#and we were robbed of eight w/ long hair

[junkmailmusubi]

splatoon fandom we were ROBBED

[storiesofsvu]

A Redemption Earned Ch 27

Warnings: language, a bit of gremlin chaos, talks of the toxic past. A/N: I'm not gonna lie, when I was writing this chapter, I lowkey hated it. I just skim read it now and maybe it's not that bad? Either way I needed the second half of it to happen and i knew it wasn't long enough on its own, and I figured we hadn't seen Jackie & Nat in a while so why not? I'm not 100% sure but I might take a wee little break on this story, I had everything up to now fully planned out and now to the end it's kinda just bits and pieces so we'll see how things go.

Becca was ever thankful that she had clearance into Observatory Circle, thanking security for letting her in before she bounded upstairs to greet her best friend after over a month of not seeing each other.

“I come bearing some very American pizza and cider.” She greeted with a huge smile, dropping the items in her hands onto the dining room table.

“Oh thank god.” Nat exclaimed, diving in for a tight hug, “I fucking missed you.”

“Missed you too.” She replied with a smile, “how was the flight back?”

“Treacherous.” Jackie commented, exiting the bedroom changed into cozy clothes, hands rubbing a towel through her damp hair before she tossed it into the laundry bin.

“Yeah the turbulence was terrible.” Nat commented, shifting to crack open a cider.

“Trip was okay though?” Becca asked, thanking the other woman for passing her a drink.

“It was politics, how good could it be?”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted the job.” She laughed, “at least it pays better than bartending.”

“At least there’s less than a year left.” She replied with a sigh, tossing a roll of paper towels to Becca as she flipped open the pizza box to grab a slice and the younger woman looked up towards Jackie.

“You’re not gonna run?”

“Have you seen any campaigning from me?” She replied with a laugh, “I’m done with this bullshit, eight years was plenty.” She pulled down a bottle of wine, pouring herself a glass, “also I’m crashing the food portion of your girls day, we didn’t get to eat on the plane.”

“That’s fine.” Becca mumbled over a bite of food, shifting the pizza box in Jackie’s direction, “besides, I’ve got gossip you’ll love to hear.”

“Oh please tell me it involves your mom.” There was a sparkle in her eye as she spoke, “I know you’re on good terms with her now but I just can’t resist a good Heather story.”

“It does.” Becca laughed, “what else would I have waited to tell in person?”

“Did she fuck up?” Nat asked, “y/n break up with her?”

“No. They’re so sickeningly in love it hurts me, they’re basically living together and mom’s surprisingly doing great. Even with me losing my shit at Christmas.” She grimaced at the memory of her bad behaviour, “y/n’s really helped her work through stuff that I don’t think she would have been able to otherwise.”

“That’s good.” Jackie smiled softly, “it’s what she really needed.”

“Okay but cut to the chase, what’s the tea?” Nat asked, pulling laughs from the other two, “does Rob have a new girlfriend your mom hates? Is someone pregnant? Oh my god are you pregnant?”

“Ewww. Fuck no.”

“But is someone else? Because that would be big news.” Jackie asked with a smirk and Becca laughed.

“Well. I guess someone was pregnant.”

“What does that even mean?” Nat asked, her nose crinkling as she tried to figure it out.

“Turns out Jordan knocked someone up before he died.” Becca stated and Jackie gasped, her hand slapping her wife’s arm.

“That fucking kid at the White House! I told you!”

“What kid?” Becca asked, now having her turn at confusion.

“When y/n was chaperoning a field trip and we were talking with her, some kid came barrelling up.” Jackie shrugged, “I thought he looked familiar but I couldn’t figure it out.”

“I’m guessing that’s exactly what Jordan looked like at that age?” Nat assumed and the other two nodded.

“Yeah. Kid’s a carbon copy, it’s almost creepy.”

“Your mom lose her shit?” Nat asked, sipping at her drink.

“The day I’m assuming she found out she was acting weird at dinner and they left early so I’m guessing they talked about it when they got home but she hasn’t like regressed or anything.”

“And Jordan’s a touchy subject.” Jackie commented.

“Yeah.” She nodded, “like, mom doesn’t even talk to dad about Jordan much, but she’s actually opened up to y/n about a bunch of it.”

“Okay but if she didn’t freak, she must have known already.” Nat leant forward on the table, “was she paying this girl off to stay quiet?”

“No.” Becca laughed, “she was going to abort, that’s what mom and Jordan thought happened, but she changed her mind and never said anything. But here’s the kicker… they ran into each other last week when y/n convinced mom to visit Jordan’s grave on his birthday.”

“Oh good god.” Jackie rolled her eyes, turning to refill her wine glass, “I’m sure that went well.”

“But here’s the thing… it did…”

“What!?” Both of the other women were more than surprised at that.

“Well I mean, y/n was there so I’m sure that helped, she took Cody off for a bit to give them some time to talk, apparently mom gave her a business card and left the ball in her court, but she’s like, dying to actually meet the kid and get to know him.”

“That’s surprising considering how involved with your childhood she was.” Jackie muttered and Becca let out a huff.

“She liked Jordan better; we both know this.”

“Really?” Nat’s brow furrowed, having come into the Dunbar’s lives at a much later time the fact that the delinquent was the favourite was a surprise. Then again, when she’d met Becca, she had basically eradicated herself from the Dunbar name, so there was a very convoluted history there.

“When we were kids, for fucking sure. Why do you think I’m so close with my dad?”

“Could be the lesbian thing.”

“Wow.” Becca swatted at her arm with an eye roll.

“She didn’t like Jordan better.” Jackie commented, “you were just one hell of a fussy baby and one fiercely independent kid.” She took a large sip of wine, muttering the rest of her sentence over the rim of the glass, “and then you happened to catch her in bed with a barely legal girl and had something to hold over her head for the next decade.”

“So you’re just saying I was a brat?” The younger woman teased and Jackie rolled her eyes.

“You required much more effort to babysit.”

“That’s because your version of baby sitting was turning on the t.v and basically ignoring us.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t have kids.” She shot back with a smile that quickly turned into a frown, “oh god I’m gonna have to meet this kid, aren’t I?”

“I mean, if things go as hoped I’m assuming he’ll be at Christmas.” Becca retorted, “but like, you haven’t been around since you tore a strip off mom, I’ve barely seen you since dad’s birthday.”

“Well I’m sorry,” Jackie laughed with a tease in her voice, “I’m the vice president of your country, I’m a little busy and I’ve got better things to do that hangout with an old frenemie.”

“Babe, you really need to give it up already.” Nat reached out, squeezing at her hand, “if Becks and I can forgive her, I think you should be able to.”

“Don’t forget dad. She cheated on him for like, twenty years and they’re besties now.”

“Ugh.” Jackie rolled her eyes, “you two are insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Give her a chance and I’ll give you a brownie?” Becca offered with a sly grin and the older woman’s protests melted into a smirk.

“Fine. I’ll show at your birthday and be on my best behaviour come Christmas.”

“Even if there’s a kid there?” Nat asked with a tease and Jackie’s nose crinkled, but she nodded as she stood from the table.

“You’ve convinced me into torture, I’m taking my leave before I agree to anything else.” She paused briefly to kiss Nat quickly, “you two enjoy your night.” With a small wave she disappeared down the stairs, leaving the other two in a small fit of giggles.

**

Across town you’d successfully managed to evade being on pick up duty for once, finishing up some marking in you classroom to the sounds of shrieks on the playground. There was a small knock on your door frame and you half expected it to be Heather, glancing up to find Lily standing in the doorway.

“Hi.” You started, pausing in your movements of packing things up.

“Do you… have a minute?” She asked, almost timidly stepping into the room.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you about a couple of things.”

“Cody okay?” You asked, worry picking up in your chest, “oh… if you want to transfer him out of my class, I understand.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened, “no, not at all! He’s doing way better in your class and he adores you, I would never pull him out.”

“Okay.” You settled against the edge of you desk.

“Heather… said you’re her partner?”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile that snuck its way onto your lips, “we’ve been together just over a year.”

“So you’d say you know her pretty well then?” She asked and you nodded, “including… everything that happened during that election year?” You let out a little laugh, nodding once more.

“Yes. She’s been incredibly open about her past and the mistakes she’s made. She’s back on good terms with her ex and her daughter, we usually see them every couple of weeks for dinner, games, whatever.”

“She mentioned therapy?”

“Yeah. She started going shortly after Jordan died, when she first left Washington and she still goes at least once every two weeks now. She’s put a lot of work in, and I think everyone can vouch that she’s grown and changed, she really isn’t the psychotic woman she used to be, and I’m not just saying that because I’m like, Stockholm syndromed.” You let out a little laugh, “we’ve been through more in one year together than I have with anyone else in multiple years.”

“That’s good. I’m glad she got help.” She sighed softly, “I never really thought about the fact that I was withholding someone from their grandson, I just honestly didn’t think Jordan would want anything to do with it. And I thought his parents might force him into it and that would just make things worse.”

“No, I could definitely see that happening back then.” You laughed, “I think you made the right call, even Heather has said he would’ve been a terrible dad.”

“Does the rest of the family know about Cody?”

“Rob and Becca, but Heather doesn’t talk to her parents anymore.”

“Okay…” she tugged her lip into her mouth and you could tell she was working through what to say next, “are…are they good people? Or is this one of those like, toxic rich people family types?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that, because back in the day, it definitely had been.

“I think that cycle was broken with Becca’s generation, and with many thanks to Rob. Becca’s a little chaotic, but she’s a blast, and while she doesn’t want kids herself I know she’s intrigued about being an aunt considering she never thought she’d get the chance. And Rob, he’s one of the greatest people I’ve ever met, he’s kind, genuine, hilarious, and was an incredible dad. He and Heather are very excited at the possibility of being grandparents, especially with the connection being through Jordan. Neither of them really talk about him or what happened often, but I know it’s still pretty triggering for both. I think they kinda see this as the universe sending them a sign that everything’s going to be okay.”

“I can’t imagine the pain of what they went through, and in the middle of everything else that was going on too?”

“Yeah.” You sighed softly.

“I mean, if anything was to ever happen to Cody, I don’t know if I’d be able to function anymore. I guess… that’s another reason I’m hesitant, I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I know.” You assured her, “what it all boils down to is protecting him.”

“What would you do?” She asked and you took a breath, trying to not pick a side, you understood both, and understood that things could get pretty complicated.

“I just know that my grandparents would’ve done anything for even an extra hour with me. We would love to have you and Cody as part of our family, and it can start slow, a coffee on the playground, Cody already knows me, Heather and Rob could just be new friends. If something doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t go past that and there’s no judgement.”

“And if it does feel okay?”

“Then it’s up to you really. Heather knows she’s not going to be trusted to babysit one on one right away, and that things ideally would be left up to Cody and if he likes spending time with anyone. You’d be welcome at any and all family gatherings, from weekly dinners to things like Christmas or birthdays. And… if I know Heather… she’ll probably go a little overboard with the spoiling but I’ll try to keep her in line.” You both laughed at that, Lily looking up at you with a small smile.

“It would be nice to have a couple free babysitters at the least.” She admitted, “it gets a little tricky being a single mom while working full time.”

“You could have a weekend to yourself for once.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shaking her head, “you mean a quiet house? Five minutes without someone yelling mom? I could actually enjoy a bottle of wine?”

“See?” You raised a brow with a grin, “there’s some major added bonuses here.”

“Any major… warnings? I guess, you think I should know about?”

“Uh…” you paused to think, “well… things can get a bit chaotic, both in the good way and the bad way. Heather does get poked fun at for her previous behaviour, but she handles it well, you’ll probably hear Becca say something you think would cause a screaming match but it’s usually just an eye roll nowadays. And there’s a rather heavy gay presence, which isn’t seen that much.”

“Aside from you and Heather?”

“Yeah. Becca’s got a long term girlfriend, and Becca’s best friend Nat is married to a woman.” You stalled suddenly, “oh….”

“What?” Her brow furrowed and you laughed, realizing how ridiculous this whole thing was about to sound and why Heather had been so worried about explaining it to you the first time.

“Nat uh…was one of Heather’s sugar babies.”

“Wait… is this Natasha that works in the white house?”

“You follow politics?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, “was overly obsessed with it in high school, considered a career in it too. Wasn’t Nat the one Heather hit in that video at the hospital?”

“Yup.” You couldn’t help the small laugh.

“And they’re on speaking terms?”

“Under the very watchful eye of Jackie, yes.”

“Well if they can make it work, I guess a coffee wouldn’t hurt.”

“Heather just wants a chance to prove that she’s good enough to be involved in your lives. After that? Baby steps.”

“Yeah.” Lily smiled softly at you, about to say something again when there was a thunk against your window and a muffled ‘MOM!’ from Cody pressed up against the glass as he yelled something about pizza. Instead she let out a soft sigh, “guess that’s my queue.” You laughed, waving to Cody before saying goodbye.

Overall, it seemed like things were heading in the right direction. You originally had wanted to stay out of things, letting Lily and Heather sort things out on their own, but you were now realizing that first; you were already part of the family. And second, you were a familiar and comfortable face for Lily to talk to about things. She knew you through school, knew that Cody liked and trusted you, and in turn so did she. You had the inside scoop on Heather and the rest of the Dunbar clan and weren’t afraid to talk about the rather chaotic stuff. All you could do now was sit back and hope that things progressed in the way everyone wanted them too.

______________________ @ms-calhoun @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @giftedchildturns40 @anya-casablanca @svulife-rl  @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexusonfire @jamiethetrans @red1culous @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @svushotss @yourtaletotelll @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @imaginaryoperagloves @multifandomlesbianic @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @bookpillows @drduckthief @whimsicallymad @mmmmokdok @ladysc @momlifebehard @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @dead-of-niight @fighterkimburgess @lannister-slings-and-arrows @borg-queer @godard-muse  @itisdoctortoyousirr @brooklynmhm @nobody-important1212 @emilyprentiss4life @httpjupiterbby

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips. 

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago. 

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place. 

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back. 

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air. 

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling. 

"Hey, Mom." You answered. 

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now.  "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation.  "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...."  "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought.  There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?"  You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer.  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind.  Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

[jiminrings]

bestie what if jungkook finally finds out that jin’s friends with y/n 😭😭😭 he’d live in embarrassment for like eight business days

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook wants to crawl in a ditch for bADLY misjudging a situation he should’ve foreseen in the first place

yoongi has never been this dedicated to curing his hangover

well actually, nO ONE was really forcing him to pick you and taehyung up anyway

you didn't even ask!!! you could 10/10 just call for an uber to bring back taehyung to his place

maybe, just maybe, it's your fault that when yoongi asked you where you were when he's just woken up from a long night of partying, you mentioned "i'm with taehyung" and hospital and go home in the same sentence so that's why he went to overdrive

did he process what you said correctly?? probably not <3

that's the whole reason why yoongi had wasted sIX eggs this morning!!

he read somewhere in passing and watched song-hwa from hospital playlist enough to know that drinking eggs apparently helps you with your hangover and some other things

first, he wasted tHREE eggs because apparently, you're not supposed to drink the eggs !!! whisked !!! because it "defeats" the whole purpose

but it's still an egg whether you whisk it and no one's sane enough to drink raw eggs unprovoked

yoongi nailed it on the second try and he might have gagged a few times but the important thing is, his hangover is all-cured from the stress of digesting raw eggs :D so now he can safely drive at a borderline dangerous speed to pick you and tae up

"hey kiddo."

you peer your head up to see yoongi looking down at you, ruffling your hair in greeting

you've been held up here for less than five hours anyway, and it's not that yOU look tired,,, it's just that maybe you could use a little more sleep

lol you got yoongi thinking for a second that you're the injured on

"hey champ," yoongi acknowledges taehyung who's smiling from his bed, getting a forehead flick from his senior to which he rolls his eyes to

taehyung's... dressed up already in his normal clothes?

he already has his shoe on too so yoongi doesn't quite get why the two of you still aren't standing up

"you're lucky you just got a flick," you add helpfully, yawning in remembrance, "he punched my arm when i fell down the stairs at the dorm."

and wHY is this conversation all pointing to him now??

"because the both of you did stupid things that landed you in the ER!"

"i was just trying to see if i can go down the stairs three steps at a time!!"

"i just wanted to embrace y/n!!!"

very stoopid decisions if you ask him

yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to another, still a little lost because he's already here, and the two of you are all-ready to go, and he's not really a fan of the smell of the hospital —

oh wait

"has the bill already been settled?" he asks in curiosity, fishing out his wallet from his pocket

"mhmm. already did," tae answers instantly, nudging yoongi to put his wallet back where it came from

uhm wait maybe it's the eggs that are talking but uh

..... if the bill's already paid-

"then why are we all just sitting here?"

taehyung opens his mouth but he cLOSES it shut the moment it all clicks in his head, belatedly looking at you whose face screams conflict

yoongi's eyes turn to you on instinct, narrowing his eyes because you're choosing not to meet his eyes

"we're uh, we're waiting for jungkook to come back from the restroom."

...

.....

.......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yoongi's quiet, almost like he's calculating the variables in his mind

his mind's working harder rn that it did on his finals last week

"so jungkook is here?"

he gets war flashbacks every time he hears his name

he just shudders at the thought of him and he doesn't mean it positively lmao

"y-yeah! did i not tell you that at the call? he helped me get taehyung here," you scratch your nape in explanation, not accounting for the fact that yoongi still vERY much loathes jungkook when you called him

tae's not actually sure if he's helping you when he opens his mouth but he's trying his best <3

"yup! his shoulders were my crutch for like, three blocks. he also bought us food from the cafeteria while we were waiting to have my leg cast!!"

he glances at the fancy paper bags from the cafeteria downstairs, even some take-outs in there that makes it look all-stuffed

how in the living hELL is yoongi suppposed to feel about all of this :|

"i'm back! should i call an uber now? sorry, i bought these tiny hand sanitizers because they were having a sale at the pharmacy. y/n what scent do you-..."

jungkook happily chirps as he rummages through the bag he was given, preparing to scoop all the different scents to present them to you when he jUST had to look down at a familiar pair of shoes

as in the same black converse that he had the relief of looking at when someone was particularly asking him if he ever had a knuckle sandwich

"h-hi yoongi."

yoongi narrows his eyes at the kid who just squeaked, mouth puffed-up in disbelief that he looks like he's hiding a hamster in there

"bye jungkook."

yoongi uses tae as an excuse to shoo jungkook off as fast as possible but that kinda bites him in the ass

taehyung's going through a learning curve with his crutches and yoongi's making him wALK faster!!!! he still needs a little-

oh wait a minute :-)

"jungkook! help me walk to yoongi's car."

no

there is nO way that even taehyung's conspiring against him now

first jin and now taehyung????

tae solidifies his point by winking at yoongi, leaving you alone with him as you carry the paper bags of cafeteria take-outs

he's not exactly sure if he's helping you out at this situation, but once again, he's just trying his best and having fun alright!!! he likes to be included in these types of things hee-hee

yoongi has no choice now but to aLSO drive jungkook home, and the thought just makes him grumble from thinking about it

he'll have to disinfect his seats ://

"i haven't fully forgiven him if that's what you're thinking about," you chime in with his thoughts, looping your arm around his to help quell the visible stress in his mind

"it's your life," he puffs out because he doesn't want to meddle with you, consciously trying not to be overbearing when it comes to your choices

"i know. i just want you to know that your closest friend has the pride and the brains to not forgive an asshole, a goddamn junior, who said really mean things to her," you add thoughtfully and transparently, making yoongi break into a smile

ok that's got the heaviness in his chest a little lighter

"we should probably talk to each other one of these days."

you haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with yoongi for quite some time now because there weren't really any pressing issues of the sort to make the two of you talk face-to-face, but now it's probably needed

"we should."

:D

jungkook has never feared for his life in a car ride tHIS much before

and he's even wearing his seatbelt!!!!

you're sitting at the front seat and he's with taehyung at the back, the latter dozing off because yoongi indulged his request for sleep music with soft rain on the background (it doesn't make yoongi sleepy) in an attempt to make him feel better about his leg

the one-hour loop's working wonders because you're passed out on the front seat too

normally, this would also make jungkook sleepy

but how the fuck can he sLEEP when yoongi looks at him through the rear-view mirror like an apex predator??????

kook could take the easier route of pretending to sleep so he could get to avoid yoongi's gaze

but then if he pretends to sleep, yoongi would clearly see how his eyeballs are still very much trembling even when his eyes are shut and he's the furthest thing from being relaxed

don't get him started on stoplights too!!! that was just pure torture because jungkook was conflicted to whether or not he should look at him rIGHT back

taehyung and jungkook live in the same building anyway so that's more convenient because he actually wouldn't know how to act if he had to drop j-name (he honestly can't digest saying his name) separately

now that that's all over, jungkook feels oddly fulfilled in a way...?

fulfilled in a sense that even if partially, he managed to earn your forgiveness

he feels like he could sleep a little more peacefully knowing that he atleast did something right this time!!!

which is for the exact reason, he's gonna gUSH about this to mr. kim from student affairs!!!

it's uh the weekend and he walked to campus because he thinks that admin works even on weekends (mad respect)

it's noticeably a lot more empty compared to weekdays and it's just filled with freshmen with their hectic class schedules and some students who are just fulfilling units to graduate early

jungkook walks straight to student affairs and it instantly looks empty, the only familiar face in there being namjoon

as in mr. kim namjoon who's wearing a windbreaker rn and whose hair is dEFINITELY blonde than the last time (two days ago) that jungkook saw him

he's not here to work isn't he

wait is he here to rob the place ???!?#?!?

"and what are you doing here?"

namjoon is as confused as jungkook, his mouth opening and closing in dumbfoundedness

"o-oh! is mr. kim here? w-wait, you are here. i mean mr. kim seokjin, sorry. did he-"

"nope," namjoon shakes his head, putting his bucket hat back on to leave jungkook all by himself

namjoon from work and namjoon every other time besides work are TWO different entities

"we just came here to collect our paychecks. you missed jin by ten minutes."

oh well

his momentum's not entirely ruined!! jungkook just has to cram thinking of a recipe to put in your lunchbox by tomorrow and jin is his tried and tested saving grace

technically, jungkook already saw you this morning because of the whole taehyung in a cast thing, but he feels as if that the take-outs from the cafeteria aren't gonna cut it

he still needs to step up his game of course :D

so that's why jungkook forcibly enlisted jimin's help to make fish and chips for dinner and put them in two lunchboxes

one for you and one for yoongi!! he didn't skimp on the fish nor the chips and made sure they're still toasty and in peak-flavor when he delivers it to your dorm

is he intruding? is this a bad time? he didn't exactly know how to process when yoongi told him that he wouldn't stop him from making it up to you

he just iSN'T sure if delivering homemade lunchboxes at 7 in the evening to your dorm is optimal

oh good!! the door's opening :D

"good evening!! i uhm-"

... what

.......... WHAT

what the fuck is going on

seokjin is suprised to see that the guy at the door isn't from the delivery place he ordered from two minutes ago

... he may be disappointed

but what he is amused about is the way jungkook looks beyond confused and intimidated

jin's in a sleep shirt and some boxers and jungkook doesn't kNOW what to feel about all the variables present that he's trying to connect

"you look like you're hiding a goldfish in your mouth."

seokjin remarks and yawns when a fraction of a minute passes and jungkook's still frozen in his spot, his eyes darting to what the kid's holding

"oh c'mon! one for y/n and one for yoongi? you trying to make it up to him too? and none for me?" jin jives him further, leaning against the doorframe with a sleepy smirk on his lips, "i practically live here, and i gave you the tonkatsu recipe, and i'm the one who doesn't get a lunchbox?"

he eventually saw this coming lmao

jin knew that someway somehow, jungkook would come to know that hE's your close friend throughout the whole time

that he's been the sort of middleman all this time but nah he's on your team of course <3

that all this whining he's done to him has all been in the name of you and seokjin had to sit through ALLLL of that with his fists clenched underneath the table to calm himself down

"oh my god," jungkook's literally WEAK in the knees as it all connects in his mind, the gravity of this scenario kicking down on him

he really iS such a fucking asshole

how did he not hypothesize this????? how wasn't he able to connect you and yoongi and jin as each other's closest friends???

his legs are literally about to give out so that's why seokjin snatches the lunchboxes from his hands

"i am so, so, so sorry mr. kim. i-i really didn't-..."

jin pays him no mind, opening the lunchboxes slightly as he whistles at the sight of fish and chips

meanwhile jungkook is so sO close to crying both in realization and very very slight relief because he knows atleast one of your friends doesn't hate him that much

the door opens wider, the creaking getting both of his and jin's attention

"what's taking you so long? is the-..."

yoongi switches his gaze between the two lunchboxes on jin's hand and jungkook sitting on the floor looking like he's had the shock of his lifetime

wow this is really amusing

this is in fact so amusing that yoongi can't help but to snap a picture for him and jin to laugh at later

"bye, jeon."

yoongi grabs one of the lunchboxes from jin's hand and goes back into the dorm, leaving jungkook alone with mr. student affairs

seokjin chuckles as he outstretches his hand to make jungkook stand up and shoo him off sooner than later so he wouldn't look like a pebble in front of your dorm

he pats him on the back, only having to pull him slightly to get him closer to his ear

"we're still mad at you kid, don't get it twisted. you're lucky i didn't expel you."

jungkook pales at the realization overall, only weakly nodding his head as he attempts to take in everything while trying to look at the bright side

seokjin cheerily closes the door, waving at him who looks so close to passing out from hock

"bye jungkook!!!"

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! Dom!Minho x sub!reader criminal!skz, gang!au, angst(?), criminality, mentions of scars, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, explicit language, mentions of robbery, mentions of police, mentions of cuts, alcohol consumption, mentions of fights, public sex, PIV, fingering, unsafe sex (STAY SAFE), orgasm (m/f), cum, slight bulge kink, squint to see the degradation. 

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS SINCE THIS PIECE CONTAINS VIOLENCE!

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.6 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: EEEEP part 2 of purple hearts that is more of a background story to the first one so if you haven’t read the first one please do so here!~ (also jesus fucking christ did i struggle with this sooo... don’t expect much lmao)

OH if you want a song recommendation; A good song never dies - Saint Motel (fits this fic heheh...) 

A loud bang erupted through the room alerting the 7 other boys. Bangchan’s fist was firmly planted on the table as he looked at the shoked faces off the seven boys.

“We can’t go on like this anymore”

He spoke in a raspy voice, his breath quivering as the other boys avoided eye contact with both Bangchan and between themselves.

“Did you see what happened out there?!” Felix flinched at Chan’s loud shout as Changbin smirked, spinning in the office chair and staring at the ceiling. 

“It’s not that serious, Chan! Just a couple bruises tha-” Changbin started speaking but was soon cut off.

“Nonsense!” Chan growled out. “All of this because that son of a bitch won’t get a job, we included you because you were a detective. You were useful once, Minho”.

The entire room glanced over at Minho. His cheek scarred, a droplet of blood desended down from his knuckles as he swept his hair back with one hand. 

“Not my fault, you wanted me to plan the different robbing schemes so how the fuck can I work, huh? Ever though about that?” He spat on the floor as his gaze was locked with Bangchan’s. The leader getting visibly annoyed by Minho’s tone. 

“Calm down everybody” Seungmin said, carefully nudging at the curtain infront of the window and looking down at the blue and red lights that was flashing all over town. “Continue like this and we’ll all be dead meat for the police”.

Hyunjin was sitting across from Changbin, only the big white table seperating them as a lonely lightbulb hanged in the middle. 

“I agree with Chan, Minho used to help by getting access to information only the detectives had but now... well, he’s not doing much” he scratched the back of his neck while talking. 

Minho was aggrivated by his words, ready to lunge at anyone that dared to open their mouth about how he wasnt helpful after he’d been fired from his job as a detective.

“I-I’m gonna find a job, not like you fuckers sitting here and living off others pain”. He tried to defend himself but only earned a scoff from Felix.

“Please,,, don’t try to judge us when you’re in it yourself” Felix remarked snarkily, sitting on the cold stone flooring. A first aid kit was laid out infront of him as he treated a big wound on his forearm, wrapping bandage over the cut and hissing as the material stinged against the raw wound. 

“I’ll find my ways, don’t worry” he devilishly smirks, many of the boys sighing and rolling their eyes. All except one. Bangchan. His blood was boiling. Did Minho not see how the whole groups future was hanging on by a thin red thread? The red representing how much blood has been shed by these boys in order to survive in this vile world.

Silence filled the room, only the faint sound of police sirens could be heard from outside. Minho clenched his jaw, looking around at the silent boys before grabbing his coat from the wobbly coathanger and exiting the mobs headquarter, shutting the door loud enough to startle both Jeongin and Jisung. Confused glances were exchanged while Bangchan just stood at the end of the table, staring out into the dark night. 

---

The nightlife was well and alive in the big city. Music blaring, people chattering and cars humming. The neon lights were all around him as well as the vast crowds of people enjoying the night. Minho walked into a bar that was a couple of blocks away from where he and the boys had been moments earlier, robbing a jewely store and beating up the owners until puddles of blood formed around them. Most of the times it was easy but today the police were a step ahead and bad planning by Bangchan almost led to the boys in handcuffs. Luckily, all eight managed to escape, leaving the bodies and the spray painted SKZ mob logo on the old fashioned walls of the jewerly store. 

The bar reeked of alcohol as the lights were low, only a couple of silhouette visible. Unsteady bar chairs decorated the dim bar along with a wall of fancy liquor bottles and as Minho sat down he looked down at the bar table before croaking out;

“One boulevardier“ 

He licked his lips as he looked cockily at the bartender that quickly nodded, intimidated by the wound on his cheek. Minho rubbed the back of his neck whilst comtemplating his life choices. Graduated with a law degree, once being a well respected detective but what was he worth now? He was just a dirty criminal, ruining lives in order to survive. The drink was placed infront of him, a coaster on the bottom of the wide glas as the drink condensed, forming beeds of liquid on the rim. Just as he lifted the glas to his chapped lips you tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me” 

You stood behind his hunched figure and met his gaze as he turned around, drink in hand. You show your detective badge before speaking.

“y/n, y/l/n. Happened to see any commotion here tonight, sir?

He scoffs which makes you confused as you look him straight into his cold brown eyes.

“Detective? At least you got to keep your job”

Minho turns back and you stand there, wondering if he’s drunk or just refusing to cooperate.

“Sir, I asked you if you’d seen anything that could lead us to the SKZ mob? I’m pretty sure you know who they are. You know, the ones that makes the entire city shake of fear.” 

“Sure, I know of them.” He smirked with his answer.

He patted the empty bar chair next to him, signaling for you to sit which caught you off guard. You were hesitant since he didn’t look like the friendliest type but you nodded, slowly sitting down next to him. 

“Look, I might even surprise you about how much I know” he remarked, steadily raising the glas to his dry lips. 

“Is that so? How do you know so much?” you asked, geniunly interested in him and that scar on his cheek.

“Former detective” he stated simply. 

Your eyebrows jerked at his words. ‘Former detective?’ you thought, losing his job must have been hard on him judging from his scruffy appearence and by the way he waved his finger at the bartender, ordering another drink. 

“Then why did you lose your job?” Curiosity was going to be the death of you.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions, baby?”

Who was he calling baby? The two of you had met minutes ago but something in the way his voice rang through that word caused shivers to descend down your spine. 

“I’m a detective, that my job and you should know that” you replied sassily, not knowing what to do with the butterflies in your stomach upon hearing him call you baby. 

“I could help you but it comes with a cost.”

He moved his hand in a circular motion, swirling the liquor as the floating ice cubes bumped against eachother, the sound being completely masked by the distinct chattering of other guests. 

“Well,,, what do you want me to do?” You looked at him as he stared straight ahead, his silvery earring swaying as he turned his head towards you, grinning. 

“A job and you.” 

His deep brown eyes seemed to draw you in but you had to resist, you were on a patrolling shift after all. 

“I’m s-sorry,,, This is not appropriate behaviour” you say as you try to get up before being abruptly pulled back by your wrist, the purple heart on your bracelet reflecting in the minimally lit bar. 

“I know damn well that there is a promotion looming in the air” he said, not breaking eye contact with the bracelet on your arm. He was right. If he had valuable information it could change your career, make you climb higher in the ladder of success and peer down at all your co-workers that were once laughing at your lack of skills.

“H-how’d you know?” you said, flustered at his big hand that was still tightly gripping your wrist. He flashed his devilish grin before yanking you by the arm, dragging you to the bathroom. 

“W-wait,,, what are you-”

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he slammed you against a cubical as he crashed his lips onto yours. Luckily the bathroom was empty leaving Minho without any hesitation to fuck you so hard that you’d be longing for more, fuck you so that you’d be left with no other choice but to hire him. You melted in his touch and as much as you knew how wrong this was something about his mysterious aura had you answering his kiss, pursing your lips and slipping your tongue inside of him. The kiss quickly got heated, sparks flying as his fingertips lightly nudged on the band of your jeans. Minho tilted his head, cupping your warm soft cheek with his brittle and bloody hands as you moaned into the kiss, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of getting caught at any moment. 

Minho pulled you into a cubical, your bracelet jingling from the sudden movement. Locking the door, he put his hand by the side of your head and towered over you making you feel helpless. You needed him inside of you. 

“Deal?” he leaned over to your ear, his hot breath tickled your ear and all you could do was nod as you desperatly clenched around nothing. 

You reattached your lips on his, the bitter taste of liquor spreading in your mouth as your tongues fought for dominance. Minho stroked your hair until his hand slowly moved to peel off your shirt, exposing your bra strap. His touch on your bare shoulder made you shudder and your core quivering in anticipation, feeling a wet patch on your underwear. His hand unbuttoned your pants causing you to gulp loudly, holding the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.  Without warning his cold fingertips slid down beneath your panties, grazing your sopping folds and feeling himself get painfully hard, not wanting to admit the effect you had on him. 

“Already this wet, babygirl?” 

He broke the kiss, looking at your pained expression as he inserted a finger into your dripping pussy. Your eyes tightly shut as your hands wrapped around his arm, needing something to hold on to before your trembling legs gave up on you. You quickly stripped yourself from your pants and underwear, the fabric pooling around your feet and touching the surprisingly clean bathroom tiles. 

“Needy I see” he scoffed, inserting a second finger and sending you over the moon with pleasure, your hands still wrapped around his wrist. 

“s-shut up, you m-made me like this” you stutter back at him, trying to impose some sort of dominance but Minho only swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at you with hungry dark eyes. A broken moan escaped your lips that glistened from saliva, Minho curled his fingers upwards, grazing your g-spot with every move. Before another strained moan managed to escape your lips he retracted his fingers, lapping off your juices from his long fingers with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Turn around”

His cold voice pierced your eardrums and as if you’d been hexed you complied, your body moving to his command. Your hot cheek pressed up against the cubical door as Minho’s body was dangerously close to yours, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare ass. The sound of his belt unbuckling echoed as you pressed your ass up against his bulge, desperate for his cock. 

In a swift motion both his pants and underwear dropped down to the floor, his erect veiny member springing out, the tip shining with precum. He pumped his length a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your dripping heat making you mewl out in suspense, the burning feeling in your core growing stronger. Minho alined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in the tip to which you hissed, a momentary sting hitting your senses. He teased you by dragging his fingertips across your buttcheeks and up your spine, goosebumps erupting. 

Not being able to control yourself you pushed your butt out making you sink deeper on his length, earning a groan from the dark haired boy. 

“Desperate much?” he cooed from behind you. 

Your hands formed into fists as they held you body up from the door.

“F-fuck,,, hurry, I’m still on my shift you know?” you spat out at him, your legs shaking from how his dick stretched out your tight walls. 

“Whatever you say”

He laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful before turning his hand and yanking you towards him, your back arching as his hips slam against yours causing your butt to jiggle. You choked on your own moan as Minho’s hand tightly held you by the roots. 

The movement repeated and got harder by each thrust causing you to bite your lip in order to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your skull, stray pieces of hair landing infront of your hair. Sweat beaded on Minho’s forehead, his groans getting louder as he neared his sweet release. 

“S-so tight,,, fuck.” He spoke haltingly, hating the fact that you made him weak. In order to hold on for longer you clenched around him not knowing that he’d grunt loudly.

“Now you’re c-clenching around me like a little whore?” 

A string of moans ensued from your delicate lips upon hearing his new nickname to you. How did he know that you liked it? You could only nod, your speech all slurred from the impact of his dick burrowing deep into your cervix. The knot in your stomach tightened, your head dazed as Minho’s thrusts became uneven, the grip on your hair tightening. Not feeling your legs any longer the knot unraveled, your body shivering from the orgasm that washed upon you, your juices coating Minho’s dick that was still pounding into you at an immense speed. 

“A-aah,,,s-shit!” you screamed out as he rushed after his own orgasm, overstimulating you in the meantime. Tears prickled in the corners of your watery eyes as Minho’s last moan echoed in the room, the moan being high in pitch. He pulled out of you leaving your cunt dripping as he pumped his length a couple of times, throwing his head back before his white cum spurted onto your butt, feeling the warm substance drip down your leg. The two of you panted, chest heaving as your forehead made contact with the door, legs weak. 

In your peripheral vision you see the boy stretching out a paper towel, his chest heaving as he wiped off the small sweat beads with the back of his hand. You shake your head in order to come back to earth before taking the paper towel from his hand, muttering a small “thank you”. 

“So what you say, babygirl?” His dick turning flaccid before pulling up his pants, looking at you wonderingly. You wipe off the cum and discard the paper in a small waste bin before you reach down to grab your panties and pants, pulling them briskly up. You reach for your back pocket, holding out a business card between your pointer and long finger with one hand, the other hand messing with your hair, making it look presentable. 

“Call me on Monday” you say before stumbling out of the cubical, leaving the grinning boy behind you. 

[classysassy9791]

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor/Fluff Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

The conclusion for this little fic that has waited 6 years for completion. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Thank you to @akitokihojo for being such a stellar beta for this fic, and helping it come to its completion. Couldn't have done it without you!

For @inukag-week Day 6: Transformation.

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l

Part 4 Word Count: 2,000

Can also be found on FFN and AO3

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It had been a very long time since Kagome had experienced a hangover.

The buzzing in her brain soon became too much to ignore as it beckoned her to consciousness. She opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. Sunlight peeking from beneath the closed curtains indicated it was daytime and she silently thanked herself for being smart enough to close them before leaving her apartment the evening before.

Kagome wrapped the duvet around herself and tried to grasp a hold on the fleeting darkness of unconsciousness. She knew nothing would cure a hangover except time, and she would rather spend it floating through dreamless sleep than deal with the repercussions head-on. Waves of nausea added to her misery and she could faintly smell whiskey with each exhale - a scent that was intoxicating last night, yet this morning it only caused her stomach to twist further.

Her phone pinged with a message, but she didn't dare even try to reach for it, the annoyingly bright glare of her phone not exactly something she wanted to sabotage herself with. As the minutes passed by, she became more acutely aware of her brain feeling like it would swell beyond the capacity of her skull, and her dehydration became too obvious to ignore. Her tongue felt like cotton as she licked her dry, cracked lips. Damn, why did the morning after always have to remind her of what a bad decision the night before was?

She squinted and finally set her gaze on her nightstand. A surprising wave of relief washed over her. Drunk Kagome must have had an intelligent moment, for on her nightstand stood a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. As quickly as she dared, she propped herself up on one elbow, trying to ignore the slight spin of the room, before greedily popping two pills and finishing the water. Even so, her thirst was far from quenched.

As Kagome tried to sort through her memories of the night before, she quickly registered that she had no memory of coming home last night. The last, clear recollection she could come up with had her sitting at the bar with Inuyasha and sharing a shot with the bartender.

"Shit," she groaned, hanging her head before precariously pulling her legs from beneath her blanket. Blacking out from drinking had been a favorite past time of hers back in her early college days. It wasn't because she didn't know her own limits when it came to being intoxicated, but back then, she simply didn't care. Drinking had been her favorite vice when it came to dealing with the pressures of school, boyfriends, and girl drama. It had been years since she had felt the need to get obliterated so completely.

Finally finding her courage, Kagome reached over and unlocked her phone. The red battery sign at the top meant it was almost dead, so she quickly scrolled through all the alerts on her phone. There had been way too many messages and missed calls from Hojo, which triggered the memory of the picture she had sent him. Her nausea increased ten-fold. Regret was a spiteful bitch.

Hojo was going to be the afternoon's problem. Maybe even tomorrow's problem. All Kagome knew was that it wasn't going to be a now problem.

Kagome plugged in her phone and once she was on her feet, the room swayed, almost causing her to lose balance. She stumbled out into the hallway to her bathroom to relieve herself. When she finished, she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face just to feel something refreshing. The person's face who greeted her in the mirror no longer resembled the glamorous girl of the night. Only a woman's face awash with guilt, a wrinkled set of pajamas, and hair that was far from attractive.

From the other end of the apartment, Kagome suddenly heard a key turning in her front door. Immediately, she felt panic rise in her throat, eyes going wide. No one had a key to her apartment, not even Hojo, so unless she had been robbed last night - which she very may well have considering she had very little memory of it - no one should be coming over.

She swallowed thickly against her cotton throat and grabbed the first weapon at her fingertips - a plunger. Yeah, she wasn't winning any awards for being clever, but she was hungover and scared for her life.

Kagome crept down the hallway toward the front door and nearly lost her breath at who she saw standing in her entryway. The man from the bar last night - Inuyasha? - was making his way to her kitchen with a carrier filled with coffee and a bag from her favorite breakfast joint down the block.

"Good morning," he greeted casually, not at all thrown off by her presence as he set down his packages on the counter. "I brought you breakfast."

Rage and astonishment swelled in her chest. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!"

He winced and held his hands over his ears before turning to glare at her. "If you could wait until after eight in the morning to start yelling, I'd really appreciate it."

"You didn't answer my question," she seethed, wide eyes sweeping the rest of the apartment for evidence as to what exactly happened last night?!

Inuyasha studied her from across the room and laughed at her dumbfounded expression. "Did you think I was a burglar or something? What's with the plunger?"

Kagome looked down at the plunger she held in his direction like a sword, and felt a blush bloom across her cheeks. She hurriedly hid it behind her back. "W-What was I supposed to think?"

He simply rolled his eyes. "Do you want breakfast or not?"

She bit her lip, but couldn't deny the ravenous hunger eating away at her stomach. Probably half the reason why she was so nauseous. Without saying another word, she slipped back into the bathroom to put away her weapon before meeting him in the kitchen. The sweet aroma of coffee and fresh bagels greeted her. She could've kissed him all over again.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee, so I got cream and sugar just in case."

Kagome slowly sat down in the chair across from him, watching him slather some cream cheese on his bagel and drink his black coffee. She racked her brain as to exactly why Inuyasha was in her apartment, and then flashes of the night before came rushing back, of sloppy passionate kisses and tangled sheets.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

Inuyasha studied the array of emotions that flickered across her face while he slowly chewed his bite of bagel and then swallowed. "Kagome, how much do you remember of last night?"

She bit her lip, shameful eyes lifting to his. "Um, well…" Her gaze fell to her person, realizing she was no longer wearing the sequined black dress she had gone out in. All the evidence pointed to a girl she wanted no relation to, making decisions that were very, very regrettable.

"We didn't sleep together."

Kagome's eyes flew to Inuyasha's, his deep voice quelling her fears. "We-We didn't?"

Amber eyes watched her carefully before turning back to his bagel. "No, we didn't. I'm not the kinda guy who beds a girl when she's drunk. Not my style."

A breath Kagome didn't know she had been holding escaped her lips. She had never been the type of girl to have one-night-stands. Her friends always teased her about it, but it was something she prided herself in. Having sex with someone wasn't something she did on a whim. She wanted to know she meant more to someone than an easy lay.

Her brows furrowed as she sipped on her coffee. "If we didn't sleep together, then why are you here?" she questioned. It would've been one thing if she had woken up with a naked man in her bed and kicked him out because of sheer embarrassment. It was another thing entirely that a man she didn't sleep with would bring her breakfast in the morning.

Inuyasha shrugged. "I was too tired to get another ride home last night, so I slept on your couch."

Kagome glanced over the breakfast bar to see a blanket and pillow on her couch as evidence that it had been occupied the night before.

"You know, you probably shouldn't drink so much."

She threw him a glare. "Did I ask for your judgement?"

He shrugged. "I'm just sayin'. Letting a stranger take you home because you're too drunk isn't exactly attractive."

Kagome scoffed. "Oh, thanks for the help," she snipped sarcastically. "What would I've done without you?"

Inuyasha grinned. "Probably throw a party to celebrate my absence."

"Probably, yeah," she hotly agreed. "I would've been just fine on my own."

"Maybe."

She frowned, flashes of last night starting to come back. They had been two heartbroken strangers in a bar who found comfort in their shared misery. Under the neon flashing lights and upbeat techno music, they gravitated toward one another like moths to a flame. But by morning they had transformed; she no longer represented the alluring woman who bewitched him, and he no longer appeared as the mysterious man who captivated her.

Now, she was simply Kagome Higurashi - a woman who was dumped by her fiance and had a mile-long to-do list regarding cleaning up their frayed relationship. And he was simply Inuyasha.

Kagome inwardly cringed. She didn't even know his last name. Or what he did for work. Or anything about him really.

Just fucking great.

"Look, Inuyasha," she began, setting down her coffee. "I appreciate everything you, er, did for me, but-"

"When we're done here, we should go on a real date."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Why not?"

"You have got to be joking," Kagome said while shaking her head. "One-night stands are literally just for one night, and we definitely would not work out."

He grinned. "Damn. That's a quick deduction there."

Kagome blushed. "I just mean that, last night… it was great and all, but…"

"It's daytime and the whole world's changed?" Inuyasha finished for her.

She sighed and looked away. He was right. Things were different. Last night didn't happen often for her, and bringing home a guy to her apartment never happened. If it were up to her, she'd stuff last night in a box as a precious memory and then forget it ever happened.

"I'm not saying I'm over Kikyou."

Kagome met his gaze. His eyes locked onto her, and held not an ounce of mirth. He was serious about this. He wanted to see if this could become something.

"And I doubt you're over your ex-fiance," he continued. "But, last night was fun. You're different and piss me off to no end-"

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

He sighed and after a moment finally stood up. "Look. You seem like a great girl. But I'm not one to beg. Thanks for the couch." Slipping his phone into his back pocket, he turned to leave.

"Inuyasha, wait!" Kagome called as she chased after him.

Dammit. This guy was so infuriating! He insulted her, and called her names, and angered her enough to make her slap him upside the head. But he also made her laugh, and feel alive, and made her want to kiss him again and again.

She couldn't deny that she wanted to see him again.

Grabbing his elbow, she made him stop in his tracks and look over his shoulder at her. "What?"

"This…" she started, fumbling for the right words. "This is never going to work. You and I."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'll pick you up at six."

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Within a moment of him leaving, Kagome realized something: Meeting Inuyasha was either going to be the best luck she ever had, or the very worst. At least, on the bright side, he had already witnessed her at her lowest.

How bad could it be?

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 1

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter one / AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

(a FULL rewrite of "the stuff that dreams are made of" completed as part of the 2020 Captain Swan Big Bang Rewrite-a-Thon)

--

with awe and infinite thanks to @captainswanbigbang and the team of mods there ( @optomisticgirl,  @phiralovesloki, @spartanguard, @shippingtheswann)   for running an insanely first-class event.  thanks also to the crew in the discord, who helped me plug MANY a plot hole, and especially to @shireness-says who kept me accountable on so many nights when i was floundering.  

i lost track of how many times i begged @thisonesatellite, @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub to read or re-read sections of this; especially to @thisonesatellite who’s been working with me on this story since before the event was official and dedicated many countless hours to suggesting--gently--that i stop banging my head against the wall.  @profdanglaisstuff came through and saved this story AT LEAST three times.  (that is probably a lowball estimate TBH)

--

CW:  canonical character death (minor character) rating:  T/M (mild implied violence, language) AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective.

She had long, blonde hair that curled just so at the edges of a face with skin as fair as snow, save for the hint of a blush across the apples of her cheeks.  Her eyes glinted green, like emeralds in the sunlight, and the fall of her lashes was thick and dark.  Emma Swan looked like nothing so much as a fairy-tale princess, but if Emma Swan knew one thing about her life it was this: nothing about it was a fairy tale.

Her hair, for starters, was the product of nearly an hour’s work in front of a mirror most days, curling it and drying it and styling it just so. Twenty minutes perfecting the “no makeup” aesthetic with no less than three base layers before the foundation swept across her cheeks; the thickest mascara wand she could find and the darkest shade of black available completed the look unless she was feeling particularly ambitious and added lash primer.  Contact lenses instead of glasses, though her eyes were naturally green which meant that at least one of her parents probably had green eyes, too, not that Emma knew for sure either way.  But she was beautiful, which was a thing she did know for sure, capping it all off with a carefully curated collection of leather jackets and knee-high boots, black trousers and jeans and pencil skirts, for a look that said very clearly do not fuck with me.

Emma was her actual given name, or at least it was according to the one tangible thing--besides her eyes--that she knew she had gotten from her parents. The letters had been lovingly stitched into the hand-knitted blanket in which she had been found near a diner by the side of the road in Bumblefuck, Maine sometime in the first few hours after she had been born.  Her last name, Swan, had been attached by the one family who had considered adopting her, and had stuck on every piece of official paperwork that followed her from foster home to foster home after they had traded her in to have their own kid.  Sometime around her fourteenth or fifteenth birthday, soon after the first time she had run away, Emma had decided she might as well keep it as not.  Something about believing in herself and saying ‘fuck you’ to fate because no one else was going to do it for her.

No fairy godmothers in this world.

Emma Swan also had a talent:  She was good at finding people, and she proclaimed this fact on her office door.  “Swan and Humbert,” it said.  “Private Investigations.  Missing Persons.  Bail Bonds.”

So, Emma Swan was twenty-eight, as of today; beautiful, but prickly, which was the nice way that people said it.  “Unfeeling bitch” was what Graham Humbert called her, and most days, he meant it as a compliment. 

Last night he had meant it to wound her.  “Heartless bastard” was what she had called him in return after he’d crossed a line she had never intended them to cross.  As Emma pushed the office door open, she was wondering if she should change it to “Emma Swan:  Loner, Loser, Complicated Wreck” before deciding that would probably scare potential clients away.

And for now, at least, she still had a partner.  If she hadn’t scared him away, too.  Emma was furious just thinking about it--their partnership was supposed to be easy and constant, one of the few reliable things she’d found in this life she’d scraped together for herself.

“He’s not here, is he?” Emma asked, sighing, as she walked into the outer office.

“Mmmm?” Ruby murmured, not looking up from her makeup mirror as she fluffed her waist-length, red-streaked black curls until she was satisfied with their volume. “Graham just phoned, actually, said he was gonna be late.”  She pouted into the mirror, testing the longevity of her red lipstick, and finally looked up.  “Whoa, Em,” she said, gesturing at the cropped red leather jacket Emma had selected for the day’s ensemble.  “What’s with the battle armor?  You can’t be like this today, you have a client waiting.”  Ruby snapped the mirror shut and nodded at the inner office door with her chin.

“Like what?” Emma challenged.

“Nope,” Ruby said.  “Not going there.”

Emma glared, just for a second, and cracked a small smile.  “Sleazy divorce case?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“Ah.”  Ruby nodded, like that explained something. “You’re in that mood.  Explains the outfit.  So we’re not solving the mystery of True Love today, then?”

“No mystery,” Emma said.  “Sooner or later, the people you love let you down.  Life lesson from me to you, Ruby.  At least then, they end up here--and we need the eighty bucks an hour.”

“You make it sound so tawdry,” Ruby complained.

“These are our people, Red.”

Ruby paused, eyeing Emma up and down one more time, lingering on the red leather.  “What did he do?” she asked, lowering her voice.  “Do I need to, like, rip out his throat or something?”

And--it wasn’t like Emma hadn’t felt a flash of something when he’d kissed her in the office late the night before, it’s just that it was easier to feel nothing when what you were feeling, most of the time, just plain sucked.

Emma didn’t answer and the silence stretched out until Ruby expelled a breath.  “Okay,” Ruby said, not sounding happy about it.  “Whatever. But--trust me, Emma.  We need this client.”

“He just needs me?”  Emma asked.  “Or, I guess, just one of us?”

“Actually,” Ruby said.  “He said he wants you. He was specific,” Ruby said.  

Emma had a good reputation for someone her age and especially for someone whose resume most closely resembled one of the people she was trying to track down.  But the truth was that clients who came in with a specific personnel request generally went straight for Graham.  

“Right,” Emma said.

“But lower your shields a bit and, you know, smile--but not the kind where you show your teeth because you don’t want to scare them off.”

Emma pushed the corners or her mouth upward with her middle fingers and made sure to bare as many teeth as she possibly could.  “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

Ruby gave her a wink and an air kiss.  “Any time, babe, you know that.”

Emma laughed, breaking into a real smile.  “I’ll leave that to Victor, I think.”

“It’s cute,” Ruby said, “that you think he’d care, except to come and watch--or maybe help,” and smacked her lips again when Emma rolled her eyes and turned toward the door marked ‘Private.’  She ran a hand over her hair to smooth it, squared her shoulders, and straightened her jacket.

“Shoulders back, chin up, tits out, Em,” Ruby muttered.  “It’s worth way more than a sleazy divorce case, I can smell it.”

Emma braced herself, opening the door and shutting it behind her.

Her visitor stood in the center of the room, facing the window and leaning on an ornate walking stick.  He turned around at the sound of the doorknob and smiled, a sickly, fake thing that flashed just a hint of a gold tooth.  “Ah,” he said. “Miss Swan.  It’s nice to see you again. I’m Mr. Gold--”

“I remember,” Emma said, “sir.” Sir because if what her landlord charged for this place was any indication, to say nothing of what his made-to-measure three-piece suit must have cost, Ruby was right:  they needed this case.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Swan,” he said.  “I need your help.”

--

Emma sank slowly into her swivel chair, turning to face her visitor and smiling politely--the tight, thin kind that showed no teeth.  She took him in:  his charcoal grey suit with a hint of a sheen on the fabric, the blood red dress shirt underneath, the black tie streaked with gold and just a hint of purple with a matching pocket square at his breast.  

“It would appear,” he said with no preamble, his voice low and soft, “that I’ve been robbed.”  He spoke with a smoothed-over accent; Scottish, perhaps, but every few words there was a syllable with a cadence so foreign Emma couldn’t even begin to place it.

“You seem unsurprised,” Emma remarked cautiously.

“Other attempts have been made in the past,” he said, tapping his cane lightly against the heel of one of his polished leather shoes.  The walking stick, it turned out, was quite genuine, as the man had hobbled slightly when crossing the room toward the visitor’s chair at Emma’s desk.  “I am a man of means with collections representing many varied interests and there are always those who come to me for--” he paused, and Emma sensed the deliberation with which he chose his words, “--help.  Sometimes I am able to oblige them; other times, I leave them to their own devices.”

“You’re saying that you’re a target,” Emma said, “and that something has been taken from one of your collections?”  He nodded, and his hair nearly brushed the tips of his shoulders.  It was long for a man of his apparent dignity, with strands hanging around his face and nearly in his eyes.

“What can I say, Miss Swan?” he asked rhetorically.  “I’m a difficult man to love.”

His eyes had clearly been following hers as she made her mental evaluation of him, and the effect he gave was almost that of a reptile.

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Gold,” Emma said, keeping the smile intact and speaking softly.  “A missing object, stolen from your shop--it sounds like the kind of job the police should handle.  Though I understand why a man in your position might choose discretion above all else, I also know that a man of your means would typically have no cause to approach someone like me directly--which tells me that whatever has gone missing is something of such value that you can’t even take the chance that anyone knows it’s missing.”

His gold tooth glinted again as he parted his lips and nodded his head, almost as if in appreciation.  Emma took it as a confirmation--not that she needed it. Her life had taught her many things, and her skill at reading people had gotten to the point where if she was concentrated and detached, she could tell a lie better than a polygraph.

“What’s been taken from me, Miss Swan,” he said, “has been in my possession for longer than you’ve been alive.”

Emma nodded.  What he said was not a lie.

“Okay,” she said, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her desk.  “So tell me what I’m looking for.”

“You misunderstand me, Miss Swan,” he said, tilting his head at an angle as he, too, shifted his weight forward.  “I have no need for you to retrieve my stolen property.  I merely require your assistance in apprehending the man who had the audacity to violate me in such a brazen manner.”

Emma gave Gold a long, hard look.  “Robbery is a public menace.  You’re asking me to aid in what could be construed as obstruction of justice.  And you won’t even tell me what--?”

“Let’s just say,” he said, “that it’s a precious object and leave it at that.  Further, I will give you my assurances that it poses no danger to anyone as long as I get it back as quickly and quietly as possible and that it remains my secret.  But it is imperative that I find this person sooner rather than later.  I am, you might say, on something of a schedule.”

“You have a funny definition of justice, Mr. Gold,” she said.  

“My dear Miss Swan,” he said, the tooth glinting, “who said anything about justice?”

“What did they really do?”

“They stole,” he said, and nothing else.

Emma sat back and crossed her arms.

“I would hate to think that I’ve made a mistake in coming to you, Miss Swan,” Gold said, his voice still low, the words turning silky. ”It was my understanding that you are quite...dedicated in your chosen profession and have, for the most part, a record of success in finding those whom you seek.”

Emma managed not to flinch.  He couldn’t know that much about her from the cursory background an internet search would reveal; couldn’t know that she never had found her parents, because the kind of assholes who hand-knitted their kid a blanket and then left said kid on the side of the road were also the kind of assholes who had left absolutely no trace of their identity in any system Emma had access to.   

Had they ever even held her?

She’d never let herself hold her son, because Emma knew exactly what kind of asshole sent their kid out into the world on their own:  the kind that couldn’t be a parent.  The kind that needed to give that kid their best chance.

If she’d held him--if she’d given herself at least that--maybe it would have been easier.

Hell, it certainly couldn’t have been any harder.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma drew in a deep breath and set her shoulders.  “And you have a history with this person, I take it?”

“Miss Swan,” he said, and the laugh that accompanied it was a distinctly unpleasant one, “you will find that there are very few people in our little corner of the world with whom I do not have history.  And this man, I am sorry to say, has an unfortunate history of taking what is mine.”

Emma nodded, slowly.  “Okay,” she said, with some reluctance.  “I’ll check him out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Gold said smoothly. “In return for this service, you will of course expect payment.”

“Our hourly rate is--”

Gold was uninterested.  “Of no importance,” he said dismissively.  “You may invoice me, assuming I don’t find him first.  If I do...let’s just say that bad things happen to bad people.”

“Is that a threat?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“More of an observation, or perhaps an incentive,” he said, and the sickly smile was back.  “Do we have an understanding?”

She nodded again. “Deal,” she said.

“Grand,” Gold said, licking his lips.

“What’s going on in here?” said a voice from the doorway, lilting and accented and familiar.

“Graham,” Emma said, “Mr. Gold would like us to take a case on his behalf.  Mr. Gold,” Emma turned her attention back to their new client, swallowing her reservations because she was good at her job.  She needed that comfort--that belief--because her job was all she had, no matter what Graham thought he wanted.  “This is my partner, Graham Humbert.”

As Graham stepped forward and offered a hand, there was a look on his face that Emma had never seen before.  His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept properly--or at all--and his gaze focused on Gold as if he was the only thing in the room.

Something flickered across Gold’s face before he offered Graham his hand to shake.   “Indeed,” he said. “Miss Swan and I have just struck a bargain.”

Emma was sure she imagined the flash of fear that briefly overtook Graham’s features.

--

There were flowers on the table when Emma got home--she grabbed them and dumped them straight into the trash.

“Oh!”  Her roommate, Mary Margaret, walked in.

It all came down to the number seven, which was the number of addresses she’d had in the past ten years, assuming that eleven months in the Arizona Correctional Facility for Women counted as an address.  Graham had hired her, and she’d stayed, in spite of the lack of dental or any other benefits.  Mary Margaret Blanchard had not been looking for a roommate, but they’d met each other and there was the offer of the spare room that wasn’t even properly a room, more like a lofted open space just big enough for a double bed and a small wardrobe, before either of them was quite sure what had happened.  Something had clicked, and Emma had unpacked the three cardboard boxes that contained all of her possessions and tucked the one small cigar box that held her life, such as it was, away in a corner of the office.  

She had a roommate and a job and friends and she hated Graham for putting all of that at risk for something that would never work.  Because if Emma were the type who allowed herself to believe in such things, she’d have said that finding Mary Magaret--and Ruby, and Graham and her job and her life here--had been like coming home; as if she had always been meant to be there.

“Can you believe this shit?”  Emma gestured at the flowers.  “Graham think this is gonna work on me?”

“Yeah, no, those are mine,” Mary Margaret said, then corrected herself:  “Were mine.”

“From the married guy?  Seriously?”

“I know,” Mary Margaret said, then:  “Wait.  How did you know?”

“You’re an elementary school teacher,” Emma said flatly.  “I’m a private investigator.”

Mary Margaret sighed.  “It’s a disaster,” she said.

“It can’t be that bad if there are flowers,” Emma said, eyebrows raised.

“No, that was--no,” Mary Margaret said.  “I just can’t seem to--I feel like a different person when I’m around him.  It’s like I can’t help myself, like I have this need to be with him.”

“Trust me,” Emma said.  “Married guys are never worth it, no matter how good the ‘flowers’ are.” Emma made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers.  “If you need an itch scratched, stick to one-nighters with no attachments, like I do.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re--”

“Because I’m what?” Emma’s eyes flashed green in challenge.  Unfeeling bitch, he’d called her, then walked in on her meeting looking like shit, but otherwise as if nothing had happened between them.  

That fit with what she knew of him; Graham was a kind, good-natured guy, and most days Emma felt lucky to have him in her life.  It’s easy, between them.

“Never mind,” Mary Margaret said.

“No,” Emma said.  “Tell me.  What do I do?”

“You’re just,” Mary Margaret said, gesturing expansively, “protecting yourself.  With that wall you put up.”

“Just because I don’t get emotional over men--”

“You don’t?”  Mary Margaret was not the type of person who snorted derisively, which Emma was grateful for more at that moment than she might ever have been; especially since Mary Margaret had no real notion of exactly how much Emma was, in fact, protecting herself from.

Because she did not get emotional over men.

“All I’m saying,” Mary Margaret said, “is that the floral abuse tells a different story.”

“Come on,” Emma said.

“I mean it, Emma,” Mary Margaret said.  “That wall of yours might keep out pain, but it will also keep out love.”  Mary Margaret was all about “mawwaige” and “Twoo Wuv” and refused to give up hope that Emma would find both of those things. 

God, was there something in the water today?  This felt like the second time, at least, she’d been forced to endure some version of this conversation.  One more minute and she was likely to start screaming about patriarchy and freedom and submitting herself to an institution that fails as often as it succeeds, and for what?  A bullshit ideal of fairy tales and happy endings?

Certainly Mary Margaret’s sordid affair was a horrible ‘Exhibit A’ in the case for True Love.  

“He kissed me,” Emma confessed, watching the progression of emotions cross her friend’s face:  happiness, confusion, disappointment, resignation.

“And?”

“It wasn’t a bad kiss,” Emma admitted, watching Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shoot up. “It was nice, I guess.  Easy.”

“And?” Mary Margaret said again.

“And,” Emma emphasized it, “I’m neither of those things?” She threw her hands in the air.  “It’s not what I want, Mary Margaret.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a knock at the door before she could respond, and Emma went to answer it.  Sheriff Nolan’s hand was poised to knock again as she opened the door, and Emma spared a glance at her roommate, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the married guy her friend had been not-so-secretly seeing.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Emma said knowingly, and was surprised at David’s hand on her shoulder.

“I’m here for you, actually,” he said.

--

Heartless bastard.

Emma would have laughed, except she was crying and trying not to throw up at the same time.

--

@kmomof4 @stahlop @katie-dub @imlaxdris71 @snowbellewells @mariakov81 @shardminds​ @carpedzem​ @anne-and-gilbert​ @teamhook @winterbaby89​

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ ​​​ || Day Twenty-Eight: Being Bold ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Orochimaru ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ] [ This piece is a sequel to days Eleven and Twenty-Seven ]

Pulling up to the proper curb, Hinata pauses and takes a breath, hands still on her steering wheel. She really has no idea why she feels so nervous about this. During her career so far, she’s interviewed hundreds of people. From the mayor of the city to small business owners. So why does the prospect of talking to this guy seem so...daunting?

Sure, his little shop is...odd. And so is he, come to think of it. There’s just something so...mysterious about both. Like he’s hiding something, but...what could he be hiding? It’s just a little antique shop, right?

Though he mentioned something about some kind of specialty goods, and...a back room, with customers by appointment. Does he...dabble in collector items that are more valuable than random knick knacks? Or maybe something more...shady. But he acts like he doesn’t have anything to hide when it comes to his business, so what has her so convinced he’s keeping something to himself?

...either way, she doubts he’ll admit to it, or slip up just because she’s interviewing him. While Hinata is good at what she does, she’s not that kind of good. Not very skilled with “gotcha” kinds of questions and lead-ups. So while she’s unendingly curious about this man and his goings-on, she has a feeling she won’t wriggle much out of him that he doesn’t have intentions to admit.

But...sitting in her car isn’t going to get this done. Hopefully no one else has gotten here ahead of her - she’d prefer to do this without an audience. Hers is the only car along the curb, but foot traffic is indeed a thing. So, she gathers up her supplies (which amounts to her phone to record the audio of the interview, and a pen and pad of paper for notes) before slipping out of her car and locking it behind her.

Stepping up to the entrance, Hinata can’t help a small pause. Something feels...off. Like she walked through a cold spot, but she didn’t notice a change in temperature. But she’s come this far, there’s no going back now. A hand takes the handle, and twists it to open the door.

At a glance, the shop seems empty, and she can’t help a small sigh of relief. But that same glance also shows no Sasuke. Maybe he’s in the -?

WHUMP.

Colliding back against the door in shock at the sound, Hinata’s eyes go round and her heart nearly leaps through her chest. What the hell was that?! A rapid turn of her head shows no one in the same room as her, but...it sounded like it came from the wall behind the counter?

...the back room…?

More sounds reach her ears, muffled compared to the impact. Like things clattering to the floor. Is he being robbed?! For a moment she considers withdrawing her phone and calling the police.

But something stops her. Instead, she hurries across the room and pulls open the door in a sudden bid of boldness.

Normally she’d never dream of stepping into what is clearly a private space. But something is nagging at her, like a pull at an invisible collar around her neck, urging her forward. So as she sees into the rear room, it seems to threaten to choke her.

...it’s...on fire?

Staring in shock, Hinata flinches as something crashes against the wall just beside her, erupting into so many pieces she has no idea what it was. Then she catches sight of two figures. One, clearly Sasuke, is...is...throwing fire from his hands at the other. Long dark hair and a pale face give Hinata a creeping feeling along her spine, as though she shouldn’t be looking at them. They seem to twist and curl around Sasuke’s efforts like a ribbon in the wind.

...she should be in shock. This...this isn’t something normal. And yet Hinata simply realizes that Sasuke is in trouble. Sasuke might die. And while she can’t really call them friends, he did help her the other night. And now she has a chance to help him in return.

And with that realization, something in her seems to break, like a dam unable to hold back water any longer. She gasps, a feeling flooding her insides and washing over her like she’s been thrown into a bottomless lake. Flowing, tugging, drowning unless she retakes control.

So she reaches. Feels something she’s never felt before. And she pulls with every ounce of her strength until her head comes up above metaphorical water.

And with it, she finds what she grabbed hold of.

From an urn not far off, a torrent of water erupts like a geyser at her command, seemingly without end. It sprays and arcs like waves against a cliffside, putting out the fires threatening to consume the shop.

It draws the gazes of the other two occupants of the room - one in shock, the other in fury. Like a specter, the pale figure makes to strike, slinking forward like a bolt of lightning.

But like her hands are puppeteered by another, Hinata lifts them of their own accord. The torrent follows her guidance, beginning to wrap her foe in a twisting, ebbing sphere of liquid: the current battering them and rendering them unable to control their movement.

Sooner or later, they’ll drown.

Glowering at her with puffed cheeks of air, they then lift a hand, a dark hole opening at their command and letting them slip through, like some kind of...portal.

With the threat gone, Hinata’s grip releases...and the water drops to coat the floor before draining into a grate nearby.

...silence, save for the heaving of breath from the pair that remain.

Soaked, Sasuke stares at her in utter disbelief. No longer is she a rounded-eared el’tahl. Instead, they’re long and pointed like his own, glamour lost with his concentration elsewhere. And where her eyes had been a pale lavender before, they’re now a more blue shade, seeming to glow and dim as she lets her energy fade.

...is she…?

Turning to him, she seems to sway slightly, as though suddenly lost and simply watching as he approaches.

“...well...I guess that answers my question, at least in part,” Sasuke offers, mopping water from his face. “...I had a feeling there was el’ven buried in you somewhere, but...I haven’t seen someone like you in a long, long time.”

“...I…?”

“That was ven you just used. Magic, as people call it nowadays. Gives you control over an element. Yours seems to be water. Like mine is fire. Somewhere in your bloodline is a source for it. Seems you’ve woken it up.”

She just...stares. “...who...who was that?”

“An old enemy, here to steal from me,” Sasuke mutters. From the front of his garment he draws a kind of chainmail shirt. “I was repairing this for someone else when they heard I had it. Still not sure how. But...with your help, they were forced to retreat.”

“...s-sorry about the...the mess…”

“This place has seen worse, believe me,” he replies dryly. “Water isn’t about to hurt anything in here.” He lets his eyes flicker over her face, which are now an open and unhidden red. “...are you all right? I’d think you’d be pretty shook up.”

“...I’m...confused. But…?”

He sighs. “...maybe we best sit and have some tea. Then...I suppose I have a lot to tell you. Though, as I’m sure you can guess...it won’t be anything you can print.”

At his flat joke, she manages a wispy laugh. “...no. No, I...I guess not.”

     So I know I promised to do two drabbles today BUT it ended up being FAR busier than I planned :’D So tomorrow SHOULD be my last day: I actually have days 30 and 31 done, but I need to write 29, of course. So that’ll be that!      This is another followup piece, and sadly I’ll be leaving this one here. Getting a bit too far into lore-type stuffs. And I’m out of days xD Basically, Hinata has magic water powers, woo! Which is what Sasuke was sensing, and what was making Hinata “sensitive” to Sasuke as a fellow magicky person, lol      Anywho, I best be off for the night. I might, might do 29 tonight but I honestly doubt it, I’m sleepy =w= So I’ll see you guys tomorrow for what SHOULD be the last day. Apologies again for being so far behind, but Life just be like that sometimes, ahaha~ Thanks for reading!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #282

“daddy’s flown across the ocean / leaving just a memory / a snapshot in the family album / daddy, what’d you leave behind for me?”

What is your favorite type of dance? I like modern dances, especially those unusual or creepy with unique music. They’re the dances I look forward to watching in dance competitions. Do you find making scenes in public fun? Oh fuck no. Lemonade or pink lemonade? Pink is Supreme in so many ways. Where do you feel safest? At home, especially if Mom is here. Have you ever been to a gay pride parade? No, but I’d love to. Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? No. I don’t want to move to Africa. What do you like to do when you're home alone? HAHA okay so I almost exclusively watch Unus Annus when Mom isn’t home because I will almost without a doubt cackle at least once, and… explaining why I’d be laughing would be WILD. UA is a fucking gift & I’mma miss it when it’s gone. What kind of music calms you down? My best bet is nostalgic music that I hold very close, like Ozzy. The soundtracks to SotC and SH2 are also magical when it comes to soothing me. Who did you last go to a park with? Uhhhh… probably not since I took family pictures for someone. Got some nice ones. Have you ever been robbed? Thankfully, no. Are you working, a student, both, or neither? Neither, and at nearly 25, it’s fucking humiliating. I’m thinking of appealing my disability case (you very rarely get it the first time), but of course self-doubt and anxiety just slaps me across the face again and again by asking, “Do you really need it?” That shit is agonizing. Very highly regarded people in my life agree that it’s realistic for me, at least at this moment, while I sort out my mental health. I don’t plan on being on it forever, fuck no. But right now I am, no matter what anyone says, a leech in my home. What's your favorite holiday? Christmas. I prefer Halloween’s “vibe,” of course, but I am much more excited and just thankful at Christmastime, especially now as an aunt with children who *understand* the holiday. Their joy and excitement is enough of a gift to me. It’s always really hard on Mom because she’s convinced she doesn’t do enough (she cries at least once like… every year), but my sisters and I always reassure her. It’s also a nice opportunity to see Dad and my stepmom, also with my sister’s family, and once again we get to see the kids so happy. But enough about them; what I love most about Christmas is I generally am able to put my troubles into perspective and take the time to remember I am, in the big picture, lucky to have what and who I do. And SNOW!!!!! If you can’t tell I’m stoked for Christmas. Do you prefer male or female friends? Both are great, but I’m more relaxed with female friends because of the whole ��scared of men” ordeal. What's your favorite dessert? Biiiiihhhhh lemme get my hands on ice cream. Do you ever go on chatroulette or omegle? Noooo, I never did. That shit creeps me out. Besides, I’m shy. What kind of tea do you drink? None. Do you know anyone in a gang? Not to my knowledge… What color is your fridge? White. We decided to use the fridge already in this house versus our old one. Is your phone mostly on vibrate, silent, or ringtone? It’s just about always on vibrate. Do you own black sunglasses? I don’t own any sunglasses. Are you currently looking for a job? Fuck if I know. Not actively, but if something suitable magically popped up, I’d definitely pursue it. Do you watch MTV? No. Do you like to tell people who you like? Historically, I tend to keep my mouth shut about it to people who know that love interest unless explicitly asked, and even then, it depends on if I think they’ll keep their mouth shut. How often do you braid your hair? It’s too short to be braided. I very rarely had it braided beforehand. What color is your microwave? Black. Do you wash your face in the morning when you wake up? If I remember, especially if I’m groggy. Are you interested in the ocean? No more or no less than the average person. What's a big turn on for you? Keeping physical stuff outta this, I’m just such a fuckin sucker for being authentically romantic lmao. Have you ever thought about being a teacher? Heeeeeelllllll no. What's the first thing you do when you turn your computer on? Close out of the stuff that automatically pops up after it starts. Do you drink Gatorade? Ugh, ew, no. Do you hate when people replace 0's with O's? EX: 9:OO AM. Lol no, it’s honestly aesthetically pleasing in some formats. Did you hate riding the bus? Some of my best school memories are the long bus rides home w/ Jason so uh- Do you ever use XOXO in texts, letters etc..? Nah. Has anyone ever told you they liked you to your face? Yeah. Have you ever touched an elephant? No. Reading or writing? Writing. Do you have a childhood nickname? Mom called (and sometimes still does lakjdf;alkwe) me “Twinkie.” She gave sweets-oriented nicknames to all her kids. Have you ever had a Moon Pie? UGH they’re gross. I have this faint memory as a kid of a sweetheart babysitter my sisters and I had always offering us banana moon pies as a snack or dessert, idr. I’ve always hated anything banana-flavored. Has your car ever had troubles? N/A What's your birthstone? Amethyst. Would you join the navy? I want nothing to do with anything remotely related to war. What's your favorite board game? Battleship. Do you like chess? I’ve never played it nor even know the rules. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for first trying it? I was absolutely parched after a long, sweaty walk and was offered it to “try” by my mom without me knowing it was alcohol… the “WAIT NO STOP” from everyone was so quick lmao. It was just hard lemonade, so nothing super serious. Do you think you could ever have an abortion if you unexpectantly turned up pregnant right this second? I probably would. There is no fucking way I can emotionally handle carrying a baby right now. But I’d feel like absolute shit, even though I’m pro-choice. I just don’t want to picture myself in that situation. Is there a situation where you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? Probably. Although generally, I’m very resilient to peer pressure when it comes to something I really don’t want to do. What is your favorite video game console? Why? PS2, of course. I think the best games came from that era, many ahead of their time. Example, the original Shadow of the Colossus graphics massively pressured the limits of the software, and it still to this day blows me away. Sure, you have some lag in return, but the end result was just magnificent. I seriously, seriously, seriously hope I’m able to play the remake one day. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? I was. As of this minute, what is going through your mind? How I need a change and purpose in life so motherfucking badly. Where’s the last place you went? I was riding around with Mom, doing some errands. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. When was the last time you went apple picking? Never. Do you have a good relationship with your cousins? We don’t really… have a relationship. We don’t talk, we just kinda “exist” knowing we’re related. What was the last kids movie you saw? I watched some of Hotel Transylvania 3 with my niece and nephew. Do you know anyone who was born in Africa? When I was still in college, there was at least one guy in my class who was. Tutored me in math. Patience of a saint, haha. Have you ever been to an internet cafe? I actually have zero clue what that is. Has the year gone quickly for you so far? I’ve barely discerned 2018-2020, if I’m being honest with you. It’s just a lump of time where I’ve done jack-all. I mean yeah, school fits in there somewhere, but mentally I wasn’t in a wonderful place and haven’t been “happy” for a long time. My mental state has been the same for a few years. How many siblings does your significant other have? N/A Are you one of those people who can drink vodka straight? Oh, I hiiiighly doubt it. I loathe the taste of alcohol. Do you share a middle name with any of your friends? I legitimately have one of the most basic white bitch middle names in America, I know tons. How many pairs of jeans do you own? None. Do you know the name of the pharmacist at your local drug store? One, yes, considering Mom worked there before the cancer and is still in touch with this pharmacist. What flavor is your toothpaste? Mint. Are you sleepy right now? I think I’m permanently sleepy. Do you like crime films and tv shows? Not especially. Are you bitter about anything? Many things. What was the first online account you remember having? Neopets. My older sister helped me set it up when I was somewhere around eight. Do you use emojis? More than I used to. I’m gradually converting from emoticons to emojis, oof. What was the last type of soda you drank? Mountain Dew. Do you remember much from high school? I probably remember too much from high school, if I’m being honest. I remember far too much in far too much detail during the almost four years I dated Jason. Where would you go for the ultimate honeymoon? Probably the Bahamas, mostly for the pink beaches, aha. It would also be an incredible photography opportunity. Do you know anyone who has a strong accent that is hard to understand? My former best friend’s dad was so southern that yes, I could barely understand him whatsoever. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you get? If you mean a fresh, new one and not a glow-up on the Mark tribute tat I’ve mentioned five thousand times, a tribute to Teddy featuring his portrait, pawprint, and the Powerwolf lyrics “and we’ll meet where the wild wolves have gone.” I’m going to be picky as a motherfucker about the design itself, though, so realistically it probably wouldn’t be tomorrow since I’d probably commission people to draw in varying styles. Ugh, I need that tattoo gun, my man. What was the last podcast you listened to? Do you listen to it regularly? That would be 4 Peens in a Pod (it’s… not a porn I swear, it’s Fischfuck and the boys lmao). I’m waaaaaaaaaaay behind on it, though. I watch so many different things now that I’m behind on like… everything I watch/listen to. Are you on a first-name basis with your boss? (or last boss if unemployed) I think I was with all of them? What was the last thing you wrote in a Word document? This survey. Because I combine short ones into Big Boys that I usually don’t finish in one go, I save my progress on it. Who do you miss and what do you miss about them? I miss a number of people and would rather not retrospect on them. What were the best and worst costumes you’ve ever worn? *shrug* Do you know anybody who is gay and married? I think so. What did you last take painkillers for? A headache. Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Ugh. A whole fucking lot. I’ve thought quite a bit recently on how I miss video editing, but I just don’t have the motivation and dedication for that anymore. Have you ever shared a home with a friend? Yes. What’s the craziest or weirdest place you’ve ever slept? Nowhere that strange at all… Probably just like, the floor, but even then with blankets and stuff. What did you have for lunch today and who made it? I haven't had lunch yet. Are you allergic to anything? How did you find out? Pollen is pretty obvious, while serious discoloring and itching let me know I was allergic to silver. Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yeah, I was visiting her for a couple weeks. It was nice. Who was the last very physically attractive person you saw? In ~real life~, probably some friend on Facebook. Do you know anyone who is deaf? We recently found out actually that my youngest niece is deaf in her left ear due to a massive buildup of fluid in it. I’m so ready to hear about her reaction to hearing normally once it’s taken care of. Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with? Probably at some point. “Ever” makes this question difficult. Do you think you have a good understanding on love? Yes. What do you think of your parent(s)? I love them both immensely while acknowledging their flaws. What celebrity do you think should of never become famous? I don’t care enough to think on this honestly haha. Did you ever get into the Twilight saga craze? What about the Harry Potter craze? Neither. What's your opinion about Katy Perry's song "I Kissed a Girl"? It was bold for its time, for sure. I’ve never minded it. Actually since coming out as bi I’ve known that this song has to be included in the recession dances of my wedding if my partner is female lmao. Do you believe in heaven? If so, what's it like? If not, why? I hope there’s some sort of total bliss after death if you’re deserving of such, but I don’t know. I definitely don’t know how I actually picture it. Even if there’s not, well, I’m assuming I just won’t exist anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to care anyway. Sometimes I hope that's the case. What email service do you use for your main (or only) email account? Hotmail. Did you ever believe in the Tooth Fairy? Yeah. I remember there was one time where “she” didn’t trade my tooth for munz and I was so mad lmao. Mom apparently forgot and slipped something under the pillow while I was getting ready for school. How I fell for it, who knows man, kids are wild. How do you feel about Taco Bell? I’m not a Mexican food fan, really, but I do love their cheese (with or without chicken) quite a bit. The cinnamon bite things are bomb as FUCK, too. I’m still mad tilted they took potato products off their menu tho because I used to destroy the fiesta potatoes. How often do you go on to YouTube? I’m like… always on it. Not focusing on it at all times, but something’s in the background. Back when Spongebob Squarepants was famous, were you interested in it? Well of course, man. What's your dream pet? Ugggghhhh a sunset morph ball python, probably. Buuut I’ve seen some over $2k with their rarity. More realistically, I really, really want a Brazilian Black tarantula. And an arctic morph hognose. I want a lot of pets. ;_; Who's been your favorite teacher growing up, and why? God, I have a lot, honestly. All things considered, the answer is probably Miss Tobey, who was my physical science teacher in high school. She’s an extremely close family friend now involved regularly in my family’s lives. She can be… difficult and says shit before thinking, but we love her nevertheless. What's your favorite fairy tale? Fuck outta here if you say Shrek isn’t one. Do you have a favorite pen? Uh, no… I barely ever use pens anyway. Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Yeah; it happens sometimes with my niece and nephew. Name five books you've read in the past year. I think I’ve read the first three Wings of Fire book within the same year, and I’m currently on the forth. Other than those, I started The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but only got through the prologue I think before my focus shifted onto WoF. I still plan on reading it at some point, though. ^Are any of those books your favorite? No. The prequel to The Testaments, The Handmaid’s Tale, is very high up there, though. Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? Not at all. Once I read it once, I’m done. There are VERY few books I’ve reread, and most of those were children’s books from when I was little. Do you have a favorite talk show host? Don’t watch any. Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I prefer hot showers unless I seeeeeriously need to cool down. Have you ever made your own soap? No. Can you sleep with socks on? UGH NO. When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? Ummm good question. I don’t know about *that* mad. Maybe when Ashley’s mother-in-law shared a massively homophobic article that condoned conversion therapy on Facebook that resulted in me removing her from my friends and RAGING to my mom about it. That was forever ago, though. Do you have a favorite candle brand? No. What is your opinion on taxidermy? I have… very mixed feelings. If the animal was hunted for sport, then it’s fuckin disgusting; you literally killed an animal with the intention to show off the fact you’re a goddamn murderer. On the other hand, taxidermy of naturally-deceased animals can be educational, and even… artistic sometimes? I don’t know. I can’t really pick one stance over the other. Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Actually, yes, particularly of fetal animals (that WERE NOT killed for the sake of displaying), but for the same reasons above, I’m not sure if I would *really* do it. They are incredibly interesting to me, more so than taxidermy probably, but yeah, I still question the morality of it. What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? I don’t think I’ve ever really done a “bad” thing to my hair. What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m very clingy and, in the beginning, very paranoid that you’re going to leave. Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? I had AWFUL separation anxiety from my mom for a very long time as a kid, and I guess that evolved into my extreme inability to handle loss well, maybe. I’d say they’re at least somewhat related. What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Cradle of Filth popped up first. As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse, arrogance, and distrust probably top the list. Be honest: do looks really matter to you? Nah. It’s nice to be physically attracted to my partner, but it’s not a must. Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? No. Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? I mean, what’s the situation? Are you hanging out, talking about relationships casually? I’d say it’s fine then if it’s relevant to the conversation. I don’t think it’s worth going out of your way to tell someone you liked them if you don’t anymore, though. Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Y’know that ride at fairs where you go up really high on a circular thing with other people and then drop abruptly? That. I screamed like a mf lmao. I had to put a lot of effort into not yelling “SHIIIIIIIIIIIT” lmao. What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? Stuff involving shrimp, ig. What's your favorite mythical being? Dragons! Have you ever felt a baby kick? I don’t think so, and I don’t want to, considering it’s fucking terrifying to me. I can’t even see a baby move without screaming and wanting to hurl. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Who the fuck knows… What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Said things I shouldn’t have. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? A lot. I can’t be bothered to go through all of them. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? I’m not sure. Do you feel that way around anyone now? I don’t think so. What is your main heritage? German or Irish, idr which is more prominent. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? “Bitches” by Hollywood Undead came to me first lmao. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? More than anything, watching inspirational YouTube videos. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? I suppose maybe my ears? I had tubes put in as a kid, I had an absolutely agonizing ear infection once, I had earwax adhered to my eardrum, and they've always been STUPID dry and flaky. Are you watching your weight? Like a hawk, but it doesn’t seem to matter anyway. :^) Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? Most of my closest friends I’ve met online. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? You’re asking the wroooong person, lol. I’ve just seen way too many… Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? Lots of things; drawings, some writing, photographs, video edits… What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? Just ketchup and mustard. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Sex. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? MEERKATS and MARK What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Tell me I’m weak. Or that my mental illnesses truly do make me unlovable. Just essentially do fucking not make me feel what Jason did. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Said some extremely mean and potentially scarring shit.

[zerolympiustrife]

ZOS’ short stories 40

Title: Battle of the Blondes: Jaunathon Arc vs Yang Xiao Long! (RWBY)

The grand sequel to my 20th short story! I’ve had so many plans to make a new SS involving more puns, but also add in some yo mama jokes and pick-up lines to mix it up! Here we go!

Note: Also, same as the 20th SS, this contains Dragonslayer (Jaune x Yang)

————————————————————

*In a large stadium, Teams RWB, PR, CFVY, SSSN, CRDL, Oscar, Winter, Penny, Neo (who’s disguised), Ozpin, Glynda, Port, Oobleck, Qrow, Taiyang, Jaune’s parents, and multiple other folks are sitting on the stands, then Nora suddenly appears from the ceiling, lands on the boxing ring-esque platform with a three-point landing, and grabs a microphone*

Nora (yelling): LADIES...AND GENTLEMEN!!! WELCOME...TO THE JOKE-OFF!!!

*The crowd cheers*

Nora (pointing to her left): IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN THIS CORNER...we’ve got a gorgeous, dorky boy hailing from who-knows-where! His papa’s “gun” fires more “shots” than a gatling gun and his mama’s loose on the “lips” but wide on the hips! Please welcome...

*The spotlight hits Jaune, who’s wearing a Luchador wrestler’s outfit that has fake bunny ears, fake bunny tail, and a circular symbol that has a jackhammer inside the symbol, but has bunny ears on top of said symbol, and it’s placed on the chest of his outfit*

Jaune (embarrassed): Oh...why did I agree wear this silly outfit again...?

Pyrrha (cheering): Go, Jaune! You’ve got this!

Nora (grinning): THE HUMAN JACKHAMME- I mean, JACKRABBIT!!!

*The entire audience cheers for Jaune, except for a certain team, who’s booing him*

Cardin: BOOOOOO!!! BO-

*Papa Arc, who’s sitting behind Cardin, places his fist over Cardin’s head, then pounds him into unconsciousness. Team RDL, who sees this, immediately runs like hell, leaving their unconscious leader behind*

Nora (pointing to her right): AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND IN THIS CORNER...we’ve got a spunky, fierce woman hailing from the island of Patch! Her papa’s had two wives in his life, and out popped two awesome children! Not much is known about his former significant others, but give it for...

*The spotlight hits Yang, who’s also wearing a Luchador wrestler’s outfit that has fake dragon horns, fake dragon wings, and a fake dragon tail, and the circular symbol she has on her chest is an hourglass, with golden horns, wings, and a tail around the symbol*

Yang (smirking): Heh. This’ll be fun.

Ruby (cheering): Go, Yang! *Whistles*

Nora (grinning): THE SUNNY LITTLE DRAGON!!!

*The entire audience cheers for Yang, although the roaring applause is louder this time*

Jaune (sighing): ...I can tell who’s the one the audience thinks is gonna lose. *Glaring at everyone* But I’ll be sure to prove ‘em wrong.

Nora (whispering to Jaune): Just so you know, I’ve got the upmost faith in you, fearless leader.

*Jaune smiles from hearing this, then stands up*

Tai (whispering to Yang): Go get ‘em, Yang! Remember the training!

*Yang grins from hearing this, then stands up*

Nora (runs back into the center): ROUND ONE!!! ...Is the Pun-off! Remember the “Hammerspace” technique I’ve taught you two about. Good luck! *Runs off the platform*

*Jaune and Yang approach eachother closer, then engage in a DBZ-styled staredown*

Yang (smirking): You wanna make the first move, or should I, vomit boy? Or should I say...vomit bunny?

Jaune (glaring): ...Ladies first, as they say.

Yang (eyes widened): Ooh! A gentlemen on the first date, are we? Very well! Allow me to take the first... *Pulls out a pistol and a glass of alcohol* ...shot. *Fires into a spotlight and it breaks, then takes the shot of alcohol*

*Suddenly, Jaune feels a pain in his chest*

Jaune (shocked, internally): W-Whoa! D-Did I just feel physical pain? Just from Yang making a pun?!

Yang (crossing her arms): I’m waiting for you, vomit bunny.

Jaune (shaking off the pain): ...Good thing Grimm aren’t involved in this fight. Otherwise, we’d be in a Grimm situation.

*Suddenly, Yang feels pain from her right shoulder*

Yang (surprised, internally): W-What the...? Could this be some kind of force where making jokes and puns actually inflicts physical pain on you...?! Interesting! *Speaks up* Wanna know what’d we have to call Weiss if she ever got robbed? Heist Schnee!

Jaune (smirking): What’s the special seasoning that hails from the Schnee Manor? Spice Schnee!

Yang (smirking): Is that where salt comes from?

*Weiss glares at Yang*

Jaune: Yeah, and you gotta pay the price from that Schnee! The Price Schnee!

Yang (holding her body in pain): D-Don’t get frozen by her again! Once frostbitten, Weiss shy, as they say!

Weiss (holding her face): Goddamnit, not this again...

Jaune (also holding his body in pain): H-Hey, Yang! Good thing Oscar’s last name isn’t Palms! Or that Ruby’s last name isn’t Rosie! Otherwise, if they were to suddenly marry, and we went on a double date, we’d have to go on a date with Rosie Palms!

*Oscar holds his face in embarrassment, while Tai squints at him*

Tai (internally): Don’t you dare date my little rose.

Yang (squinting): He better not. Otherwise, if he ever dates my papa’s little rose, he’d be a thorn on my side.

Jaune: That pun made me so corny. *Pulls out a corn on the cob*

Yang: Really? I thought that pun made me so horny. *Points to her fake horns*

Jaune: I wouldn’t advise porning over an evil pervert.

Yang: Hell hath no fury like a woman porned.

Jaune: Ain’t that a damn flame. *Holds out a lighter and turns it on*

Yang: I wouldn’t bother reading a painfully slow, yet bitter argument between jerks on the internet. Otherwise, it’d be a Frame War.

Jaune: I’d be frightened if they were clingy and obsessive yanderes. Or else it’d be a Claim War.

Yang: But an argument between folks who’re boring would definitely be a Lame War.

*Jaune falls to the floor, clutching his body in pain, and blood coming out of the mouth and nose*

Nora (counting down): One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! The Sunny Little Dragon wins the first round!

*The audience cheers, but Yang holds her body in pain*

Yang: Agh...I can still go on!

Nora: Nonsense. We gotta take a five minute break. We’ll be right back, folks!

*5 minutes later...*

Nora (in the center): ROUND TWO!!! ...Is the same as last time, good luck! *Leaves*

Jaune: Allow me to take the first shot this time! *Pulls out a camera and takes a bright photo shot of Yang, accidentally blinding her*

Yang (rubbing her eyes): Agh! *Eyesight comes back* What a dirty shot!

Jaune: At least it wasn’t a dirty pot. *Pulls out a dirty pot*

Yang: You and your sisters sure are a dirty lot.

Jaune: Hey...what’s do you call a polyamory couple that makes fun of everybody? A Polyamockery!

Yang: How does a homosexual horse faunus whinny? “GAAAAAAAY”!!!

Jaune: How does a religious donkey faunus preach? “Now, let us BRAY!”

Nora (walks back in): Halt! Let me rephrase that: Did I say more puns? What I actually meant to say is...PICK-UP LINES!!!

*The audience starts “ooh!” and “ah!”ing*

Nora (walks off): Good luck!

Yang (grinning): Alrighty then! *Ahem* Are you religious? ‘Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers!

Jaune (smiling): Was your dad a boxer? ‘Cause goddamn! You’re a knockout!

*Tai snickers at that line*

*Yang and Jaune start feeling the pain inflicted upon their bodies*

Yang: You owe me a drink! ‘Cause when I looked at you, I dropped mine!

Jaune: I felt a little off today, but when you appeared, you definitely turned me on.

Yang: Is there an airport nearby? ‘Cause I feel my heart taking off!

Jaune: That’s too bad. I was wondering if you had an extra heart, ‘cause mine was just stolen.

Yang: Can I follow you everywhere you go? ‘Cause my dad always told me to follow my dreams!

Jaune: I’m cute, and you’re pretty! And together, we’d be pretty cute!

*Yang falls to her knees*

Yang: Gah! Rgh... *looks up at Jaune* ...I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but...I think you’re the gratest.

Jaune: I’ve heard of a new disease called beauty, and I believe you’re infected!

Yang (gritting her teeth): If...if you were a vegetable, you’d be a cutecumber.

Jaune: Did you just come out of the oven, ‘cause damn, you’re hot!

*Yang hits the ground, with blood coming out of her ears*

Nora (counting down): One, Two, *deep breath* ThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen! Human Jackham- err, Rabbit, wins the second round!

Jaune (falls to his knees): Agh...things are getting intense now...

Nora: We’ll be right back in ten minutes this time!

*10 minutes later...*

Nora: Now...for the FINAL ROUND!!! ...No puns, no pick-up lines...this time...it’s YO MAMA JOKES!!!

*The audience leans theirs head in with anticipation*

Yang: Hold on... *looks to Jaune* ...Which mama will you be making fun of?

Jaune: The alive one. The one you hate.

Yang (glaring at him): Good. *Turns to Mama Arc in the audience with a smile* Just so you know that I love you and don’t take my yo mama jokes against you so seriously!

Mama Arc (giggling): I promise!

Nora: GOOD LUCK!!! *Runs off*

Yang: You go first, or shall I?

Jaune: You, but first, I think we should kick it up a notch... *Activates his semblance and starts to glow*

Yang (eyes widened): Ooh! I agree, bunny boy! *Activates her semblance, eyes turn red, and hair glows bright*

*The audience gasps at this sight, with Penny analyzing their power*

Ruby: Penny! What does your sensors say about their power levels?!

Penny (eyes widened): Friend Ruby! It’s...

Ruby: It’s...?

Penny: It’s over...

Ruby: It’s over...?

Penny: It’s over- *Starts to malfunction* Overoveroveroveroveroveroveroverererererererererererererererer- *Steam pops out of her ears*

Tai (surprised): Whoa! Ruby, is your friend okay?

Ruby (shaking Penny): Penny? Penny? Hey! Penny!

Penny (eyes go static): Penny.EXE has stopped working. Please wait until she reboots.

Ruby (sighing): Okay, good. I scared for a moment there...that she was gonna explode or something...

Yang (clearing her throat): Yo mama’s so stupid, she returned a donut because it had a hole in it!

Jaune (clearing his throat): Yo mama’s so poor, she went flying after a garbage truck with a grocery list!

Yang: Yo mama’s so fat, the only good grade she got in school was an “A” in lunch!

Jaune: Yo mama’s so ugly, she makes the blind go crippled!

Yang: Yo mama’s so fat, when she pressed the “UP” button on the elevator, it went down!

Jaune: Yo mama’s ugly, she’s the reason why they have to turn off the lights in a movie theater!

Yang: Yo mama’s so fat, that when she takes a shower, her feet don’t get wet!

Jaune: Yo mama’s so stupid, she stuck a scroll up her butt and said she was making a booty call!

*The audience starts getting pushed back*

Ren: W-Whoa!

Velvet: Are you feeling that?

Sun: Did it just get windy all of a sudden?

Blake: Huh, looks like I wasn’t the only one who noticed that.

Winter (to Qrow): Wow. Stiff competition.

Qrow (to Winter): Competition’s not the only thing that can get stiff. *Chuckles*

*Winter’s face turns red, then glares at Qrow*

Penny (shaking her head): Ah! Apologies! I needed to reboot, friend Ruby. Because friend Jaune and friend Yang’s power levels are “off the roof” as humans say!

Ruby (in awe): Wow!

*Back to the fight*

Yang: Yo mama so stupid, she sold her car for gas money!

Jaune: Yo mama so fat, she fell in love and broke it!

Yang: Yo mama so loose, she gives birth faster than a rabbit faunus!

Jaune: Yo mama so dumb, since she can transform into a bird, she thought having sex on a broken tree branch with yo daddy was a good idea!

Yang: Yo mama’s like a nursery, if possible, she can hold a human-shaped yoga ball-sized stomach of babies!

Jaune: Yo mama’s so creative, when she turns into a bird, she can go to the bathroom anywhere she wants!

Yang: Yo mama so creative, she put on hen costume, built a nest, shoved hard-boiled eggs up her upstairs, and began laying them!

Jaune: Yo mama so fat, even if I amp you up, you can’t pick her up!

Yang: Yo mama’s so awesome...!

*Jaune, Mama Arc, and the entire audience’s eyes widened upon hearing this*

Yang (smiling): ...She gave birth to an awesome son.

*Jaune doesn’t say anything, but starts blushing like mad*

Mama Arc (blushing): Oh~!

*Papa Arc chuckles and sheds a tear*

*Ren and Pyrrha smile hearing this*

Yang (smiling): Hehehe...you can’t say anything against that, can you?

Jaune (shaking his head): Actually, I can!

Yang (confused): Oh?

Jaune (taking a deep breath): Your mother...is so stupid, so dumb...

*Yang falls back, looking up at Jaune*

Jaune: So ignorant, so dense, dull, moronic, idiotic, foolish, imbecilic, halfwitted, mindless, unintelligent, reckless, thoughtless, dimwitted, naive, and dead in the fucking brain...! *Holds out his hand towards her*

Yang: ...Huh?

Jaune (smiles): ...She abandoned such an awesome family...an awesome daughter...an awesome father...for the sake of a stupid tribe that everyone hates.

*Yang’s eyes widened*

Ruby (sobbing): Ooohhhh! *Cries into Penny’s chest*

Penny (shocked): Friend Ruby! Is something alright?

*Tai chuckles from hearing this, but also sheds a tear*

*Weiss and Blake smile hearing this*

Yang (grabbing his hand): Oh...Jaune...! *Gets pulled off of the ground and places her face into Jaune’s chest, wrapping her arms around him* ...Don’t ever leave me...I don’t...I don’t want to be abandoned again... *starts crying*

Jaune (hugging her): No one knows what the future holds, Yang.

*Yang looks up at him, her eyes are still red*

Jaune (smiling): But don’t get the wrong idea. I promise I won’t leave you.

*Yang smiles, her eyes turn lilac, then kisses him firmly on the lips*

*The audience starts “aww”ing at the couple*

Nora (sniffling): L-L-Ladies...and G-Gentlemen...I-I don’t what to say about this... *sniff* ...It’s a draw! Both of these two are winners! Both the Rabbit and Dragon win!

*The audience stays silent for a second, then starts clapping*

Jaune (stops kissing): Shall we, my Dragon Queen?

Yang (giggling): Hmhmhm~! Take me, my Bunny Knight!

*Jaune picks up Yang bridal carry-style, then runs out of the stadium*

*Meanwhile, at the Branwen tribe...*

*Raven is just minding her own business, then suddenly, she feels a nerve in her head*

Raven (clutches her head angrily): ...Motherfucker.

Vernal: Is something wrong, Raven?

Raven: I don’t know why, but...I just had the painful feeling that someone, somewhere, some smart mouthed little shit unleashed a series of insults upon me.

Vernal: Oh...we should hunt this person down?

Raven (shaking her head): Nah, forget it. I couldn’t care less what everybody says or thinks about me.

Vernal: Okay...

Raven (internally): But I do want to find out who this person is...

*Meanwhile at Beacon...*

*Jaune, who’s carrying Yang, barges into Team JNPR’s room*

Jaune (putting Yang down): That was quite a workout.

Yang (laying down on his bed): Thanks for the ride, ladykiller.

Jaune (attempts to take off his costume): Rgh...Might as well...take off...these stupid outfi-

*RIIIIIIIP!*

*Jaune’s eyes widened, then looks at Yang, who ripped and made a hole in a certain area on her costume, then looks at Jaune with bedroom eyes*

Yang: Who said we were taking these off? C’mere, bunny boy.

*Jaune walks over to Yang*

*RIIIIIIIP!*

*Yang rips a hole in a certain area in Jaune’s costume, then his...”sword” bounces out into the open*

Jaune (blushing): Ahh...

Yang (spreading her legs): Ladykiller...hmhmhm~...make like a rabbit...and do me like one.

*Jaune’s face turns more red, but then he smiles, and obliges*

[lunasantcs]

hi hi! it me, leonie ( mariangels mun ), with my second muse luna! unlike mari who’s a total lawful good, luna is more of a mixture of chaotic good and chaotic neutral who’s very much just starting out in life because her mom’s a cray cray rich lady. more on that below, pals. feel free to leave a LIKE and i’ll come to you for plots! OR! feel free to message me on discord at ( emeravdes#9932 ) since i’m not in the gc bc i get overwhelmed very easily. thanks for coming to my ted talk & feel free to read this ridiculously long essay i’ve come up with. <3 @frostfordstart​

TW: MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE

full name: luna raquel santos

nicknames: lu, lulu or raquel (but only her grandparents call her that bc they hate the fact that her parents named her luna lol)

birthday: april 30th

current age: twenty six

sexuality: bisexual, panromantic

personality (+): benevolent, adventurous, free spirited, appreciative, energetic, fun loving

personality (-): sheltered, reckless, outspoken, stubborn, envious, attention seeking

luna was born and raised in frostford to yuliana and marcos santos - both of which are of brazilian roots but their families have been living in the us for decades. her family is rich rich and it stems back for a few decades. don’t ask me how they made their fortune because i actually have no clue as of right now. we working on it.

she was the youngest child and only daughter to yuliana and marcos which meant that she was instantly their pride and joy. their princess. their doll. 

she has two older brothers - jax (32) and santiago (35) - who love their little sister to pieces and have never really been a big fan of the way their mother treats luna,

INCOMING MOMMY ISSUES

yuliana was the kind of girl that wanted to be in pageants growing up but her family never allowed her the chance because they valued education over anything that had to do with glamour despite having the money to blow on the fancy aspects. so! the moment yuliana found out that she was having a daughter, she was ECSTATIC. she could finally get to live the life of pageants that her parents robbed her of and she was thriving.

so comes my baby luna

from the moment she was born, her mother had her in fancy dresses and from the moment that she could walk, yuliana made sure that her daughter could perfect the pageant walk before she could perfect walking like a normal human being. if she did something right, she’d drown luna in affection. if she did something wrong, she’d scowl and tell her to do it again. often times this resulted in her crying - especially when she was still a toddler.

over the course of her childhood, she continued with the pageant life and slowly it became something that she lived and breath. she felt like it was the best way to connect with her mother and a part of her really did have a love for the whole ordeal. for a while. by the time she was eight, her mother essentially had the picture perfect pageant girl and she’d completely forgotten that this girl also needed love and a mother to help her through life.

but her dad? a sweetheart, a gem, the most affectionate dad that she could have ever asked for and she loves him to pieces. calls him every single day. or texts. santos fam group chat is her, marcos, jax, santiago, and her maternal grandparents. ANYWAYS! WE CONTINUE!

despite yuliana’s instance that her kids go to private school, her parents convinced her to just send her kids to public school because it would offer the kids a chance to actually get to know people around town that weren’t in their parents circle of rich idiots. this was luna’s saving grace. in school, she made genuine friendships and she finally found a sense of comfort. 

not that that lasted long because yuliana was instantly up her ass telling her that those kids from school weren’t real friends and that she had to focus on her priorities aka pageants. only pageants. always PAGEANTS. so... that’s exactly what luna did. 

can you tell that her mom is a demon yet? ‘cause we got more!

moving on to high school! things were essentially always the same. luna would go to school, live her life, make some friends but eventually she’d lose said friends because of her mom or because luna put up a wall since she knew that she’d lose them anyways. 

she was in a car accident with her older brother jax when she was sixteen which resulted in her missing a pageant which made yuliana BIG MAD. 

it was in her senior year of high school that yuliana set luna up with one of her friends sons and essentially forced her to be in a relationship with someone she had no connection w/at all. 

she dated this person for a while (again, to make her MOM happy, not herself) up until her mother started talking about getting married which was when luna was like LOL ABORT MISSION and broke up w/the dude. did she like him? sure. but she wasn’t going to get married after high school. no thanks. 

yuliana, naturally, was furious. got mad. was mad for a while. oscar the grouch mad 24/7.

THEN CAME COLLEGE! LUNA WAS FINALLY FREE! well... not really because her mother picked her school for her as well as her major; columbia university with a major in business. why? because she knew people who worked at the school that would be able to keep an eye out on her daughter. 

SOMEHOW? luna still managed to find a sense of freedom the moment she stepped foot onto campus and was away from her mother. she was studying something she hated but she finally could live a life where she didn’t feel like she had to constantly please her mother or worry about falling out of line. it felt amazing.

this was where she discovered hook ups and friends w/benefits and BOI OH BOI was she thriving!

it was in her senior year of college that she had a long talk with her grandparents about what she wanted for herself and where she saw herself going. they wanted what was best for her and that meant getting her out from their own childs clutches who only saw luna as someone to parade around. it took her a while but the words from the talk stayed with luna until she was twenty two and she finally stood up for herself and told her mother NO MAS. 

yuliana was like BITCH WHAT but luna was like YOU HEARD ME even though it was a bit less... blunt that i just made it seem. 

at twenty two, she stopped competing in pageants and went off on an adventure to europe with her grandparents. her grandparents were really only with her for a month as they settled them into a nice place in italy but after that, she was finally happy. 

she lived in italy and traveled around europe until she was twenty five which was when she moved back to frostford because she missed her grandparents, dad and older brothers. when she moved back, her grandparents helped her find a cute little home and she even got herself a red husky named kida - since she’d never been allowed to have a pet before in her life. 

her dad still gives luna anything and everything she could ever want bc we stan a man who watches out for his child but luna also wants to make a life for herself outside of her parents money so she went and got a job. it was harder than she expected but she finally was willing to get one thanks to june diaz so now she’s a waitress at the whole enchilada and has been since she got back a solid year ago. 

did i mention she’s been back one year? i feel like i should have mentioned it somewhere above but oh whale. 

her new found freedom (its new even after four years OKAY) has also left her with a bit of a reckless streak. she is, in fact, a lot to handle at times and there’s other times where she falls back into that docile behavior her mom basically morphed into her. so... yeah!

FUN FACTS!

she wanted to be a cheerleader in high school but her mother was like NOT ON MY WATCH YOUNG LADY

her very first shift working at the whole enchilada resulted in her accidentally dropping a customers food on the floor and getting yelled at which resulted in her hiding in the bathroom to cry

she’s fluent in english, portugese, italian and french

she’s a flirty drunk which means she will probs try to get w/you if she’s drunk. unless you’re taken bc she knows her boundaries and she says NO to taken men. 

anything she does regarding men is mainly to spite her mother bc she doesn’t really think she’s capable of falling in love. thanks to her mom basically making her feel worthless all her life :)

she’s a harry potter nerd and spiritually identifies as hufflepuff with slytherin tendencies even though pottermore told her 12 times that she is, in fact, a gryffindor. but she refuses to accept that. nope. not happening. 

her hair is currently dyed a lavender purple. it’s almost always lavender purple. just assume it’s that color 24/7 lol. 

CONNECTIONS!

i put together a wanted connections page for luna but it’s probs gonna get reworked like... two more times because i’m a perfectionist and am obsessed with providing too much detail. too much for my own good imma be hoe-nest. but feel free to hit me with anything! KTHNXBYELOVEYOULOTS<3

[pandoraimperatrix]

Four Names for Love

Gotham | BatCat | BabyFic | Multi-chapter | Read on AO3

Summary: When Bruce parted ways with Gotham he was leaving behind more than he thought. Meanwhile Selina is trying to find a way to herself after being abandoned again and on top of that she finds out she was left with a lot more than a heartbreak.

Agape part II

 Selina left Haven and her trashed room behind. That life she was leading there was a dream, but now she was back to reality and she reminded herself that she was good at reality, well, not good, but she had survived on her own until this point, and she would not give up now.

She bitterly remembered those nights when they whispered plans for the future under the covers, the life they would have together. He talked the most, she listened, rolled her eyes at his silly romantic boy ways. But how nice was to believe that there will be a future, that there was more than live one day each. So much bullshit. How could she let herself believe in all that crap?

‘I guess I am young and stupid.’

She breathed in, held for a little, let it out. She haven’t eaten yet. But that she was used to. That was good. Hunger. She knew hunger. She knew how to deal with it. It was simple; it was real, not like the stupid dreams, the unreachable yearnings that didn’t belong to someone like her.

She just have to rob herself a dinner.

But Gotham was a very different city from before. If it was a rotting carcass before, rich enough to feed street rats like her all sort of vermin, now only the naked bones remained. And it wasn’t like the rich people would come back anytime soon. What was left was the miserable and the poor.

She couldn’t rob people that have nothing. Could she?

How could she know that morals were also a kind of STD? Tabitha never told her, but she wouldn’t know that either.

Fucking rich asshole.

 Her old squat was a stinky hole, there was cat pee and cat poo e v e r y w h e r e, but no cats, not anymore.

But she guessed she deserved that after abandoning her babies. At least there was running water again. Stomach howling, Selina cleaned. Stomach calling her dirty dirty names, Selina lay in her ruined cot, she had stripped the sheets and flipped over the mattress but it still stank like hell.

She needed clean beddings. Where the fuck would she get that?

The next day she was so hungry her stomach gave up hurting.      She tried to stop thinking about what the other kids like her would say when they were trying to find something eatable in the dumpsters behind junk food restaurants, that if you didn’t eat the walls of your stomach would stick together and fold and you would die.

Kids were like that, they liked to scare each other even when reality was scary enough.

By noon she had found a broken vending machine that somehow still have a single gummy bears package, and she was really impressed when she noticed that it wasn’t expired. Maybe that would feed everyone post-apocalypse: children snacks with free nutritional value. That was a happy thought, see, she was thriving.

She knew that now the government was sending help there was probably a soup kitchen of sorts back in Haven, but she would rather boil her own leather jacket and eat it than stand the pity looks everyone would send her there.

 Selina tried to contact the people from her old background network and to her surprise, she discovered that not much have changed there.

‘I mean, No Man’s Land? Pfff. We were already living in warlike conditions way before that. Not all of us found ourselves billionaire boyfriends and cop pals.’

She deserved that, but she still punched him for good measures. In that life no disrespect should be treated lightly.

There she found out that there was one place that haven’t been completely cleaned out yet, the Drake Mansion. Well, must of it was scraped clean, but there was one vault that no one was able to get in. Selina smiled when she heard that. Finally.

 Of course the dammed mansion had to next to the demolished Wayne one. She ignored the feeling of her heart sinking when she saw the pile of rubbles, turned her face away. That place, that life, it didn’t matter anymore. She climbed the Drake Mansion tall iron fence with practiced ease, yes, that was what she was good at. That was her, not Selina Kyle the hero, Selina Kyle the thief. The Selina Kyle that cared for what was really important: herself.

The door was ajar and imposed no difficulty for her to get inside. The whole place was trashed and it was clear that someone was there before because it held nothing of value, nothing that could be traded for food or melted into ammo. That, Selina thought, was reality.  That was what people really amounted to in the end. Surviving.

She walked through the bare corridors, in some of them even the wallpaper was ripped off, to make fire, she thought, smart.

‘If I were a rich prick where would I hide a secret vault?’ she whispered to herself. Basement? Attic? A secret passed in the library? Behind a grandfather clock?  

Well, there was no grandfather clock, and all the books were gone from the shelves so she couldn’t just pick one and the secret passage would open like in a Scooby Doo episode. She wished she had pressed for more information. Geez, her head was pounding, her body had really get used to that eating everyday thing. There was nothing in the basement, just trash and what looked like it was one abandoned squat. How could someone have chosen to be in that creepyass place? And it was freezing!

She was getting really annoyed and was ready to climb to the attic when she noticed something moving with the corner of her eye. Selina rested her hand on her bullwhip slowly and walked towards it. It moved again. With luck was just a rat. It moved once more and let out a squeal, a very human one. Not a rat then.

She rolled her eyes, nothing that made that sound could possibly be dangerous.

‘Come on out!’

Nothing.

‘If you don’t then I will have to go there and I don’t think you will like it.’

The shadow rustled a bit, and them it tried to make a run to the stairs.

Selina cracked her whip blocking their way.

It was a girl. Around her same age. She was wearing a long dirty wool skirt a pile of coats that with the addition of the enormous backpack she had on made her look very small despite her actual size, she was taller than Selina, her hair was brown and oily. She had her back to Selina.

‘Turn around! Who are you?’

She turned surprised.

‘Selina?’

Selina frowned.

‘Do I know you?’

‘It’s me, Paul! Paul Milligan. Well, it’s Nikki now.’

Selina blinked confused and then the girl walked closer, Selina’s hand held the bullwhip harder, but she didn’t strike again. The thin light bean coming from upstairs washed the stranger’s face.

‘Oh my god! It’s you!’ She couldn’t help the smile. ‘What the fuck you’re doing here? Didn’t they find you a good family last time? And Nikki? What is that? A stripper name?’

Her old friend laughed lightly.

‘It’s for Nichole, my parents chose it. The new ones.’

‘What happened?’

‘They died. The building they worked was one of those that blew up.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, me too. But hey, you’re looking good.’

‘Can’t say the same.’

Nikki laughed again, thing time more whole-heartily.

‘I missed you, Cat.’

‘Sheesh. So…’ She pointed to the cot on the corner of the room. ‘You’re squatting here?’

‘No, nooo. I’m here to do the same as you, I guess. The vault?’

Selina sighed, great. She was happy to see Nikki and all but that was the last thing she needed right now, competition.

‘Look, Nikki…’

‘No, listen, Selina. I know you work alone, but hear me out, I don’t think this is a work for just one person.’

‘And why is that?’

Nikki looked up.

‘I’ve been studying this place for a while… I you need to go up there to open the vault down here. It has this very complicated computer system, but I think I can hack it.’

‘But there is no power here, how is this computer system even on?’

‘I think they have a generator.’

‘Shit.’

Selina was good at a lot of things, but she had no idea of how to deal with that nerd stuff.

‘Hey, we can collab. For the old times?’

Selina met Nikki on Gotham’s Children Center where Selina was thrown time after time when she was rejected by some foster family or simple picked up from the streets when she fled. Nikki, then Paul, was this sad little nerd that Selina took a like into because she helped her to learn to read in exchange for protection from the other kids that beat her up regularly and called her slurs. When Selina was ten, Nikki, then eight, left the GCC to live with this nice suburban family and Selina heard that she was adopted later. She was happy for her friend at the time, but also jealous, she wasn’t the only one. She after hearing some boys saying really disgusting things about her friend she decided to discount her frustration by beating the shit out of them and fleeing GCC again before getting a punishment. They didn’t try to bring her back after that.

Nikki was still waiting an answer with those big brown eyes of her.

Selina rolled her eyes and sighed.

‘Okay, fine. What do I have to do?’

 Turns out that was a lot of money in that vault. A lot.

‘What are going to do with your share?’ Asked Nikki, she still looked dumpy but now her cheeks were a healthy red and she had a gleam of happiness in her eyes.

‘I’m leaving Gotham.’

‘What?’

‘Why? Is it so hard to believe that I want nothing to do with this shitty place?’

‘No, it’s just… I head about you…and Bruce Wayne.’

Selina winced at the sharp pain hearing his name brought.

‘That is over. He is gone.’

‘He died?!’

Despite herself Selina almost laughed. She missed Nikki, she had a childlike way to say things, and she was always jumping to extreme conclusions, it was endearing.

‘No, you moron. He left.’

‘Oh… I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I don’t care. I don’t care about him.’

Nikki said nothing.

‘What about you? What are you going to do with yours?’ Asked Selina.

‘Where will you go?’

‘Why?’

‘Do you think you could use some company?’

 So this was the first part. I’m really glad for the views, kudos, bookmark and comment. You guys are great!

Next chapter might be a bit raunchy XDD Lots of flashbacks of Selina and Bruce in Heaven.

[distant-rose]

Oreos at One-Thirty

Notes: Today is the two-year anniversary of the Little Pirates series. That’s right. On August 16th, 2017, I published the first installment of the series By the Hook. It’s insane to me to think I’ve been writing for this series so long and I couldn’t have done it without the amazing support of all my readers. While the first installment focused on Killian and Beth, I decided to celebrate the series by writing about Emma and Wes today. Thank you for everything and a special thank you to @optomisticgirl for constantly letting me spam her about this dumb ass universe. She’s a trooper. Summary: It’s the middle of the night and one of Emma Swan’s kids is out of bed. She’s not going to stand for this. Word Count: 2,500+ Rating: T

It was 1:30 in the morning when the stairs gave a small whine. It was a faint noise, one that most people wouldn’t notice.

But Emma Swan wasn’t most people.

She had never been the most peaceful of sleepers. The slightest of sounds had the tendency of waking her up, one of the many leftovers from living on the streets and staying in stolen hotel rooms. While a few of her habits from that time had faded, her light-sleeping habits seemed only be more honed with the birth of her children.

She laid there in her bed, ears straining for more movement and her hand automatically reaching for her nightstand where she hid her pistol. She would like to think that no one in Storybrooke would have the balls to attack her family in their home in the middle of the night, but with the number of villains and curses she had dealt with over the past couple of decades, she wasn’t willing to chance it. She glanced over at her husband, debating whether or not she should wake him. He was snoring away, completely unaware of the stirrings in their house, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to rob him of his sleep after some many late-night shifts at the station.

Her decision was made for her when there was another creak from the stairway, one that was only made when someone was putting their weight on the bottom step. She scowled in the dark.

There was no intruder in her house.

Someone was out of bed.

Muttering curses under her breath, she crawled out of the warmth of her own bed. Killian mumbled something in his sleep before shifting in the warm spot she had left behind and grasping at her pillow. If she wasn’t so annoyed with their kids, she would have smiled at the sight.

As she headed down the stairs, blue and white light danced across the walls followed by the faint chiming music of an advertisement for Old Spice. As she got halfway down, the identity of her little miscreant was revealed.

Her twelve-year old son was on her couch, watching television and stuffing not one, not two, not three but four Oreos into his mouth all at once.

“You got to be kidding me!”

Wes jumped at the sound of her voice, tipping over the large glass of milk he had been cradling in his elbow and sending the packet of cookies flying into the air. Emma’s mood only soured as she watched the mess spread across her leather couch and drip onto her brand new and very expensive carpet that she and Killian had bought two days ago.

“Uhhhhh…hi Mom…fancy seeing you here…” He scrambled a bit, looking around frantically for something before grabbing a half-eaten Oreo off the floor and holding it out to her. “Cookie?”

She gave him an unimpressed look, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms in front of her chest as she regarded him. His blue eyes darted between her and the Oreo in his outstretched hand.

“What? Don’t believe in the five-second rule?”

“Westley.”

“I can get you a new cookie. It’s no big deal.”

“Westley Graham.”

“But it would be a total waste of a cookie and you know what Grandma Snow always says — waste not, want not.”

“Kid, it’s two in the morning.”

“Actually, it’s one thirty-two, so you’re—”

“Your bedtime is eight-thirty,” she cut him off, rubbing at her temples as her irritation with him rose.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really? You do? So, you’re not actually here? You’re upstairs like you were supposed to be for the last six hours and I’m just hallucinating right now? I’m not actually witnessing you out of bed and destroying my furniture?”

“No, I’m here. I did actually go to bed at eight-thirty like you wanted…I just woke up and got bored. It’s not like we have a mandatory wake-up time.”

“You’re supposed stay in bed until six-thirty…” Emma replied through gritted teeth. Wes raised his eyebrows at her, looking disturbingly like Killian whenever he was feeling particularly obstinate.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“When?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and mentally counted to ten to keep from screaming. When she looked back at her son, he was watching her with an expression that was caught between wary and amused. She was going to kill him.

“I’m saying it right now. Seriously. Kid, if you don't pick up that mess you’ve made of my living room and get your ass back in bed, so help me, I will tan your hide!"

“I’m pretty sure the law frowns upon child abuse.”

“Oh kid, you’re forgetting one teeny tiny detail, I am the law. Get some paper towels. Now.”

Catching her thunderous expression, Wes scrambled off the couch and headed into the kitchen. She was mildly impressed with how fast he was able to move on those skinny toothpick legs of his.

Emma let out a sigh, trying not to think about the ruined rug. Everything in her house was in a state of disrepair. The coffee table had watermarks on it. The couch had been broken more times than she could count. Even the television had small dents and scratches on the screen from the time Beth and Neddy had a lightsaber match that had gotten out of hand. What difference did it make that the brand new rug now had stains on it?

While waiting for her son to come back with paper towels, she went to work picking up the leftover Oreo crumbles on the couch. She deposited them in the empty side of the plastic container before sitting down on the dry side of the couch and turning her attention to the television. Her interest piqued as Dataline crossed the screen, detailing the disappearance of a young woman from Texas.

“They think her boyfriend did it,” Wes commented as he returned.

“What?”

“Christina Morris,” he replied, nodding his head towards the television. “They think her boyfriend kidnapped her. They’re not sure if he killed her or if he took her in Mexico or something.”

“Grim,” Emma remarked absently, picking up the last Oreo and biting it.

“Totally.”

“What the hell are you doing watching this in the middle of the night? You’re going to get nightmares from this stuff.”

“As if I don’t already have nightmares anyway,” he replied, not looking at her as he went about cleaning up the spilled milk.

Her anger and irritation melted away at his words, giving away to concern. She patted the place beside her. Wes hesitated, looking conflicted as he placed the soiled paper towels on the coffee table.

“Come here.”

He climbed onto the couch, placing some space between them. Emma was having none of it, pulling him by the shoulders and guiding his head into her lap like she often did when he was a much smaller boy and afraid of the dark. She brushed her fingers through his thick blond hair, frowning as she looked down at him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s got you so shaken up?”

“It’s just…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and swallowing his words.

“Wes…It’s better to talk about it.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m your mom, kid. I wiped your bottom when you were baby. Nothing gets more embarrassing than that.”

“Mom, c’mon,” he whined, turning on his side and pressing his face into her stomach. She didn’t press him any further. Even when he was a baby, he had never responded well to being pushed into things. He had inherited both her and Killian’s stubbornness in tenfold. Getting him to do anything when he was a toddler had been absolute nightmare and he had only gotten slightly better in age, replacing tantrums with a defiant look and firmly stated “no.”

So, she did what she felt was best in these type of situations. She waited for him to open up to her, continuing to run stroke his hair and watched what was left of the Dataline episode on her TV screen.  They were showing interviews with Christina’s suspect boyfriend before Wes mumbled something against her clothed belly, his breath warming the fabric.

“What was that?” she asked, pausing her ministrations.

“Clowns.”

“Clown?”

“Clowns,” he repeated. “You know like killer clowns. Like in that movie, you know, It?”

Emma shuddered. She remembered the Stephen King novel vividly. She had read it back in when she was in prison and had nothing but time on her hands. It had given her nightmares as well.  She was aware it had been turned into a movie a couple of times, but horror movies had never been her thing and she had little desire to actually watch it. She had found the story to be disturbing at eighteen, she couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was to a twelve-year old. He shouldn't be watching or reading things like that.

“Wait a minute,” she frowned, coming to a realization. “How do you know about It?”

“Henry!” Wes replied a little too quickly.

“You, Westley Graham Jones, are a liar and a terrible one at that,” Emma said pointedly, giving him a tired glare. “One, Henry hates horror movies... and possibly killer clowns more than you do. Two, he would never in a million years let you watch something like that. So, tell me the truth this time.”

“Okay, okay, okay. Just promise me you won’t get mad?”

“I’m making no such promises. Seriously, Wes. The truth.”

He let out a heavy dramatic sigh. He was becoming more and more moody as he had gotten older. He was going to be a nightmare teenager. Emma was sure of it.

“Gideon and I snuck into a showing of it during Halloween. He said if I didn’t it would be because I’m scared, and I’m not scared of anything—”

“Except clowns,” Emma cut him off. “Wes, that’s an R rated movie. Gideon is fourteen and even he’s not old enough to watch those kinds of movies. You certainly aren’t. There are ratings on things for a reason.”

“It’s just a movie,” he scowled at her.

“Yeah. A movie that scared you badly enough that you’re having nightmares and are up at all hours of the night feasting on Oreos,” she replied, looking at the demolished empty container. “Your father is going to kill you. His sweet tooth is almost as bad as yours.”

“So? You can just buy more.”

“You think money grows on trees, don’t you?” she asked, unimpressed with his answer.

“Well, money is made from paper and paper comes trees so there’s that.”

“Smart ass kid.”

“Better than being a dumb ass.”

“God, you’re so my kid it hurts sometimes,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

He was staring up at her with that impish little grin that seemed to have permanent residence on his face since the time he could walk. He was a good kid though, even if he did sometimes eat all the Oreos and wake her up at all hours of the night. Out of her five children, Wes was the most like her; a little rough around the edges and sometimes a little too smart with his mouth, but he was never malicious. He was just a little too defensive and wanting to prove to be people he was tough. She had been the same at his age.

She wanted to soften those edges. Hers had been bore out of a need to survive; they had been necessary to endure group homes, bullies, being homeless, being in prison and then later as the Savior. Wes didn’t need them. Nothing was going to happen to him, not while she was still breathing.

“You know it’s okay to be scared right?” she asked after a moment.

“What?”

“Being scared of things. It’s normal.”

He scoffed at her words. “You’re not scared of anything.”

“That’s not true,” she sighed. “Want to know a little secret?”

He nodded wordlessly in response.

“I get scared a lot,” she admitted. “I get scared all the time of things – villains, bills, that I’m not being a good mom—”

“But you’re the best!” Wes protested, cutting her off.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, let me finish,” she responded gently. “The point is sometimes I get scared, but the important thing is to not let it control you. Sometimes fear is a healthy thing, but it shouldn’t paralyze you and stop you from doing things…Do you understand me?”

“Yeah…I guess…” He looked unsure.

“Do you know what makes me feel better when I’m scared…Knowing that I have your dad…and Henry…and your grandparents…and even Regina...I just know that having them in my life makes me stronger and that I’m not alone…and you know what, kid? You’re not alone either…you have all of us and even your brothers and sister.”

“I’m not trusting Neddy to fight off bad guys. He’s barely toilet trained.”

“Oh, stop, he’s fine. A little accident here and there isn’t bad. Give him a break.”

“He peed on my bed, Mom.”

“Like I said accidents happen. He’s not gonna be little forever. He might be even bigger than you and Har someday.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed.

“All kidding aside, it’s okay to get scared but you can’t let it control you and your sleep schedule…”

“I know, I just…I’m not ready to go back to sleep yet.”

“And that’s okay…We can stay down here for a little bit and watch some TV but not all night, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, batting his forehead against her hand. She chuckled quietly to herself as she resumed stroking his hair. He reminded her a bit of the stray dog she used to feed back when she was in Boston, starved for food and attention.

A new episode of Dateline started, and Emma watched it half-heartedly. Her attention was more focused on the droopy-eyed boy in her lap. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier as the minutes passed. He was asleep a good few minutes into the episode. She debated quietly whether or not she should wake him so he could sleep properly in his bed but loathed the idea of waking him up again.

She placed a brief kiss on his forehead before gingerly removing his head from her lap and placing a decorative pillow underneath it. She picked up one of the various throw blankets that were strewn carelessly across the floor and tucked him in. She left the television on, wanting to give him some source of light just in case Pennywise the Clown haunted his dreams again and woke him up. It was one of the few things she craved when she awoke from nightmares, being able to see her surroundings and make sure she was safe. She could only imagine that he might desire the same thing.

As she slipped back into bed, Killian wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her close and nuzzled his nose against her neck.

“You’re back,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“You really think I was going to sleep without you in our bed, love?”

“Well…with the way you were snoring…”

“Hey now,” he muttered in mock offense, nudging her foot with his. “Wes back in bed?”

“You know it was him?”

“Educated guess really. He’s our biggest night owl.”

“He had a nightmare. He and Gideon have been sneaking into R rated movies.”

“We’re going to have to watch him. If anyone is going to be throwing secret keggers, it’s going to be him,” Killian commented.

“Probably, but let’s worry about that when he’s a teenager and not at two in the morning. Right now, I just want to go sleep.”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled before placing a kiss behind her ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Yeah, no clowns hopefully."

[thespookyswan]

Worlds Collide (1/?)

AO3

Kofi

Jeremy was having a hard time breathing, the pain from his shoulder shooting all down through his body and spreading worse and worse by the moment. Blood was soaking through both his shirt and his jacket, and he knew he had to do something, or he was going to pass out and probably die. He pressed against the cold wall of the basement he was hiding in, trying with shaking hands to tear a piece of his pants off so he could stuff it in the bullet wound.

He didn’t know what made him get in a fight with that stupid guy at the store. It should had been a simple, ‘give me the money’ robbery, but he had to open his mouth when the stupid prep had opened his. If he had just ignored him, he could be already out of town with a bag of cash and no worries on his mind. Now he was stuck, in a house he didn’t know, in a town he didn’t know, bleeding like a pig.

His eyes kept closing more and more as the pain got worse. He felt a tear drop down his cheek and held back a sob. Was this really where he was going to die? In some shoddy, cold basement? He’d never been shot before, and it was so much worse than he ever thought it would be. His hands were too weak to tear at his pants, and with a shaky breath he just gave up. There wasn’t any point fighting it now- he’d never survive on the streets like he was with a fucked shoulder anyway.

He let his eyes close and the pain take over him.

--

“You’re so late!” Gavin exclaimed as Ryan came through the door of their house, his hands on his hips. Their pledges looked up from where they were decorating for the party, ready for their Vice President to tear into their President. There was nothing more fun than watching Gavin and Ryan bicker.

“Yeah, not sorry.” Ryan let out a grunt as he put the keg down for a second, tossing the bags of snacks towards the newbies, “The store I was at kinda got robbed. The little fuck pointed his gun at me and everything.”

“Oh, what a story.” Gavin scoffed, and Ryan shot him a hard glare.

“I’m not joking! It’s not a story. It’ll be on the news tonight, the guy ran off after the security guard shot him. I had to stay and talk to the police. It was a fucking drag.” Ryan cracked his back before leaning back down to lift the keg back up. Gavin still had a disbelieving look on his face, but he went and opened the basement door for Ryan.

“Whatever you say. Hurry and get that set up, we’ve got shit to do before we open doors.” Gavin said as he leaned against the door to hold it open, and Ryan just gave half a grunt as he made his way down the stairs with the heavy keg.

There were advantages and disadvantages to being the strongest guy in their fraternity. Alpha Rho Epsilon (ARE) was full of the nerdier type of college kids, and they prided themselves on their high academic standings. Ryan was smart, very smart, and they recruited him early in his first year to try and rework their brand. The skinny nerd was their main type, and they wanted to show you don’t have to be small to be smart- yet, two years later, Ryan was still the largest of all the guys in ARE.

Advantage wise, he got whatever he wanted, sex wise. He went into college thinking he was pretty straight, but after plenty of flings here and there with both sexes, he figured he enjoyed dick much more and was going to stick with it. It was easy to get any kid under his thumb; pledge, member, or just party attendee. They knew the power he held not only in ARE, but also at their school. He was the smartest kid in his class, honors, and the president of the class as well. He had power within their school, he knew everyone who was to be known. He knew he’d get out into the job field and have no problems. He was living his best life and was only a junior in college.

When it came to the disadvantages, there was really one main one- he was the frats mule. ‘Ryan, pick up this. Ryan, carry that. Ryan, Gavin passed out in the living room, carry him to bed.’ He was going to have back problems by the time he was 25, if this all kept going on. He reached the bottom of the stairs with a grunt, and let the keg slide gently to the ground. He could roll it from here, but took a second to catch his breath, glancing around their basement.

It wasn’t the nicest of places in the house. It was cold and unfinished, and they mainly used it to store their drinks for the party, or any large amounts of food. People often used it as a place to get laid, because the only reason anyone was down here was for a drink, or for the former. His eyes scanned across, trying to decide where to put the new keg, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

In the laundry room, there was a foot. He scrunched his eyes up and let out a huff, wondering just what pledge got waisted the night before and passed out in the laundry room. He stepped over the keg and made his way there, ready to tear into whoever it was, but stopping when he came across quite the sight- a pale, bleeding kid.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He whispered to himself as he realized just who it was. The prick from the grocery store, the annoying short punk who’d pointed his gun at Ryan. Ryan let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair, reaching for his phone to call the cops and get this mess handled.

He looked down at the kid one more time, and paused as he found himself staring at the tears that were still drying on his face. He was young; he couldn’t be older than Gavin, who was only a sophomore. He was covered in scars, covered in marks, in filth.

Ryan’s fingers drummed against his phone screen, and he let out a scoff at the thoughts that were flooding through his mind. He was going to make the biggest mistake in his life, but he couldn’t let this stupid kid get thrown in jail for some senseless reason. He slipped his phone back into his back pocket and leaned down, picking the kid up and heading up the stairs.

--

Jeremy had a lot of nightmares. Mostly, every time he slept, his mind was engorged with dreams of his past, of his pain. This time he found himself back in his childhood home, sitting on the dirty kitchen floor and coloring a picture. He was eight, and nothing in the world mattered to him. He didn’t care he lived in a tiny, filthy home. He didn’t care that his mother never looked at him. There was a whole world outside that he still had to explore.

“Jeremy.” His fathers warped voice came from behind him, and he turned to face the man. There was a belt in his hand. Jeremy’s eyes hung on the belt, the black leather worn from years of use, constant use. The buckle was an orange color, the imitation silver losing its shine and showing its true colors. Jeremy always remembered that belt, the way it looked, because it reminded him so much of his father.

He never got the chance to respond to his father’s calling of his name, because that old belt was wrapped around his throat. He was crying and screaming, and struggling for air, but from where his mother sat at the kitchen table, there was no movement. She didn’t even look up from the paper in front of her. The world around him got darker, and darker, as his lungs stopped sucking in air. He wondered if this time, no one was going to stop his father.

He was suddenly drenched, water splashing all over his face, and snapping him from the dream world. He caught his breath and shot up, only to be yanked back down by an unseen force and, honestly, by the pain that was ripping through his shoulder.

“See? I told you it would work. All medical.” He heard a voice say, and his heart sunk into his stomach. This was it, he was in jail. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to take in just where he was. Interrogation? Maybe a hospital room?

A bedroom.

Confusion flooded him then, and he let his eyes drift around the area. There were three beds in the large room- the one he was resting on, a bunk bed in the far-left corner, and another larger bed against the opposite wall. There were flags draped on the walls, posters of bands and pin-ups all around. Books littered the two small dressers and desks, and an open laptop was playing a light music.

Two people stood over where he was laying, and he finally turned to take them in. One was a twink, with fluffy hair and a larger-than-average nose. He was holding a bucket and was dressed like he had too much money. Next to him was a much larger induvial, with wide shoulders and well-groomed hair, in a too tight polo-shirt. Jeremy blinked and realized just who that guy was.

“You fucking loud mouth bitch.” He weakly spit out, glaring hard at him. It was the jerk from the grocery store, the one who started to pick a fight with him during his robbery.

“Wow, harsh. I literally just saved your life.” The guy replied, and his friend let out a snort.

“He’s not very thankful for our medical assistance, huh, Ryan?” His friend clicked his tongue after his statement, and Jeremy turned his head to look at his shoulder. He was shirtless, and his shoulder was all wrapped up in gauze and bandages. It still hurt, but not as much as he previously remembered.

He tried to sit up but was again pulled back to the bed. He let out a gasp of pure pain as the movement made his shoulder just light up with pain.

“I wouldn’t try that. You’re only going to hurt yourself. Ryan used his kinky sex-cuffs to lock you to the bed. Beware.” The friend said again, and Ryan shoved him hard.

“You’re a freak, Gavin.” Ryan snapped, and Gavin let out a chortle before scampering out of the room. Jeremy moved his cuffed wrist around, trying to ease the pain from getting yanked back so hard. Ryan shoved his hands in his jean pockets and looked at Jeremy with a raised brow.

Jeremy didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what this guy wanted from him, at all. He attempted something, at least.

“Thank you. I guess. For fixing my shoulder.” He pushed out through gritted teeth, holding back ‘even though it was your fault, asshole.’ Ryan nodded his head then, seeming almost like he didn’t know what he wanted from Jeremy either in that moment.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and much to Jeremy’s shock it sounded genuine, “I have to keep you cuffed, because we’re having a party. I can’t have a guy who pointed a gun at me earlier free at a college party. I’ll let you out, eventually. Once the police searching dies down, so they don’t get you.”

Jeremy was in a bit of shock as the words came out of Ryan’s mouth. No one had ever shown him this level of sympathy, not in his whole life. He expected Ryan to whip his dick out any second and force it down his throat, but instead the other grabbed a blanket and gently placed it over Jeremy’s shoulders.

“I’ll bring you up food and something to drink in a bit, once people get here and I get all my hellos in. My laptop is open over there, here is the mouse. You can do whatever, I’ve got Netflix and shit. No porn though, please.” Ryan continued, handing Jeremy a wireless mouse.

Ryan turned to the hanging mirror in the room and fixed his hair up one more time, and slipped out of the room. Jeremy heard the door lock from the outside and he sat still, still in a bit of shock, at what had just happened.

--

It was about an hour later that the door opened back up. Jeremy was getting into the second episode of Friends, and sat up a bit as the door opened up. Ryan slipped inside, holding a paper plate stuffed with more food than Jeremy had seen in the last five weeks of his life, and a six pack of Diet Coke.

“Probably not the most healthy, or best for your healing shoulder, but… It’s all we got. Michael works at the pizza shop down the street, and he brings home all the stuff at the end of the night.” Ryan said, handing Jeremy the plate. Jeremy didn’t even wait a second before digging into the greasy mess, his mouth exploding with so much flavor.

Ryan gave him a bit of a smile and placed the six pack down next to him before sitting down on the bed and reaching to touch Jeremy’s bandages. Jeremy immediately backed away, a distrust in his eyes. Ryan held his hands up.

“Hey, I just need to change them. I don’t want you getting an infection. I’m no doctor, but Gavin’s trying to be one. He told me I should do it as often as possible at first. It might hurt a little bit, but you need it. Why would I hurt you now?” Ryan explained to him, and Jeremy swallowed what was in his mouth before just nodding at Ryan to go.

He didn’t really trust that Ryan wouldn’t turn on him. Everyone turned on him. He knew that before he left this place, Ryan would make him do something. Sexual, probably, being that they were in a frat house. He’d done worse in his life, so he couldn’t complain. At least he was alive.

He let out a wince as Ryan pulled the bandages closest to his skin away, and turned his head in the opposite direction. He didn’t want to see whatever was going on over there. Ryan carefully rewrapped around the wound before placing a piece of duct tape over the end to hold it closed. He nodded his head and placed the bandages back on the nearest shelf.

“Just so you know… Gavin and I are the only ones who know who you are. Our other roommates will be coming in at some point. As far as they’ll know, you’re just the kid I’m sleeping with, alright? Play along, for you and me.” Ryan said, taking one of the sodas and opening it up for Jeremy, realizing he might not be able to.

“Sounds decent to me…” Jeremy mumbled, finishing with a ‘thank you’ as he took the Coke from Ryan and took a long drink of it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had his hands on such a drink, something sweet and bubbly.

“Slow down! You’ve got five more.” Ryan laughed, pulling it away from him before he could finish the whole thing in one gulp, “Plus, it’s really all I drink. We’re well stocked up. You can have as many as you want.”

Jeremy looked at him with a small smile and gave a gentle nod before placing the bottle between his legs and going right back to the plate of food. Ryan chuckled just a bit before giving him thumbs up and heading back out again.

Jeremy felt almost bad for calling Ryan names and pointing his gun at the man in the robbery. He was clearly a super nice guy, and some part of Jeremy hoped that he wouldn’t make Jeremy do anything gross. Of course, he knew that idea was farfetched. There wasn’t a human being out there that didn’t want something from him. Ryan may seem good now, but in the end, he’ll just take and take and take.

Just like everyone else.

--

Jeremy didn’t know when he had fallen asleep at, but as another nightmare shook him awake, he found himself in a now darkened room. A heavy snore was breaking through the room from one of the bunk-bed residents, but something about it was almost soothing to Jeremy. It reminded him he wasn’t asleep on the streets somewhere- he was in a warm bed, in a house, protected from the elements and everything else in the world.

As he woke up more and more, he realized something else. Ryan was next to him. Jeremy didn’t want to look, but he could tell by the way Ryan’s breath was that he was asleep. So, he snuck a peak.

The other man was out cold, facing Jeremy with his head stuffed deep into his pillow. His normally well-kept hair was a frizzy mess, springing in all directions. His mouth was hanging open ever so slightly, and a line of drool was falling unceremoniously onto the pillow below him. Worst of all, he was shirtless, and Jeremy could see his absolutely ripped form as it stuck up from the covers below.

How god damn lucky did he have to be in this moment? All of the luck he never had up to this point must have been waiting, silently, just for this second. To wake him up when he could see this absolute beefcake lain beside him. Some part of him said, ‘it’s just a dream,’ but he knew it was reality. His dreams were never good.

He wanted to touch Ryan’s face, but knew that was a stupid idea. Every feeling he had at this moment was just beyond stupid. Was he really catching some sort of feeling for some rich, never had a struggle in his life frat boy? The kind of person who would, and most likely will, fuck him and toss him back on the streets where he belongs?

He turned himself away from Ryan then, letting the lustful thoughts slip away from him. He had to stop falling for such fairytale fantasies that he created for himself.  

He drifted back to sleep.

For the first time in years, he didn’t have a nightmare.

--

“How’s your little bed bug?” Gavin teased Ryan the next morning as they got ready for class, bumping into him from the side. Ryan rolled his eyes and applied his gel to his hair, inspecting himself in the mirror as he made the finishing touches.

“He isn’t a bed bug. Honestly, I could ask you the same question. I noticed you slip out last night. Where did you go?” Ryan pressed, bumping back into Gavin. The younger man grew a shade of cherry red that pretty much gave Ryan his answer.

Gavin was his best friend. They had met each other when Gavin was a new student on campus and was totally lost- the typical first year. Ryan had led him to the class, which they were actually sharing, and after taking a seat next to the other, had realized how smart the young brain next to him was. He knew Gavin would make the perfect new pledge to ARE, and a wonderful eventual running mate for his campaign for President of the Frat. The two of them were like glue. They could tell each other anything: which is exactly how Ryan knew where Gavin went the previous night.

Gavin had been having a fling with their Literature Professor for nearly the entirety of his time on campus. He had met Professor Ramsey his first week, and had taken a class in literature every semester since… even though his major was as far from it as possible. He changed his minor from photography to literature just to make a very weak excuse. Ryan knew the real reason. He needed a solid reason to be in the literature building after hours.

“Geoff texted me. We hung out at his place.” Gavin mumbled, buttoning his shirt up and puffing out his cheeks, “At least my bed bug is a functional member of society, and not a criminal!”

“Jeremy isn’t a bed bug! I’m just keeping him safe. He’s younger than you, Gavin. He doesn’t deserve to go to jail over some stupid mistake… I’m going to uncuff him before we leave, anyway. If he wants to go, he can. Oh, and, how old is Geoff again? 50? Or 60?” Ryan turned the bathroom light off on Gavin, who yelled and through a tissue box after him.

“Geoff is 35, you stupid prick!” Gavin roared, and Ryan just let out a chuckle as he made his way to the bedroom, where Jeremy was still curled up asleep. He’d been out cold since the night before, and Ryan had no intent on waking him. He placed a note next to Jeremy’s head, with the key to the cuff resting on the dresser where he could easily reach it.

Even though he’d barely known the kid for a day, he felt something. He was going to miss him. It was like he was saying goodbye to a long time friend, for some reason. He stood and stared, taking in all that was Jeremy. His features were soft and beautiful, and his hair was just the right length of fluff. He was built well, for a short guy.

“Ryan, let’s go!” Gavin called from downstairs, and Ryan shook his head, breaking the moment of lust. He and Jeremy could never possibly work out. It was a silly thought. The young man would be gone long before Ryan got back from class that day.

He quickly pulled out some of his clothes and left them on the end of the bed for Jeremy to put on. If he was going to run, he had to at least look the part of a college kid, so the police would look past him. He grabbed his laptop and his bag before gently closing the door on Jeremy.

[stone-man-warrior]

February 26, 2021: 7:18 am:

==================================================

I was awakened this morning by the odor of a wet camp fire.

It was about 6:00 am, just before dawn.

now my leg is all swollen again, foot is feeling frozen, rash is oozing from tiny blistering on my shin, and it is numb again like it’s not there when I try to walk.

The symptoms had reduced until then. There is no reason that I should have been awakened by such an odor as a wet camp fire in my house.

=================================================

7:47 am:

I read the stalking order those fake sheriff’s brought.

There is concern from the new people at 445 about a head and a fence that was posted online.

needle in a hay stack.

I just looked through this account going back a week or two and cannot find anything about a head or a fence concerned specifically with the person mentioned in the fake stalking order, one composed of real legal ramifications, at 445 Jackpine as is stated in the order to appear.

The good news is bad news.

The good news is that there are/were some federal agents who advised I take a photo of a particular something, and I did not get that information, someone else got the information about taking a photo of a particular thing.

The courts intercepted that instruction that I should take a photo.

The courts arranged that the only photo op there would be is one taken of deputy sheriff’s through a screen out my window when the fake stalking order shows up. The order is fake, the demand to go to the courtroom is real. The judge and all of the court staff are fake, are all terror operatives, but the law is real and so is the jail. The sheriff is fake, but the law and the jail is real. The damage around my front door and my broken computer is real, so was June 15, 2020, when this same stalking order murder hit scenario resulted in eight fake deputies crashing through my front door, tackling me in the living room, and taking me to a real police interceptor, to a real jail.

Fake people, real USA.

I know who that person is across the street now. He has robbed me before. He has a compute that was mine, and he might be the person that stole all of my old vinyl records. He, his father and his mother all robbed me about twelve years ago.

I think the young man, and his mother and father are part of that house on Monument drive terror cell that is owned by one of the county judges, it’s close to the freeway onramp at mile 66 across from some orange cones and a big Tee-Pee (wig-wam) in the yard, is on the north side of Monument, a place where a blue colored log truck parks, and there are two houses on the same tax lot, and a lot of junk in the front yard.

Things to consider are:

Todd Law: Is said to be the name of the leading person at the Hillcrest & Washington Ave US Postal facility.

A Macintosh computer w/special case.

Some vinyl records, old original pressing, rock & roll.

Possibly a bag filled with raw diamonds, five carrot and larger.

Mostly, consider that there are people who can find information about a head on a fence on this account, or, perhaps someone took that little part and posted it out of context somewhere else. The information I have does not say exactly where online the head or fence was seen posted.

no one can see that there are 873 posts on this account that are all about serious mass murder partly done by the people at the courthouse where I am told I need to appear at a hearing about a head and a fence.

no one says anything about Mark T. Esper, the US Secretary of Defense who was killed in defense at the Pain Specialists of Southern Oregon along with the Secretary of Education, Betsy DeVose last year, but, a new guy on the road I live on can get a court day.

Here comes that odor of wet camp fire again. 8:18 am.

When that guy robbed me so long ago, he was sent over here by Harold & Joan Phillips at 507 Jackpine. I learned that much and more back then. That house at 445 is said to be owned by a man by the name of Farrar, but I saw someone who was said to have been Mr. Farrar being taken captive, put into a 18 foot box truck moving van, one that had brought some new kitchen cabinets to 445 Jackpine. The person that was there attacking Mr. Farrar, was Micheal Brassil of 3701 Russell Road, and he was wearing a wig made of long blonde hair in a pony-tail that day when Farrar was attacked and put into the furniture/cabinet makers truck. That was so long ago that I cannot recall how long. There has been many different terror cells at 445 Jackpine over the course of time I have lived here, all of them are there to protect Harold & Joan Phillips from surprises of unwanted investigative persons who may have learned that the Phillips are related somehow to the British Royal Windsor family, and to the Wilson/Phillips of Mama’s & The Papa’s, and Beach Boys fame, and others of that same musical terror circle of treasonous bastards.

Much of the terrorism in Josephine County Oregon can be traced to Harold & Joan Phillips of 507 Jackpine Dr. Grants Pass Oregon, 97526.

The Phillips are Global Terrorists. They are commanders of world wide terrorism large scale. Harold has been dead for quite awhile. I have not seen Joan in a year or more, she is about 75 years old, walks with a limp, I think she has a prosthetic leg below the knee, right side, and has had that since 1999 or so. Joan drives an old nissan Quest mini van, as not to draw attention, is very innocent looking mini van.

This one:

Dangerous person drives that van.

That van gets an aerial escort with small aircraft everywhere it goes.

The owner of that van, Joan Phillips, controls all of the activities of Josephine County Courts and more, and she gets her marching orders direct from Britain.

That is the source of the problem at 445 where the stalking order came from yesterday.

Christopher Mecca, attorney who resides at Grants Pass Community Church on Russell Road, is the person who crafts up the stalking orders and the details within them. That one yesterday is the fourth one in twenty years or so. I only know one of the so called plaintiffs personally among them, and she married FBI agent Rabner after the stalking order was crafted up by Mecca, and became Betty Rabner, is dead now. Betty’s former husband, Jerry Keeling, was the Three Rivers School District Student Counselor at the time when all of the students were brutally killed at the local schools. Jerry Keeling married another school counselor, Sue Keeling. Jerry & Sue Keeling orchestrated much of the murders at the schools back then. Last known address was on Harbeck Road near South Middle School area, a District 7 School District school.

Send some help so we talk about this without the poison gas and murderous terror army surrounding me.

=====================

10:59 am:

Trending on Twitter:

The Joe Biden White House is waiting on baited breath to see what I know about this Khashoggi fake news terror hit command update bullshit story:

https://twitter.com/i/events/1364937835044696068

Thread says: “There must be some kind of hold up”

https://twitter.com/Joyce_Karam/status/1365013092707545098

Biden ordered a “5150″ psychiatric lock-up at my house, to cart me away into the Asante Hospital Abyss to be tortured, and to disapear so that the new guy at 445 can take this account with help from his wife, “Mrs George Castanza” (a young [fat] one)

What I know about Khashoggi’s murder will prompt the appropriate WH Salmon/Khashoggi official report when I post this.

The new report from WH on Twitter will contain the details of a “Yes/no” sort of answer to the question: “is StoneMan dead yet?”

It will contain the next phase of the ongoing White House attempts to kill me, since I am not quite dead yet. They are getting close though, just so you understand that.

This account will vanish when the kill me, or someone will say it’s just a novel, that I am writing a book online on Tumblr.

The WH Khashoggi report could only contain the key to finding the next phase of the planning of my murder that is happening at the Joe Biden White House, some info about when and where the new hit orders will be presented on Twitter, or perhaps in promotional music industry emailers.

Khashoggi’s are Euro Dollars. When the news was about “Killing Khashoggi, a news reporter, the real story is that “there are revealing secrets about the origin of the Euro Dollar, and that it’s existence was a planned means to allow free travel across Europe put in place by Britain operatives so that their Vatican terror army could kill & replace all of the Europeans with other people from Australia and new Zealand, Whales, England, Scotland, and parts of Ireland, and that included that Damascus was destroyed, as a decoy, distraction, road block, detour, confusion service when all of those migrants showed up all over Europe.

It’s complicated, I already explained it here elsewhere on this account, is one of the reasons Biden needs me dead, If the Biden WH does not kill me, the Brits will kill everyone at the Biden WH. Biden is not at the WH, he is a placeholder for other people, so, I call it “The Biden WH” for ease of discussion about an invisible entity that is running the WH from Kauaii at Kauaii Ranch in Hawaii, “Amp Guru” is the same thing, so is “The Jim Dunlop” almost.

So, Khashoggi’s are Euro’s. Basically “Monopoly Toy Money that is easy to carry across a border in Europe” ... Meanwhile, the Brits don‘t accept or use Euro’s. You have to exchange your Euro’s for Pound Sterling at an exchange house, where you will be identified, ID checked and noted, where in the EU, people travel from nation to nation anonymously and that is the purpose of the British Euro in the EU, toward Global Domination Under the Cross.

=============================================

1:26 pm:

I read more of that fake stalking order those fake deputies brought to me yesterday.

The paperwork includes an excerpt from the “February 15, 2021: 10:51 am:” entry I made that day.

The excerpt included has at least two different parts of explanations of things glued together as if it’s all one thing. There is a part in the excerpt where I say I saw a female, then, they used the expletive description of what a “Partner” is when a kidnapped US Citizen is surgically changed with experimental procedures, to specifications of the SAG member who special orders a “Partner”.

That means it’s all out of context.

That also means that since they used a actual printed page of excerpts from this account, that all of the entire 873 entries to date, are all on the table, and became part of the stalking order at the moment this account was quoted.

In law, if you bring a subject into the court, that entire subject matter is all on the table, not just the bits and pieces some asshole cherry picks and glues together to suit them.

Looks to me as if Kate Brown’s head is going to mounted on my driveway gate alongside Joe Biden, Nancy Sinatra, Ron Howard and Ann Wilson if the entire account of information is to be considered as stalking.

There is room for a few Josephine County Court fake judges in between the others too.

There might not be room for Judge Thomas Hull though, he is a very big fish with a lot of extra baggage that goes with him. Hull & Hull Mortuary Services, Hull Real Estate, Hull Construction, Hull Attorney’s at Law ... etc. and so on.

=====

1:58 pm:

There is a set of rules that are spoken about in Josephine county for as long as I have lived in the county, since 1996.

“If you want to cross the River Styx, you have to pay the Boatman”

Judge Thomas Hull is “The Boatman“.

There is a boat ramp on the Rogue River off of Lower River Road nearby a place called “Wildlife Images”, on Ferry Hole Ave, is called Ferry Hole Boat Ramp.

Legend has it, that there was once a ferry that you had to take to cross the Rogue River right there at Ferry Hole Boat Ramp, from a time before there was Robertson Bridge. That is where you pay the Boatman, Three Boys Towing is always nearby there to help you part with your money, wife, ice chest, fishing gear, truck, boat, motor, 2.5 Children, and trailer.

Tommy Two Toes and Three Fingers Louie with a flat bed wrecker and super duty Warn Winch are always there ... Guido rides on the bed of the truck, tucked away, out of sight between the cab & bed.

Has anyone looked into those boat backwards boat ramps I mentioned yesterday? Ferry Hole Boat Ramp is among the worst of them. Graves Creek is bad too, that one gets you with the rusted metal brackets that are poking out of the cement work at the boat ramp.

Indian Mary Park Boat Ramp is not so bad, it launches the boat into some white water, at 90 degrees to the current ... it’s that piece of rebar that is sticking out of the sand just to the left of the ramp that gets the victims mostly at Indian Mary.

Galice Resort Boat Ramp has almost the exact same rebar in the exact same place as does Indian Mary. There is something special about rusty metal in the river around here. They will tell you it’s: “historic mining remnants”, as an excuse for rusty metal poking out at where you need to step to put the boat in the water.

===================

2:37 pm:

More about Khashoggi’s (Cash Hoagie’s Bogart; Pelosi’s Subway COVID Stimulus Package)

The Euro was sold as a bill of goods, snake oil, magic potion, “Genie in a Bottle” is a real good analogy for Euro’s. British finance expert insiders in the EU sold the Euro like a shoe salesmen selling Moccasins to an Eskimo.

“Imagine the convenience, unity, the influx of more equal trade and strength in the EU community in the future”.

Then, Brexit.

Britain sells the goods, waits around for awhile to help teach their Eskimo to walk in moccasins in the snow without getting frost bite, then, they want to leave the EU, and, it’s like American Express & Visa after that, you need a Visa, but these Khashoggies will work anywhere to make sure the terror army has free travel arrangements available all over Europe with the same cash they were given by the Brits to start with. Like USA and Dollars between states.

Later, Damascus was completely destroyed. The oldest city on earth, been continuously inhabited for about 4000 years, and then all gone within two-weeks.

There was hardly a mention of Damascus being destroyed at the time. Then, all of the survivors were coaxed into going to Europe for assistance, by concerned people who said they would help the ones displaced from Damascus. Information I have is that there were aerial drops of printed information that provided a map of where food, clothing, water, shoes and very basic supplies were available on a route that led to France. Sort of a pop-up Walmart in remote places where the survivors were told they could find what they needed along a route that they walked the whole way to France, is what I know about that, but I was not there, I just happened to be at a place where I could here the planning, and then later, what I heard really happened when all of those people began walking to France from Damascus,

That’s all I know about it, except that the people who arrived in France and other parts of Europe were never said to have come from Damascus, they were said to have come from somewhere else, for some other reason than Damascus having been destroyed.

They turned Damascus into “Historical Mining Remnants” like we have on the Rogue River.

So who was it really that showed up in France, and were said to have caused so many problems there?

I see at least two possible different groups of people. One is that the people from Damascus made it to France with help from some maps dropped from airplanes that explained where food, clothing and shoes could be had along a route to France.

The other possibility is that the survivors were killed along the route to France at the Pop-Up Walmart’s.

I fully believe the information about the flyers with the maps telling the survivors where to find help, but I don‘t know if they were killed or actually helped.

My inclination is that the survivors were set-up, lured into a bottleneck with a promise of assistance, and killed at the pop-up Walmart.

Maybe the ones who went to France were from India, a British ruled nation. If so, and they were armed with Euros to spend, they could just do the same as the Canadians are doing in USA, just going city to city murdering millions of people, to take over for Britain, while Britain makes distraction bullshit and says they don‘t want to be part of EU anymore.

no matter which way I look at the details, it all comes out where Britain is the offensive party, and are sneaky bastards too, who like to play dress up. “The Royals” when they wear those colorful military commander outfits, are communication about where, when, how to do an attack somewhere. Those assholes are never going to get anywhere near a conventional war, so, you know those outfits have some other purpose just with the fact that they wear them sometimes, but never leave the balcony at the castle when they do.

Rambling about Khashoggi’s and Damascus is not going to help me though, so, that’s all I have on that.

no help has come, there is no where US Citizens can get medical services in Oregon, there are only fake services, and, the terror soldiers are able to get the very best medical service.

There are no signs of helpful people and it’s to dangerous to walk outside even if my leg was not so painful.

The poison gas continues.

I heard three small explosions in the distance over the past few hours.

The train that travels along Russell Road has changed over the past week or more. The change I can notice is the sound the locomotive makes is a sound of a very light weight rail vehicle, not the usual locomotive engine. The new vehicle sounds a lot like a very quiet jet turbine motor, it whines. The usual locomotive makes the ground vibrate when it passes by, this new one is almost undetectable, has no weight. The sound of the train whistle is different, and last night the train went by and did not sound the horn at all ... very unusual for that, the train always sounds the horn at the crossings, but not every time this week. Yesterday, that train went south at about 8:00 am, and I don‘t think I have ever heard the train at that hour before.

So clearly the machinery is different, and the train operator is different this week. That is notable with so many poison gas symptoms I am experiencing lately.

Please send help, Bring your own hospital.

=================================

3:42 pm:

There is no Russia.

https://www.walmart.com/ip/Household-Wooden-4-Wheels-Stress-Relief-Body-Neck-Muscle-Massage-Roller-Beige/870137218?wmlspartner=wmtlabs&adid=22222222222105785182&wmlspartner=wmtlabs&wl0=e&wl1=o&wl2=c&wl3=74835578301540&wl4=pla-4578435148129588:aud-807615483&wl5=&wl6=&wl7=&%20wl10=Walmart&wl12=870137218_10000000599&wl14=massage%20wooden%20roller&veh=sem&msclkid=93a3e07744f01a7e2d8c804ec34a74f0

this thing above is a “Hand Car” in terror speak.

It means “Roll”, as in “Beat the living daylight out of the son of a bitch”

Trust me, it’s old Hollywood terror talk to beat some one up.

I’ll pay for one with an Opie Monogram delivered to Ron Howard.

There is no where to go Opie. The helicopter, fake airplane, and key-mask-filter are mainstream news now.

“Roll a drunk?” Otis Campell at the Mayberry RFD Jail.

=========================================

3:59 pm:

Internet terror consortium at Centurylink/Google/Tumblr/Microsoft are hacking me with use of Vaiocare software today, happens often, today I am able to see part of what they can do to foul me up when I am writing important Global Security information, as follows:

The assholes at Centurlink have a mobile command center installed at three places, maybe four places, maybe more.

Monroe at 434

The new guy at 445

Chartrand at 376

The torture house at 520

Those are all places where I know my phone line has been spit, and is accessed, attached to those phone lines.

The Vaiocare shows a small pop-up almost everyday for ten years or more at random times. It says: “Vaiocare. Make Recovery Media”

Then, that happens as I am doing a search for something I need to share or learn about online, so, when the search results are shown, they tend to vanish, searches for photos just brings a lot of blank placeholders where the photos should be showing to choose from in the search results.

The same as the way my suspended Twitter account looks, Twitter took the photos out of my suspended account, and they put a colorful placeholder in place of the photos. So the Vaicare software is supposed to be a proprietary software for maintaining the Sony computers it comes with, but it has an access to it the same as does the norton Symantec security software does.

The bastards are preventing me from doing internet search as a result of the Vaiocare pop-up that says: “Make Recovery Media”

The asshole also was able to start and run my Google Chrome automatically without any of my doing, all by itself the Chrome Browser just started to run.

I don‘t use Google Chrome anymore since I found out about the thing called “Pep-Flash-Player” which can make anyone’s computer look as if porn is running on Google Chrome when no porn is actually running on the computer.