “check out the view!”

He scowled, and you almost relented until you saw the twitch of his nose, the tug on the corner of his mouth. The little bastard was almost smiling. You had never felt so proud.

“C’mon, Lee,” you wheedled, “I just need a boost. You’re still bunches stronger than I am, even if you are shit with a knife. And you’re taller than me now!”

The praise did the trick, and he began to walk towards the door, using your grip on his arm like a leash as he drug you along. “Fine, brat, but you’ll owe me one.”

You grinned, shifting your hand to catch his fingers. You promised, “For you, anything.”

Getting on that damn roof had bruised you more than anything, and all to look at a shitty concrete ceiling above you, in a crappy Underground. Still, you and Levi laid there for a while in silence, only taking in the sounds of each other breathing and alive. He was your touchstone, and you were his. Always faithful, constantly by your side. Even with Kenny here, in your little house for years, it still didn’t feel constant. It felt like he could leave at any moment. But even if he did, you reflected, it was still you and Levi. The two of you wouldn’t ever be alone, so long as you had the other. 

Levi shifted, his shoulder brushing yours, his knee brushing your thigh, and he jerked away as if burnt. You hummed, sensing the beeping of a mine about to go off, and circumvented it. “Levi,” you murmured, “what do you think stars look like?”

“Huh?” he asked, properly diffused, “why would you ask that?”

You shrugged, continuing to stare up, “Just trying to imagine something better than damp concrete.” you finally said, blinking up, “I’ve been trying to imagine something better for a while now. I just... don’t know where to start.” 

He scoffed, before stilling beside you, studying the roof above you. You knew he thought it foolish, to wish for a better life. Especially when you were so far from the surface, the stairs leading upstairs an insurmountable dream, too tall for your weak legs to carry you up. 

“I hear they’re like... the sequins, on moms pretty blue dress.” he finally said, “only there's a bajillion of them up there.”

You took a moment to imagine this through the shock of the stoic boy beside you even humoring your request. The dark sky full of the small ornate sequin swirls on Miss Kuchels dress, and you wondered if they moved and swished like her skirt did. You wondered if they spun through the sky, or if they were stationary, ever present and watching, like guardians. Were they brighter than the dull dewdrops shining on the stone slabs above you? 

“I’d like to see them someday, if you were with me.” you rushed out, not understanding why the words burnt you like a confession, why you felt your face heating up. God, why was your heart beating so fast?

Levi looked at you like you we’re stupid, and you felt like swallowing your tongue. But then...

His hand found yours, wrapping your fingers tightly in his own. “Tch. Where the fuck else would I be, idiot?” 

And suddenly everything felt right. 

Levi and you had decided to go to the market to steal some decent food for dinner, Kenny long gone on another trip. His parting advice of try not to die stinging and bolstering you. As if you would die. You felt like a goliath compared to when you were nine and starving and watching Kuchel wilt away, when you were eight and fighting and biting anything that got too close, when you were seven and learning to bite back tears and turn them into something useful, when you were five and had a mother who wanted you to be safe and warm no matter what the cost. 

You had come too far to simply die, and so had Levi. 

Even now, you bumped arms with him, walking close enough to trip if you weren’t so in sync. You smiled up at him, pleased with your successful theft, the loaf of bread, tin of oats, and apples feeling like meat, cheese, and honey to you.

“All in a days work,” you teased, “It’s not much, but it’s honest.”

He scoffed, glancing down at your grinning features as you stretched, lithe arms pressing outward and brushing his back, “it’s not even honest, it’s just not much.” he told you, voice deeper now than it had been when you’d first been found by Kenny. 

You shrugged, “Shit, birds gotta fly, orphans gotta eat.”

He nudged you with his hip, smirking down at you, almost showing teeth. He was fucking gorgeous when he smiled. 

You told him as much, watching the pretty blush rise up on his cheekbones. He even stuttered at you, letting out a “uh... I’m...”

You stopped, and he turned to you, curling into your form, like a shield, like a blanket. You peered up to him, wide eyes captivating him, drawing him in almost. You realized that if he was pretty smiling, he was even prettier smiling and blushing. 

You were deliberating the cost of rolling up and pressing your mouth to his, and then blinking in shock at the boldness of your thoughts, when you heard it.

“Hey, whore.” 

You grit your teeth, the voice sending unpleasant shivers of disgust up your spine. Even deepened into adulthood, you could recognize it. 

Vic. The same man who had spoken down on your mother, on Kuchel, for being whores.

“Ha,” he continued, “That little runt finally saved up enough to buy you, huh? How much after him? I’m not mad about sloppy seconds.” He leered. 

You felt Levi tense. He was frozen before you, and your hand found his, stroking across his knuckles, wishing to calm him, “Levi... he isn’t worth it. Let’s just go home.” 

But Vic didn’t care, Vic didn’t know you had spent the past few years training with a dictator of a teacher. Vic didn’t know you had a knife ready to draw, didn’t realize you had grown sharper and angrier, even if you hadn’t ever outgrown him.

He didn’t know you were waiting for the Ackerman instinct to kick in. 

Vic stepped towards you, grabbing you by the elbow, trying to yank you away from Levi’s grip. 

Like a flash, Levi lashed out, boney knuckles crashing into Vic’s cheek, your bag of stolen goods dropped to the floor. He drew his knife, fingers twiddling with the blade until it was poised for a downward strike. 

You’re signature move...

You turned, arm released, to aid Levi. As Vic lunged, overpowering Levi’s weak stance and clumsy movements, you rushed at his back. Levi watched your desperate attack, eyes widening, and giving you away. Vic realized the danger, remembering your tendency towards aggression, and spun to face you. He batted you away with his arm and his blade, and you heard Levi’s frantic yelp of ‘don’t touch her!’. You landed hard on the concrete, skidding and rolling, your breath punched out of you. You began to pick yourself up off the floor, winded and bleeding from your ribs and steeling yourself to throw yourself back into the fight, when another thug showed up. 

He was scrawnier than Vic, raised leaner. Probably, you realized, an orphanage kid who wasn’t the descendant of the head wallist. He had disregarded you, assuming you were a woman, and a whore, and uncapable of defending yourself. 

He would pay dearly for that, you decided. 

As he readied himself to attack Levi, you lunged, reckless and desperate. 

Because... Levi had just gotten the upper hand, was just beginning to overtake Vic. You couldn’t risk that, couldn’t allow another man to attack him and throw him off. You didn’t want to be alone, and you didn’t want to lose him.

You caught him around the middle, leg frantically kicking out to take him to the ground. The air rushed out of him with the hit, and he yelped. He was too surprised to twist to catch himself, and landed roughly on the ground.

You snarled, feral and up to your throat in adrenaline, unable to hear anything over the rapid-fire thump of your heartbeat. You couldn't focus on anything besides keeping this motherfucker away from Levi.

Your hand found the knife crammed into your belt, yanking it from its makeshift sheath and lunging, while you still had the upper-hand. He battered you away, smacking you violently. You tried to roll with the hit, jarring your leg as you yanked it violently from beneath him. You fought through the pins and needles crawling up your ankle, and scrambled backwards.

Levi grunted, and you frantically craned your neck to make sure he was okay.

The thug took advantage of your distraction, lunging on top of you, grabbing your hands and trying to wrestle the knife from your grip. You screeched your panic to the air, thrashing violently and kicking. He leered down at you, blood from a gash in his forehead dribbled down his jaw, dripping onto your face. You fought the urge to gag.

He raised the knife up, your hands still gripping it as you struggled to regain control, and began to plunge the point towards your chest.

You screamed and panted, fighting his downward thrust, feet scrabbling in the gravel as you tried to brace, and even you, with all your violent optimism, could see this was a losing battle.

You heard Levi scream, a sound of rage and panic, and Vic let out a startled, pained grunt. You heard the sound of rending flesh, something wet spilling out onto the ground.

"LEVI!" You screamed. Your brain whited out. The only thought running in your mind a frantic repetition of no, no, no no no. You couldn't lose him.

You let the thug overpower your grip, a controlled descent that ended in you releasing the knife and shoving his hand to the side. You jack-knifed away from the stab and under his legs, wriggling from beneath him and scrambling to your feet, violently swinging back one leg and kicking your foot with vicious intent into his ribs, all panic and no power. You braced and did it again. He gagged, skittering off his hands and knees and landing roughly to his side. You screeched, frantic and shaking.

"Fuck," you shouted, stomping his chest and feeling something give beneath your heel, "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

You kicked him one more time, and frantically grabbed the knife. The thug wheezed, lunging for you in staggering movements, and any question of whether to kill him or not disappeared from your mind as you twirled the blade between your fingers, and plunged it into his neck.

You felt the metal sink through his skin like a bruised apple, felt the clink of the tip hitting bone. You felt the blood spurt out as you withdrew and leapt back, hands shaking and dripping blood. You felt nausea roll up to replace the adrenaline as you watched him gurgle and choke, shaking hands grabbing for his neck before he convulsed one more time and went still.

You gagged, turning away from the body and into someone’s arms. You flinched away, trying to bat the hands back until you realized who was holding you.

Levi.

You looked up at him frantically, shoving your hands against your pants to wipe away the blood before they reached up to grasp his face.

You nearly sobbed. "You're okay... Levi..."

He grimaced as he looked at you, pursing his lips, the picture of composure while you stood quaking and whimpering. "I saw him, on top of you. You screamed."

You choked out a shaky laugh, "I was so scared. I didn’t know if you had- ...I was scared."

He scoffed. "No reason to be," he released you to look you over, before grabbing your hand, twining your fingers together, "you did a good job, with him. I just got Vic down when you started stomping his ribs."

At his mention of Vic, you peered past Levi’s shoulder. The thug was laying there, still and cooling in his own blood and entrails.

"Christ, Levi. You gutted him. Since when did you have that in you?"

He growled, shaking his head. "He was on top of you. I couldn't waste anymore time with Vic. Not with you screaming like that. Enough to give a man a headache."

You laughed, leaning into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. You let the shaking subside as his warmth seeped into you.

It was you, and Levi, and you were both alive and coming down off the adrenaline rush of your first kill and fuck. Even here, covered in blood and the stench of Vic’s ruptured bowels, with Levi beside you...

Everything felt right.

When Levi was by your side, everything felt right.

pt iv

#i am sorry #i drank 1.5 litres of wine tonight #and i have decided to not post until sober me verifies this isnt shit #thank you #sober me has verified this work as passing #good to go #snk fanfiction #snk #snk headcanons #snk imagines #aot #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #snk levi #levi aot #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagine #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #snk x reader #aot x reader

[dawnowar]

I spend all this time by myself

and i use it to think about everything. 

Before Covid-19 i was fed up with my clients for getting me sick all the time and kind of sick of the rut I was in and starting to think about what else I might like to do. The truth is I wanted to workout. Like all the time. I was considering the possibility of maybe becoming an instructor even though I know its not a money-maker because it was the thing i was most interested in spending my time doing.

But then came the lockdown and I packed in my business and got a job stocking grocery store shelves. Which I liked. Its just that perfect combo of physical and fussy work that I liked so much and I could listen to podcasts and no one had reason to take issue with what I was or wasn’t doing. I just couldn’t sleep during the day. I couldn’t do it. 

So i got a work-from-home job and now i dont go anywhere or do anything with anyone and I’m home all day by myself.

I get better at it being home all the time by myself the more I do it which is both good, because thats the best way to be right now, and bad because I find myself less and less interested in connecting with other people. 

Not out of fear of coronavirus or anything like that, but once I quit facebook I realized that mostly wasnt any real connection with anyone on there. Just chatter and wasted emotion over things that don’t matter at all if you don’t log in. 

I decided it’d be better to try to reach out to people individually. At least one every day. To stay connected. to be connected. to really be connected.

but then maybe one day i didnt feel like it and ive kind of mostly stopped doing that too. 

I was video chatting with people when we were all staying home but everyone’s just stopped doing it. Everyone just started pretending Covid-19 wasn’t a thing anymore and going back out and doing everything they normally would but just carrying a mask around with them. I guess that’s sort of tempting but then not really either. I mean the things i used to do that im not doing now are standing in small sweaty rooms with people breathing on each other. Whether thats workouts or bars, its exactly the activities to avoid and I never did much else. So I stay home now by myself.

I don’t get a lot of invites to hang out w people, although i could do the inviting and people would come over but it makes me think thoughts about how all my adult life I’ve been the kind of person who goes out and knows everyone everywhere she goes. And then I go home. By myself. On purpose. 

I’ve always lived alone on purpose. And i go out when i want to socialize with other people. But my home is my oasis of personal peace where everything is mine and its just the way I like it and I can relax and no one else is invited.

So its comfortable here. I have my cats and my TV and a big bag of coffee and my alexa and its fine. I’m fine here. 

I do a lot of thinking. About why im like this and why its not normal and who cares if it is or not and how I never intended to be all alone for lengths of time like this when I set up my life this way, and how its kind of OK even though I kind of wish I had a partner to do stuff with and be close to since I don’t.

But not because i feel like I need one.

Because I feel like it’d be nice to have one sometimes.

I always had people around me whenever i wanted people around me. I was never a person who was lacking for companionship. 

So here I am, lacking for companionship, and i feel OK mostly about it. Strangely enough. But i feel like im not supposed to be OK, which makes me feel even weirder about getting better at this as I go. 

Here I am at i think its the 5 1/2 month mark now, isn’t it? 

and its fine. Still. 

I don’t love my job but I love that i got it. I mean I made a huge pivot as fast as I could when I saw this pandemic thing for what it was. what it is. and in fact, my first one didnt work out so i made a second one and now im in a great position to survive. 

Even if everyone else kind of said fuck it, who cares how many people die, im not staying in anymore... Here I am ready to ride it all out, probably for as long as it takes in a good position financially and personally. Go me. I am proud of myself for figuring out what to do. 

But at the same time, as i settle into my new work-from-home schedule, i find myself less and less interested in socializing at all with anyone and more and more okay with staying home by myself.

I dream about X boyfriends because i dont have any current ones to dream about and I don’t have anything interesting to talk about with people because nothings happened to me. Maybe thats why I don’t want to socialize anymore. They don’t have anything to talk about either. 

The zoom chats got super-boring after the first few weeks because no one was doing anything and we all just ran out of stuff to talk about. 

So I stay home by myself and i think about things. Everything. Every single thing i’ve ever done in my whole life. I think about all of it in some detail. Look at it from some new vantage point. Why im like i am, the things that have happened to me to shape me into this person, the things I’ve done and the way I’ve handled them and what i didn’t know i could have or should have done at the time instead of what I actually did. How things might have turned out differently for better or for worse if this had happened or that had happened or if i’d known what i know now or if that one thing hadn’t happened or if that other thing had happened.

And how mostly it would all just have all always played out again the same way due to the circumstances of the moment even if I had it to do over. And how that’s fine. Because thats how I got to where I’m at right now. And im fine. 

Even if I am alone in a pandemic that doesnt seem to be ending anytime soon.

I guess i can just go back out again whenever I feel ready to do that like everyone else seems to have already done. 

Or maybe I never will. 

I wanted a change. I was already starting to spend a lot less time going out and knowing everybody. Thanks to the divisive politics of a certain president, I’d come to see a lot of ‘friends’ of mine in a different light and distanced myself from a good amount of people in the last few years, but that’s only part of what was going on with me. 

For whatever reason, the last few years, my love-life has been a string of the guys I’m really into not liking me back or not taking me seriously as a real partner, while the very few guys who seem to show any real interest in me are the ones I don’t like back. 

So I was down a lot of friends and there were no boyfriends and going out was depressing unless there was a band i liked playing. Because I’m at this age now where im like 20+ years too old for the guys in this college town, so there’s no one to meet and if the band playing isn’t any good then it was just a waste of time and money to go out. 

Staying home is fine for me, but I do wonder if this is it for me. This is the rest of my life. I’m a spinster with cats and that’s it. I never had kids cause i never wanted any. I’ve always been fine with that. But when theres nothing to do and nowhere to go and I’m alone all the time, maybe having had kids wouldn’t have been so bad if they would be people i could be doing stuff with.

But do I even want to do stuff? I don’t even know. I mean i could do stuff but I dont want to. I could invite people over to hang out in my backyard, but I dont think i want to. In another month it’ll be cold for hanging out outside. 

Will I want to do stuff then?? or will the numbers go back up once people are all indoors breathing on each other all the time again? 

Will I be happy I have this job i dont like in my house? I get to stay here and be safe and do whatever i want to do whenever i want to do it by myself all the time. Till its over. or till im done. whichever comes first. or whichever comes last.

What will things look like when its over? What will I be like when it’s over? Will it even ever be over? I know no one knows. But this is what I think about. It’s all I do. Think about all of this. Think about everything I’ve ever done and everything I ever will do and everyone I ever did anything with.

And how I’m fine.

and whether or not I should be fine. 

and if being fine in and of itself while I’m alone for months during a global pandemic is all really just some issues I have because of being raised poorly. 

Or maybe I’m just fine and doing well.

and maybe I’m just thinking about everything because I’m not on facebook. And maybe everyone is on facebook because they don’t want to be thinking about everything.

[jimlingss]

pt.2 of yesterday

I don’t want to flood people’s dashes, so hopefully answering your messages here will suffice!

anonymous asked: Hi! I wanted to tell you how much I love your work and how you make me enjoy every Monday thanks to your regular updates ! I saw a previous anon telling you how your writings lacks of emotion and I totally disagree with them... obviously everybody won’t like it but your stories just DON’T lack of love or emotion this is madness I want to thank you for publishing your amazing stories freely here for everyone to read. (Sorry if my English is weird I’m french ejfjekfjd)

“this is madness” LOL

You’re hilarious, anon. And your english is perfectly fine!!!

anonymous asked: Hello! Im the culinary student anon who sent you an ask a while ago and i saw you received an ask about the lack of emotion from your stories. I read kitchen romance and i actually really really like it and don’t quite understand how it lacks in emotions as I interpreted the stories more like the beginning of the oc and jin’s love story and they are only starting to open up to each other so i guess thats why anon might feel like it lacks romantic vibe from both of the characters. (1)

Anonymous said: Just want to tell you that you’re one of the best writer and ive been following you for 2/3 years now, you never failed to amaze me with your writings!! All your stories are so well written that i sometimes wonder how do you come up with such an amazing plot every single time and your stories are always nice to re-read and the effort you pour into creating your stories is also admirable (2)

while i was reading kitchen romance and ive only started s&c (currently on chapter 4) i can say that its pretty similar with how it is irl (and the part where we find out jk is an iu fans reminded me of my ex-crush whose also a culinary student, i would like to tell you a story about it but ill just waste your time lol) , just want to send you a few encouragement and love for you and your writings *sending virtual hugs* (3) -👩🏻‍🍳anon

You’re too kind, thank you (and also, welcome back!). I’ll be frank, there was a hot second I was considering taking down Kitchen Romance but I didn’t cause I don’t want my efforts of editing it to go to waste asdfghjkl. I can’t believe you’ve been sticking around me for so long :’) it’s always nice to know some folks stay. Anyway, I’m glad that Sugar and Coffee is pretty similar to how it works irl since I tried my best to do research. I definitely love a good storytime as well so don’t worry about wasting my time :>

Anonymous said: a good majority of your fics display an unfathomable amount of DEPTH. regarding character development. plot. even the shortest lines of dialogue reveal so much more to the character and unveil their true emotions. i personally think the more REALISTIC side of love may be perceived as 'bland.' ‘emotionless.’ whatever you want to call it. nothing’s wrong with portraying a relationship that isn’t overboard with a whole lot of tooth aching fluff or lowkey annoying pda. +1

Anonymous said: there’s nothing wrong with taking out a bit of emotion to fit the PERSONALITIES of the characters. some people out there don’t necessarily feel a lot of emotions. so it’s honestly not really a mistake if a story lacks it (unless it was unintentional). subtlety is an art that is hard to master, but you’ve done it! and to respond to the anon, sometimes, if you skim through a fic without reading every word the author intended for you to read, +2

Anonymous said: then it’s quite common to not feel the full extent of the emotions you were supposed to feel. just a thought but no hate. we’re all entitled to our opinions. but besides that, kina, you write on a vast scale ranging from hardcore angst to diabetes-inducing fluff. and you do it beautifully. sure there are some stories that are better than others, but i believe a LOT of it comes down to personal preference and taste. +3

Anonymous said: even if you are feeling creatively limited, you work hard to continue writing for your readers, and your determination and diligence wILL NOT GO UNNOTICED. i just want you to know that you write amazingly. your syntax is practically immaculate, your characters feel real… the endings of your stories always wrap something up and the strings are tied—even if it isn’t necessarily a happy ending. you can convey hundreds of different characters through WORDS. +4

Anonymous said: i’ll have you know that it’s hard to write. it’s even harder to write about people who aren’t YOU. so as someone who looks up to you a lot, i want to commend you for your writing. some of your fics that i read on a monthly basis: tears of a villain, a piece of the moonlight, head over heels to hell, ghost in the machine, a mark of betrayal, a kiss of poison, until yesterday, the truth between us and arcadia. +5

Anonymous said: to be fair, there were way more fics but i didn’t want to make this message any longer than it already is LOL. i find these pieces wonderful. heart wrenching. and SO DAMN EMOTIONAL IT PLAGUES MY MIND FOR DAYS. also you’re literally one of the few fucking people who can use the em dash correctly. thank you so much for sharing your talent with us! +6

Oh my goodness. I don’t even know what to say, anon. This is a whole damn thesis and it’s about my fics :’> You know, it’s easy to brush off fanfiction as a ‘whatever’ thing and indeed, it isn’t that big of a deal compared to some things in the world. But I really do take all my stories seriously and put forth a lot of effort - so to see it recognized and appreciated it makes me beyond happy. It’s good to know that my efforts haven’t gone to waste at all and that there are people out there who will support me no matter the endeavours I take. Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.

((Also, honestly I picked up the em dash usage after I wrote The Truth Between Us with gukyi who used it. I’m pretty sure I’m not using it right but to hear that I am, god damn that’s a breath of relief right there))

backtobleuside submitted: Are you kidding me!? Your stories don’t lack love at all. They’re the kind of fics that you read, soak it all in and then come back for more. I’ve cried so much when I read Beyond reach, Boo-lieve in me, A piece of the moonlight, His name, Tell me lies etc. etc, and also laughed and felt the emotions of not just the OC, but also the other characters. Kitchen Romance was also so fluffy and sweet and personally, I don’t think that anything needs to be added to it. Anyway, your fics do not lack emotion—you’re probably the first author I send a message to because your stories impacted me a lot and left a strong impression on me. I even imagine your characters as real people who have real lives that continue on even after the story is done.

asdfghjkl thank you :’) I see you every week and sometimes several times at that. I really appreciate your consistent feedback and following. You never fail to send me a message too which I appreciate a lot. I’m glad you’re enjoying everything I’m producing!!

youngfleurever said: Would just like to say that your fics do in fact make me violently sob to the boy where my eyes are so swollen I have trouble opening them the next day and I wake up feeling like there’s sawdust in my mouth because I’m dehydrated.

oh my god. please keep yourself hydrated hahahahhaha more importantly, how do you know what sawdust in your mouth is like. WHAT have you been doing LOL

Anonymous said: I’ve felt emotions that I’ve never felt before when I read your fics.... so as a person that has read your entire masterlist, I DO NOT think that your fics lack emotion.... I hope you don’t feel disheartened because you’re one of my favourite writers, not just on tumblr but like, evER 💓💓💓💓💓💓

Please, even if I was disheartened, the overwhelming amount of feedback and praise has completely overridden it :’)

joonie-mono said: when tumblr deletes the first part of your ask 🙄😌✌️

LOOOOOOOL

haylo4ever said: Sorry had to add my 10 cents. You're such a talented writer,,, I WISH I could write a smol smol 1/1000000000 that you write,,, like I remember when I followed you bc I was in awe of your writing.... I mean?? Sure maybe not every fic hits it with someone but it's just ridic to name drop (a friend nonetheless) when you're all extremely talented writers.

Trust me, writing comes with practice!! I should honestly just tattoo that on me. God knows my first fanfic was absolutely GARBAGE. I didn’t know pacing, didn’t know that I should separate chunks of paragraphs, how to write dialogue or describe scenes properly. I went in blind. Even my second, third and fourth fanfic was garbage. You could definitely get to “my level” or even far surpass it with enough dedication and practice. I mean I’ve been writing for four years, so thank GOD there’s been improvement. I wouldn’t be natural if there wasn’t. But clearly the more you practice, the better you improve! That applies to anything.

The me in ten years will certainly be better now.

Anonymous said: Hi kina! I’m here in support of kitchen romance! I actually didn’t feel like it was missing a ton of fluffy moments (and I say that as a huGE LOVER OF FLUFF) but the story was just as entertaining in the whole chase of them getting closer to each other! It’s honestly one of my favorite one shots I’ve read lately and I’m not saying that lightly! Also, that anon that said your work lacks emotion has probably not read like half of your masterlist bc oO MAN QUEEN OF MAKING ME CRY- black heart anon🖤

Thank you :’]

Anonymous said: Ok I’m very offended wow the audacity!Specially coming for my baby kitchen romance like that story made me feel so much and it’s only one of the many fics you have written kina like I’m literally baffled like dynasty has made me cry scream happy and hot all at the same time and I was literally just thinking about it that whole weekend and this anon has the nerve to say your stories lack emotions?When you are literally the queen of show casing all types of emotions in your stories!You did it all

Anonymous said: Also 😭😭😭😂😂😩hoooooooow and whereeee did they see any lack of love and emotions like have you read jungle park???? Inside my mind??? FREAKING SUGAR AND COFFEE (like this fic is made with love and I- ) Actually you know what , just read the whole masterlist😩😩💗💗💗

LOL tbh I didn’t expect Dynasty to receive the love it has. I was actually kind of wary when posting it cause it’s kind of Wild. 

bangtans-peaceful-piegon said: just gotta say u handled that whole anon thing so well which not only makes me admire u as a writer but even more as a person :] (i mean i knew u were gr8 before the whole deal but yeah love ya 💛)

tbh, I’m not sure how well I handled it cause I was flooded with over 30 messages afterwards (evidently) ;_; which I love and appreciate but I’m not really as hurt as some people think hahaha criticism should be received well but it’s still hard not to take personally tbh. It’s gonna have to be something I work on or perhaps it’ll be one of those things that I’ll take better with age.

#anonymous #👩🏻‍🍳anon #backtobleuside #youngfleurever #joonie-mono #haylo4ever #black heart anon🖤

[kimsgoeun]

♫ - veronica/logan

♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is. @kaceyrps​

i.  They end up bumping into each other coincidentally at some show downtown. They seem to do that a lot, but that’s somehow supposed to be a part of Neptune’s charm.  “Didn’t realize this was your kind of thing,” Logan casually says. She pulls a face. “And what’s supposed to be my kind of thing?” It’s out of jest that she says this though. They don’t know each other well enough to know what the other likes anyway. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in there then,” he nods. “Or,” she interjects, “we can just go in together. Unless you’re meeting someone else.” She isn’t sure what compels her to suggest it, but she tries not to think about it, nor does she linger on the satisfaction she feels in knowing he is here on his own. 

ii. Technically it’s his sister who invites her over to some family soiree, but it’s Logan who insists she comes after Veronica offers to decline if it’s weird. It’s weirder to see him in that famous Echoll lifestyle when he clearly isn’t comfortable. But it doesn’t take long for her to put the pieces together that maybe he wants her here for that very reason. They end up chatting most of the evening on the sidelines with Logan feeding her tidbits of information about the people in the room. She adds some colorful commentary of her own making him laugh and helping him forget why it is exactly he doesn’t like being around his family’s people. She forgets why she she was so hesitant on attending. Or she does until Trina saunters over to them after having one too many drinks. “Aww, well aren’t you two lovebirds adorable. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you were on some kind of a date.” Logan rolls his eyes but its Veronica who says something. “Oh, no, this definitely isn’t a date.” Both eyes fall on her, Trina’s moving between her and her brother. “Oh-kay. Well I think that’s my cue. Have fun you two!” she says before taking off. Veronica watches her go but finds Logan still staring at her. “What?”

iii. Her father’s visiting Neptune when they run into Logan on the pier. She tries to act indifferent about her father meeting him, but it’s a little weird. Even her dad knows something’s up when he waggles his brows at her when he isn’t looking. It doesn’t help when he tells Logan that Veronica has mentioned him once or twice. Betrayed by my own father, she thought. Attempting to end this little slice of hell she found herself in she interjects, “Well we were just on the way to the store, so we should probably-- “ Only to have her dad interrupt and conveniently say he’s actually feeling tired and might head back to her place and oh, wouldn’t it just be swell if Logan went with her instead? She glares at him when he waves his goodbyes to the pair and quickly hides it when Logan asks if they should head out. An awkward air hangs over her head now that they’re walking together to the store. That awkward silence makes her want to bolt. They both begin speaking at the same time and she presses her lips together into a frown. “Go ahead,” he offers. Now she feels bad about trying to find a reason to leave. It’s not as if they’re doing anything weird. Friends can walk around and do some shopping together. She shakes her head, “It’s nothing. What were you going to say.” A more serious look flashes over his face and for a second she’s concerned. And then he ruins it by saying, “So you talk about me with your dad, huh?” and laughing at the annoyed reaction on her face after hearing it. “You know what. I really don’t think I need another set of hands to help me pick up some groceries, so you can go,” she deadpans and picks up her pace. It’s even more annoying that it doesn’t take much for him to catch up with her. Damn his tallness.

iv. She tries not to grimace when Dick Casablancas comes barging in. The blond stares at the scene in front of them - Veronica and Logan eating Chinese take-out with some show playing on the TV - before some idiotic, smug smile spreads across his face. “Soooo am I interrupting something? Because if I am I don’t want to be a co--” Logan cuts him off. “--Did you need something?” She mutters under her breath, “A brain for instance...” It takes all of her will power and control not to throw her food at him when he goes on some winded story about some girl he met and her friend and how he needs Logan to be his wing man. “...But since you’re on some “not” date with Veronica, I can bring in someone else.” She hears him sigh and suspects he’s going to tell him to leave (or tell him good luck) but she’s already standing up. The idea of being on some “not-date” date ruins her already appetite. “It’s fine. I think I’m going to head out anyway,” she says, trying to make a quick getaway. “Have fun helping Dick get laid.” She sidesteps past the other man and pretends not to notice Logan attempting to stop her from leaving. 

v. Veronica asks for another favor with the promise of dinner being involved. The place is fancier than she prefers and she knows she’ll stick out like a sore thumb if she goes alone, so that’s where Logan comes in. The nicest thing she owns still doesn’t seem like enough--whoever said a little black dress would always be timeless and classy clearly never went to Neptune--as she takes in the other patrons once they’re seated. Her focus is busy on searching the room as the waiter begins chatting to them. She probably looks like some lousy date to the waiter as Logan does all the talking and she’s staring off in every direction, but she can’t waste a breath on caring about the opinion of what some stranger thinks of her. Nothing. Veronica deflates in her seat. Crap, did I get the wrong information? “Something not going according to plan?” he asks. For a second she’s caught off guard by the question before remembering how often she asks him for these kind of favors. She sighs, “Yeah, but that’s okay. I’ll figure something else out.” She frowns apologetically. “Sorry. Guess we can split. I don’t know if it’s worth spending this much on food we can easily get elsewhere for less.” She’s collecting her purse when Logan stops her. “Well we’re already here and you did promise me dinner...” She purses her lips as he holds her promise to him over her head. Without staking out someone while they’re here it almost feels like they’re on a date and Veronica stares at him quizzically to make sure he doesn’t think that’s the case. But Logan raises a brow at her in question and goes back to looking over the menu, not at all bothered the way she seems to be under the surface. As long as he wasn’t reading into it then she wouldn’t either. This definitely wasn’t a date.

vi. She offers to buy him a drink after obtaining the evidence she needs to prove her client was innocent. He’s the one that says he wants to buy to help her celebrate the win. Not wanting  to be rude, she happily agrees. They meet up at some bar in town after seven. She hates to admit it but she’s put in the slightest bit of effort into how she looks -- hates it even more that she notes how nice Logan looks after splitting ways earlier in the day. There are a few times she catches him staring at her, but then again, she’s staring right back. One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and by the fourth, it almost seems like they’re waiting for the other to call an end to their night. One of them suggests dancing at some point, but she can’t recall who. The alcohol makes her feel light and happy and less concerned that her hand lingers in his or the space between them inches closer and closer between songs. There’s a good chance she won’t remember half of what happens tonight, but through the hazy bar lights, she could almost consider this a date. 

#otp: i'm charming and irresponsible #wc: veronica mars #kaceyrps

[69d]

22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many?

these questions hit at wildly different levels of serious and/or invasive in the normal human way thats weirdly exempt from the general exclusively absurd or horny oversharing that tends to go down between longtime shitsite devotees but alright i reblogged it if anything not expecting those questions to land was my b

the kid questions both a yes and a no

theoretically id be down for kid/s i think kids are like a dormant untapped cure for depression once they get out of the stage of not doing anything but crying and shitting and get into the stage of talking and conveying ideas and wanting to share shit with the world youd be hard pressed to find even an adult whose career is to create like a novelist or some shit with the unbound imagination of any kid on the street and not to get wangsty on main but i had that shit broken out of me like a white middle school girl breaks the fury of a wild spirited horse in a straight to dvd disney movie so its a life experience i envy

kids deserve the world and i think more people need to be having kids because they want to make a kid really fucking happy and see them grow into somebody thatll make the world brighter than the other dumbass reasons people have kids like to have someone take care of them when theyre old or some other self serving horseshit

but as far as the way my lifes going right now theres not a chance in hell id actually have a kid

see the above explanation of how being a genuinely good parent and providing your kid with the resources and emotional enrichment they need is paramount to everything else possibly related to the subject

pushing aside the fact i dont have a partner to have a kid with biologically because its 2019 and having your kids the old fashioned way is a preference between said partners at most and irrelevant otherwise and as much as i think having two parents is probably beneficial to the roundedness of said kids upbringing because theyre being taught by people who have different personal experiences and a wider range of ideas its not going to hurt them not to and in any hypothetical scenario where the stuff im about to say doesnt apply id totally do it by myself

im not cut out to actually do the parent thing

i know my hearts in the right place for it or whatever i know how to raise a kid the right way and i also know i cant actually execute any of that

i live in a van and jump from city to city as a hobby during my off season and then jump city to city for business when im on an assignment and those take me into deserts and swamps and bogs and burning hot canyons and shit

the total amount of free time i have during most of the year comes out to about fucking zilch and what free time i do have usually gets wasted doing nothing productive or on the rare occasion im feeling zesty is just drug addled and probably dangerous

and im irresponsible as fuck

time and i dont get along so anything with time constraints or an expectation of reasonable pacing ive probably already fucked up by way of losing hours or scrambling dates or something

sometimes ill forget to eat for three days because no regular people were around to make me realize oh shit three days have passed look at all these things youre supposed to have done in that timeframe to still be considered functional

i cant do much about it and if i could i wouldnt care to cause i just dont fucking care clearly the loss doesnt bother me but im not going to subject any other living breathing thing to my fucking dismal lack of attempt to keep a routine much less an actual human child

do i want kids yeah kids are dope but would i have kids abso fucking lutely not unless i retired thirty years early and moved to a white fence house in the burbs with my beautiful wife stacy which i can say with 110% certainty is not gonna happen

piercings i can fuck with though lets lighten up with that

ive got four on my face counting my earlobes and and two not on my face that ill leave up to the readers imagination

if you can guess where they are ill give you twenty dollars

#genuine offer #mostly because i know all of yalls minds are going into the gutter immediately #text #asks #ethicalbluescreen

[thatjwguy]

Johnny Cash The Man Comes Around with Lyrics

Does Satan Exist - Lets Get The Facts

WARNING: Heavy talk about the supernatural and other things occult related will be here so if you are frightened with these subjects i would suggest not reading any further, although it might help you to decern between reality and fiction. Much love, always. 

2 Corinthians 4:4

among whom the god of this system of things has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, so that the illumination of the glorious good news about the Christ, who is the image of God, might not shine through.

So let's review what we do know, if you are a biblical person and have discernment of any kind then you should at least have some sense of who Satan is and just how deceptive he can be, i will go on record and say iv been deceived many times by the devil. It's a constant struggle every day to keep your head above water. Quite literally feels at times like you are being pulled under by some force you cannot explain. You have probably heard the expression, battling one's inner demons. Well what if that term could be used literally, one might have his or her own personal real-life demonic presence of some kind. If you have ever dove into the waters of spirituality at all you know that a higher power does exist, correct? Well if the metaphysical realm really does exist, what makes you so certain bad entities do not exist? Especially when it has be proven time and time again by not only “Christians” but by the New Age, Wicca, Hinduism etc etc.  Something more is out there that people are actively tapping into, clearing their minds and letting themselves be guided by the spirit. Some may view this as a universal energy, everyone can tap into it at any point if they want. Yes, but have you not noticed that it always seems to point you in a direction the leads you away from Gods teachings. I’m referring to 1st century Christianity before paganism was introduced and then defiled Jehovah’s original teachings. 

AWAKE! August 8, 2002

The crusaders of about a thousand years ago missed the point that living “according to Christ” means much more than simply professing allegiance to Jesus Christ. (Matthew 7:21-23) It means living in complete harmony with the teachings of Jesus as found in God’s inspired Word, the Bible. (Matthew 7:15-20; John 17:17) “If you remain in my word,” said Jesus Christ, “you are really my disciples.” (John 8:31) “All will know that you are my disciples,” he said, “if you have love among yourselves.”​—John 13:35. In truth, those crusaders had fallen prey to “empty deception according to the tradition of men.” And it is little wonder that ordinary people were deceived, when their religious leaders, their very bishops, “became renowned  as military men.” A “warlike spirit became so common among the clergy,” says the Cyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature, by McClintock and Strong, “that whenever anything was to be gained [by it], they were ever ready for war.” 

More can be found on the internet, i choose to look at the JW.org website, they keep it clean and very simple in order to make it easy to learn about the bible and its teachings. This is almost a one-stop shop for everything bible related, but enough about that, let's get back to business. So this energy the people tap into is all around us and just at our disposal, as long as we follow the guidelines right? Well, that's funny i thought the point of true freedom was you get to do whatever you want whenever you want? Still seems like you need to follow some sort of pattern or governance of some kind in order to play ball. Laws obviously exist to keep us from going completely insane and causing chaos out there in the world. So with these New Age type practices, you still need them to keep yourself safe to some degree. 

Its funny though, cause with all of these teachings or at least the ones iv looked at. They seem to know of a dark energy as well. Something else is there, something you cannot mess with. Almost like the dark side in star wars or something, you can tap into it but you shouldn't. Okay, so they do believe in a dark energy as well... soo at least there's that. What if i told you though, that these energies could have the power to deceive you as well. Mimic anything you could ever want, sound like whoever they want, even look like whoever they want in order to fake you out. Just like the movie business, man they can really make people look like a totally different person. So what makes you think this cant happen in a spirit? 

Revelation 12:9

9So down the great dragon was hurled, the original serpent,the one called Devil and Satan,who is misleading the entire inhabited earth;he was hurled down to the earth,and his angels were hurled down with him.

Believe me i don't like this either, i once thought i even had powers i couldn't explain and all that business. Its harder for others im sure because much of what they have been taught throughout the years is founded in these ideologues. They don't want this to be fake, because that means undoing whatever held beliefs they have had. This could range from being reincarnated, afterlife, a heavenly hope of some sort. Its hard to do but not impossible, it just means making some adjustments that's all, not just completely uprooting yourself from everything you are doing. Take a break for a while and find yourself again, perhaps more is needed to be learned. Your journey is only over when you take your last breath, remember that. 

This might be the point where cognitive dist sets in for most people, when you have two contradicting beliefs in your head and you either shut the one out, or just simply change it to fit your narrative. I might link the video where that is talked about, people having two opposing thoughts and trying to ignore one or change one to fit what you want. Seems to be the way people tend to think, unless they just completely ignore anything that goes opposed to what they think just to keep their illusion going, cause god forbid they actually think critically right? Sorry perhaps im taking this a bit too far, could you sense the passive-aggressive nature of that?

Link to video on cognitive dissance 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Y17YaZRRvY

The point of this post is to challenge your beliefs, cause i know you might be an individual who is unbelieving or just skeptical of the spiritual side of things. So from this point on i will just give you links to articles or videos that might further your understanding of all these things. If you are truly questioning this then you would do the research, insted of running away, you would do what is necessary  in order to gain more insight on the topic. Then again, i may just be wasting my time with this post anyway. Though i see it as a postive, iv at least caught your attention long enough to read this entire thing. The seed might have already been planted and now you might be questioning your reality. I wish you all well on your endeavors fellow bloggers and internet people. 

Link Bombs

https://www.jw.org/en/publications/books/bible-study/angels-in-the-bible/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TB9PaZBdGY&index=33&list=PLzcSerCuk3W70XCYLA0PQs4NGtBA7OdVZ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyaHgawWgNM

http://dismythed.blogspot.com/search?q=demons https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyYStHGxjFk

#Salvation #JW.org #Jehovah #Tags #Links #Spiritual #Love #Peace #Warning #Help #understanding #Interesting #Demons #Sprits #Maria Brink #ITM #InThisMoment #Wicca #Witchcraft #KeepSeeking #YouGood #NoHardFeelings

[gamejumps]

HEY LOOK here’s 43 random headcanon questions answered about turbo that nobody asked for.

1: What does their bedroom look like?

/CRACKS KNUCKLES oh boy here we’ll see how awful i am at interior design and decorating

after doing various google searches of what trailer interiors look like, his bedroom surely isn’t too far off from the main ‘room’ of everything. there’s most likely a small wall that blocks it away from the walkway and a door (for whatever privacy reasons) and most trailer bedrooms aren’t ... big. in fact they usually look a little crammed, which is true in turbo’s case. in the middle there sits a big red race car (with checkered flag blankets and pillows, obviously) with a nightstand on his right hand side. on top of it is a basic lamp (it’s also checkered) and an alarm clock. the nightstand its self holds racing magazines mainly, any scraps turbo had wanted to save for whatever reason and uh ... well, the obvious thing he’d have in there.

there is a window overhead that has a curtain on it, and he usually keeps it closed because hey, that’s the man’s bedroom. the walls are interesting enough: on the wall right of his bed is a big full body mirror that can be pulled aside into a closet where he keeps all of his clothing. on his left wall sits his trophy shelf, where too many trophies sit on top of and medals hang off of. i’m sure there are racing decals plastered around and a plaque that reads, ‘NOVEMBER 02 1982′ for his plug in date.

uhhhhhhh that’s really it, unfortunately. like i said, trailer bedrooms are super small.

2: Do they have any daily rituals?

sort of? get up, shower, eat, get dressed, check on his car, start the day, go to tappers, drive around the track at night, rinse and repeat unless he wants to mix it up. on weekends or at closing time he can sometimes be found tinkering away at his kart or gamejumping.

3: Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

NO LOL he doesn’t exercise at all. he doesn’t feel he needs it, but he loves driving laps around turbo time

4: What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

grab something else that doesn’t need prep or get take out. he doesn’t cook and only really uses the microwave, so hot meals are typically box meals and take out food.

5: Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

HOO BOY

personal: turbo’s cleanliness is ... weird? he doesn’t mind getting dirtied up in motor oil and whatnot (he reeks of it, frankly), rolling around in the dirt during a fist fight, etc. so there’s no issue with being dirty, but i don’t think he likes being dirty for too long--like the guy has to shower eventually. i feel like he probably brushes his teeth regularly as well to keep his breath fresh (he hates bad breath so much, and openly shits on ralph for it), but like, don’t get me wrong. this guy is not mr. clean. smells like motor oil, his hair is probably greasy ... he’s a fun time.

workspace: weirdly organized to a degree. it’s probably not spick and span, but he likes to know where everything is so he doesn’t lose things and keep things together. he cleans his car like a crazy, though. there cannot be a speck of dirt on his baby.

6: Eating habits and sample daily menu

EATING HABITS ARE AWFUL. GLUTTON. he hates 3 meals a day + multiple snacks and he indulges pretty heavily in food, rarely leaving food left on his plate. i can’t imagine he’s the pickiest eater but he has certain things he won’t touch with a 10 foot pole. daily menu consists on super salty, fatty junk/concession stand food and candy.

7: Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

anything racing related is a good time waster (trying to improve his car, cleaning it, etc.), as is drinking around tappers or being in the company of people. however, he’s weirdly selective of wasting his time: if he does things on his own, he doesn’t care, but if someone drags him into something that ‘wastes his time’, he gets antsy and agitated.

8: Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

prrrrrobably adrenaline kicks or ego stroking/attention hogging, hard to pick, really. he loves indulging in things. he’s a selfish, hedonistic brat.

9: Makeup?

nah

10: Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

NPD and ODD all the way, buddy. he doesn’t recognize that he has them, and if someone would say he has them, he would either blow it off by insisting there’s nothing wrong with him and they're just using shrink labels on him, or he’d see no issue with loving himself and acting the way he does.

11: Intellectual pursuits?

he likes to learn about technology from computers/coding/whatnot to knowledge about technical things with vehicles.

12: Favorite book genre?

my boy does not read lmfao. i feel like the most he reads are sports magazines and stuff, but he’s weirdly cultured on random things and makes the most left field references (ie, ‘IVE BEEN WAITING LONGER THAN IT TAKES TO MAKE PLUTO’S YEARLY TRIP AROUND THE SUN!!’)

13: Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

he’s straighter than a ruler. turbo has no problem with sexuality and doesn’t care about what you do, as long as it doesn’t involve him--that’s where he reacts more negatively and lashes out.

14: Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

uh, i mean if we’re not counting glowing eyes, grey skin, a green tongue and pointed ears? then the most the guys got is little cuts and nicks on his hands

15: Biggest and smallest short term goal?

within the realm of time i take him from, i can’t see him having short term goals so to speak, because ...

16: Biggest and smallest long term goal?

his big long term goal is to stay on top of the arcade and remain a legend, so that’s all fairly long term. that’s really all the guy wants. fame, fortune, attention.

17: Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

he prefers to keep his clothing casual, but he doesn’t exactly look like a slob? he has some kind of style, but he doesn’t really like more preppy or business casual styles--think, ‘that one dude you see in a tee, jeans, converse and sunglasses but it still works.’ no real rituals beyond always taking his helmet if he can--it’s a symbol of status and who he is.

18: Favorite beverage?

cherry coke and eventually vanilla cherry coke!

19: What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

i figure he usually knocks out like a light, but his mind probably swarms with whatever had gone on that day -- usually it always comes back to him praising himself though and telling himself how incredible he is and how he’s such a winner. it usually isn’t to cancel anything out (unless he’s freaking over something, but that’s rare. seriously, the last time he did that ws....2013?) but solely because he can’t help but stroke his ego. it’s a comfort.

20: Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

not really applicable, he didn’t have a childhood to speak. the guy can tell you 20 different ways he broke his nose though, and most involve fist fighting.

21: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

most likely his autograph. he gets a kick out of practicing it and signing it. i can see him making little crude doodles of himself (he has the artistic talent of a wet mop) about how he’s ‘super cool’ and ‘HARDCORE.’

22: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

he’s in this weird level of organized where it’s not disorganized or thrown about 100%--it mean there’s definitely a little mess after a work day in his trailer--but like, his garage? he loves to know where everything is in there so he isn’t frustrated and looking for something. he’s not really an organizational mess, but he just doesn’t want to go through the hassle of ripping his hair out over trying to find something, you dig? it doesn’t manifest in much else he does, really--he could give less of a damn about anyone else or anywhere outside of his trailer/garage.

23: Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

if you count tech skils as a field of study, then he excels at that for sure. he loves getting his hands dirty with cars and learning all he can with it. it’s a passion for him. otherwise, he’s not too concerned with book smarts unless it can be used to his advantage somehow.

24: How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

still as the king of the arcade, being litwak’s most prized cabinet and prospering even more than he had in the past. ridiculous, i know.

25: Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

not get unplugged. no, really. there’s no real ‘plans’ outside after that, all he wants is for the next few years to be as golden as smooth as theyve always been, and with an ego like his and the luck he’s had, there’s not a doubt or fear in his mind.

26: What is their biggest regret?

so far, the guy has no regrets. he’ll huff and say that regrets are for losers and that if he does something, then he’ll go down with it to the end. if you actually do make him feel it, though, even for a second? then please give yourself a round of an applause, because that takes a lot.

27: Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

PANIC. BIG PANIC. he startles and tries his best to keep his cool, but would either try and scramble to put out a fire if it’s small enough, or in more case scenarios, grab one or two things and go because he’s not risking his life. he would be pissed if it screwed him over in some way though and would throw such a tantrum.

28: Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

yikes.

turbo has no close family to speak of, so i’m going to phrase this in the terms of a super close friend (let’s say vanellope for instance) dying. i imagine he wouldn’t take it seriously at first and laugh while insisting whoever informed him is just screwing with him and it’s a shoddy prank, but once everything finally hits like a semi-truck going 200mph, he’d feel confused? upset? angry, but that hurt sort of angry at the person who died because he can’t cope, and would yell about how it was ‘their fault’ and pissily ask why they had to be ‘so stupid’.’ five stages of grief? nah, he goes straight from denial, to anger for awhile, to it bothering him--but he keeps it under wraps. he’s gotten used to people leaving out of nowhere, but death of a close person is hard and he’d rather delete than express any form of ‘weakness’ around people.

but like, this is all super rare and he wouldn’t react this way to 99.9% of people. most of the time he just rolls his eyes and doesn’t see the ‘big deal’, bc truly he doesnt care.

29: Most prized possession?

his helmet, his trophies and his kart.

30: Thoughts on material possessions in general?

i mean, the guy is pretty possessive over his trophies and flaunts them, loves talking about his kart--i’d say he’s a pretty materialistic guy and likes having objects to show off certain things--status, victory, fame, what have you.

31: Concept of home and family?

home, to him, is where things feel comfortable. where he can shine. home isn’t a person, nor is it a place, it’s a feeling to him--TurboTime definitely gives him that feeling for sure.

family is not a concept he really thinks of, honestly. he’d rather not and he thinks it’s schmaltzy. but if an outsider was to define it, it’d be someone who’d stick by him through absolute hell. and to stick by a little bastard like turbo? takes a lot.

32: Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

MAN.... he has no concept of privacy unless it’s stuff he wants to omit, like certain things he doesn’t want to show (vulnerability). he can definitely overshare though and TMI is no stranger to turbo: i mean, this guy freely talks about sleeping around and answered a question before about his dick size. he doesn’t care. 

33: What makes them feel guilty?

nothing really that i can think of so far. he’s pretty shameless and will take pride in whatever it is he does. but like i said with regrets: you make the guy feel guilty, congrats. hard thing to do though, as he usually pins the blame on someone else and defensively likes to insist he did nothing wrong.

34: Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

EMOTIONAL HOO BOY. you’re talking about the biggest brat in gcs with a temper like dynamite: he rarely has time to analyze or think, even with a quick-witted brain. c’mon: this is the guy who gunned it to roadblasters, in his kart, no fucks given because he was jealous and angry and felt neglected. i can’t say that in this stage of life that he’s one who’s very analytical.

35: What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

a good race, usually, or hanging around people he considers to be ‘fun.’

36: Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

SUPERIORITY-COMPLEX ALL THE WAY. turbo refers to himself as a king frequently, i think he called himself a God like, once, and believes everyone is beneath him. no one is on his level, no exceptions, and he’ll laugh and kick you down until you realize it.

37: How misanthropic are they?

ehehhh .. not really? he has an attitude and gets annoyed by most people, but i wouldn’t call the guy a misanthrope.

38: Religion?

doesn’t really believe in it, but he’ll swear to Pong or Programmers every now and again in vain.

39: Superstitions or views on the occult?

not super superstitious and think it’s just a bunch of bullroar--he’s not one to ever take luck into account of anything he does. he thinks occult stuff is creepy and it unnerves him to no end.

40: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

depends on the thoughts! usually it tends to be both because he’s such a blabbermouth that he can’t shut up, but he’s a physical enough person that he’ll do some display to express whatever it is that he’s expressing. in situations where he doesn’t know how to vocally express it, he usually does so through physical actions and gestures.

41: How do they express love?

kissing a mirror and stroking his own damn ego.

on a more serious note, turbo doesn’t really express ‘love.’ he doesn’t love anyone besides himself, after all, but how he acts towards people he tolerates/likes isn’t too bad. there’s nick names, picking on them and teasing them (he thinks it’s ‘funny’), and wanting their attention. he’ll hang around them whenever he wants (he doesn’t cling, per se, but he’ll frequently pester them and go out of his way for it), and if he sees a reason to be jealous/that they’re not paying attention to him and onto someone else, he’ll throw a huffy little fit over it.

now if we were talking about in relationships? he’d be such a jealous lover. a possessive one at that. someone gave you a flirty look? nah, he’ll smash their face in. he’d insist that youre ‘his’ and all that jazz.

42: If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

‘if’ hoo boy does turbo get into a LOT of fist fights. his fighting style is messy and vicious: turbo doesn’t cheat in racing, but he’ll do dirty tricks in a fight. he fights with his fists the most and will more often than not tackle whoever he’s pissed at, pin them down, choke them out, smash their face in. he’s not afraid to throw his helmet at you or slam it against your face for an upper hand. there’s no distinct style in what he does, it’s just a lot of grappling, rolling, kicking, punching, elbowing, scratching, choking and anything he can do to get a hit in.

43: Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

you wouldn’t think so, but yes! turbo is a dare devil, that much is certain: he lives for a rush and adrenaline boosters. he’s mouthed off to huge bugs (i recall him even taunting a huge group of them) and gotten into so much shit -- but he absolutely doesn’t want to full on die in a situation where he can’t regenerate. he’s terrified of dying alone, and worst of all, he doesn’t want to die a ‘peaceful’ death. he’d want to go out with the flashiest bang you can imagine, so that nobody ever forgets him.

#blastedposts #casually posts this out of my drafts

[uniquequotesonlife]

13 Things We Learned About Travel by Watching Star Wars

View photos Luke yearns to get away over a binary sunset. (Video: Benguitar9000/YouTube) Are you excited yet about Star Wars: Episode VII — The Force Awakens? We sure are!  So when someone tells me they’re going to try traveling someplace soon, I give them my best Yoda impersonation: “DO or do not. There is no try.” With J.J. Abrams revving up the Star Wars hype machine again, it got us at Yahoo Travel thinking about how the original films are as much a travel guide as they are a classic mythological space opera. We see diverse lands and fascinating modes of transportation, all in a story sparked by one farm boy looking far, far away to the heavens with wanderlust. You don’t think we can come up with 10 travel lessons learned from Star Wars? As Han Solo once said, never tell me the odds! Here are 13 of them that will teach you a Jedi’s wisdom when on the road, inspired by the thousands of times I’ve watched the original trilogy (no dorks here!). One note: I’ve purged most of the prequel movies from my memory in protest to George Lucas, but I do include one romance-related reference to them here. Han Solo was the original Uber

(Video: Daniel M. Kobayashi/YouTube) Ride sharing was cool in the Star Wars films long before their geeky fans in Silicon Valley thought of it. Obi-Wan didn’t use an app to find Han, but he did go to a part of town where rent-a-pilots were known to congregate, and he arranged to ride a vehicle driven by its cocky owner. Notice any parallels? When Han found out they were running from the Empire, he even used surge pricing on them! How much more Uber can you get? Can’t you just picture Princess Leia calling CEO Travis Kalanick a “scruffy-looking nerf herder”? Related: Go Far, Far Away to See Where the New ‘Star Wars’ Was Filmed Also like Han, Uber shoots first at its critics, and it’s known to keep a secret compartment or two. We just hope Uber will follow his lead and learn that underneath that bad-boy exterior, the company has a heart of gold. (We’re not holding our breath.) One thing is for sure: Anyone would give the Millennium Falcon a five-star rating. If you must lie to customs, play it cool

(Video: Daniel M. Kobayashi/YouTube) Repeat after me: “These aren’t the Cuban cigars you’re looking for.” Maybe you shouldn’t risk it with American customs, but travel to enough countries and you’re probably going to need to employ some Jedi mind tricks against sketchy border-control people. In my case it was the officers at the Syrian airport six years ago, when I had to calmly deny my father was from Syria — had they known the truth, under law I could have been drafted in the Syrian army even though I was born in the U.S. Talk about going to the Dark Side. Pack a versatile wardrobe for any occasion

(Video: Stormcab/YouTube) We’ve got to hand it to Princess Leia — in addition to being the kick-ass, courageous leader of a rebellion against an evil government, she can really pick an outfit. When she was dodging Imperial starships in Episode IV, she was dressed in a practical white robe with that iconic hair bun; on frigid Hoth in Episode V, she wore smart layers. And when cavorting with Ewoks in Return of the Jedi? She was all about that camo look, baby. And all this was despite most of her wardrobe getting blown up on Alderaan! Preadolescent boys like me were most intrigued by Leia’s Slave Girl outfit while trapped on Jabba’s sail barge in Jedi. But we’re not going there, OK? Resist the temptation to have an unplanned wedding when you travel

(Video: Daniel Ard/YouTube) Hey, girlfriend, I understand how you feel traveling with that guy you’re dating. He’s tall, handsome, and saying super-romantic things such as, “I don’t like sand.” You’re light years from home and alone with this person, surrounded by digitally enhanced scenery. Sure, he had one bad night and slaughtered some innocent locals, and he hinted at his desire to become a galactic dictator. But just look at those eyes! And it’s like he can read your mind! Don’t jump into any big relationship decisions without getting back to reality and giving it some thought. Padme didn’t follow that advice, and she got married on the road to a future Sith Lord who knocked her up, then indirectly murdered her. Don’t go into bad neighborhoods by yourself or without telling someone

(Video: joncarr/YouTube) Luke learns this the hard way when he takes his landspeeder into the Jundland Wastes, chasing after Artoo without even telling his aunt and uncle. True, he wasn’t technically alone, but would you want C-3PO having your back in a fight? We’re not saying you should stick to tourist areas when you travel — some of the best experiences are off the beaten path — but have a sidekick and make sure you know exactly how you’d get out of a hairy situation. Luke got bailed out not once but twice when you include his kerfuffle at the Mos Eisley Cantina, but we don’t all have exiled Jedi Masters looking out for us, now do we? No, really, Luke … DON’T go into dangerous places by yourself!

(Video: schultzstudio/YouTube) Yup, he did it again in The Empire Strikes Back, only this time in the snow at his tauntaun’s expense. Luke gets bailed out more times than American banks. If you’re traversing any desolate, icy terrain, have someone to help you fight off Wampa creatures so Han Solo doesn’t need to rescue you. When traveling with the boss, DO NOT slack off

(Video: DRMMRI14/YouTube) It might start with sleeping in before the conference. Then you have a couple too many drinks at the hotel bar and embarrass yourself. Before you know it, you’re pulling out of hyperspace too close and letting your sworn enemies know you’re there. Then this happens, and you’ve failed your boss for the last time. And remember, the Emperor is not as forgiving as he is. Don’t crash at a friend’s house unless you’re on good terms

(Video: Canale di BenguitarBis/YouTube) We understand Han and the gang didn’t exactly have an Airbnb search at their disposal while ducking Star Destroyers in The Empire Strikes Back. But by his own admission he didn’t trust his frenemy Lando and hadn’t spoken with him lately, yet he chose to fly to Bespin anyway. All that got him was betrayal, electroshock torture, and a frozen date with Boba Fett. Lando did redeem himself by saving Han, but still. A general rule: If it’s been more than a couple of years since you talked to the person, don’t ask to crash with them if you don’t fully trust them.   Back up your photos and video as you travel … just in case you’re attacked by a Star Destroyer

(Video: QuoteTheGuy/YouTube) When most of us travel, we accumulate files that we can’t risk losing: a photo of that glorious beach sunset, a video of your kids playing in a Parisian fountain, a blueprint to destroy the same Death Star that blew up your home planet. You know, typical souvenirs. Princess Leia knows this, as demonstrated by the way she quickly reacted to Darth Vader’s boarding party by saving the Rebel plans inside the most reliable flash drive in the galaxy, R2-D2. Even if you don’t have an astromech droid handy, carry a USB memory stick with lots of space. You can find Zen in exotic places … with the right instructor

GIF11 (Video: Canale di BenguitarBis/YouTube) Luke Skywalker was not into glamping. He flew to an ugly swamp to learn how to untap his spiritual potential from a cranky old guide who was on his back all the time. But what a guide Yoda was, and despite a frustrating start and that one bad trip where he saw his evil father’s face as his own, Luke emerged a far stronger and wiser person ready to take on the universe. Plus Yoda showed him how to get your vehicle out of the mud. When you’re shopping at a mobile flea market in the desert, inspect the merchandise closely

Would you buy a droid from these guys? (Courtesy: Wookieepedia) While the pre-Jedi Luke Skywalker was trying to whine his way out of the Jawa market — “But I was going to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters!”— Uncle Owen was the one who questioned and picked out C-3P0, the most overqualified farm droid ever, because Threepio spoke the right language. This was the right call. On the other hand, Owen passed on R2-D2 for that defective red look-alike droid without a good inspection. Thankfully the droid broke down on the spot, so they were able to exchange it for Luke’s future X-Wing copilot. Related: Eye Massagers and Star Wars Toasters — Odd Gifts From SkyMall for the Holiday Season Really, Owen and Luke should have known better. It’s not like the Jawas were Amazon, with a credible return policy: They were fly-by-night merchants. When you’re traveling through a foreign town and dealing with a street vendor you’ll never see again, you need to trust but verify. Be friendly with the locals and they may help you out of a jam

The cutest secret weapons you ever saw. (Courtesy: Wookieepedia) I tried going through this article without an Ewok reference — they’re my least favorite part of the original movies, and it’s hard to believe that a family of teddy bears could take down the Empire. Still, there’s a lesson to be learned here: While the Empire threatened the Ewoks, Leia befriended them, which swung the odds in the Rebels’ favor in the Battle of Endor. A parsec is a measurement of travel time … or is it? We confess, we’re not sure what the lesson is here, but it needs to be said in any mention of Star Wars and travel. As Han Solo tries to price-gouge Obi-Wan and Luke for a ride on the Falcon, he brags that his ship is so fast, it “made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs.” Only thing is, a parsec is a unit of distance, not time. It’s kind of like saying, “My car is so fast, I drove from San Francisco to Los Angeles in less than 400 miles!” Either this was a rookie math mistake by George Lucas, a con attempt by Han, or something else: Han shortening the Kessel Run from 18 parsecs to 12 by bravely flying close to black holes. We’ll probably never know, and nerds like me will be debating it years from now in our nursing homes. source Read the full article

[lenfaz]

Time Upon Once, Ch. 5 (5/?)

Summary:  Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed  for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones for the banner!

I really want to dedicate this chapter to @tnlph on the upcoming occasion of the birthday. thank you Sarah, for being such a great support alway <3

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story: @lk0622 @nowforruin @sambethe @xemmaloveskillianx  @l-e-x-a-xd @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain @icecubelotr44  @poetic-justice-96  @allietumbles (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II III IV

ao3  ff.net

A/N; this is like 8.5k 

Chapter V

“We need code names,” Henry announced the next morning as they were walking towards the school bus stop. Killian had spent half of the night tossing and turning in his - new and quite comfortable - bed, debating whether or not he should be antagonizing Regina so publicly by walking the lad to the bus. He knew he should lay low, set some boundaries, and try to maintain his distance.

But he didn’t want to.

It had been the entire purpose of his stay to ensure Henry’s well-being - he could now add helping Mary Margaret overcome her disappointment to that list - and Killian couldn’t do that if he was hiding out in Mary Margaret’s guest room. So he was done hiding. Regina could come looking for him if she wanted to and perhaps - perhaps- he could explain again what his purpose was.

“Isn’t ‘Cobra’ our code name?” Killian asked, confused.

“That’s the mission. I mean us. I need something to call you.” Henry’s voice was small at the end, his eyes darting insecurely to Killian and he knew the lad wasn’t talking just about the mission. He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw and fighting with himself against the urge to give Henry what he wanted so desperately. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“How about you call me Killian for now?” The disappointment on Henry’s face almost tore him apart. How many times could a heart break and still work? Killian’s heart had broken a decade ago, but then it had remained dormant for such long time he’d almost forgotten how it felt when the pain reached inside him and made it almost impossible to breathe. Yet, in the last three days his heart had been awoken, and quickly resumed its usual task of bringing him nothing but ache at every single decision he made.

Henry nodded, his head hanging low in defeat for a brief second. But he was a brave lad, his boy - Emma’s boy- and Killian could see the kid’s walls building back up before he gave Killian a dashing smile. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later, Killian.” The last word might have been his name, but the intent in which he pronounced left nothing to his imagination. He could hear the word Henry wanted to say resonating in his mind as the lad hopped on the bus.

It was only the sirens of the patrol car what shook Killian out of his musings, as it sped past him, before turning abruptly into the mouth of the alley in front of him. It stopped there, and the sheriff stepped out, his sights set on Killian.

“Was the siren really needed? Do you feel the need to overcompensate for something, mate?” Killian asked, cocking an eyebrow at the sheriff. Perhaps he shouldn’t be pulling Graham’s leg like this, but he needed a distraction from his own mind.

“Funny, Jones.” Graham shrugged. “I just felt it was a good way to get your attention, you seemed a little lost in your own thoughts back there.”

Killian didn’t appreciate the way Graham was able to read his mood so quickly. “Are you arresting me again? Did the Mayor found another local ordinance I’m infringing? It can’t be a law against leather jackets,” he said, pointing out Graham’s attire. “Unless it’s against black ones?”

Graham chuckled and let a few moments pass. “Are you done?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and Killian nodded. “I’m here to thank you. For your help finding that coma patient. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Killian couldn’t believe his ears, but Graham’s tone was sincere. It made him uncomfortable and he simply resorted to his usual method to avoid any type of closeness to people. “What do I get? A beer at the local ratty bar and a chance to play your wingman as you try to get a date?”

“How about a job?” That clearly got Killian’s attention. “I could use a deputy.”

Bloody hell.

“I have a job, mate.”

“There isn’t much bail bonds work going on here.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much sheriffing going on either, if you can spend all this time chasing after the newcomer in town,” Killian pointed out.

“There’s work to do around here and, honestly, I could use someone like you at the station.”

“Someone like me?” Killian cocked an eyebrow at him - this was fast becoming an eyebrow-cocking contest, he noted -, not sure if he liked the implication of Graham’s words.

Graham lift his hands in a placating manner. “You’re street smart, and you think fast on your feet. Those are helpful traits to have in a deputy.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out a card and handed it over to Killian. “How about you think about it? It might be your chance to stay put for a while.” He nodded and took a step back, heading back to the driver’s seat of the patrol car.

Killian stood there, contemplating the card that he held in his fingers, a strange sensation running through him.

/-/

After leaving Henry on the bus, and for the lack of something - anything - better to do, Killian sat at Granny’s, perusing the local newspaper, a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon in front of him. Clearly this was Small Town America ™ if the awakening of the coma patient had made the front page headline.

The doorbell jingled and he heard the distinctive click-clack of designer heels on the linoleum that could only announce the arrival of one person. “How was your walk with Henry?” Regina asked, waiting a heartbeat to give him a knowingly smile. “That’s right – I know everything. But relax. I don’t mind,” she finished almost smugly as she sat down opposite him at the table.

“You don’t?” Killian asked warily, the change in Regina’s attitude raising goosebumps on him.

“Because you no longer worry me, Mr. Jones,” she announced nonchalantly. “I did a little digging into who you are. And what I found well, let’s say it was quite soothing.”

He swallowed hard, his voice almost breaking at the words he spoke. “It was?”

“It all comes down to one simple number: Seven.”

“Seven?” Killian had an idea where this was going, but he still refused to let her see it was affecting him. He’d been masking his feelings for more than a decade, he could certainly put up a mask for the adoptive mother of his son.

“It’s the number of addresses you’ve had in the last decade. Your longest stay in a place was two years.” Regina quirked an eyebrow, as if she was rejoicing in the conversation. “Really, what did you enjoy so much about Portland, Oregon?”

It wasn’t a what. It was who I was looking for.

He clenched his jaw, feigning indifference to her words as he played with the newspaper. “I have found accommodations in town,” he said in a small voice, almost ruminating the words.

“With Miss Blanchard?” Regina gave him a condescending chuckle. “That is going to grow old quickly, don’t you think? She doesn't seem like the type to catch your attention for long.”

He wasn’t sure which one she wanted to insult more with those insinuations, if his lack of commitment to a romantic relationship- or any type of bond, for that matter - or Mary Margaret’s inability to find someone that cared for her.

“That is not what this is-” he started to defend himself, but Regina cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“You still don’t have a lease. There’s nothing tying you here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the chair. “In order for something to grow, Mr. Jones, it needs roots. And you? You don’t have any. People don’t change. They only fool themselves into believing they can.”

“You don’t know me,” he said calmly, trying very hard not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“No, I think I do. All I ask is, as you carry on your transient life, you think of Henry and what’s best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It’s going to happen anyway.” She stood up, pleased with her words. “Enjoy your cocoa.”

“I’m here for Henry,” he said, hating the pleading tone in his voice. “Look, I’m not trying to do anything- I just want to help,” he finished, his eyes almost begging her to show some compassion.

But it seemed compassion was not on the list of Regina’s personality traits as she gave him one last look. “Sometimes I wonder… exactly how long did it take you to walk away from the mother of your child after you found out she was pregnant?”

He didn’t realize he’d punched the table with his fist until he felt the warm liquid of his cocoa splashing against his shirt. Ruby rushed to him with a cloth, but his button down was already past saving.

He sighed, his anger quickly turning to frustration with himself. “Do you have a laundry room I can use?”

After Ruby pointed him down the corridor, he wasted no time in making his way there, removing his black leather jacket and tossing it over the washing machines as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in in one of the available ones. He looked around for something to wear, his eyes landing on a light blue shirt hanging on a line. He hadn’t stolen clothes in twelve years, but bloody hell, old habits die hard, and it seemed today was not the day in which he was raising the bar.

It was only once he’d pulled the shirt over his shoulders that he noticed the wrecked sobs coming from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, hastily buttoning the shirt, to see a young girl sobbing in the corner while holding an armful of pink sheets.

“Are you okay, darling?” he asked politely.

“They’re pink,” she sobbed.

“Have you tried bleach?” he pointed out the obvious while trying to focus on his own things. It wasn’t like he wanted to get involved in yet another thing in this town. The girl shifted and it was then that he noticed her swollen belly. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, a sensation of dread rising in his throat.

“Oh,” he whispered.

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now,” she said.

He turned around, pouring soap and activating the washing machine, trying to battle the memories and sensations that were coming to him.

“Wonderful,” he offered in a small voice.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything. Maybe they’re right,” she sounded so young and small and broken that it broke Killian’s heart in return.

He’d often wondered how Emma had felt when faced with the challenge of being pregnant at such young age, if she’d sounded like this when she decided she couldn’t do it.

He slowly turned to face the girl. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she answered.

Killian gave her a small smile. “I was the same age. Henry’s mother - biological mother - was eighteen.”

There was surprise in the girl’s look and Killian gave her a reassuring nod. He didn’t want to relive the moments that led to his decision to consent to the adoption, the pain and regret still soaking deep within his bones; but perhaps something good would come out of all that. At least he could help someone else.

“Everyone will have an opinion, lass. They will tell you what you’re capable of and what you’re incapable of - especially if you’re with child. But ultimately, the decision is yours: whether you keep it or you decide to give it up for adoption.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“It never is,” Killian sighed, running his head through his hair. “But if you want things to change, you have change them yourself. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets --- that’s what my Papa used to say.” He gave her a final reassuring smile before he finished rolling up the sleeves of his borrowed shirt and grabbed his black leather jacket.

/-/

The rest of the day had gone by relatively uneventfully and the next morning finally brought to town the three boxes he’d asked his coworker to pack and send his way. He’d had to drive out to the nearest town to pick them up, as they didn’t have direct deliveries to Storybrooke, but nevertheless, it gave Killian a new sense of security.

He sat on the floor, his hands caressing the box that held his fondest trinkets and tokens, including his embroidered baby blanket - the one thing he had from when he’d been found as an infant.

“It feels so bloody good to have my things here,” he commented, as Mary Margaret came to stand next to him, setting a plate of snacks down on the table.

“That’s it?” she asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” Killian asked, getting a little defensive.

“Is the rest in storage, or is this really everything?”

“This is all of it,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and reaching to scratch behind his ear. He’d been so used to keep his things to minimal possessions, so used to moving from one place to the next without time or space to carry much, that it’d been something that had stuck, even at an older age. Besides, he didn’t need to carry much, nothing was meaningful enough for him not to leave behind. “I’m not sentimental,” he offered as small explanation, hoping Mary Margaret was able to read between the lines and drop it.

She did. “I guess it makes it easier when you have to move,” she provided in return, a soft and understanding smile on her lips that made Killian feel better almost immediately.

There came a knock at the door, a development which seemed to confuse Mary Margaret - it seemed she wasn’t used to visitors on the weekends - and her confusion seemed to only grow when she answered the door.

“Miss Blanchard,” a voice that Killian couldn’t recognize said. “Would Mr. Jones be at home?”

The sound of his name made Killian stand up and quickly stride to the door, coming face to face with their visitor. He remembered him from the first night he’d spent at Granny’s, the man that was there to collect the rent. Killian had learnt later that he owned a pawn shop - and half of the town apparently.

“My name is Mr. Gold,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand. Killian took it and give it a firm shake, not liking the way it made him feel, as if something dark and poisonous had entered the room.

“I remember,” he said shortly, standing by the door and waiting for the other man to explain the reason of his appearance at his doorstep - well, Mary Margaret’s doorstep.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jones,” he started, a small and polite smile coming to his lips. “I - I need your help. I’m looking for someone.” There was shyness and self-deprecation in his tone, but Killian didn’t buy it. You didn’t end up owning most of the town with niceties.

“Really?” he asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a protective stance, his eyes darting to Mary Margaret. She looked from him to Gold for a quick minute before she spoke again.

“You know what?” Mary Margaret said, sensing the mood shifting in the room. “I’m going to - jump in the bath, or something.” She was out of the open space and hidden in the bathroom in no time, and Killian had to admire how quickly she’d been to get the bloody hell out of the situation.

“I have a photo,” Gold said as he pulled a folded picture from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. It was only then that Killian noticed the cane he had - he seemed to briefly recollect seeing it the night he met him. He opened the door wider and allowed the man to enter the loft, and his hand closing on the photograph Gold gave him. His eyebrows shot in surprise as he recognized the young girl he met yesterday in the laundry room.

“Her name is Ashley Boyd. And she’s taken something quite valuable of mine,” Gold finished.

“Why don’t you go to the police?” Killian asked, his hand tracing the photograph as he closed the door and turned to face Gold.

“Because, uh… She’s a confused young woman. She’s pregnant. Alone and scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life. But I just want my property returned.” There was something off about the man. Killian couldn’t tell for certain he was lying, but something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” he asked curiously. Whatever it was, it had made Ashley desperate enough to break into the shop whilst nine months pregnant, and clearly Gold cared enough to have her tracked down for it.

Gold looked behind him, as if he were making sure that Mary Margaret hadn’t materialized all of the sudden. “Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let’s just say it’s a precious object and leave it at that.”

Oh, and the plot thickens.

“When did you see her last?” He could do this, he could get technical and professional in his questions and not get attached. It was just a potential case, after all.

“Last night. That’s how I got this.” He lifted his hair to show Killian a bruise and small cut on his forehead. “It’s so unlike her. She was quite wound up. Rambling on and on about fighting for what she wanted. I have no idea what got into her.”

Bloody hell. Amazing job, mate.

Gold looked at him expectantly, “Mr. Jones, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don’t think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail now, do they?”

Buggering hell. There goes keeping unattached, Killian thought, his mind playing scenarios for him he didn’t really want to revisit.

“No, of course not. No one should go through that if it can be avoided,” Killian said, clearing his throat.

“You’ll help me then?” Gold asked eagerly. Killian still didn’t like the man. He knew it was an act, but yet he couldn’t pinpoint what the angle was.

“I’ll help her,” he clarified, his hand still holding the photograph.

He didn’t have time to read Gold’s quirked smile before he got distracted by the door opening suddenly behind them.

“Hey, Killian. I was thinking we-”

The face on Henry when he spotted Gold was priceless. Killian would feel bad for the lad if he didn’t think this was a good lesson for him to learn. Never show up unannounced, especially when you’re sneaking in and everyone knows who your mother is. Henry still had a lot to learn, it seemed. Killian just wasn’t sure those were things he should be teaching him.

“Hey Henry, how are you?” Gold asked cheerily and Killian liked the man even less.

“Okay?”

“Good,” Gold said, as he started towards the door. “Give my regards to your mother. And, good luck, Mr. Jones.”

Killian nodded and watched the man leave, before moving on to finding a change of clothes from one of the boxes.

“Do you know who that is?” Henry asked

“Yeah, I do now,” Killian said, digging out a blue Henley and a pair of combat boots.

“Who? Cause I’m still trying to figure it out.”  

Oh.

“I meant in real Storybrooke,” Killian said shrugging.  

Henry noticed the boxes, his head tilting to the side. “Is that all you brought?” There was something in his voice that made Killian feel undeserving, as if he were coming up short somehow. It was a very familiar feeling that he didn’t like to revisit. Not from Henry.

“What are you doing here, lad?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“My mom’s gone til five. I thought we could hang out.”

He wanted to, he really did. But right now, there was a very confused pregnant woman for which Killian felt responsible. Not to mention, there would probably be a paycheck in it for him if he found her. And he could use the money as he wasn’t planning on living off Mary Margaret’s hospitality for free much longer. He wanted to at least contribute with his share of the rent and groceries. “I wish I could. But there’s something I have to do.”

/-/

Henry had persistently followed him outside the house and into the Bug, pleading to be part of Killian’s search. He’d refused at first, claiming it would be dangerous, but that only seemed to increase the boy’s enthusiasm. Killian felt cornered, a frustrated sigh coming to his lips when Henry pulled the one card that he knew would have him caving; a small voice claiming that he just wanted to spent time with him. He shook his head all the while he and Henry climbed into the car, wondering how he’d been bested by a ten year old.  Then he turned on the ignition, and they got to work.

He decided to start with Ruby, as he’d heard she and Ashley were close. Ruby wasn’t much help - he could tell she was purposely keeping herself busy and avoiding his questioning - and only had only filled him in a little on the situation before she got sidetracked by the local mechanic delivering her car back. There had evidently been some damage to the crystal wolf she had hanging on from her rearview mirror. She seemed quite attached to the token - and the mechanic - and Killian had to clear his throat once or twice to get her attention back.

“Do you think her boyfriend might be involved in all this?” he asked blatantly.

Ruby rose an eyebrow in a dismissive manner. “Uh, let me think:  that would mean he’s involved with her at all, which he isn’t. He left her in the lurch, right after they found out they were expecting. Hasn’t spoken to her since.” She stood tall and proud, a menacing expression in her features, as if she were judging him as much as she was judging Ashley's boyfriend. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you did.”

The barb hit him hard in the chest, the painful memories surfacing once again. He didn’t appreciate her tone - or her judgement - especially not in front of Henry, who still didn’t know the circumstances that led to his adoption. Henry hadn’t asked and Killian hadn’t told him, and he wasn’t planning to, not anytime soon. Some things were better left buried. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Ruby’s place to make any assumptions about him on the mere basis that she was pissed off at how her friend had been treated.

“Actually no,” he said in a clipped tone, a defiant look coming to his eyes. “Not at all.”

Ruby seemed to realize how her words had affected him and she gave him a sheepish smile. Killian took the chance to pressure for more information. “What about her family?”

“She has a stepmother and two stepsisters that don’t speak to her. There’s nothing there…” she trailed off.

“Stepmother? Stepsisters? Wait!” Henry said and Killian could spot a mile away what he was going to say next. No, the lass was not Cinderella. No bloody way.

“Not now, Henry,” he commanded before he gave Ruby another pointed look.

Ruby shuffled her feet a little, genuine care and concern in her features. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s wrong. Everyone thinks she’s not ready to have this kid, but she’s trying. Taking night classes, trying to better herself… Trying to get her life together. Can you understand that?”

“Aye, I can,” Killian sighed.

“Then maybe you should leave her alone. She’s been through so much already.”

“I just want to help her, Ruby,” Killian pleaded and Ruby’s face softened.

“Then try her ex. He lives with his dad.”  

Of course he does.

/-/

By the looks of the house, Sean and his family lived a comfortable life, and one more piece of the puzzle fit in Killian’s mind. He knocked on the door and waited politely. A young man answered, he couldn’t have been more than nineteen - much like Killian when Henry was conceived.

“Sean Herman?”

Sean nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m Killian Jones,” he introduced himself. “I’m looking for Ashley? She seems to be in quite a predicament and I thought she might have come looking for you-”

“My son doesn’t have anything to do with that girl anymore,” a commanding voice spoke from the entryway to the garage and Killian turned to see a man that must have been Sean’s father coming their way. Well, that certainly explained a lot.

“You forced him to break up with her,” Killian didn’t even bother to pose it as a question, it was quite clear from where he was standing how the situation had unfolded.

“I’m not going to let my son throw away his entire life over a mistake.” The man stood next to his son, drunk on his privilege and self-righteousness. It made Killian sick to his stomach to even think what Ashley might have gone through.

“And the right choice was to leave her to fend for herself?”

“What are they going to do? Raise the child in the backseat of a car?” he asked sardonically.

I’d have gladly raised mine in the back seat of the Bug if I’d had the chance.  

“Some people only have that,” he said feebly.

“And that’s a pity on them, but I’m not letting that happen to my son. I’m protecting him. It’s sad that others don’t have that, but it’s the way of the world.”

Killian wanted to punch him. It would be so easy to clench his fist and just connect with the man’s jaw, letting actions explain the frustration and rage he was feeling right now. But as mad as he was at that moment, he knew most of it had nothing to do with Sean’s father. It was the memories that this was bringing to the surface, leaving him raw.

“Dad, maybe we should help him look for Ashley. If she’s in danger-” Sean started, and a small flicker of hope lit in Killian, maybe not all was lost.

But it was soon put to an end by Sean’s father. “It’s a waste, Sean.” She’s a waste.

“Sean, if you want to come, come.  Ashley runs away with this baby, she’s going to be in some serious trouble. You should fight for what you want, lad,” He pleaded, giving Sean one chance to do the right thing, his heart beating frantically in his heart. “Lad, trust me, you want to be part of this. I know I would do everything to have been able to be there for the mother of my child.”

It didn’t work. Sean’s father ordered him inside and Sean obeyed defeatedly. Once Sean was out of earshot, his father faced Killian again, showing a little concern in his demeanor. “Believe me, if I knew where she was, I would tell you. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal.”

“Deal? What deal?” he asked confused. No one had mentioned any deals to him.

“You don’t know? Ashley agreed to give up the child. And she’s being paid very well to do so,” he explained, giving Killian a puzzled look.

Killian’s heart dropped to pit of his stomach, leaving him almost nauseous. “She sold the baby?”

“You make it sound so crass. I found someone who’s going to find that child a good and proper home. Something it wouldn’t have otherwise.” He sounded so sure of the choices he was making that it made Killian want to punch him again.

“Who are you to judge whether she could provide that or not?”

“Look at her. She’s a teenager. She’s never shown any evidence of being responsible. How could she possibly know how to be a mother?”

“You don’t get to decide for her. Maybe all she needs is a chance to prove herself,” Killian said, holding his ground.

“That’s what everybody says and it never works out that way. It’s the way life is, Mr. Jones. You should know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” Sean’s father gave him a pointed look. “I found someone who’s going to pay Ashley extremely well. Someone who’s going to see to it that everybody’s happy.”

And the final piece of the puzzle finally clicked on Killian’s head. “Gold,” he all but spat the name.

“Well, isn’t that why you were hired? To bring him the baby?”

Bloody buggering hell.

/-/

The thoughts were tripping in his head as he drove hastily back to the diner, the picture forming in his mind as to what was happening. He wondered if this is how Emma had felt then, if she’d had people telling her she couldn’t do it, that she was too young, too broken to take care of a child. He wondered if him being there next to her would have made a difference. The words from her letter still haunted him.

We can’t do this, Killian. I can’t do this. He deserves better than the life we can give him. He deserves better than being raised by two screw-ups who can’t get it right. Let’s give him the chance you and I never truly had.

He’d ceded to her wishes there, holding onto the hope that she’d been right, that their son would have a better life. But as he looked at Henry, pleading for him not to double cross Gold, a ten-year old that lived in a fantasy world and ran away from his mother any chance he got, he was starting to doubt himself.

Oh, lass, perhaps we made the biggest mistake of our lives.

He barged into the diner and confronted Ruby directly, not really in the mood to sugar-coat this any longer: he was tired, this case had gotten him way over his head and he really needed a drink - or five - right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me she sold the baby?” he asked bluntly.

“Because I didn’t think it was important,” Ruby shrugged and moved to clear one of the tables in an attempt to dismiss him. But Killian followed her and held his ground.

“Really? Because it seems that’s the reason why she’s running away.”

“Look, she’s my friend. I don’t like people judging her.”

There was truth in her words, but not all of it. Killian could tell she was hiding something from him. He scanned the room, stopping short when he spotted the little crystal wolf charm resting on one of the counters. He turned to check the street and noticed that Ruby’s car had disappeared.

“Ruby,” he said, clenching his jaw to try to reign in his temper. “Where’s your car?” Ruby’s expression was all the answer he needed. “You didn’t send me to Sean to help me find her, did you? You just wanted to give her a head start,” he concluded.

“I’m trying to help her,” Ruby insisted stubbornly, and Killian felt himself at the end of his patience.

“So do I. She’s in more trouble than you think, lass and I don’t want her to deal with Gold on her own,” he pleaded.

Ruby hesitated, but her eyes quickly darted to Henry. “I won’t talk in front of him. He’s the Mayor’s son.”

“Hey! I’m on your side!” Henry protested but Killian knew he’d never get anything out of Ruby if Henry was still there. He gave a sign to Ruby to give him a moment alone with Henry and he crouched to meet the lad’s eyes.

“Lad, I need to find Ashley. And for that to happen, you need to go home. Ruby is not going to trust me with any valuable information if you’re around. Go home, please.”

Henry looked at him for a brief second and then nodded. “Okay,” he said and turned around. That had been too easy and part of Killian protested that it didn’t seem realistic for Henry to accept his command so easily - he never had before - but at the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to, and he wasn’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. He waited expectantly for Ruby to come back. She placed a used dish on the counter and turned to back to face him.

“She left town. Said she was going to try Boston. Thought she could disappear there.”

Boston. He could track her down in Boston. It was his city after all.

“How long ago?”

“About half an hour.”

/-/

He should have listened to his bloody instincts around Henry instead of accepting the lad’s willingness to leave. Which had only ever been a ruse, as Henry climbed out from the trunk of the Bug and demanded to know what Ruby had said. Killian wanted to kick himself over and over. The lad was his and Emma’s son, for bloody sake, of course he wouldn’t listen to any order he was given and would just do whatever in the blazes he felt like doing.

He suddenly had a new respect for his late parents and every single foster family - albeit not many - that had tried to order him around and failed.

“Henry!” he admonished. “I’m going to Boston. You can’t come with me.”

“You can’t go to Boston! She can’t leave,” Henry said agitated. “Bad things happen to anyone who does. It’s the curse.”

Bloody curse. “Lad, I don’t have time to argue with you over the curse. I have to drive you home and then I need to find Ashley before she gets in more trouble than she already is!”

“We need to reach her before she gets hurt!” Henry sounded so convinced. “If you turn back to take me home, we might not make it in time. And Gold might call the police and he’ll send her to jail.”

The thought of Ashley giving birth in jail was too much for Killian’s fragile state of mind. He’d have to deal with Regina’s rage later if she ever found out about Henry going with him. “Buckle up, lad.”

It didn’t take them long to find the car, and Killian had to fight the sense of dread when he saw it that it was crashed in a ditch by the town sign.

“Ashley!” Killian called for her as he exited the Bug and ran towards the other car. But the lass wasn’t there. “What have you done, lass?” he asked. It was then he heard the scream nearby, and he ran in the direction of the sound. He found her lying in a patch of weeds by the side of the road, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

“My baby!” she said, voice laced with pain. “It’s coming!”

Brilliant.

He managed to carefully help Ashley get back into the passenger seat of her car, ushered Henry on the backseat, before they set off for the hospital.

“Breathe, lass, we’ll be in the hospital in no time,” he tried to offer soothing words, but it only seemed to agitate Ashley even more.

“No! Please! Take me to Boston, I can’t go back there.”

“I don’t think we have the time to make it to Boston, Ashley,” he said. He didn’t have much experience in the matter, but it did seem like the baby was coming now.

“He’s going to take my baby,” Ashley sobbed in between contractions and Killian’s heart went out to her.

“I won’t let them take that baby away from you if you want it,” he said fervently, his eyes fixated on the road, trying to make up now for the mistakes of his past. “If you keep it, are you ready? If -” his voice broke and he wished Henry weren’t there to see him admit to his own shortcomings. “I know I wasn’t, and neither was Henry’s mother. If you want to give the child its best chance, you have to be ready. The baby will need someone that is ready, someone who accepts that their whole life is going to change, and that they can’t never - ever - leave. No more running. Time to grow up.” He looked back at Ashley in the rearview, waiting for his words to sink in and giving her time to ponder them.

“I’m ready,” she said finally, her tone determined. “I want my baby.”

Aye, and I’ll make sure you’ll have it.

/-/

Killian paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room, running his hand through his hair.  He’d offered wondered who - if anyone - had driven Emma to the hospital. If someone had held her hand as she went through labor. Told her she was bloody brilliant and she could do anything.

If someone had been for her in all the ways he couldn’t.  

“You know,” Henry’s voice took him out of his own head - he’d been doing that a lot lately - and made him stop. “You’re different.”

“I am?” he asked with confusion.

“You’re the only one who could do it,” he offered whimsically.

“Break the curse? You keep telling me that. I’m aware, lad,” Killian sighed.

Henry shook his head. “No, leave. You’re the only one that can leave Storybrooke.” He seemed so small and insecure when he pronounced the words.

Killian crouched to his eye-level and gave him a small smile. “You came to Boston looking for me, lad.”

“But I came back. I had to. I’m ten,” he pointed out. “But if anyone else tries to leave, bad things happen to them.”

There was something else hidden in there and Killian was starting to read between the lines. “Anyone but me?”

“You’re the savior, Killian. You can do anything you want,” his voice was broken with despair. “You can leave Storybrooke,” he finished shyly but Killian could hear the words he didn’t say.

You can leave me.

He was about to speak, trying to figure out how to address the fear he saw in Henry’s eyes -a fear that was so familiar to him, the one that had been with him for his entire life- when one of the doctors approached him. He quickly stood up.

“Mr. Jones, the baby is a healthy six-pound girl and the mother is doing fine,” the doctor confirmed.

The small relief he’d felt soon vanished when he saw Mr. Gold round the corner, the tap of his cane marking his approach.

“What lovely news. Excellent work, Mr. Jones,” he said in a voice that was dark and made a shiver ran down Killian’s spine. “Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

He couldn’t believe a baby was being referred in such terms. He should have known better, as most of his life he’d been treated as a nuisance, an object, nothing but a number, a case to address. It hurt then - it still hurt now - and he refused to treat another child like that. “A baby.  Your merchandise… You should have told me.”

“You didn’t need to know at the time,” Gold replied smugly.

“Perhaps you feared I wouldn’t have taken the case?” He would have anyway, if not for Gold, just to try to help the poor girl.

“On the contrary,” the other man pointed out, circling the waiting room with his steps, the cane making a metallic sound against the floor, “I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense. Do you? I mean, if anyone could understand the reasons behind consenting to give up a baby, I assumed it would be you.”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation near Henry. He knew how fragile Henry’s state already was, their most recent conversation just now revealing a whole new layer of fears the lad held, and Killian wanted to spare the child this ordeal. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with Henry. He wasn’t ready to have it. But what was done was done and he needed to focus on what he could try to fix.

“You’re not getting your hands on that infant,” he insisted.

“We have an agreement and my agreements are always honored. If not, I’ll involve the police and that baby ends up in the system. Which would be a pity, don’t you think? You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you, Mr. Jones?” There was something really dark in that man, something that made Killian want to recoil, but he knew he couldn’t. If he didn’t protect Ashley and her baby now, no one would. She’d lose her baby girl. She’d lose hope. He had lost hope years ago but he’ll be damned if he let someone else lose it when he could have prevented it.

“It’s not going to happen,” he stated.

“I like your confidence. Charming,” Gold said, his eyebrow raising on the last word. “But I’ll press charges for her breaking into my shop,” he threatened with a polite smile.

Killian didn’t balk. “Probably to steal the contract, right?”

Gold shrugged, “Who knows?”

Killian tilted his head. He hated men like Gold. He really did. They were the embodiment of everything he despised growing up, of every bully that had taken advantage of someone that was in a lesser position. Of everyone that exerted their powerful position to reap another benefit they didn’t need instead of reaching out a hand to help.

“No jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child.” He spoke loud and clear, with a confidence he didn’t quite have but he needed to muster anyway. “I’m willing to roll the dice that contract doesn’t hold up. Are you?” He let the words sink in for a moment before he delivered the final blow. “Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow, I suspect, there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?”

He braced himself for Gold’s angry retort, but the man only gave him a condescending smile. “You’re good at this, Mr. Jones. I like it. You’re not afraid of me.”

Killian shrugged, “Why would I be?”

“That’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side,” Gold finished with a shrug of his own.

“So she can keep the baby?” Killian was quite sure it wouldn’t be that easy and Gold’s face confirmed that for him.

“Not just yet. There’s still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd.”

“Break the contract.”

“That’s not what I do.” Aye, there was definitely something sinister in Gold. “You see, contracts – deals – well, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence.” Gold slowly approach Killian. “So, I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know just yet.” The man certainly had a taste for dramatics.  “You’ll owe me a favor.”

Every fiber of his being rebelled against the words. He knew it was a bad idea. But he had no choice. Ashley had no other choice.

“Deal,” he said, reaching over to shake Gold’s hand.

/-/

Killian and Henry made their way into Ashley’s hospital room. She was rocking a tiny little bundle in her arms and she looked tired but happy. Killian’s heart broke again, going back to the moment he’d missed in his own life. His hand went absentmindedly to ruffle Henry’s hair, his throat suddenly dry.

“What’s her name?” he asked in a strained voice, trying to muster a smile.

“Alexandra.”

“A name fit for a princess,” Killian said, the smile coming easier to his lips as he witnessed Ashley’s smile down at her child.

“Thank you for getting me here,” she said sincerely, her eyes meeting his.

Killian shrugged dismissively, “It was nothing, lass.” He took a deep breath, tilting his head. “Gold was outside.” He noticed her eyes widening in fear and he hurried his next words. “I took care of it. She’s yours to keep - and raise.”

“She is?” she asked in disbelief and Killian nodded. “What did you do?”

“Made a deal meself. Doesn’t really matter, love. You have the chance you wanted.”

You have the chance Emma and I never got.

“Thank you,” Ashley said, emotion in her voice and the tears coming to her eyes and Killian simple swallowed. He wanted to stay, grab that little baby in his arms and pretend for a moment that the time had gone back a decade and he was welcoming his own child to the world.

But history couldn’t be changed. There was no magical pen to rewrite a different tale. He’d missed his chance. This wasn’t his chance, this wasn’t his family. This was someone else’s chance and he could only hope he’d take it.

He tugged Henry’s jacket sleeve, bringing his attention to him. “Come on, lad, we have to get you home.”

The fact that he and Henry ran into Sean coming in while leaving the hospital made Killian think that perhaps this story would have a happy ending.

/-/

It was still a few minutes before the clock struck five o'clock when Killian pulled up outside Regina’s front gate. The lad had been quiet during the drive and Killian could sense that the events of the day had gotten to him. He took a deep breath as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the photograph he kept there. The edges were a little faded, but it was still in good shape. He’d taken good care of it for a decade, and it was one of his most prized possessions.

“Here,” he said, handing it over to Henry. “I don’t have much from your mo- from Emma, but I have this.”

Henry took the picture, his eyes drinking in the image. “Is that her? And you?”

“Aye,” he said as he took one last look at the snapshot of him and Emma from his eighteenth birthday. Her blacked rimmed glasses hanging a little low on the bridge of her nose, her eyes looking at him with nothing but love and hope. Gods, he’d loved her so much.

He still loved her so much.

“Hook,” Killian said suddenly and Henry tore his eyes away from the picture to give him a quizzical look. “My code name can be Hook. That- that’s what your mother used to call me.” He smiled as the memories came to him, hitting him like a wave.

She’d been his everything.

He knew it had been a terrible idea to come to this side of the town. The docks has always been shady and at this hour even more. He’d wanted to come alone, but Emma had insisted on coming with him, determined to listen what August had to say.

But August had never showed up and on their way back to the Bug, a couple of men had come for them. One had grabbed Emma and the other had tried to restrain him. Killian couldn’t remember much more than that, other than the blind rage that had welled up in him at the mere idea of Emma getting hurt. His hands searched frantically for anything he could leverage against the attackers and that was when he’d felt his fingers grasp cold metal. He’d grabbed the tool and simply swung it back and forth, slicing the man’s arm. In the meantime, Emma had already broken free and was leveraging a wood plank for her defense - she was a tough lass, after all.

The men had decided to retreat and soon Killian was pulling Emma in his arms, frantically asking if she was okay. She’d nodded, sinking into his arms a little further.

It could have been hours, but it was probably a few minutes by the time they pulled apart. Her hand held his wrist and she examined the hook he was still holding in his hand.

“A hook? Really?,” she’d asked in disbelief. “What are you, a pirate?”

“It was the first thing I could grab,” he’d said sheepishly.

“It suits you,” she tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’d think that is what I’m calling you from now on: Hook.”

“Why did she call you that?” Henry asked eagerly.

Killian swallowed loudly, trying to find a way out of that question. He didn’t want to lie to Henry, but the truth was a little too dark for his taste. In the end, he settled for a sanitized version of the truth that wouldn’t betray the spirit of what he and Emma were.

“Some nonsensical things about us being like pirates, living by our code or something,” he said.

Henry nodded, his eyes studying the picture again before he motioned to give it back to Killian.

“Keep it,” he said. “I want you to have it.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, his hands holding the picture as if it were a treasure. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully as he exited the car.

“Aye,” Killian confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” son. He finished the sentence in his head as he witnessed Henry make his way into the house. He put the car in gear and left, driving the few blocks until he arrived outside the loft’s building. He grabbed his phone and took out the card he’d been given. His fingers fidgeted a second before he dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Sheriff Humbert, I was wondering, is the job offer still open?”

“You can call me Graham and yes, it is.”

“Is Regina going to be okay with this?

“My department, my choice. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“Please don’t tell me I’m on doughnut duty…” he joked and Graham chuckled. “See you on Monday, Sheriff.”

He disconnected the called and exhaled deeply.

Killian Jones, Deputy. That would be a thing to see. Emma could probably had a field day with that - if she ever knew about it.

He sighed, dragging himself towards the loft, the prospect of a night in a comfortable bed and the hope to keep the memories at bay.

But he knew the second part was only wishful thinking.

#cs ff #lenfaz fics #time upon once #captain swan #canon divergence

[radiohorizon]

38 years later

200 things you can put in my ask 200: My crush’s name is: Lacey😛😍
199: I was born in: 1999
198: I am really: short, tired, sarcastic, idk??
197: My cellphone company is: verizon
196: My eye color is: blue/grey
195: My shoe size is: 3 in kids, 5 in womens
194: My ring size is: i have no idea, probably small but not too small cause i got far fingers
193: My height is: 5'1
192: I am allergic to: sulfa drugs and grass
191: My 1st car was: dont have one
190: My 1st job was: waitress at a local restaurant 
189: Last book you read: King Lear in school but Clockwork Princess for fun
188: My bed is: my favorite and super comfy and my best friend literally comes over just to nap in it
187: My pet: 2 cats, 1 dog
186: My best friend: Andrew, Elizabeth, Abby, Katie, Kristy, Annabelle, Kyle, Hailey, Stevie, Bea
185: My favorite shampoo is: Suave Ocean
184: Xbox or ps3: xbox
183: Piggy banks are: idrc about them??
182: In my pockets: dont have pockeys rn
181: On my calendar: nothings
180: Marriage is: in my future
179: Spongebob can: idrc cause idc
178: My mom: is my favorite person
177: The last three songs I bought were? Wasted youth by fletcher In too deep by the sweeplings Is there somewhere by halsey 176: Last YouTube video watched: “50 things about me” by Nina Jablonska
175: How many cousins do you have? A shit ton
174: Do you have any siblings? 1 sister and 1 brother that ive never met
173: Are your parents divorced? No and i never see them getting divorced. Theyre honestly the only reason i still believe in love
172: Are you taller than your mom? We’re the same height actually
171: Do you play an instrument? Nope
170: What did you do yesterday? Went to school, studied, talked to Lacey, went to sleep

[ I Believe In ]
169: Love at first sight: i dunno
168: Luck: yes
167: Fate: yes
166: Yourself: lmao no
165: Aliens: yes
164: Heaven: i think
163: Hell: yes
162: God: i believe in something
161: Horoscopes: im not sure
160: Soul mates: yes
159: Ghosts: yes
158: Gay Marriage: duh
157: War: i dont really know
156: Orbs: yes
155: Magic: yes

[ This or That ]
154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs
153: Drunk or High: high
152: Phone or Online: depends
151: Red heads or Black haired: dont care
150: Blondes or Brunettes: dont care
149: Hot or cold: cold
148: Summer or winter: summer
147: Autumn or Spring: autumn
146: Chocolate or vanilla: depends because i love chocolate but it gives me headaches
145: Night or Day: night
144: Oranges or Apples: oranges
143: Curly or Straight hair: honestly dont care
142: McDonalds or Burger King: burger king for burgers, mcdonalds for snack wrap
141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: milk chocolate
140: Mac or PC: PC
139: Flip flops or high heals: depends
138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: sweet and poor
137: Coke or Pepsi: coke
136: Hillary or Obama: OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA 
135: Burried or cremated: buried in the cemetery up the road from where i live
134: Singing or Dancing: dancing
133: Coach or Chanel: dont care
132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who are they?
131: Small town or Big city: small town
130: Wal-Mart or Target: how bout kohls
129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: adam Sandler
128: Manicure or Pedicure: manicure because im reallllly ticklish on my feet and i end up flinching the whole time
127: East Coast or West Coast: only ever been on the east coast so idrk
126: Your Birthday or Christmas: christmas
125: Chocolate or Flowers: chocolate
124: Disney or Six Flags: disney!!!
123: Yankees or Red Sox: how bout Orioles

[ Here’s What I Think About ]
122: War: i respect the people fighting for our country and for others, but i wish everyone could just stop killing eachother
121: George Bush: gross
120: Gay Marriage: Gaaaaayyyyyy
119: The presidential election: grosser
118: Abortion: no judgement on whether or not someone decides to get one. Personally i dont think i could, but will always vote pro choice
117: MySpace: never had one so idk
116: Reality TV: can be entertaining but usually really dumb
115: Parents: i love them more than anything
114: Back stabbers: fuck you
113: Ebay: sketchy
112: Facebook: people are annoying and i hate that i live in hick central
111: Work: dont have ajob but am trying to get one
110: My Neighbors: since 3 of my best friends are my neighbors, i guess theyre alright
109: Gas Prices: way too fucking high
108: Designer Clothes: dont care about them UNLESS its converse because thats my shit right there
107: College: start it in 5 months :(
106: Sports: love em but suck at em
105: My family: my rock and support, but they piss me off a lot
104: The future: scares the fuck out of me

[ Last time I ]
103: Hugged someone: a few ninutes ago
102: Last time you ate: few hours ago
101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: about 2-3 weeks ago at the gym
100: Cried in front of someone: a few weeks ago i cried in front of abby because i found out kelsey has a girlfriend
99: Went to a movie theater: two weekends ago and saw Get Out and holy shit its good
98: Took a vacation: 2-3 years ago
97: Swam in a pool: 2 years ago i think
96: Changed a diaper: never
95: Got my nails done: little over a month ago
94: Went to a wedding: last summer
93: Broke a bone: never
92: Got a peircing: last spring
91: Broke the law: never i think?
90: Texted: about 2 seconds ago i texted Lacey

[ MISC ]
89: Who makes you laugh the most: My lunch table
88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: my cats and my moms hugs
87: The last movie I saw: i saw get out in theaters but watched thunderbirds for the millionth time in art so im a happy camper
86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: getting the fuck away from this place and these memories
85: The thing im not looking forward to: graduating, starting college, moving away, leaving my friends, leaving my animals, growing up, the list could go on forever
84: People call me: elizabeth, beth, bethany, lizzy, liz, bethyboo, bethers, bethy,
83: The most difficult thing to do is: move on and let go
82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nope
81: My zodiac sign is: pisces
80: The first person i talked to today was: lacey or bea idrk
79: First time you had a crush: kindergarten
78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: no one, im pretty good with keeping a good face on
77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: i have no idea
76: Right now I am talking to: Lace💜👑
75: What are you going to do when you grow up: homicide detective or BAU
74: I have/will get a job: soon hopefully
73: Tomorrow: school, test, paint, facetime this beautiful girl, sleep
72: Today: school, test, painted, studied
71: Next Summer: senior weeek🤙🏻 and hopefully just simple hangouts with friends
70: Next Weekend: Stevenson university visit
69: I have these pets: 2 cats (sadie and ziva) and 1 dog (westen oliver)
68: The worst sound in the world: hearing people chew or breathe hard
67: The person that makes me cry the most is: my ex
66: People that make you happy: my friends and parents
65: Last time I cried: last night
64: My friends are: the only reason im alive
63: My computer is: a Windows something
62: My School: sucks
61: My Car: doesnt exist
60: I lose all respect for people who: judge others with no reason and refuse to be nice
59: The movie I cried at was: if I stay and hunger games trilogy
58: Your hair color is: dirty blonde/ light brown
57: TV shows you watch: criminal minds, shameless, the 100, friends, the fosters, lie to me, NCIS, scooby doo
56: Favorite web site: tumblr 
55: Your dream vacation: a lake house
54: The worst pain I was ever in was: recovery after my heart surgery and when they had to take out my chest tubes
53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium
52: My room is: messy but my favorite place
51: My favorite celebrity is: jennifer lawrence or ryan Reynolds or josh hucherson or Noel Fisher
50: Where would you like to be: childhood
49: Do you want children: yes
48: Ever been in love: ye
47: Who’s your best friend: the twins, fergs, abby, rat pack, stevie, hailey, bea
46: More guy friends or girl friends: girl friends
45: One thing that makes you feel great is: gaining more flexibility
44: One person that you wish you could see right now: jarred
43: Do you have a 5 year plan: not really
42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: sorta
41: Have you pre-named your children: yepp. Daesin, Fiona, tegan and ryan
40: Last person I got mad at: my dad
39: I would like to move to: maryland or deleware
38: I wish I was a professional: dancer

[ My Favorites ]
37: Candy: gummy bears and kit kats or smarties
36: Vehicle: jeep Cherokee 
35: President: OBAMA
34: State visited: Florida
33: Cellphone provider: dunno
32: Athlete: Misty Copeland
31: Actor: Ryan Reynolds and Noel Fisher
30: Actress: Jennifer Lawrence
29: Singer: Amy Lee
28: Band: Evanescence
27: Clothing store: KOHLS
26: Grocery store: giant
25: TV show: shameless
24: Movie: thunderbirds or chitty chitty bang bang
23: Website: tumblr
22: Animal: monkey
21: Theme park: disney
20: Holiday: halloween
19: Sport to watch: allstar cheerleading or soccer
18: Sport to play: soccer
17: Magazine: dont have one but if i did i guess people?
16: Book: WAYYY too many
15: Day of the week: wednesday
14: Beach: bethany beach
13: Concert attended: evanescence even tho i couldnt see shit
12: Thing to cook: grilled cheese
11: Food: cheeseburger
10: Restaurant: green turtle
9: Radio station: 106.5
8: Yankee candle scent: i dunno
7: Perfume: hollister or ed hardy
6: Flower: rose
5: Color: purple
4: Talk show host: my girl ellen
3: Comedian: john Maloney, kevin heart, illiza shelshinger 
2: Dog breed: golden retriever 
1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yeppers

#asks #asks answers #💜👑

[telaraneas]

So I plan on writing a session but I’m having trouble understanding some classes. Can you classpect analyze a bard of light, sylph of time, knight of breath, seer of void or witch of space? Thanks if you do!!!

OH THATS INTERESTING... hmm i know i say this a lot but the way i see classes, they're descriptive and not predictive- i've never written a session so take this with a grain of salt, but my advice would actually be to start writing the story itself first until you can kind of get a feel for how the characters bounce off each other and what the narrative turns out like, and start assigning classes and aspects based on what feels right, and what will probably happen is that you'll end up at a place where the story/characters and the classpects you've assigned them can feed off each other to strenghten themselves (unless you're already doing that and you're just in the process of figuring out what classes fit best, in which case, ignore this paragraph sjfnksjfj)

IN ANY CASE HAVE SOME ASSORTED THOUGHTS ON THOSE CLASSPECTS

(warning written 2 hours later: i actually have no idea if any of this is useful or coherent or will help you figure anything out. i think i lost track of what i was supposed to be helping with. but it sure made me want to read a hypothetical session with these kinds of people skdnekd)

BARD OF LIGHT: hmm i will be honest with you here, i am still having a hard time really grasping what exactly it means to be a bard?? i THOUGHT i had a handle on it but on rereads ive realized i actually have very little clue of how to reconcile gamzee's classpect with the weird fuckin deus ex clown role he has. so i dont feel very confident in my handle on bards in general right now jsjdks so take this one with a massive grain of salt

having a light player who's a bard certainly sounds like it makes for an INTERESTING story... if light is certainty and fate and Things We Know For Sure Definitely Gotta Happen, Because. then a bard of light might be the kind of person who just. dunks the session into void most of the time skdnskdn. i dont know if you mean for these classes to be all the people in a single session, but i kind of hope it is because theres real potential for INTERESTING DYNAMICS between a bard of light and a seer of void... this might very well be a Blind Leading The Blind kind of situation, like, maybe the bard was in charge of the instructions or something but then they lost it or something- SOMETHING might have happened that might have led the players to just have to figure shit out on their own. and yet, the bard of light would still probably be the person with most of a vague grasp on how things will turn out in the end, for one reason or another

like i said i'm just spitballing here, this might not be useful to you at all skfnksnd

SYLPH OF TIME: so, i think sylphs are in charge of bringing their aspect into existance in the context of the story, often, whether literally or figuratively, and they will be concerned with mantaining its "health" and stability. and frankly this sounds like it could be really good news on the time front, because to me having the time player be a sylph kind of indicates that however things go wrong, they'll proooobably end up fine?? at the very least, if things go wrong timelinewise it probably wont be the actual time player's fault lol but then again, having a person so OVERLY concerned with this might also not necessarily be a good thing??? with time's Thing with missing the forest for the trees and not stopping to smell the flowers, if no one is around to stop them they might get stuck in a mindset of doing things only as a means to an end without an intrinsic motivation or reason other than it being a foregone conclusion... really theres just a lot of different ways someone could be a sylph of time actually!! this really is the sort of thing that depends on what circumstances they're up against and what the rest of the players in their session are like, hmm.

with how wishy-washy and whimsical some of the other classpects seem to end up implying the session to be, this player may end up frustrated lol...

KNIGHT OF BREATH: ohoho this person has the potential to be the universe's favorite punchline sjfnekd... breath really does strike me personally as a matter of narrative contrivance and things falling into place just when they need to... and knights tend to be marked by 1. having to be very active and pulling everyone's shit together for things to succeed, and 2. really not necessarily liking their aspect very much all things considered, after being dragged around by their need to wield it for the whole session...

so theres really fun potential here for the knight of breath being everyone's knight in shining armor who shows up at the nick of time to save the day, figuratively or literally, and yet just. spending the entire time mostly confused and annoyed that they don't really know what the hell is going on or what they're supposed to be doing skfnekjr... gotta wonder if a dandelion blowing in the wind is having fun or not.... obv theres other less literal ways for this classpect to manifest but personally when i saw knight of breath i just started giggling and im sorry sjdbje

SEER OF VOID: oh there are so many different ways to take this one. like i mentioned, a session with a bard of light and a seer of void kind of sounds real fun just conceptually- but i actually have no clue how exactly this would work for a seer; seers do very literally See Things, but more importantly i think they search and find. they're drawn to their aspect naturally and their aspect is drawn to them too, i feel. it's an Awareness and Understanding that allows them to be able to direct others and spread their aspect as required.

i think in general since being void aspect means being ruled by the unknown and the undefined and The Way Things Happen In Real Life, Where They Just Kinda Happen, a seer of void may be the very best person to keep their head on straight and roll with the punches of a session where certainty itself has become uncertain, and thrive in that enviroment and thus help their fellow players embrace the unknown as well

alternatively, you could read it another way as them literally being able to see and understand absence, thus making them easily able to tell when they're wasting effort on dead ends, etc

WITCH OF SPACE: ironically enough even though this is literally the same classpect as one of the main characters, i'm having the hardest time grasping it lol... i don't Get witches just yet, i'm sorry i'll get back to you on this one later if i can think of something useful to say about it.......

#sushi original #homestuck #ONCE AGAIN NO CLUE IF THIS WAS ACTUALLY USEFUL OR WHAT YOU WANTED #BUT TBH THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THESE CLASSPECTS IN A SINGLE SESSION THE FUNNIER IT IS #DISASTER SESSION THATS ALL BUT GUARANTEED TO SUCCEED ANYWAYS IS THE VIBE I GET HERE

[earthtocarlen]

If you were born in a hospital you have some of the deepest rooted trauma possible unless you have resolved it already. This post is going to touch on how a dimension of fear and Roman joinder was created via trauma, then the lighter side will be at the end. Pretty dark but it ends lightly with a means to remedy. We signed up for this experience. So back to the main point and intro. If you were born in a hospital you have some of the deepest rooted trauma possible unless you have resolved it already. This trauma goes unnoticed because it's all we have known in this life-time given it happened right when we were born so it generally remains subconscious until we become aware of it. If you were born in a hospital, Mom birthed you while laying down which is an unnatural position for birthing and works against gravity so you were born fighting gravity in a sense. Then you were subject to dissonant bright artificial lighting and first held in the hands of a person who you would never be held by again after that day (mixed feelings of abandonment). The umbilical cord (cord to vital nutrients from the womb) was prematurely cut (stripped from your first physical source of life force). Then your first step was onto a piece of paper, a monetized bond footing you onto the 2-dimensional realm of Roman pap-al pap-er work, maritime-admiralty law (birthed ship/vessel). Then if you were a male (in rarer cases, a female) you were mutilated (circumcision). So right out of the gate you have mutilation, corporate joinder to a Roman death-cult, being robbed of vital nutrients, fighting gravity and going from a dark womb to artificial bright lights all as a part of the most prime time of the very formative years (from birth to 6 or 7 years old) that will subconsciously steer your habits, impulses, emotions, physical sensations and mental pains until they are resolved. Let me say that again just to condense it. Your first impression of this world was being robbed, abandoned, mutilated, forced to fight gravity, practically blinded y artificial light binded to a Roman death cult and monetized. Warm welcoming huh? The placenta (mitochondrial/feminine DNA) in modern times isn't allowed to go home with the family in most cases due to it being a "toxic waste hazard." Nobody really knows what happens to it though it's assumed that it gets disposed of. Lets just say that sympathetic resonance via DNA can be used as sorcery until one breaks that bond with their intent by becoming aware and consciously revoking it. And lets just say that the Roman Catholic church that the birth certificates/bonds are under the jurisdiction of (Holy See of Rome) has been referred to as a female just as every maritime vessel is referred to as a female, female name. And that the definition of "born alive" in Black's Law dictionary (written as a a facet of Roman maritime-admiralty law). Before reading this definition note that legality and law aren't synonymous. Law is based on morality or universal principals of nature where as legality is based on the arbitrary ideologies of man, usually for the sake of monetary gain. The legal (yet unlawful) definition of "born alive" is as follows: "The complete expulsion or extraction from his or her mother of that member, at any stage of development, who after such expulsion or extraction breathes or has a beating heart, pulsation of the umbilical cord, or definite movement of voluntary muscles, regardless of whether the umbilical cord has been cut, and regardless of whether the expulsion or extraction occurs as a result of natural or induced labor, cesarean section, or induced abortion.” The placenta fits the definition of "born alive." So a legally living expulsion from the mother was handed over to the state, as a ward to the state which is under the ruling/jurisdiction of the Roman papacy still, given Unam Sanctam was never abolished, so the placenta is legally a ward to the state, and when the living being identifies as the corporatized all caps name they are identifying with the placenta/afterbirth/vessel that is under the jurisdiction of Rome via mitochondrial DNA-based quantum entanglement to that placenta/vessel. The all caps legal name that was monetized (AKA the strawman) isn't you. You could never be a name anyways, and all caps lettering implies corporatization and death (all caps on a tombstone). Corp or corpse means "body," stemming from the Latin word "corpus." It in no way addresses a soul and is a degradation of status. A form of tacit agreement or presumptive agreement that opens the door to you signing up for your experience of free will to be somewhat lessened until you revoke this with your intent. Unam Sanctam was a papal bull (bull=Baal=child sacrifice) that was implemented on November 18 in 1302 by Pope Boniface VIII which essentially stated that every human “creature” is to be subject to the Roman pontiff/pope. Meaning every human that identifies as a non-living being is to be subject to Rome via maritime-admiralty law. This was the most bold papal edict, they claimed to have rulership over the world and ecclesiastically justified it as them taking on the role of Saint Peter (the fisherman, maritime law, fishers of men) as he was entrusted humanity by God. Unam Sanctam was the world’s first express trust. Note that just short of 5 years later on October 13th (Friday the 13th) of 1307 the Knights Templar (original creators of trust law/banking) were rounded up on orders of Pope Clement V and King Philip IV of France. So the rise of this system of Roman-corporate debt slavery and joinder was/is relative to the time that the Templar order was rounded up and tortured until falsely admitting heresy then killed, though some Templars slid through the cracks of persecution and went underground to carry on their work which has echoed through history til this very day. I’d like to point out as a sidetone that the modern day King of Spain (King Felipe VI) is of the same bloodline (House of Bourbon) as King Phillip IV of France, the one who called for the Templars to be rounded up, and that he just recently (about a week or so ago) renounced his father’s wealth which I take to be another indicator that these trusts are being turned back over for the sake of Jubilee during this time where the dimension we call Babylon or Rome, is crumbling and justice is being brought forth. The bondage to Unam Sanctam is being broken globally. Unam Sanctam means “one sanctuary” or “one holy place” which is essentially by way of their intention, a one world government of complete dominion. Below is the edict, Unam Sanctam. "Urged by faith, we are obliged to believe and to maintain that the Church is one, holy, catholic, and also apostolic. We believe in her firmly and we confess with simplicity that outside of her there is neither salvation nor the remission of sins, as the Spouse in the Canticles [Sgs 6:8] proclaims: ‘One is my dove, my perfect one. She is the only one, the chosen of her who bore her,‘ and she represents one sole mystical body whose Head is Christ and the head of Christ is God [1 Cor 11:3]. In her then is one Lord, one faith, one baptism [Eph 4:5]. There had been at the time of the deluge only one ark of Noah, prefiguring the one Church, which ark, having been finished to a single cubit, had only one pilot and guide, i.e., Noah, and we read that, outside of this ark, all that subsisted on the earth was destroyed. We venerate this Church as one, the Lord having said by the mouth of the prophet: ‘Deliver, O God, my soul from the sword and my only one from the hand of the dog.’ [Ps 21:20] He has prayed for his soul, that is for himself, heart and body; and this body, that is to say, the Church, He has called one because of the unity of the Spouse, of the faith, of the sacraments, and of the charity of the Church. This is the tunic of the Lord, the seamless tunic, which was not rent but which was cast by lot [Jn 19:23- 24]. Therefore, of the one and only Church there is one body and one head, not two heads like a monster; that is, Christ and the Vicar of Christ, Peter and the successor of Peter, since the Lord speaking to Peter Himself said: ‘Feed my sheep‘ [Jn 21:17], meaning, my sheep in general, not these, nor those in particular, whence we understand that He entrusted all to him [Peter]. Therefore, if the Greeks or others should say that they are not confided to Peter and to his successors, they must confess not being the sheep of Christ, since Our Lord says in John ‘there is one sheepfold and one shepherd.’ We are informed by the texts of the gospels that in this Church and in its power are two swords; namely, the spiritual and the temporal. For when the Apostles say: ‘Behold, here are two swords‘ [Lk 22:38] that is to say, in the Church, since the Apostles were speaking, the Lord did not reply that there were too many, but sufficient. Certainly the one who denies that the temporal sword is in the power of Peter has not listened well to the word of the Lord commanding: ‘Put up thy sword into thy scabbard‘ [Mt 26:52]. Both, therefore, are in the power of the Church, that is to say, the spiritual and the material sword, but the former is to be administered for the Church but the latter by the Church; the former in the hands of the priest; the latter by the hands of kings and soldiers, but at the will and sufferance of the priest. However, one sword ought to be subordinated to the other and temporal authority, subjected to spiritual power. For since the Apostle said: ‘There is no power except from God and the things that are, are ordained of God‘ [Rom 13:1-2], but they would not be ordained if one sword were not subordinated to the other and if the inferior one, as it were, were not led upwards by the other. For, according to the Blessed Dionysius, it is a law of the divinity that the lowest things reach the highest place by intermediaries. Then, according to the order of the universe, all things are not led back to order equally and immediately, but the lowest by the intermediary, and the inferior by the superior. Hence we must recognize the more clearly that spiritual power surpasses in dignity and in nobility any temporal power whatever, as spiritual things surpass the temporal. This we see very clearly also by the payment, benediction, and consecration of the tithes, but the acceptance of power itself and by the government even of things. For with truth as our witness, it belongs to spiritual power to establish the terrestrial power and to pass judgement if it has not been good. Thus is accomplished the prophecy of Jeremias concerning the Church and the ecclesiastical power: ‘Behold to-day I have placed you over nations, and over kingdoms‘ and the rest. Therefore, if the terrestrial power err, it will be judged by the spiritual power; but if a minor spiritual power err, it will be judged by a superior spiritual power; but if the highest power of all err, it can be judged only by God, and not by man, according to the testimony of the Apostle: ‘The spiritual man judgeth of all things and he himself is judged by no man‘ [1 Cor 2:15]. This authority, however, (though it has been given to man and is exercised by man), is not human but rather divine, granted to Peter by a divine word and reaffirmed to him (Peter) and his successors by the One Whom Peter confessed, the Lord saying to Peter himself, ‘Whatsoever you shall bind on earth, shall be bound also in Heaven‘ etc., [Mt 16:19]. Therefore whoever resists this power thus ordained by God, resists the ordinance of God [Rom 13:2], unless he invent like Manicheus two beginnings, which is false and judged by us heretical, since according to the testimony of Moses, it is not in the beginnings but in the beginning that God created heaven and earth [Gen 1:1]. Furthermore, we declare, we proclaim, we define that it is absolutely necessary for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman Pontiff." Catch that part at the end, "Manicheus." Manichaeism is a religion based on the view that there's a struggle between the spiritual realm and the material realm. With that being said it states all who resist their power resist God "unless he invent like Manicheus two beginnings, one which is false and judged by us heretical." Meaning they think joinder to the strawman/corpus/body identification is the only way to not be fully subject to them and still have a shot at being accepted by God. Pretty much like you're a direct slave of theirs if you want salvation but the only exception is if you settle for indentured servitude or willful slavery through the all caps corporatized named that diminishes status anyways. Pope Boniface VIII was the one who exiled Dante in Virgil’s story “Dante’s Inferno” where Dante condemned Pope Boniface VIII to the pits of hell. One can safely say Dante’s Inferno was about the Roman jurisdiction Virgil knew was rising more and more throughout the land. The literal hell on earth being made manifest. Now rewind this all back to the beginning of the post. The traumatic way anyone born in a hospital (structure of the corrupted versions of the Knights of Malta aka Knights Hospitaller) has been born into emend trauma and bondage. Where’s the resolve? Where’s the silver lining? The glimmer of hope? It’s in our ability to make a choice. To face our shadow head on. To resolve the trauma which has plagued the mind, emotions and body, focally the amygdala, the throat, the naval, and the psoas muscle and has kept us predominantly centered in the fight-or-flight mode we now know of as the sympathetic nervous system. When we are in the opposite setting, which is self-restoration mode, also known as the parasympathetic nervous system, grounding, centeredness, decalcification, chakra alignment, and everything else one strives to keep maintenance on spiritually becomes more and more of a default setting. Automatic. But if we are still predominantly centered in fight-or-flight mode The vagus nerve carries the “love molecule” known as oxytocin, which is a molecule that the body naturally releases which acts as the switch out of this fight-or-flight trauma mode. 528 hz has been proven to cause the body to release significant amounts of oxytocin and decrease cortisol levels, cortisol being part of the fight-or-flight response. Alpha and theta brainwave entrainment (binaural beats, monaural beats and isochronic tones set to alpha or theta) can also bring the body back to self-restoration mode and out of fight-or-flight. So can breathing with longer exhales than inhales, or simply walking in nature. Or being barefoot in grass. Even taking a cold shower is said to activate the vagus nerve, the nerve that releases oxytocin in order to cause this switch over out of fear mode. Magnesium and potassium are good for activating the parasympathetic nervous system (opposite of fear mode) and psilocybin mushrooms and the amanita muscaria mushroom (neither of which I recommend to just anyone) can help facilitate this state of well being. Of course meditation in general can too. The work of T.D. Lingo is a great avenue of research in regards to causing the amygdala to fire towards the frontal lobe instead of back towards the reptilian brainstem. Yoga based around stretching the psoas muscle (muscle of the soul) can do wonders as well when it comes to switching out of the fear-based state of being that we are entangled to this Roman-construct through. The joinder, beyond the paper work and filing UCC-1 and receiving certificate of live birth etc. hinges focally on trauma. If the trauma remains then the joinder to Roman-commerce remains given it is literally, literally, a dimension of fear and agony. With knowledge comes more of an ability to make a choice and not be ruled by our presumptive agreements or our subconscious contracts. At base-level, all other traumas aside, if we were born in a hospital and have never worked on resolving the trauma that came with that then chances are, we are more centered in fight-or-flight Roman jurisdiction/dimension more than we realize. It’s all relativity. An example of that being, wonder bread would taste amazing if you were fed nothing but raw wheat. But wonder bread isn’t really all that amazing. Meaning, our high points or happy points in life might seem great but if fight-or flight is all we have known then how great could it really be until we resolve the trauma we signed up for as earthly initiation? Indoctrinated into density. We were handed lead to make gold out of so to speak. Perhaps the one way ticket to resolving this is truly embodying the realization that we are not trauma that we have endured. We only feel the effects and need to resolve to trauma if we think we are the trauma. If we are striving to heal ourselves yet we know the self is not just trauma then perhaps that realization is more than half of the resolve. We experience whatever we identify with from one degree to another.  - Trevor McGrath

Trevor McGrath - https://www.facebook.com/trevor.mcgrath1/timeline?lst=4300149%3A1253567243%3A1585457388