#not like id be able to get it anyway probably but still ... its the principal ..

[the-deadlock-south]

we lost the game but i won in looking cracked in front of strangers so did we (i) really lose (yes)

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Idk about you but that trope where a giant gets angry and accidentally scares a tiny and feels bad abt it afterwards makes me go absolutely feral,,

So, originally, I was planning for this scene to be in a future chapter of This Is Nothing Like The Disney Star Wars Trilogy, but I could never really think of a full story arc around it, even though I still really really really love this idea. In any case, if I happen to brainstorm a better plot and find a way to squeeze this in I might edit it into the main story, otherwise enjoy some classic Giant Catboi and Twink Solider fearplay >:3c

--

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was!?”

As expected, the little one did not respond to his rhetorical question, though his tone certainly helped snap it out of its previous stupor as it released its death grip on his shirt in favor of squirming as soon as the bedroom door slid shut behind him. His aggravation at the situation was clear as day even without the usual language and cultural barrier that impeded any sort of deeper relationship Edix tried to form with the human. Red ears were still folded back against his curls and his shoulders tense, the stiff posture traveling down to his hands were they gripped the earthling to his chest perhaps just a touch more tightly than usual, not that it prevented it from trying to push and wriggle itself out of his overprotective hold.

Fuck no, he wasn’t ready to let it go yet, not when flecks of blood were still smeared against his knuckles as a result of an impromptu rescue mission. The satisfying snap of cartilage under his fist after one good sucker punch to Talan’s smug face still echoed in his mind, blood gushing from the surely broken nose while the biologist stumbled backwards into the shelves. Edix wondered if he would be reprimanded for that by the directors later, or if Talan would be too proud to report the ass kicking, maybe even taking the lesson to heart to not fuck with his things in the future. And yes, that included trying to vivisect his sweet little pet.

How was I supposed to know the stray belonged to you? He had asked with sarcastic innocence, as if the human in question hadn’t been seen with Edix a thousand times before, and wasn’t drenched in his scent, and didn’t have his ID code printed on the back of its little suit, Maybe if you weren’t such a wuss and actually put it on a shorter leash-

Asshole. He was lucky Edix’s only goal at the moment was to get the little one off the table and back to the appropriate sector rather than rip Talan to shreds with his own tools. A taste of his own medicine, perhaps. Still, he admittedly did have a point about the human, what with how much it would run off and get lost and damn near killed. He simply couldn’t figure out what was so terrible about staying in his company that the little one would risk injury and mutilation in a foreign environment as opposed to the safety and comfort he so desperately tried to provide for it. They might have had a bit of a rocky start, sure, but stars above that was far in the past now. There’s nothing either of them can do to change the facts so why not accept things as they are and make some type of effort to be happy in this new life? By all accounts, Edix was a great owner!

And yet, the little one still fought him every step of the way. Even now, having just saved it from a fate of having its tiny organs sliced while it was wide awake, it made it known it did not want to be near him anymore. It might have been clinging to him the entire walk back to the bedroom, but it must have remembered it was supposed to be oblivious to the notion of genuine love and safety because now it started to stutter out little squeaks on top of struggling. Normally, Edix adored any and all of the sounds it made, especially when it was directly trying to talk to him which only served to give him the mental image of a pup mindlessly babbling before they managed their first few words. This time, however, it only worsened his irritation.

“Stop.” He ordered, which the human somewhat complied with, though it probably had more to do with his harsher tone and the fact that he was already lowering his hand towards the bed to set it down. As soon as it was free of his hold, it scrambled back, looking at him with those wide brown eyes that were full of so much fear it made him sick. Why did it have to be so afraid of him? What could he have possibly done that even now, almost a cycle later, it was still overtly wary of his intentions. All he ever did was care for it. Feed it, pet it, cuddle it, protect it, and still nothing was good enough!

With a tired sigh, he rubbed his hand down his face and resisted the urge to tug at his hair. “I just don’t understand,” he pleaded, begging some cosmic being out there to suddenly grant the little one the power to understand what he was saying, “what can I possibly do to prove to you that I’m not going to hurt you? I’m trying to keep you alive and it’s like...I don’t know, you resent me for that or something!”

The sweet thing looked more confused at his words than anything, but he could tell his body language and voice were making it uneasy. The human was used to soft words and purrs and slow movements, rarely any agitation in his being. After a beat of silence marked by an intense stare down, Edix gave up on hoping the earthling would miraculously explain itself and open up to sharing its thoughts on the matter. He reached for it and it instinctively back up, flinching when a growl rumbled in his throat in response.

“Stop running,” it was a fruitless endeavor, but like hell if he wouldn’t stop trying. That was how new pups learned how to understand a language anyways, wasn’t it? To repeat certain words over and over until they got the idea? Maybe that’s all he needed to do here, maybe by now it already knew the Venandi words for no, stop, be good, and so on. He reached for it again and it did the same thing as last time, always sure to stay just out of the most convenient reach. Not that it mattered how much it inched away seeing how it was trapped on the bed with Edix directly in front of it, but it was the principal of the matter.

And it was then that something inside him snapped. Something primal as a result of dealing with an unruly pup far too long for his nerves to handle at this moment. He wasn’t even aware of his actions, belatedly realizing how he pounced on the bed in a flash, the human scrambling to get away but only having enough time to turn around before being roughly pinned on its stomach against the mattress. His teeth were bared and pressed tightly against its back, fangs scraping against the layers of its clothes to no doubt bruise the tender flesh underneath, though thankfully they didn’t break the skin. A loud growl reverberated though its entire body, shaking it to its core.

“Enough.” He hissed against its back, keeping his teeth pressed into its skinny frame for a moment longer before pulling away. The second he did, his glare softened, all the anger he felt gone in an instant as soon as he saw the sight underneath him.

The poor thing was absolutely petrified.

It was probably the worst it’s ever been scared, arguably. Not even the first time they met, when it had so gracefully tumbled down that hill and landed face first in front of him, compared to the level of fear that radiated off it. A split-second thought had Edix wondering if he had legitimately scared it to death. Soon enough, though, he was able to pick up the minute tremors that shook through it, almost like an aftershock of the warning that it felt more than heard. It was pale, baby face devoid of color not unlike that time before when it had been sick with fever. But its eyes...those sweet little doe eyes he loved so much were wide and wet with a sheen of tears that refused to fall, locked in a blank stare straight ahead towards the wall and refusing to look at him.

A small, choked hiccup made its body twitch every couple of breaths, but it refused to open its mouth to allow any of these sniffles to turn into cries. Shit, it refused to move at all, too terrified of Edix’s threat display that if it did anything he didn’t like there would be dire consequences to pay. He supposed it worked exactly as intended, in that case. It was still, it was quiet, it was technically obeying him after he just forced it to behave via alternative punishment. That didn’t change the fact that he felt absolutely, terribly, extremely awful about what he just did.

It was just a pup, as he always said, regardless of what Ylva would tell him about human adolescence and such. It didn’t know any better, it had never been raised in these situations before and needed much longer than a measly cycle to unlearn all of its prey behaviors it needed to survive on its home planet. Besides, it wasn’t that it didn’t fully know that it was perfectly safe with Edix, it was smart enough to know he was at the very least the safest option when presented with any other Venandi. Edix had been upset, and it knew he was upset, so of course it would want to avoid a potentially hostile predator before-

--before it snatched the little one in its teeth.

Fuck, fuck, he was an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t as cut out for this as he thought, not like Ylva who was the very essence of motherhood. No. Now wasn’t the time for self doubts and pity, not when the human was in such a state. Slowly, hands cupped around its shaking form, mindful to make sure his fingers were in its view so it wouldn’t be any more startled when he lifted it up, not that he was completely sure it was actually seeing anything in front of it. The little one hardly reacted to the movement, laying limp when he pressed it against his chest and moved to sit up against the headboard of the bed in a similar fashion to what he had done the first night the poor thing was on the ship.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” he whispered to it, rubbing his thumb along the curve of its back just how it liked whenever it dozed, “you’re okay, we’re fine, it’s okay to cry. I’m sorry I scared you, I’m so sorry.”

Normally in these types of instances, he’d be purring and shushing the little sweetheart until he was able to get it down for a nap, but he had little confidence that any other types of chest vibrations would have its usual effect of making the human drowsy currently. When it finally started blinking again, the tears that had welled up ran freely down its cheeks, quickly biting down on its wobbling lip to prevent any sobs from escaping and get it in trouble for misbehaving. He softly clicked his tongue at it and cooed, anything to put it at ease with a softer demeanor. “I know, honey, I know. I won’t ever do that again, I promise."

Well, if nothing else, at least the little one’s apprehension of him wasn’t unfounded anymore, much to his dismay.

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: An Ending (Almost) (Chapter 39)

A/N: One more chapter bois!!! Honestly, I love Tommy so much holy jeezus, hopefully, I can remember how to do comedy in the sequel again oop! Anyway, leave me some comments. Also, I love Tommy and Ted and my heart legit can't take how much I love them

summary: Its the last day of finals, and the last day of school. What could go wrong?

words: 3158

warnings: Swearing, negative thoughts, kissing, violence

Edited by: @theyreallidiots  (Seriously please go give them some love, they're amazing and I love them with everything I have)

Ao3 Link

Finals Day 3...

“Tommy, right?” Tommy glanced up, his eyes adjusting to the figure standing in front of him. He blinked, realizing how exhausted he was. The library was quiet, huddled in a corner with all his materials and supplies, Tommy was studying.

“Hmm?” He hummed, he didn't really have it in him to speak. The figure chuckled sitting down next to him, Tommy shifted giving him some room. He could see his face better now: his hair was dark and long, it fell to his shoulders in a wavy formation. His face...was boring. Not in a bad way but there wasn't anything special about him. He was cute, sure, but that's about it. Tommy recognizes him from his English class, he sits in the back, he doesn't talk much. He extended his hand towards Tommy. “English class,” Tommy said.

“Yeah” He chuckled again, Tommy hated the way it sounded as if no matter what Tommy said, he would smile and play along. “I’m David,” Tommy nodded shaking his hand, he didn't really have time for this and hoped the conversation would end soon. “I..uh recognized you...from class” He rubbed the nape of his neck, avoiding Tommy’s eyes. His lips curled into a sweet smile or at least an attempt. “You're like...really smart” He complimented. Tommy pressed his lips together swallowing an exasperated sigh.

“Thank you...I’m sorry, I'm really bus-”

“Oh yeah! Totally, sorry...don't let me disturb you” He gestured to Tommy's work. Tommy eyed him but went back to his papers, he tried to work but he could feel Davids intense stare. He put his pencil down looking back up at him. “Sorry, it's just…” David looked him over, his eyes twinkling, his lips in a half-smile. “You’re...really cute” He pushed his hair behind his ears

Oh

Tommy’s heart sunk, he was being flirted with, never had he hated a feeling so much. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. He looked back up at David, his smile as fake as he could make it.

“Thanks! My boyfriend sure thinks so” He chirped, and there it was. David's face fell, his smile disappearing becoming confusion. His eyebrows furrowing, he let out a small laugh.

“He's very lucky, and where might he be?” David looked around expectantly. Seriously? Tommy thought you're still going? He didn't really know how to respond, once his free period was over, he had a final and he really didn't have time for...whatever this was. It was almost selfish of him to wish Ted was here.

“I...I don't know” Tommy admitted. He was probably studying with Charlotte and Emma right now, seeing as they had free periods as well but he couldn't be sure. They used to know where the other was because they were usually together. And sure, some might say that's a bad thing but...it worked for them. And they loved it. They loved each other, Tommy loved him. “You know what? I have to go” But this time, he wasn't running away from someone, he was running towards them. He collected his things, not giving David another look and rushed down the hall and out of school. He was really hoping Ted would be at the coffee shop they always went to, and lo and behold.

Ted sat behind Charlotte fiddling with her while Emma lay strewn across Charlotte's lap reciting something. Tommy could almost laugh had he not been so nervous. Ted looked up noticing him, his eyes actually grew, the pupil dilates when it sees something it likes. Or at least that's what Tommy remembered from class, his mind was a little preoccupied right now. Ted stood, much to Charlotte's disappointment, well, until she saw who he was standing for. Tommy wasted no time, he took Ted’s face and kissed him. Ted was clearly taken aback but melted into the kiss nonetheless, realizing how desperate he was for this moment. Tommy giggled happily, wrapping his own arms around Ted's neck. Charlotte tried really hard but her heart was so full, she squealed Emma tried to stifle it but she was just as happy. Ted pulled away eyeing his friends, they quickly returned to their work shrugging. Tommy cupped Ted’s face pulling him back towards him.

“Hi” He smiled, his heart, much like Charlotte’s, was full. Ted shook his head trying to swallow a smile, he smothered Tommy in more kisses hugging him right after. “I’m so sorry dearest” Tommy whispered in his ear.  “How do I make it up to you?” He asked pulling away, Ted shook his head once more.

“You don't ha-” he paused, an idea popped into his head. “Sing with me” He marveled, Tommy laughed slightly. Ted stood his ground however, he didn't budge.

“Oh! You're serious?” Tommy’s eyes grew wide, Ted nodded.

“My parents wanted me to sing at the wedding...and I want you to sing with me” Ted admitted, Tommy forced a squeal squeezing his hands. To be honest? He didn't know if he would be here for the wedding. He wanted to, so badly but his parents were pretty adamant about him leaving as soon as he could. Ted bit his lips, still smiling. “What?”  Ted could tell.

“Nothing! I'd love to” he lied, well he would love to but...would he be able to? But no more, he was going to be here for Ted. As long as he could, he just had to convince his parents to let him stay a little bit into summer and it would be fine. “What are we singing?” He asked, his heart still racing from excitement to be back in Ted's arms.

~~~

“Bill Dorris!” The name echoed the auditorium. Ted always felt like this ritual was stupid and would cause low self-esteem for the students but watching Bill, shocked, rushing up to stage to accept the award, Ted felt nothing but pride. He definitely showed it by cheering the loudest. “Congratulations to Mister Dorris for winning the ‘Best Academic Student’ award”. The principal handed the boy the award, Bill was almost crying behind his glasses. He quickly returned to his friends, receiving an abundance of hugs and ruffling of the hair.

“Nicely done, dude” Paul complimented, Bill, smiled up at him. The principal called back attention. They turned to him and shushed.

“Next, as requested by Mr. Hidgens, our drama teacher-” Ted shouted out a single cheer, receiving weird looks but he didn't care. “Thank you, Ted” The principal shook his head at the boy, the school laughed. “As most of you know, the drama finals consist of singing a song, what those students didn't know is that those were auditions” The group stopped smiling and turned to one another, Tommy hid a smile. Those who were interested in the musical but were not apart of the class were asked to audition months ago, just as Tommy had done, his heart sank realizing he would have to pull out. “So, I'm here to formally announce the cast of Starship for next year! The cast is as follows” The list was something so many students had not expected to hear, but they were on the edge of their seats.

“Bug: Ted

Commander Up: Sam

Taz/Bugginton: Emma

Tootsie Noodles/Pincer: Tommy

Mega-Girl: Deb

February: Charlotte

Junior/Veeto Mosquito: Paul

Specs/Neato Mosquito: Alice

Roach/Krayonder: Bill

Overqueen/Sweetheart mosquito:  David

The Caller Bug/mister bug: Paul”

Ted’s jaw dropped hearing his name first, Paul was pretty shocked playing so many roles but excited nonetheless. Emma was delighted to hear her name called and getting a kiss on the cheek from Paul was pretty exciting. Charlotte looked to Ted and they shared a knowing look. Guess their chemistry was undeniable, on stage of course. Jackie hugged her, proud of her achievements. Paul shared a look with his sister, nodding at her for finally gaining enough courage to audition. Tommy bit back his lip, trying not to cry. He smiled and nodded at every single one of his friends, and kissed his boyfriend lovingly, but his stomach churned sadly. Bill nodded appropriately and congratulated his friends. David looked up and winked at Tommy who didn't reciprocate anything. Deb smothered her girlfriend in kisses, Alice returned the action. Sam smirked to himself but ultimately was just excited to perform again. They all were, junior year was going to be fun.

~~~

“Ok, kiss, marry, kill” Ted started pointing his fork at Paul. The teen returned the gesture, mocking his friend. “The try guys” He decided, Paul scrunched his eyebrows. Tommy rolls his eyes, returning to his conversation with Bill. The girls sit in their usual spots discussing other things.

“There are four try guys dumbass” Paul noted, Ted smiled coyly.

“Yeah, so double up loser” Ted replied, Paul, shrugged stuffing more salad into his mouth. “Alright, I'll go first. Mmm...id...kill Ned” Paul mocked a gasp, Bill stifled a laugh “Kiss...Zach and marry Eugene and Keith” Tommy turned to him, a smile placed on his face, but curiosity and confusion riddled his face. Ted turned to him, kissing him on the forehead. “Polyamorous baby” He joked, Tommy playfully pushed him off awaiting Paul's answer.

“Ok lame, I’d kiss Zach and Ned, marry Keith and...kill Eugene” He decided, Ted can't even fathom his response. “What? Don't hate me cause im right” Paul defended, Bill turned now facing them.

“Even I know you don't kill Eugene, Paul” Bill commented. Ted gave him a high five, posing a confident ‘told you so’ face to Paul.

“I’d marry Zach” Tommy joined in, munching carefully on his carrots. Ted smiled at him, the tug at his stomach in delight. “That's all, the rest can do as they please” He finished, Ted chuckled softly nodding.

“Ok moving on” Paul continued, he waited for the rest to turn to him but to no avail. “Ted?” He asked impatiently.

“What?” He focused back on Paul, the teen smirked.

“You've never played tuber simulator?” Paul teased, Ted laughed sensibly. Bill and Tommy shared a quick glance.

“Hey, have you seen Joe?” Ted inquired carefully, playing out his part to perfection. Paul raised a brow.

“Whos Joe?” Paul gave in, no one matching the name.

“Joe mama!” Ted cheered victoriously. Paul turned to Emma instantly.

“Just kill me” He requested. Emme stroked his cheek lovingly, turning back to Charlotte and Jackie.

~~~

“You look wonderful, bubbles” Jackie complimented tying up the back of Charlotte's dress. She let her hair down, turning back to her girlfriend.

“I love you!” Charlotte quipped wrapping her arms around Jackie's neck. Jackie giggled kissing Charlotte, moving to her cheek. Charlotte pulled away “Sorry J, I gotta finish getting ready”. Jackie groaned, falling back onto the bed. She finished her braids and slipped her jean jacket on.

“I look like Rosa Diaz” Jackie smiled, admiring the new jacket she made. Charlotte smiled, wrapping her arms around her. She kissed her cheek from behind. “Hmm, can I do your hair?” Charlotte shook her head, tying her own hair up with a ribbon to match her dress. “Oh pretty, nevermind you've got it” Jackie kissed her cheek.

“I'm so excited for dinner!” Charlotte exclaimed putting her earrings in, Jackie helped her with her necklace. “Everyone back together! Tommy! Ted! Paul! Emma! Bill!” She turned to Jackie “You…”

“I love you, bubbles” Jackie kissed her, wrapping her up in a hug. Charlotte squealed as Jackie spun her around. “Oh! We gotta go” And so they did, saying goodbye to her mother and heading out the door.

~~~

“Ok stop stop stop” Tommy chided, he undid Ted’s tie fixing it neatly. Ted pouted kissing Tommy on the forehead, Tommy pulled him closer meeting his lips.

“Oh my god, I missed you” Ted sighed. Tommy chuckled wrapping his arms around his neck. Ted did the same around Tommy's hips. “Hey, after dinner tonight we should take a walk in the park” Ted proposed. Tommy giggled, his head landing on Ted’s chest. “What? I think it would be nice” Tommy looked back up at him.

“It would be pitch dark, and one of us would get killed,” Tommy said honestly, Ted smiled kissing him on the forehead. “I love you but that's just not plausible,” Tommy told the boy, Ted nodded agreeing. Tommy wished he could stay like this forever, and his face showed it. His eyes avoided Teds, his mouth quivered.

“Gumdrop?” Ted asked, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily. Tommy looked up and shook his head, he stood on his tiptoes kissing Ted softly, connecting their lips. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, dearest” He patted Ted’s chest, pulling away and going to the mirror. Ted stood behind him wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. “Ted” Tommy giggled “I have to get ready” Ted moaned, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. Tommy’s heart sank, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay like this forever.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but Jackie just dropped off Tommy’s skirt” Paul poked his head through the door, Ted pulled away beaming. “She said it was done last minute because she wanted to put some more stuff on it” Tommy smiled sadly, he squeezed Ted’s hand nodding a thank you to Paul. He took the skirt looking at it. “Ted, your dads wanna see you” Paul notified before leaving. Ted kissed Tommy on the cheek before leaving. He set the skirt down clutching his chest, he and Jackie had been making this one for a while. It was put on hold for finals and she finished it. But something changed, he didn't want to. He shoved the skirt away putting on an old suit he brought from his house. It fit comfortably, and fine. It was...fine.

“Hey, look at mister fancy pants” Chad declared as Ted emerged from his room. He did a little spin showing off his new suit, he was test running the outfit before the wedding. Tommy emerged after a moment in a suit, Ted furrowed his brows. Paul followed in wearing a suit as well. “Well look at the three of you” Chad took a picture.

“Yes, you all look very dashing” Henry admitted, he handed Chad a drink. Paul smiled, he was really missing home. He talked to his mom every day but he missed his room, his bed, the smell when he got up in the morning. The back and forth with his sister. He loved Ted, and Ted’s house and the professors but it wasn’t home. “I hope you enjoy your night out boys, you two-” Henry pointed to Paul and Ted “Home by eleven, got it?” They nodded, Tommy, intertwined his fingers with Ted.

“I'll make sure of it, doctor Hidgens” Tommy assured, Henry, nodded at the boy. He was excited to see him back, Ted had instantly become happier with him around and it had only been a day. “We should go, we need to pick up Bill” Tommy reminded, Ted and Paul, nodded. They said their goodbyes heading out the door.

~~~

“Emma you look… stunning” Paul breathed as his girlfriend walked through the door of the restaurant. He stood greeting her, kissing her cheek and pulling out a chair for her. She sat next to him, her dress flowing beautifully. “I love you” he confessed, the table silenced laughing. He was clearly head over heels for this girl.

“Thanks, babe” Emma stroked his cheek, kissing it softly. “So...we did it! Sophomore year is over!” She declared, the group cheered happily. She grabbed a menu, skimming through the options. The rest of the group did the same, except Tommy and Ted they shared a look. Emma noticed and looked at them “What’s up you two?” She asked the group looked up at her.

“Tommy just wants to say something” Ted admitted, Tommy swat his arm softly. “What? It’s true” He teased, he kissed his boyfriend's cheek encouragingly.

“Um well… I wasn't planning on telling you all right now, but it’s as good as any I suppose” He looked around the table, he didn't want to bring the mood down but he had to tell them. “I'm leaving next year,” The group burst into a chorus of complaints, Tommy squeezed Ted’s hand. “I'll be back for senior year… I think” I hope “I’m going to a boarding school in France… I don't really have a choice” He explained, Bill put a comforting hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Um… my parents are letting me stay for the wedding but then… I’m leaving as soon as possible” Tommy finished.

“I hate this” Charlotte decided, a murmur of agreement was heard “I hate this so much”

“Look I just wanted to tell you, that's all, can we please move on?” Tommy begged, after more arguing and frustration they agreed to move on. “Ok, how about the musical guys?” Tommy proposed excitement buzzed throughout.

“Ted! Congrats on the playing ‘Bug’!” Charlotte announced, Ted blushed hiding it with his menu “Guess we just are the perfect couple” She joked, the group chuckled. Tommy shot her a playful glare. “I’m kidding, I clearly have the better significant other” She kissed Jackie on the cheek.  

“Hey, congrats on Pincer” Bill told Tommy “I know you don't get to play him but it’s still pretty cool” Tommy smiled gratefully. It was pretty cool and he was definitely going to ask Chad about the decision, mostly because he didn't see it himself. Tommy wasn't the type to play a meaningful role, but he supposed that's what acting was. He should take it as a compliment having such a big range. He was excited to return senior year and audition for Falsettos.

The dinner continued, a wonderful way to close off the year. Sharing stories:

“So you and Charlotte kissed?” Tommy almost laughed, Ted nodded shoveling food in his mouth. Charlotte giggled, Jackie, eyed the pair. “I… I have so many questions”

“It was for practice!” Ted defended, Tommy laughed into his shoulder. “I… shut up,” He said burying his face into the food.

Gushing over each other:

“I just love you all so much!” Charlotte announced, Jackie kissed her lovingly on the cheek.

“Oh, ditto that feeling” Paul commented, Emma laughed. They all did that night, down to the last dessert they ate.

Confessions:

“Bud, no matter what, we support you” Ted assured, Bill, smiled at him gratefully. He wiped away his tears, feeling foolish. 

“Thank you guys...seriously” He confessed “I don't know how im supposed to tell my dad” 

“Your dad is the most supportive person. He wouldn't care if you decided to like...become a murderer as long as you were ok.” Ted joked, Bill chuckled followed by the rest of the group “He’ll love you even if you are aro and ace” Ted's voice became more serious, Bill stood going over to his friend. They shared a hug and it was perfect. 

Sadly...the night had to end

Then they went their separate ways. Emma got picked up by her mother, passing out as soon as she stepped into the car. Paul drove Bill home, dropping off Tommy at his house. Paul and Ted headed home sleeping as soon as they got home. Charlotte and Jackie had a sleepover, spending the night watching Barbie movies and playing with Maggie and Token. It was perfect, and the night went perfectly. It wrapped up a weird year that was, in the best way, weirdly perfect. There was a lot they still had to figure out but that's why they still had two years to go. Two years…

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 20606/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2

Read on: Ao3

A million thanks to @katie-dub for beta-ing. Her wonderful advice helped push this chapter to be so much better than it was before. Much love chica :)

The worst part about this whole situation is that Emma now has to leave Mamie’s. She had just gotten comfy, started her morning - well, now afternoon - routine. But with Mr. Super-Hot-And-Wants-To-Offer-You-A-Lot-Of-Money lingering in the coffee shop, she needs her own space to process the offer.

So, she packs up her things and heads out of the café. Mamie’s is in a part of Misthaven called Old Town. Emma likes Old Town with its winding streets and ancient buildings. It’s got a smattering of high end stores that have opened up there after Misthaven’s economic revival. The weather is fair today, so there are a fair amount of people at outdoor cafes, drinking on terraces. She knows she could stay close to Mamie’s and grab a sunny seat at a different café. And yet, she’s restless and decides that she needs more space between her and Killian.

Emma crosses the bridge to the more modern part of the city. The university is here. Universities are soothing to her. Libraries, classrooms, students studying on the quad - all of these are familiar to Emma. There is the buzz of a new semester alive on campus that she loves. The campus sits on a hill overlooking the town.

She hasn’t spent that much time exploring the campus yet. She received her student ID and turned in her paperwork a few days before, but for the most part she’s spent her last few days working on her applying for visa, setting up her apartment, fighting jetlag, and guzzling Mamie’s cappuccinos.

She thinks about taking this time to explore the library and finding a book to take her mind off the situation for a couple hours, but she knows she doesn’t have that luxury. So instead, she collapses onto a bench that overlooks Old Town.

From here, she can trace the outline of the town. There are the towers of the main Cathedral, and smaller spires of a few others. The opera house rests along the river, with a distinctive domed roof. The most predominant feature of Old Town is the large castle perched on the opposite hill. It’s a mess of turrets and tall grey walls, with sprawling grounds extending backwards into the forest and hills beyond. There is something about the castle that makes Emma shiver. It’s austere. It’s dazzling.

Emma gazes up at it for a moment. She knows enough from her research to know that the Queen doesn’t live there anymore. The prime minister’s offices are there, as is parliament. It’s a government building, no longer a home. Emma thinks of the events that happened there - the first revolution, the slaughter of the Royal Family - or, well - at least part of it. Then another revolution and suicide of a dictator. Emma understands why no one would want to live there.

If she were the princess, she would have been born there. She thinks of the dreams that haunted her childhood - castle hallways, dresses that rustled when she walked, running across palace grounds at night. She knows that they were just her childish imaginings, but well, she’s never had a home. She’s never had a starting point to her story. Who is to say she isn’t the lost princess?

There is a lot of her that thinks that this plan is stupid. She’s not a princess. She’s the opposite. She’s the kind of kid who was constantly unwanted. She’s had to scrape her life together with her own bare hands.

But, she’s curious. What is there to lose? She could have a chance at money - enough to do more than just finish her degree and pay off her student loans. That’s the only reason she’s giving this offer the time of day.

There is more though. She could have a chance at a family. She had Ingrid at one point. She has Belle now. But she’s never a real family - no mothers or fathers or aunts or uncles. If this somehow works, if she somehow charms the queen into thinking she is her daughter, then she’d have a home. She’d have someone who care about her.

What is she thinking ?

Emma pinches herself, shaking the thought of family from her mind with vehemence. She’s only made it this far because she’s relied on herself. She’s only made it this far by not letting anyone in. She has her walls and fierce independence because it’s been the only way for her to survive. She doesn’t need a family. She doesn’t need this plan.

But, isn’t this plan the best solution to her problem?

She was literally just waiting for something to fall in her lap and it did. Duke fell in her lap. Blanche Neige fell into her lap. She’s taken advantage of each of those opportunities and used them to get ahead. So shouldn’t she, in her very plucky nature, take advantage of this opportunity to get ahead?

Yes, she should. She squares her shoulders. She is going to give it a shot. Not because of sentimental things, like family, like home. Not because the guy who offered her this opportunity is sex-on-a-stick. She’s doing this because she needs money. She needs to finish her PhD. That’s it.

He’s waiting outside the restaurant a half hour early. It’s nearly dusk and the streets are milling with activity. Young and old couples, families of tourists, small packs of teenagers making their ways to restaurants and bars to begin their evening. Their fluttering of moment sends a feeling of anticipation into the air. He wonders if she’ll show.

Emma.

He can’t believe she’s called Emma. What are the chances that this girl he randomly found would not only be blond and American, but also named Emma?

And her chin, she has the same dimpled chin that the princess did.

It’s just enough that he thinks they might be able to pull this off. He lived in the castle. He technically knew the lost princess. His brother was the last one to see her alive.  If anyone could have found the real princess - it’s him.

And, well, if anyone is going to convince the queen that she is the princess - it might be this girl.

That is, if she shows up.

He waits a half hour till it’s the time she’s supposed to be here. Then his eyes are on his watch as he waits for five minutes to pass, then ten, then fifteen. Maybe she isn’t coming. She was really skeptical. It was a lot to throw on someone who was just minding their business.

It’s probably unrealistic anyway. She must have a family of her own. She must have friends she cares about. She’s probably just here on holiday - she said something about research right? She can’t just give it all up to pretend to be a princess. So what? So he can open a bookshop? His life is pretty good. He doesn’t need anything more and he doesn’t need to draw a random girl into this messy plan. It’s good that she hasn’t shown up. She’ll be better off without this plan.

“Hey,” a voice interrupt his thoughts, “Killian, right?”

It’s her. She’s changed from earlier. She wearing a sundress and a jean jacket. Her hair is up in a ponytail. Her glasses are gone too, revealing mossy green eyes.

She is still gorgeous.

“Emma.” He says, not trying to sound so surprised.

“Sorry, I’m a little late,” she says, “I just-“

“No need to apologize,” he replies, “let’s just get dinner, shall we, love?”

He ushers her into the restaurant. It’s a nice place. He used to go to school with the owner’s daughter, but she died in the revolution. He wishes he was he here for that. He should have died for the country instead of her. Those in the revolution were braver than him.

They are seated in the back, in a table he requested in advance because it’d be more private. He doesn’t want to risk someone overhearing his plan. He asks the waiter to bring over a nice bottle of red.

“So,” he says, beginning to ramble, his hesitations coming back. “Have you given it any thought? Because I was thinking about it and it was unfair for me to even put you up to this. It was selfish-“

“No.” She interrupts him this time. “It’s actually perfect. Granted, I’m not really the kind of girl who does this kind of thing. I’m not anything close to a princess. But I really, really need money.”

“Fair enough.” He says, “I understand that the fiscal reward makes it all worth it. So if you aren’t a princess- just who are you, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

Just then, the wine arrives. He nods at the waiter to let the lady taste it first. When she gives a small smile and nods, he beckons at the waiter to pour two glasses.

When the waiter is out of earshot, he raises his glass, “To our potential business arrangement.”

She lifts her glass back and then takes a few huge gulps. “We should talk about specifics.”

“Yes, precisely,” he replies. “But look, I see the waiter heading back over. So let’s order, shall we?”

“Shoot,” Emma says, flipping through the menu, “I haven’t had time to look yet. What’s good here?”

“Well, Misthaven cuisine is mostly a mix of French, Belgian and Dutch foods,” He explains quickly, “It’s the best of both worlds really. You’ve got the superb pastry and crepes of France. The excellent chocolate and chips from Belgium. Then there is amazing cheese from Holland. Honestly, you can’t go wrong with anything.”

Emma’s face is still baffled as the waiter approaches for the order.

“Ladies first,” he says, turning to Emma.

“Um, I’ll have the crepe,” she said, her forehead adorably wrinkled.

The waiter nods and turns to Killian.

“Pour moi, le steak-frite, s’il vous plait,” He replies.

The waiter jots their order down and is off again.

"See, love, you survived,” Killian says.

“I think I’ve had a crepe before at like iHop,” Emma tells him.

“What’s iHop?” he asks. It’s his turn to be perplexed.

“It’s like a really cheap pancake place,” Emma starts, “Nevermind. I didn’t eat a lot of global cuisine growing up.”

“Well it’s lucky you are getting to Misthaven now then,” Killian says, “You’ll have plenty of time to eat amazing food.”

Emma smiles and for moment he thinks they both forget the situation at hand. For a moment, they are just two friends out for dinner. For a moment, they aren’t about to undertake a preposterous plot to fool the Queen of Misthaven.

But well, that can only last for so long.

“Right, so, specifics,” He says, “Honestly, I can’t tell you too much because I don’t know that much.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one who approached me with this deal.”

“Right, but, well, like I said a man approached me to find the princess and I thought you’d be close enough,” He explains, shrugging apologetically with a nervous smile.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special,” she snorts.

“Well, I thought you were fake-princess material, so there’s probably a compliment in there if you search for it,” he smiles.

“So what would happen if I say yes?”

“Well, we’d call the chap who put me up for it and he’ll tell us the next step. It will probably involve telling the queen, convincing her it’s you, etcetera.”

“Wait. Can’t she just do a DNA test and figure it out?” Emma asks. It’s a good question.

“Well, from the research I’ve done, it seems that in the past she’s insisted that she would ‘know her daughter’ and refused DNA testing. The only time it’s been used was after each girl was revealed as an imposter.”

Emma nods, as if checking off a mental list of questions. “So, right, that’s question number two - what happens if they think I’m an imposter?”

“Well, in the past, two of the girls have ended up jail,” he begins -

“What? No way. I’m not going to jail. I have a career,” she erupts.

Panic is bright in her eyes. It seems to draw from him an unexpected reaction.

“I’ll take the fall,” he offers.

He blurts it out too quickly. It doesn’t make sense.Why would he risk jail for some lass he just met? He doesn’t need his dream to workout for him to live a decent life. He wants to open his bookshop, desperately. He wouldn’t have taken on this task if he didn’t want his dream to have a chance. All the same, he knows he could see a future where he is happy without this dream coming true.

But she won’t. She needs this money for whatever reason, a reason desperate enough to give this plan a chance. He doesn’t know much about her. He knows she’s pretty. He thinks she mentioned being in grad school, so he knows she’s probably smart. She has a fierce look in her eyes that he can’t ignore. He has this urge to protect her, to help her. Hell, he doesn’t even know what she needs the money for. It doesn’t matter. He feels something for her, something kindred that lingers in her eyes. It’s enough for him to suddenly want to risk everything.

And practically speaking, he has a record. It wouldn’t be a surprise for someone like him to end up in jail again. He can take that worry from her. He can protect her.

The waiter appears with their food, suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. The man puts their warm plates down before walking off.

Emma takes a bite of her crepe, which from the looks of it is stuffed with mushroom, egg, tomato, and cheese.

“Wow. You were right, Killian. This is really good,” she remarks.

“Told you that you were lucky to be in Misthaven,” he tells her. He wonders if those words resonate on many levels.

“So, what’s next?” Emma asks.

“First, we need to talk about your specifics,” he says.

She takes another bite of crepe as he continues.

“How long are you here for?” he asks.

“A semester,” she says, “til December.”

That’s good , he decides, sufficient time to secure the money.

“And you’ll have to keep your family quiet,” he says.

“That’s easy,” she smiles, “I don’t have a family.”

Shit. This girl is really perfect for this job.

“No family at all?” he asks.

“Nope. Long sad story, but the important thing is that there isn’t anyone who will be offended that I’m claiming someone else is my mom.”

“Brilliant.” He nods. “What about friends?”

“Just one best friend and she’s too busy in grad school to care. But I’ll tell her to stay mum anyway.”

He pops a frite in his mouth.

“What about a boyfriend?” He asks. He knows this question is self-indulgent. What can he say? He’s curious.

“No boyfriend,” she says, “no exes. I’m not really a dating type.”

A curious fact he files in his brain for further thought.

“Well, then it looks like you truly are the perfect woman for the job,” he says.

“So what happens now?” She asks, eating more crepe.

“Well, we call the gentleman, and by gentleman, I mean the scariest man you’ve ever met,” he says, “And tell him we are interested in the deal. Then I assume he’ll arrange a chance to meet the queen and present our case.”

She looks nervous.

“So, I’m up to meet with the guy, it’s just that this whole plan, it makes me hesitant. But, well, like I said, I really need money.”

He wonders what she needs the money for, maybe a hasty bet or some sort of horrible debt. He wants to ask, but thinks better of it. Emma deserves some privacy.

“Listen, Emma, love, I’ll be with you the whole way. If anything seems off, if you feel unsafe - I’ll be right beside you.”

He can tell there is still hesitation in her face. There is still something holding her back. He can’t solve all her problems, but he maybe a little smolder will help.

He tries for his most charming face, a crooked smiled and some uneven eyebrows, and then tosses her a, “Try something new, darling, it’s called trust.”

She rolls her eyes, but her face finally erupts into a true smile and he thinks that everything might be alright.

After their meal, she watches as he calls the man.

All she can think is that she would much rather be in her apartment with her fuzzy socks and a good book. But she’s here. The evening air has gone cold and windy, her sundress floats around her and she feels her legs prickle with goosebumps. She doesn’t want to be here.

“Right,” he says, “he wants us to meet him in twenty minutes.”

“Meet him where?”

She imagines a dark alley somewhere and then her imagination turns it into something uncouth. Who is to say this isn’t going to lead to a trap? Maybe this was all a scheme to get her in a position to rob her, or worse.

“A shop nearby,” He says, “Look, I don’t know who this guy is, but I haven’t told you any lies. I’ll stick with you through this.”

Emma flashes him a doubtful look, because honestly, she’s not really sure she trusts him let alone this shady fellow they are about to meet. She’s starting to think this was a bad idea. She likes to think she could handle herself if she ended up in a bad situation, but she isn’t too sure - especially if she has to face two men. She took a women’s self-defense class in undergrad, but, in the end, she’s not sure if she remembers any of it.

But she plasters on a determined look and vows to give it a shot anyway.

“Right, let’s go,” she says.

They wind through curvy streets. It’s later now and the streets are milling with people having evenings out. There are groups of girls and boys, dressed up and floating out of bars. She wishes she were them, going out to meet new friends and not off to meet a potentially questionable fate.

Yet, she shuffles behind this guy anyway because she’s just a little bit curious.

And she really needs money.

They come to a stop outside a pawn shop on the edge of Old Town, just before it gives way to more residential roads.

It looks dingy on the outside, as if it’s only half used. Or you know, like it’s a front for more shady affairs. There is peeling paint, a boarded-up window. Most of Misthaven has been rebuilt and tidied since the revolution, but it seems like this little nook got passed over.

Emma starts trying to dredge up anything she can remember from that women’s self-defense class. She’s pretty sure if someone grabs her wrist, she can twist it to escape - but twist it which way? She can’t remember. Crap, she’s hopeless.

Killian cracks open the door and they enter the shop. Inside, the air is thick and musty. There are dusty cases containing trinkets and mementos. She looks over at one, full of memorabilia from during the time under the reign of the dictator. There is paraphernalia - pamphlets with Gold’s face on them, buttons with his leering smile. She feels sick and looks over at another cabinet. This one is full of jewels. In the center is a tiny, glittering tiara.

There is something startling about the crown. It’s familiar . She wonders if maybe she played dress up with one that looked like that an early foster home. But it looks too nice to be anything she’d find in a foster home. Everything she was given in her childhood was shit.

“Like what you see, Your Highness?” asks a voice with a chuckle.

She looks up to see a man, just as creepy as Killian described - dark hoodie that covers his face, vague smell of death.

She jumps at his words, not used to the title. She supposes she should get used to it if she is going to impersonate the princess for the next few months.

“Lovely jewels,” she murmurs.

“Lovely indeed,” the death-man hisses.

His voice is a mix of something snake-like and something impish. It makes her blood curdle.

“That crown belonged to the princess,” the man explains.

She looks up at him and he zeroes in on her face. He walks to other side of the case to take her in. He circles her, looking her up and down. Then he stops so they are face to face. He runs a dirty finger along her chin and she tries not to flinch. She can see Killian in her peripheral standing defensively, as if ready to jump in and help her.

“She’s not the princess, is she?” he asks Killian.

“What are you talking about?” Killian replies, “Of course, she is.”

“Yeah right, dearie, I gave you this challenge this morning.” He snarls, “There is no way you’ve found the princess in such short time.”

Killian grimaces.

So maybe the jig is up, but maybe that’s for the best. This guy is giving Emma major heeby jeebies.

“She’s the real thing,” Killian insists.

“Oh please,” Mr. Creepy says, “Don’t lie to me boy. Don’t try to pass off a fake on me. I’m a connoisseur of rare goods. I notice when the quality of my goods are - lacking or inauthentic.”

She exchanges a glance with Killian, as the man retracts his hand from her face and circles her again.

“I will say that she’s a good fake.” He squeaks, “While she’s not what I was looking for, she might be able to convince the queen. That woman is willing to believe anything just to think her daughter is alive again.”

He brushes a lock of her hair, before adding, “I think that you might be lucrative.”

Emma stomach curls again. She doesn’t like the implication that she’s a money making device. It seems just one step away from prostitution.

She tries to make eye contact again with Killian. She wonders if he is just as uncomfortable as she is.

“Hmm, yes,” the man says. “Well, if we are going to pull this off, it will be more difficult than I expect. Take a look at this.”

He shoves an article, fished out of his pocket, to Emma. Killian peeks over her shoulder at the article as Emma begins to read it.

In a press conference today, Queen Mary Margaret announced that she has closed the search for her missing daughter.

“The loss of my daughter and husband in 1995 was devastating. It was only by a stroke of pure luck that I was able to survive and escape the revolution. I spent twenty years in exile, comforted only in knowing that my daughter escaped safely. When I returned to find her untraceable, her guard murdered, I could only think of finding her. But the past few years have led to nothing but cruel disappointment. I love my daughter and I remain hopeful that she might still be alive somewhere. But I’ve come to the realization that a public search is no longer the most productive way to locate her. I am officially calling off the search. I will no longer accept submissions of tips or applications for consideration. If my daughter is out there, I know that she will find me. We always do.”

The announcement comes on the heels of the reveal of Zelena Marshall impersonating Princess Emma. Ms. Marshall’s was the third attempt so far, leaving behind a trail of disappointment after each woman’s attempt….

Princess Emma. She must have forgotten that, that the lost princess shared the same name as her. She’s studied the Misthaven Royal Family a bit for her dissertation, but her research primarily focused on the period that followed the revolution, rather than the revolution itself (Though now that she thinks of it, it might make a terrific argument to pull in - saying that use of fairy tale as a motif displays a nostalgia for the royal family and monarchical regime).

“What?” Killian shouts, “All this has been for nothing.”

“Oh, dearie, I don’t agree.” The hooded man says, “This situation may still allow us to make money. We’ll have to convince the queen differently. We can’t waltz right in there. We’ll have to build her trust. Well, you two will.”

“There isn’t anything I can do by means of convincing,” Killian protests.

“We both know that’s not true,” the man leers. “I didn’t pick just anyone to help me with this task.”

Killian grimaces. Emma wonders what his secret might be, why he might be so helpful.

She doesn’t like this, the secrets, the manipulation. This isn’t something she is ready for. It’s one thing to try to follow an opportunity that falls into her lap, but it’s another to get this deep in a scheme she doesn’t really believe in. And this feels wrong. Killian was okay - but this other guy is making her stomach churn. She doesn’t want anything to do with him. She doesn’t want to be an accomplice to anything he is dreaming up.

He turns to her, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Well, dearie,” he says to her, “first things first, take off that jean jacket.”

“What? Why?” She asks, her voice sounding distant to her.

He chuckles darkly as he pulls a large knife from his sweatshirt. Her stomach flips. She had worried that this place could be a front for drugs or maybe even trafficking, but now she is worried that this might be the place of her murder.

The man steps closer, putting the blade of the knife up to her chin, as he reaches to push her jacket off of her shoulders. She feels violated by this movement, an unwilling undressing.

“Because the princess has a scar on her shoulder and you need to match. A princess without a scar? Well,” He says, as her jacket hits the floor and she feels blood well at the dip in her chin, “the jig is up.”

Emma glances wildly at Killian. He looks pale and sick. She knows that he must feel uncomfortable about this too. How can he not?

“I’ve changed my mind,” she announces.

The hooded man doesn’t seem to hear her and he raises the knife. She swallows in fear. She hopes it is going to hit her shoulder and not like a vital organ.

Then Killian knocks a cabinet over. The glass shatters in a loud crash. Dust flies up into the air, clouding her eyes and nose.

“What have you done?” The man hisses.

“You heard the lass, she said she changed her mind,” Killian roars.

Emma runs. Through the commotion, she finds the door and pushes. She turns briefly to flash a grateful smile at Killian. Then she is outside, safe, running over the cobblestones to put as much space as she can between herself and the nightmare she just witnessed.

It’s cold out now, especially without her jacket, but she is full of adrenaline and fear. She can’t slow down. She doesn’t want the man to follow her. She just wants to put it behind her, to forget his snake-like voice, his dark hood, the feeling of his knife against her chin.

She hopes that Killian is okay. She knows that he had good intentions, even if he did lead her into the scariest situation she’s ever been in. She still has his number in her pocket, so she can call him later if she gets really worried. But part of her already knows that she won’t. She just wants this all behind her. She doesn’t want to think about it again. She’ll find another way to pay for her final year.

She gets to the river where the tram stop is. For the first lucky moment in her day, the tram is waiting when she gets there. She hurries on and grabs a seat by the window. The train begins to move, following along the river, then across it. It winds past the university, past the business district, until it reaches her neighborhood.

It’s a young area full of student residences and young professional apartments. There are plenty of trendy cafes, gyms, and bars. While Mamie’s still remains her favorite Misthaven café and study place, she appreciates the hip vibe of this neighborhood. Tonight, it’s soothing to her. There is the sound of parties - laughter and loud music - wafting out of some of the apartments. Gangs of students, chattering mostly in French or Dutch, linger outside the bars, smoking and drinking with friends. It feels safer here. If the city is so alive, she can’t feel alone.

She walks the two blocks to where her apartment is. She was fortunate that there was a biology PhD that was spending the semester at Duke and they could do an easy swap between the two of them. When she’d talked to him briefly, he had sound like a mess. He’d even been a little drunk during their skype chat. But the apartment itself had been neat as could be. It was a bright place, a one bedroom with white walls, a few potted plants, and a desk with a view of a cute park. She knows that she’s lucky to have scored a place like this for her semester in Misthaven.

As she soon as she gets in, she puts the kettle on, hoping that a cup of tea and a book will settle her mind. Books are always her go to comfort in times like this. She scans the shelf of her sparse book collection that she’d brought with her. She settles on Emma by Jane Austen. She isn’t much for stories of regency dresses and marriage plots, that is always Belle’s domain. Emma herself prefers something a little darker, with an interplay between past and present, a fusion of a culture or history into it. Yet, she can’t resist Emma ’s spirit and tenacity. It is a secret favorite. And maybe she likes that it was named after herself.

But as she settles on the sofa, with her tea and book and a worn grey blanket - she still won’t settle. As her eyes glance over the title, she can’t help but think of the lost princess. Emma .

“Your Highness,” the lecherous man had called her.

It was like an echo. It was like a dream.

She gets up from the couch, too restless to sit still. Instead, she heads for the shower. Maybe hot, steamy water will sooth her where books could not.

She takes off her dress, still mourning the loss of her favorite jean jacket, and tosses it into the laundry basket. She climbs into the shower, cranking the water way up until it burns. She remembers a foster home where she was limited to five minute showers with cold water only. Ever since then, she’s cherished hot showers.

She feels the tension leave her shoulders, as she reaches up rub them. There is a small part, which she pushes away immediately, that wonders what it would be like if Killian would be the one rubbing her shoulders in the shower. She knows that’s not possible.

As begins her rub on her aromatherapy lavender body wash, her eyes drift to her shoulders. She swallows as her eyes follow the thin silver line that begins at the edge of her collarbone and travels down the arc of her shoulder. It’s a scar that’s been there for as long as she can remember, since before she was found alone in the airport. She’s always been ashamed of it, thinking it was proof that her life was hard before she could remember it. But now, she wonders if it’s something else.

If it’s a key, an imprint, an echo of the life she never knew.

tagging some fans (people who i looked through their tags and found out they really liked it) // let me know if anyone wants to be added or subtracted:

@sambethe @kmomof4 @pocket-anon @hooked-mom @the-corsair-and-her-quill @kiwistreetswan @lenfazreads @princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story

[spartalabouche]

(all for both skylar and kitty, or whichever you prefer to answer it for) 1-3, 5-12, 14-19, 21-26,28-38,40,42-50

OK i did ALL OF IT

1.What is your OC’s favorite color?

kitty likes red skylar likes purple

2.Does your OC collect anything? What do they collect?

kitty collects rocks! skylar collects Literally Anything given to him hes a bit of a hoarder but only when it comes to gifts. he cant bring himself to get rid of anything given to him

3.What kind of things is your OC allergic to?

kitty is mildly allergic to oranges. skylar isnt allergic to anything

5 already answered

6.What’s your OC’s favorite animal? Least favorite?

skylar loves any and all cats (including kitty(;3)) but tigers are his favourite. kitty likes bears

7.What element would your OC be?

skylar would be. water i think? i think kitty would be earth? but idk.

8.What is your OC’s theme song? 

idk lmao i dont do theme songs 

9.Do you have a faceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC?

been meaning to find some but i havent yet. i should get on that

10.What deadly sin would best represent your OC?

skylar i think would be envy. kitty maybe..wrath? i dont think that fits too much but its the best out of the seven.

11.What are your OC’s hobbies?

skylar likes to sew, kitty likes to cook

12.How patient is your OC? How hot-headed are they?

skylar is very patient. but maybe a little past patient to being just kind of a pushover. but he is very patient. kitty is a little less patient but i wouldnt say shes hot headed? shes a little irritable the days around the full moon but other than that shes pretty ok

15. If your OC could have any pet, what would they choose? Why?

kitty would like a lizard! she just thinks theyre cool. skylar wants a cat. 

16.What does your OC smell like? 

skylar smells like... warm. like warmth has a smell and thats what he smells like. kitty smells like fruit shampoo

17.How do they make a living? What kind of job do they want / not want? What is their dream job? What do they think of their current job?

theyre both highschoolers n dont have jobs but skylar wants to be a nurse. kitty isnt sure what she wants to do n thinking about it scares her a lil

18.What are your OC’s greatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths?

skylar is terrified of being alone, its the reason he was in his situation before he met kitty in the first place. he will do anything for you if he thinks you will leave him if he doesnt obey.

kitty is terrified of hurting the people close to her, mostly after when she attacked skylar bc of the blood moon bs. after a few more moons they figured out what the deal was but shes still afraid that something could happen and she could attack someone again without warning. before that.. im not sure? i havent thought much about that

19.What kind of music do they listen to? Do they have a favorite song?

skylar likes sufjan stevens n things similar, kitty likes the ready set n things similar

21 already answered

22.What kind of student were they/would they be in high school?

when hes with the right people skylar is a vry good student but before he met kitty he was in the principals office a lot and his grades dropped bc he was so exhausted emotionally from being w the ppl he was friends with and it took a toll on his mental health and his ability to focus and slash or care about school.

kitty is a good student in the classes that can keep her attention (usually science and history) but she has a real tough time if shes not Really Interested in whatever shes supposed to be learning, it just doesnt stick with her well. attitude wise tho shes a good student. she doesnt get into trouble unless the trouble finds her first and then shes too stubborn to back down lol

23.What is a random fact about your OC? 

...........i cant think of a random fact that isnt already mentioned lmao

24.What is their outlook on life? What is their philosophy / what do they think in general about living?

skylar is pretty depressed and negative about His life but very positive abt others? if that makes sense? he thinks everyone has a reason to live and deserves to live. kitty is p much the same but shes not depressed rlly. shes pretty positive all around. 

25.What inspired you to create them / how did you create them? Were they originally a fancharacter? What was their personality / design like when you first made them?

WELL. a looong while back i wrote a vent fic about dave like getting the shit beat out oif him or whatever. and skylar was one of the bg characters. he was very remorseful but didnt do anything to help dave or apologize and was just like.. in the bg for no reason? but then i was like i kinda....wanna do more with this guy. so i kinda like made an alternate ending to what i had where skylar helped dave after instead of leavin him where he was. and then i got attached lmfao.

kitty was made specifically for skylar! for a long while i thought skylar would always be like. a stand alone character it just felt rlly weird giving him a second Permenant character that wasnt terrible for him and then one day i was like WELL.....what if.......this Girl and then kitty was created

26.Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why?

skylar and kitty are each others Most Important Person. kitty brought skylar out of a dark place and skylar is kittys rock when she gets overwhelmed or breaks down. theyre good for each other. best friends.

there is not a single person however that is not important to skylar he cares abt everyones opinions all the time. kitty tho.. theres someone but im not sure?? who exactly? havent gotten into that or anything.

28 answered

29.If they could choose their epitaph for their grave, what would they choose?

man idk. skylar is too scared of death to think about it and kitty just doesnt thing much abt it

30.Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why?

kitty would like to get married, shes indifferent about kids. skylar would like to get married and have at least one child !

31.What is their most traumatic memory/experience? What is their favorite memory?

most traumatic.. for skylar probably . being kind of forced to hurt people?? not necessarily forced by other ppl but forced by himself ofc. but it was still traumatic. 

kitty... im not sure. she hasnt really had any traumatic experiences so aside from attacking skylar which she could only remember bits and pieces of anyway idk !

33.Would they ever kill someone? What would someone have to do to push them to kill someone? If they would kill someone, why? 

kitty could kill someone accidentally during a blood moon or if she was pushed too far in a non blood moon Wolf time she could probably kill someone but she definitely wouldnt mean to if she was coherent. shes a little more irritable during wolf times (i think i already mentioned that in this or the other one but) and if she gets too angry the wolf in her comes out a little more and she gets violent. shell only mean to maim but miiight go a little too far. hasnt happened yet though and she is determined to be sure it never happens.

skylar however. after like a year of hurting people hes sort of. learnt to dissociate in the process of it to cope. so if he was also pushed far enough, but like, thatd take more than wolfy kitty. like to the point of his family (including kitty) being seriously hurt or threatened seriously he could sorta. snap and have at it. and he could accidentally kill them. really unlikely though.

34.What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually?

skylar tends to avoid social groups for long periods of time and if he is w a social group hes pretty quiet and will mostly just talk to kitty between her conversations with other people. uhh id go a little more in depth about how kitty interacts with people but i.. do not go to social groups and interact enough to see how an extrovert.. would interact with other people. at least i dont kno enough abt how theyd interact to be decisive abt it. sorry lol

35.How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories?

skylar is def worried most of the time. he overthinks things especially when asked to do something, like hell overthink whether or not he did whatever thing correctly and overthink every little detail he worries a lot.

kitty likes to day dream! she likes to talk to skylar about her daydreams a lot n shell be able to go on for like an hour about whatever shes thinking about and skylar just likes to listen to her and she doesnt need him to participate a super lot just like. Listening makes her happy. shes got a lotta thoughts all the time

36.What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

skylar wants Approval and praise. not like in a selfish way like i did this thing for u so i Deserve your praise and affection for it or whatever but just. its a dpd thing. he Needs it

kitty is... difficult. i really dont have her wants slash needs as fleshed out as skylars which is bad of me :\ i need to get on that.

37.What’s something that your character does, that other people don’t normally do?

well kitty stims she likes to flap her hands and stuff but i think thats still pretty common. idk if skylar really does anything that other people dont do?? shrugs

38.What would your character do with a million dollars?

skylar would probably save it lol. kitty would impulse buy a shit ton of things at once until skylar was like wAIAt WHAT ARE U DOING and make her Calm Down

40 already answered

42.Does your character have any scars? Where did they get them from? 

skylar has scars on his cheeks, back of his arms, his shoulderish area and on his chest from kitty attacking him.

43.What was the most offensive thing your character had ever said?

skylars probably accidentally said a bunch of offensive shit being a Straight Cis White Boy but idk specifics man. kitty always corrects him tho and he does better hes tryin

44 answered

45.If your character was given a slice of pineapple pizza and they HAD to eat it (or something bad would happen), how would they react? Do they even LIKE pineapple pizza?

skylar probably doesnt mind pineapple pizza? its not his favourite but hed be fine with it but kitty thinks pineapple pizza is the most Disgustng thing on earth. she would rather Die. 

46.Your character is given a voodoo doll of themself. What do they do with it? Do they see if it actually works?

kitty would probably curiously mess with it a little but skylar would be too paranoid to touch it lol

47.Can your character draw? What do they like to draw? Do they doodle?

kitty likes to draw furries because she is an Actual Living Furry but skylar doesnt draw much more than like. ur average bored doodling.

48.What were their parents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult?

well theyre both still teenagers but kittys parents have always been very supportive of her. they kno shes bisexual and she hasnt brought up bein partially nonbinary just because she doesnt want to yet and theres nothing they Need to know about that yet but theyd be supportive of that too. shes got really good parents

skylars dad was not a very good person, not like physically abusive or anything but he was a toxic person and he is no longer in skylars life. his mom however! is a very nice person. shes rlly patient with skylar nd was especially when he was in that rlly bad place and was getting into trouble a lot. she knew there was something going on

49.Does your character like candy? Do they get sugar rushes? What are they like when they get a rush?

skylar likes chocolate and kitty likes.. like all candy. i dont think sugar rushes are.. a real thing??? lmao but itd just be kitty when shes excited. skylar doesnt get sugar rushes

50.If your character was presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how would they react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try to make their last days count?

skylar is pretty afraid of death but i dont think hed try to fight it. hed probably isolate himself from anyone that wasnt his mom or kitty

kitty would probably kind of just hide it like not tell anyone if it was possible. shes like. the moderate amount of afraid of death n i think if there were ways she could try to avoid it that would at least Extend her time a little she would definitely do that as much as possible but if she knows there wont be much she can do she wont waste too much time with it. shed just make the time she has count

[joshwritesforu]

The Wonderful Winston - Part 3, Candy Gram

Content Warning: Slurs

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Harris Nguyen is very tired. The bags under his eyes seem to pull his entire face down with them. He has messy, patchy facial hair that just screams “yes, I am indeed a boy turning into a man.” He stands in the gas stop quick-mart candy aisle. He reaches for the Peanut M&Ms, but stops when he hears a noise. He turns and sees a woman pushing a stroller. He looks back at the candy. Peanut M&Ms. He quickly snatches them and stuffs the bag quietly into his hoodie pocket. He then swipes a pack of Twizzlers, slipping them into his jeans. Harris finally takes a package of two Twinkies and puts those in his hoodie pocket, carefully placing them next to the Peanut M&Ms and clasping his hands together in the pocket so to make the act more believable, and stop the plastic rustling noises. He then takes a bag of Hot Cheetos to the counter.

“Two fifty-eight.” The clerk never even bothers looking up at Harris. It’s 2 a.m., after all. Everyone’s just about dead inside. Harris hands over three dollar bills.

“Keep it.” He quickly walks out, and successfully gets past the automatic door. Success. Harris has pulled off yet another Ocean’s Eleven-style heist with efficiency and believability. He’d personally rate this an 8/10.

Harris promised Mr. Winston he would stop stealing. He promised he’d stop doing most of the things he usually does, actually, but stealing was a big one. And Harris wanted to keep the promise, really and truly, but committing was harder than he could have ever expected. It was just so easy, and what, was the gas station going to fold because some kid took six bucks worth of junk food?

Although he did make the promise.

Five months ago, Harris broke Tommy Bautista’s jaw. When Tommy ran to the office and Harris realized he was in deep shit, he went straight to Mr. Winston’s classroom. He didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because Mr. Winston was one of maybe two teachers in his lifetime who didn’t actively hate him.

“You gotta help me out, Mr. Winston.”

“What’s wrong, Harris? You got questions about the test?”

Harris looked at Mr. Winston like he just asked if dogs could fly.

“What? No. I just punched Tommy and it looks like he’s real hurt. I think I really screwed up.”

Mr. Winston closed his laptop.

“Why did you punch him?”

“He called me a faggot! Multiple times!”

“Was there a reason you went straight to violence?”

“Uh, yeah, he called me a faggot. Like, five times.”

“Okay. Here’s what you do. You apologize. Even if you don’t think you have to, do it anyway.”

“Why? I’m not a faggot.”

“Stop saying that. Let me finish. Call me in. I’ll tell them about your improvement in my class, and how I think your behavior is improving as well. And promise them it won’t happen again. Seem sincere and, even better, be sincere. I think they’d take that.”

“Tommy doesn’t have to do shit? That’s fucked, man.”

“Listen. Tommy’s an asshole, but he doesn’t give the teachers and staff trouble. You’re on thin ice, kid. And Tommy can be an asshole before he’s hit with real-world shit that’ll leave him crying, but you still have a chance. I really think you do. But not if you get expelled.”

“Whoa. Are you allowed to say that about students?” “Are you allowed to punch a guy?”

Harris sat down.

“Do what I tell you. I can get you out of this. But only if you promise to give a damn, if not in any other class, at least mine. Okay?”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Good.”

Mr. Winston extended his hand. Harris reluctantly shook it. And lo and behold, Mr. Winston was right. Harris only took a week’s worth of lunch detention, and in return he started showing up to class. It was hard at first; Harris would barely stay awake long enough to catch what Mr. Winston’s opening line of his Great Gatsby lecture was. His eyes would wander to the girls in class, and he could only glimpse the notes on the board when he was switching views from Andi to Jennifer. But Mr. Winston wouldn’t stop trying. It really was like one of those teacher-student prestige Oscar-bait movies, but with way more dick jokes flung around. Harris came into Mr. Winston’s classroom during empty hours, considering he didn’t really have anywhere else to be, and no one else to hang out with. Every day, something new would come up.

“Man, Daisy’s a real bitch, huh?”

Mr. Winston would chuckle. “I’m not so sure about that. I mean, consider Tom’s behavior, and how that might affect how she acts. Maybe she’s just as pained as Gatsby is, and we just don’t see it as much.”

“Yeah. Or maybe she’s a bitch.”

After a few weeks, things did start getting better. Harris’s grade went from an F to a C-. Mr. Winston got to improve a student. And they both made a new friend.

Yep. Real Oscar-bait, prestige film bullshit.

Later on, Harris had an idea. Kissler Oaks High, for some reason, did not have a book club. So with a newfound inclination to read rather than beat up kids on the reg, Harris started one. Mr. Winston would be advisor. They met every Thursday at lunch, and the club had six core members: Kelly, Lopez, Omar, Sheila, Gretchen, and Toby. It was a tight-knit group, a collection of black sheep kids who didn’t seem to belong anywhere else. The type of kids who were actively willing to discuss a novel for their precious lunch hour. This was insane. Harris had actually started a club, a club for nerds, and he enjoyed it. He truly had become what he once hated.

Harris sits on the curb. He takes out his peanut M&Ms and tears into them like some feral animal digging into his prey. He chooses out a green one, and pops it. He rolls it around in his mouth, lets the candy coating melt, and chews the soft chocolate. If everyone knew this is how Harris ate sweets, he’d probably get endless shit over it.

He looks up at the stars. They’re sparse, but at least he can still spot some, even discounting the satellites and occasional helicopter. He swears that he was able to see more of them when he was younger.

His phone rings. COME ON AND SLAM, AND WELCOME TO THE JAM! He looks at the caller ID. It’s Kelly. He picks up.

“Harris?”

“Hey Kelly, what’s up.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“...Nothing much.”

“You know how Mr. Winston didn’t show up to class for like two weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why?” “Thought he was sick or something.” “Dude, I think he’s gone missing.”

Harris chuckles. “Sure.”

“I’m serious.” “Why do you say that?” “Considering people are saying that he’s gone missing. Check the news.” Harris tries to check on his phone, but it won’t load.

“Hold on, I’m out of data.” Harris walks over to the newsstand, and picks up a paper. He flips through it and

gets to the missing persons section. In a sea of lost kids and elderly folk, sure enough, Mr. Winston’s profile is splotched on the page. He has a beaming smile and wears a cardigan.

“Holy shit,” Harris says. He closes and opens the newspaper as if the image is a hallucination that would go away.

“Why hasn’t the school said anything about this?” His voice gets more strained.

“They’re late to everything. And I assume they’re waiting on more details.”

“Details? What details? This is happening because there aren’t any details!” He slaps the paper back in its plastic container.

“Yeah, I don’t know man.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Don’t think we can do anything. The cops are already on it.”

“Sure, like the cops have a healthy thirty-something dude on the top of their priority list. They probably assume he’s gone hitchhiking or something.”

“I don’t know about that. But besides, we’re kids, Harris. We’ll just have to wait, I guess.”

“This is horseshit.”

“I know. Seeya in class.”

Monday. Literature class. For the sixth day in a row, the students have had to suffer under the boot of the teaching style of a lame-ass, slow-talking, nasal-voiced substitute teacher. Harris can’t even remember the man’s name. When he takes roll, it’s like the scene from Ferris Bueller, except far less funny and far more tragic.

“Mark Allen?”

“Here.”

“Jacy… Is it Jacy? How do you say that?”

“Jacy.”

“Jacy. Thank you. Jacy Anderson?”

“Here.”

“Luis. Sorry, how do you pronounce that? Soft or hard ‘S’?”

Thursday. Lunch period. It’s been three more days without Mr. Winston, and now the club is just seven kids gathered around an awkward circle.

“So, uh, how’s it going. What did you all think about-” Harris looks at the cover. “Slaugher-House Five?”

Sure, Harris was the club president, but he wasn’t exactly a great conversation leader.

“I don’t know. I thought there was too much cursing,” Sheila starts.

“Shut the fuck up, Sheila. Why are you always bitching about the dumbest shit?” Lopez bites back.

“Guys, calm down. Even though Sheila’s being an idiot right now, that doesn’t mean you can all have a free-for-all Hell in a Cell action bloc,” says Omar.

Harris zones out. He whispers to Kelly: “You’re in charge.” He walks to the principal’s office and knocks on the secretary’s desk.

“Is Mr. Gonzalez in?” Harris asks.

“Yes, what do you need?”

“To see him.”

“Let me just call in-”

Before he can finish, Harris storms straight to Principal Gonzalez’s office. At this point, he knows far too well how to get there.

The secretary gets up.

“Hey, I need to call in-”

Harris opens the door and sees Gonzalez eating a salad. He sighs, and pushes his lunch aside.

“Why didn’t John call you in?”

“Where’s Mr. Winston?”

“He’s out.”

“Oh really? Cause last time I checked… anywhere that wasn’t you guys, he’s actually missing. For real, missing.”

Gonzalez sighs. “Close the door.” Harris closes the door and sits down.

Gonzalez clasps his fingers together and places his hands on his desk.

“Harris. We don’t want to cause more panic than necessary.”

“A teacher’s missing!”

“Yes, but telling everyone won’t be productive. The police are doing their best, and we don’t know the extent of the situation.”

“The extent of the situation is Mr. Winston could be in deep trouble!” “And there’s nothing we can do about it, Mr. Nguyen. It does nothing to ease the problem and I’m afraid announcing it will only make things far worse. If you’re so inclined, though, there is something I believe you can do.”

“What’s that.”

“There’s a hotline where you can call in and give any information you can. I’m sure you have something you can give. Here’s the number.”

Gonzalez scribbles down a phone number and hands it to Harris.

“Alright. Thanks.”

Harris leaves and Gonzalez digs into his salad.

[rhinointherain]

5-8-2020

Every coherent though is a chain of smaller thoughts Every (thought) is a combination of (feelings that you sense) Every (feeling that you sense) is an (amount of heat in a neuron) every (amount of heat in a neuron (degrees)) is a total sum of energy every total sum of energy is a neuron firing or not firing every neuron firing or not firing is the signal cells being released from the last neuron or not etc etc

Its all either off or on, one or zero, and the derivatives of them. It goes into the FOURTH dimension, the x axis is length (or time, the units) the y axis is x width (2d space) the z axis is x, height (3d space) and the other axis is derivative of x (4d space)

Every thing is a spectrum of itself underneath the 1

Each (x derivative) is an (x), each (x) is an (intergral/anti-derivative) of (x double intiderivative) and so on

Many peoples third eyes open within their lifetime, but only a fewer amount of people actually have the means tools etc to communicative what they understand effectively with the world and possibly harness it for productivity, which is what makes the difference between one of the greatest humans in history and a weird junkie

Kinda impressed by the fact that even despite having no language like this whatsoever to communicate with junkies can find a way to express these things in a way that other people whove gone through it can somehow recognize it

Or maybe they dont recognize what im recognizing at all, they are just communicating other more sensory aspects of “it” (act of third eye being open) and the people whose third eyes actually opened recognize these aspects

I can do anything now if only i remember what this was/is like. I can succeed in any field because I understand how all of them work in principal. Or at least if i remember what i recognize now well enough and can decipher it with enough focus to find a coherent way to use it

Being smart is the ability to recall them more quickly or the ability to understand their connections with each other better or understand them on a “lower” level ( the integral of x, x being thought). Maybe there is no “third eye opening” but its just that you get down on a level few people ever do. But there is no bottom it is an infinity of x into itself, also known as x derivative of x over x intergral of x

Hang on im starting to think of aspects of this i dont understand. Like what are coderivatives or whatever you call them. I cant understand where they fit into this because i dont remember exactly what they are. And time and space being two different dimensions (x and y) or space (y) being the derivative of time (x) oh wait that is exactly what im trying to say, i feel like it could be easier if writing by hand bc i could draw actual derivative symbols instead of counting on words u can type to express what im trying to say

(Wrote this last but put it here bc of organization) Remember this to help you understand: it isnt a chain bc its not just a line its in multiple dimensions. I.E. space. But it is because neurons fire in a chain I.E. time. We can only measure one direction in time but three in space.

Ok this is gonna make me sound even crazier as if I wasnt sounding crazy already. But time travel is not “movement” (one point to another) in the fourth x dimension aka 4th derivative of x (which would be to us like a wormhole), it’s movement in derivative of y? I think y, maybe i have this wrong. Neurons are oriented in space time. The amount of energy they have in them, their location in space (x,y,z coordinates), their location in time (along the x dimension) are all ways to describe the “point” they occupy in all dimensions. (Is the space time continuum represented by the x times xyz space section of all dimensions?)

Time travel is not just derivative of x, which is moving forward aka to the future, but integral of x which is moving “backward” in time aka the past

So not only can you move “outside” i e 4th derivative of x aka the fourth dimension of space (i didnt finish this thought. earlier and am trying to remember deeply enough what it said. It looked like it was a summary of the main idea that not only “” , but also you can move y derivates .” So you actually have an infinite number of dimensions being the derivative of one another in an infinite number of directions)

When they said everythings a fractal that was real

Things go in every direction all at once. And all those things go in every direction of their direction, which is infinitely more times greater than the first “every direction all at once” (which was infinity). Do you understand?

Good god. How did they figure this out. Like when you see media depictions of being high like tool album covers and stuff they have all that fractal stuff and when a sci fi movie wants to convey something deep the zoom in on the molecules until it looks like the universe zoomed out. They understand at least some aspect of this idea.

If i actually wanted my realization to be a groundbreaking thing i would probably need to spend a lot of years trying to convince people i wasnt crazy and only if i eventually effectively communicate my ideas across and spend a lot of time and energy to would it actually later seem like i were a tragic genius rather than a crazy person. also id need to try to hold on how i felt like when i was high for so long it would have a chance of disrupting my mental health/ability to function in society (same thing obvs) and driving me toward like hard drugs and that would not be good

Its so hard to explain the fourth dimension like i really dont think i could try to draw a representation of it like some people do (those cube things, i cant remember what theyre called), my conception of it is a lot more mathematical and verbal. But i still am pretty certain I understand it whether un-high me believes me or not

When youre trying to think about this stuff and you look away at your environment and think about memories and do other complex things that require much deeper chains of neurological communications in order to process them, it becomes a lot harder to focus in on these ideas because the complex things require a much higher/broader/vaguer level of though (higher broader vaguer being words we can use to try to understand what it means to be on a “higher level” as in OUTSIDE OF, DERIVATIVE OF X, IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION etc, just as like (above) and (below) describe location along the z axis if you think of the xy plane aka z equals zero as the “ground” and above means positive z and below means negative z.)

Its going to be harder than i thought to communicate this when sober lol but its still nice i was able to experience it lol

Other things to mention 1. Up until this point (but not after), some pieces of text are out of order than they were written, usually the paragraphs were all written together though not always 2. I wasn’t hallucinating per se but I understand how they work now bc some of the things in the corners of my vision, where my eyes are giving less attention to their light receptors, I’m seeing things off from how they actually are: I turn toward them and perceive them normally but when I turn away and theyre in the corner of my vision i see the distortion again. Its not like scary hallucinations or anything like for example I perceived a giant black slab like in space odyssey in place of the dark doorway, or a wall where there wasnt one. Its because my brain was focusing/thinking in different ways than its used to and so its less sensitive to the type of information it usually takes in from its environment and its interpretations of it are less precise and thus not entirely “correct”. Its a really interesting way of thinking about what it is that you actually notice and perceive. Like the experiment where they switch out the person asking for directions and the majority of people dont actually notice its a difference person

Yeah ok i cant really write much more bc im significantly less high rn, I could sit here the whole rest of the time and try to make sure I understand all this well enough each time I get less high but I really don’t feel like doing that its like, drifting farther and farther away and taking more effort to really grasp it with each drift towards sobriety and while thinking about how I might not understand all this stuff soon I’m tired lol and I appreciate the experience. Anyway yeah

More things I was thinking in the shower: Everything is a direction? And so everything is a dimension? Not just in space or time, thats only one section of it which can be described by a “shape” with three dimensions in the space orientation and one in the time orientation. All categories are their own dimension. In any given moment you are at an intersection of a certain (point) on [the shape representing the space time continuum] and all the other infinities

Question. Does the idea of god fit into all of this. “Who is doing the moving”—that would be god? “What is “moving””, etc. ? If “everything” is all infinities of infinities and this goes on infinitely, there is no possible way to be “outside” that infinity. Therefore you cant possibly “move” it all bc movement requires a force, and that force cant come from “outside” of it so therefore it all “moves” itself? How accurate is the term “movement” to describe what i am referring to? Which is our existence. Aka where the space time continuum is oriented within the “everything”. And by extent, where we ourselves are oriented within the space time continuum. I feel like i could represent this well with a 3d image. We are each our own space time continuum? With all this being understood i believe there is no possible way for us as humans to answer the question of whether there is a god, or what god is. I could be wrong about this but I dont think I personally would be able to. Same with the question of free will. The two are definitely interrelated. I feel like the ideas ive been saying can provide a different framework for talking about questions like this about god and free will and stuff, but the new framework would have to be engaged with/understood more fully in order to get any answers significantly more substantial than what we as humans have already.

“Third eye opening” is what i refer to this experience as but thats just an expression. The eye opening metaphor doesnt hold up super well when i actually think about what i mean by it. What i mean is the moment that you started to understand existence {in a certain way}, more “deeply”/“outside of just perceiving the space time continuum. But i dont think it actually necessarily refers to a specific threshold thats being passed, i just feel like ive reached a level today that is noteworthy because of how much i am able to understand. {In a certain way} is purposefully vague because again im not really sure if there is a threshold for what that certain way actually is, or how you might determine it. Its more that i reached a significant level of understanding existence today. But when people talk about the “third eye being open”, and they actually mean it, this is definitely in the realm of what they mean. Out of all the people in the world who make claims about having their “third eye open”, probably not very many of them mean something similar as i do when I talk about my experience of the third eye being open.

I was thinking about some other stuff as i was lying in bed i didnt write it down unfortunately as i was thinking it but i think it was pretty much repetitions of earlier ideas but elaborated in slightly different ways. overall the final thought was that in sum here are was that i not only can finally conceive of the idea of the fourth (spatial) dimension properly, but i also finally understand that the spatial dimensions are only one tiny “branch” of the many infinities of dimensions that branch into infinitely more infinities of dimensions. I understand now what is meant by “space time continuum” in relation to “everything else”. Oh one other thought i do remember having is that human “religion” (we talked in one my classes how difficult that word is to define) has very little to do with the actual god questions, i.e. what god is and what movement is and how god “works”, but not absolutely nothing to do with them. It’s our (humans’) very very very imprecise way of trying to address these questions.

And one other final thing. My first instinct was to spend hours thinking about how to best and most precisely communicate my understanding so that other people (and sober me) can understand it. I don’t understand why thats what I immediately jumped to doing and still feel the urge to do, when I could much more easily have decided that I was content with just understanding it myself and spending the rest of life knowing that I now have this special knowledge. I always thought i saw knowledge for the sake of knowledge as the ultimate pursuit but I guess I also have the drive to apply it somehow. I wonder if this is true for everyone on some level or not. Oh yes I also had been thinking about how difficult human language is to express what I’m trying to say because its not really equipped for it. like i just want to put quotations around every single word because words are just approximations for the ideas they are trying to express even when talking about ideas that our language is actually designed to describe, not even to mention trying to talk about stuff that it isnt. math concepts (even the few that I actually know anything about) are super super helpful to me in trying to think about and communicate these ideas and now I completely understand what people mean when they say that math is our best bet for being able to communicate with extraterrestrial intelligent life seeing as we have no way of knowing how other beings might perceive information. Wait a minute. Whos even to say that even if our definition of “life” didnt ever evolve anywhere else in the universe, there couldn’t be something else that wasn’t “alive” by this strict definition but not exactly “not alive” either. Like it didnt have “cells” exactly like earth organisms but it was somehow distinct from “not alive” things just like earth organisms are. Like the same way that viruses are neither alive nor not alive.

That article i had to read in cog sci about the “levels of understanding” (i.e. sociology is an abstraction of psychology is an abstraction of biology is an abstraction of chemistry is an abstraction of physics) is something that can fit into this understanding and probably led me to it too, seeing as I have thought about it a good deal since when i read it a few years ago. “...Is an abstraction of” is kinda like saying “is the derivate of”. Or is it like saying “is the integral of”, sorry I’m getting really tired.

Is “How” the integral of “what”, or the derivative?

Ok NOW i am going to actually sleep and instead of trying to think about this more i am going to be content with the fact that i now have all this knowledge.

Your neurons take a snapshot

Even if i am right about all this there isnt actually a point in conveying it and making it understood by other people. Even if it is an extraordinary feat to be able to understand all this it wont be seen as extraordinary (whatever that means) unless enough other people can understand it well enough to understand its significance, or someone who does understand it can make it relevant in some way to the rest of humanity and the functioning of society. I can wake up tomorrow and choose to say “lol i was so high and just rambling nonsense” and choose never to engage with these ideas again and go about my life like normal, or i can take on the burden of choosing to believe they are real, and then deciding whether i need to make them and their significance known (I dont even know if i know what their “significance” is, or if they have one). I dont know which one would overall be the better thing to do.

[rebeccahpedersen]

What Does It Cost To Construct A Condo In 2018?

TorontoRealtyBlog

I hope you’ve had your Monday-morning coffee, because this is going to be fun, fun, fun!

Why are pre-construction condominium prices so high?  Is it because developers are greedy?  Is it because land costs more these days?  Is it because the city of Toronto is bleeding developers dry?

Or is it, as you would probably expect, a combination of everything above, and more?

I’ve spent some time speaking to industry contacts, and gathering tangible data on the costs involved with development.  Let’s take a look…

12%.

Read it again.

12%.

That’s the answer to the question you all want to know.

“What is a developer’s profit margin, in this absolutely incredible real estate bull market?”

Twelve percent.

At this point, many of you are already shaking your heads.

You saw the number, you read the words ‘developer’s profit margin,’ and your brain quickly sent a signal to the rest of your body that made you squirm in your chair in discomfort, because I’m lying.  The number can’t be that low.

You already have your minds made up, and some of you may even be thinking, “He’s finally done it; he’s sold out to the world of evil condominium developers!”

But surely you’re going to read onwards, right?

Surely you’ll give me a chance to explain?

Look, that 12% figure is more for effect than anything else, to start the blog off with a bang.  I could have strung you all along, and done some big reveal, like this is a home renovation show, and the naive buyers finished their project under-budget, on time, and with no regrets.

The actual figure I was given was 12%-20%, and as will be a continuing theme in today’s blog, everything is estimated, subjective, and can change in an instant.

But where did this conversation start?

It started in the comments section, as many discussions usually do.

This is from Wednesday’s blog:

I had a feeling the “greed” comment was coming.

How can we not assume that greed is the main driver of just about any capitalistic venture in society today?  The real estate market has been on fire for over a decade!  Developers must be getting Sh!t-Rich off the backs of naive condo buyers!

But if you really sit down and��think about it, successful, established companies are able to stay in business because they offer a product or service that meets the demands, and needs of buyers and users, at a price that they’re willing to pay.

I don’t think it’s reasonable to assume that when pre-construction condo prices were at $600/sqft, and developers’ costs were at, say, $300,/sqft, that today these developers are still paying $300/sqft in costs, and they’ve just decided to get rich or die tryin’, and charge $1,000/sqft.

In fact, I think it’s more reasonable to assume, and correct me if I’m wrong, that the reason for an increase in pre-construction condo prices is more likely to do with rising costs, than greed.

Please, tell me if you disagree.

And keep in mind, I say this even though I’ve been the most ardent opponent of pre-construction condominium purchases for the last decade.  We won’t go down that road again; you’ve read my blogs for years.  But what I want to do today, is hypothesize that the rise in prices is less to do with greed, and more to do with cost, and have you readers follow along, without making your minds up in advance that I’m in bed with developers.

As I told a reader who commented on Monday’s blog, I don’t know any developers.  I’ve sold exactly ZERO pre-construction condos in the 14 years I have been licensed.  I don’t hob-nob, or eat caviar with the principals of Tridel, Menkes, and Cresford.  The only time I’ve ever interacted with developers is when their lawyers have sent me threatening letters because of things I’ve written on my blog.

So allow me to present to you my findings on the approximate cost of building new construction in downtown Toronto, and take it with a grain of salt, if you so choose.

I’ve solicited opinions from two people who work in the commercial and/or condo development space, both of whom I’ll quote, but leave anonymous.

The way we want to look at the construction cost is by breaking down the following:

Land Cost

Hard Costs

Soft Costs

  Let’s look at each one in detail.

LAND COST

One of my colleagues said the following:

“Fifteen years ago, surface-level parking lots were in abundance throughout the downtown core, and developers could have their pick of building sites, both those actually posted for sale, and those that could be solicited.  Today, there are more developers, they are larger, and they have deeper pockets.  But they’re all fighting for the same handful of building sites that are available each year.  They’re suffering from the same lack of supply that your average 1-bedroom condo buyer or entry-level home-buyer is faced with, and they’re out-bidding each other, looking at smaller margins each and every time.  Developers are getting more creative, and future-focused.  They’re land-banking for a decade ahead.  They’re buying existing commercial/office and trying to double or triple the denisty to make a condominium development work.”

One of the best resources for construction costs and industry trends that you’ll find available publicly is the Altus Group Construction Cost Guide.

The report states the following:

Altus Group’s annual Construction Cost Guide is the Canadian real estate industry’s leading guide to development project costing. It is trusted as a budgeting tool by public bodies, developers, lenders, contractors, consultants and various industry professionals.

Click HERE if you want to download, or read the 22-page report.

Market trends, sales figures for new construction, office leasing – this report has it all, in addition to the construction cost guide we’re interested in.

Within the construction cost guide is a reference to the cost per buildable square foot for land prices:

Toronto is on par with Vancouver at around $200/sqft.

But as far as that $200/sqft goes, we need to make two important notes:

1) This is a GTA cost.  The value of land in Toronto’s downtown core is far greater. 2) This is buildable square footage, and not actual sellable square footage.

One of my contacts said the following regarding point #2:

“Buildings are typically about 85% efficient so when you sell, your sales are based on the square footage inside each unit but when you allocate the costs, it is on 100% of the building.  Lobby, party room, gym, pool, fire escapes, elevators, hallways, stairwells – all common elements.  So when you calculate costs, it is on 100% of the building but when calculate revenue, you can only charge on ~85% of what you have built.”

Taking into consideration both point #1 and point #2 above, that $200/sqft estimate of cost per buildable square foot would likely head into the high-$200’s rather quickly for a downtown Toronto condo.

I was also told the following:

“The cost per square foot of buildable land is highly subjective for a condo.  You might be looking at a land-banked dozen freehold homes, for which zoning is residential with a 3-storey height restriction.  That site could be sold with the assumption that a 30-storey tower will be approved.  It cuts both ways though.  If you’re able to negotiate with the city and get approval for 40-storeys then you’re ahead of the game and your cost psqft is lowered.  But if a downtown sight is sold as though 70-storeys is a slam dunk and you but heads with the city councilor and get 60-storeys approved, then your cost skyrockets.”

I would conclude here that we’re looking at a floor of $200 for the acquisition of one square foot of condominium space, and that cost, with the three points above considered, could double.

–

HARD COSTS

Altus Group’s proprietary database of project costs includes project data from over 1,400 properties in 2017.

For the Greater Toronto Area, I’ve taken a screen-shot of the following:

It’s fair to say that most new condos in Toronto are being built higher than 40-storeys, at least when we consider the downtown core.

These figures refer to the GTA, but for our purposes, we’re not really interested in what’s happening in Halton, Peel, York, or Durham.  We want to know why pre-construction prices in the downtown core are now over $1,000 per square foot!

So I would likely use the higher number in the range, and again, I think that’s fair.

We’re looking at upwards of $330 per square foot in hard costs, and note the “premium for high quality.”  That could refer to Yorkville projects, but it could also refer to something as unassuming as a new Freed project in King West.  Consider that Altus is using data from 1,400 condos, across Canada.  And I don’t believe that the “average” features and finishes in a Calgary condo are the same as that of a downtown Toronto condo.

All three costs – land value, hard costs, and soft costs, have been increasing dramatically over the years.  But with respect to the hard costs, one of my colleagues said this:

“Labour costs have never been higher.  The unions feel as though after a decade of building, it’s time for them to get their ‘piece.’”

I have no hard data to support that.

But also consider that a developer must forecast increases in hard costs – labour, materials, what have you, as the project is future-based:

“When you are a developer and you sell all your units in one market, you have committed to delivering at that price. You have little control over costs of materials over the next 3-5 years of building, debt costs, delays etc.”

As we saw with the “LAND VALUE” portion, these costs can fluctuate dramatically.  But if you want to be conservative, then use $330/sqft as the measure for your calculations.

–

SOFT COSTS

What are soft costs?

Basically anything outside of the cost to acquire the site, and the cost to build it.

Sales and marketing?  Check.  Building a sales centre, hiring a marketing firm, public relations, sales team, etc.  Commissions payable to Realtors who sell units are 2.5%-5% of the price of a unit alone.

Architectural, legal, zoning, permitting, etc.  This is a big one!

And that brings us to the City of Toronto’s part in all of this, which adds a substantial cost!

A lot has been made of “development fees” but that’s only a small part of the pie.

Much of what we want to know is made public by the City of Toronto, and is a set fee.

Click HERE if you want to see the City of Toronto’s residential development charge rates, effective February 1st, 2018.

Here’s a breakdown:

Note that for a 1-bedroom apartment, the development charge is $17,644.

In the context of a 450 square foot condo, selling for, say, $900/sqft (or $405,000), this represents 4.4% of that price.

4.4% might not sound like a lot, but it is.  It’s a large chunk, and it’s passed directly on to the consumer.

But also consider that this is far from the only cost the developer incur from the City of Toronto.

A note on this from my colleague:

“In addition to those development charges, there are also education DC’s, cash in lieu of parkland (which can be 5-10% of the value of your land at the time of building permit), City permitting fees and many more. That is on top of Section 37 cost, which is arbitrarily negotiated with the city for “public improvements” which could be millions of dollars. You need to negotiate this in order to get final approvals to build.  The conversation now is around DC’s going up by double in Toronto, and no one knows exactly when that will happen.”

The education charges are also available on the city’s website, check HERE.

They’re about $1,500 per unit, which, again, doesn’t sound like much.  But trust me – this all adds up.

“Cash in lieu of parkland” is 5-10% of the value of the land at the time the building permit is issued, which is usually more than the amount which was paid for it.  So you could conceivably add another 5-10% of that $200-$400/sqft from our first section on “LAND VALUE,” or another $10-$40/sqft.

Then comes those pesky Section 37 fees, which I wrote about in a January blog you can read HERE.

That’s 1% of the “gross construction costs.”

When all is said and done, how much of the purchase price of a condominium – say that $405,000, 1-bedroom condo we used as an example above, goes to the city of Toronto in one form or another?  10%?  12%?  15%?

How much does that drive up the price?

I understand that the city needs money.  And clearly, given the political climate we’re in now – with FREE STUFF FOR EVERYBODY, the city, province, and country all need to come up with creative taxation measures.  But I think it’s prudent to identify how much of a hand the government has had in driving up the price.

As for the rest of the soft costs, use your imagination.

I don’t have any way of estimating the total soft costs, but my contact in commercial real estate has said these are roughly $150/sqft for your “typical” Toronto condo.

–

So where does that leave us?

Let’s recap:

Cost to acquire land: $200/sqft Hard costs: $330/sqft Soft costs: $150/sqft

That’s $680 per square foot.

And that’s using conservative numbers.

The cost to acquire the land, looking at downtown condos, and looking at actual sellable square footage, would probably be closer to $300/sqft.

The cost of building something with above-average finishes might be closer to $400/sqft.

That’s now $850/sqft.

And what are pre-construction condos selling for, on average, in downtown Toronto right now?  About $1,000/sqft.

So what is the developer really making?

  One of my colleagues sums it up nicely:

“I would suspect that on a typical project (if the market stays the same from when you buy it to when it is sold), developers are typically in a 12-20% profit margin range. Do you think it’s worth the risk??? This is of course increased by the ability to leverage their capital with land loans and construction financing, but that comes along with significant risk.”

–

This was a fun project to work on.

Keep in mind that I am a residential real estate agent, and this is an estimate; an exercise, if you will.

I wish I could find exact numbers on this, but I think it’s fair to say that Tridel, Menkes, Freed, et al aren’t going to let me publish their financial statements on Toronto Realty Blog.

I welcome your thoughts below.

The post What Does It Cost To Construct A Condo In 2018? appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

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