lots of vomit


happy 28th birthday kim minseok! I’ve only be lucky enough to celebrate your special day 4 times, but I hope that in the future that you’ll always be happy and healthy. it’s hard to express the unbound affection I have for you, but I’ll try my best! I hope that when you face hardship, you continue to persevere; to work hard no matter what and to never give up your dreams. regardless of your success or failures, I will always look at you with kind eyes. no matter what you decide to do in life, I will try to support you to the best of my abilities. you have so much time ahead of you, I’m certain that you’ll be able to touch even more hearts like you have with mine and so many others already. thank you for being my sunshine on a cloudy day. thank you for always inspiring me, for always giving me a reason to try harder, and helping to better myself as a person. I’m glad we are able to grow together like this, following our own respective paths. I hope that you only have to walk the flower road, but I do understand that every person must face obstacles and hardship to grow and improve as a person. no matter what, I hope that everything you face help shape you into the person you will be tomorrow and way into the future. while I don’t know everything you have gone through, I do know that whatever most of it was, it has helped mold you into the person I see you now. far from perfect, since we’re all human, I still adore you anyways. your flaws that you might nitpick about, the haters who try to bring you down, please know that me and so many others will be here to support you and to lift you up from those painful times. your family, your members and your friends are there for you and that brings comfort to me to know that you’re not alone. regardless of what the future may bring, be unabashedly yourself and don’t be afraid to show the world just how amazing you are.

A Hero in Black (Part One)

Jughead x Reader

Request: Could you write something about the reader being missing and jughead being really worried. And when he finds the reader they have a really romantic moment and he saves her. But not the typical kind of romance. A jughead kind of romance.

Warnings: Kidnapping, swearing

Word count: 2,728

A/N: Think Brandon’s piece he performs at Idyllwild (The Fosters). That’s the kind of good she’s playing here.  I also tried third person so tell me what you think?? I also got very carried away, so I feel it deserves a second part, since i left the prompt kinda (okay very) unfinished. I can’t help myself, I love a good cliff hanger.

(Y/N) sits at home, playing the electric piano in her room. The grand piano downstairs isn’t tuned correctly, so she has to make due. College auditions are coming up, seeing as she’s a junior, and everything has to be perfect. She has at least three auditions for her top picks, and they are all a little less than two months away. She practices every day, for at least two hours a day with no distractions. Her parents barely even notice she’s there anymore, they’re so busy wrapped up in work and whatever else they have going on they couldn’t care less where she is or what she’s doing. They’re out of the house at bars and friends houses most of the weekday. It sounds worse than it actually is, this way, she can practice as loud as she wants anytime she wants without bothering anyone. She likes it like that.

 She has the music laid out in front of her, but she barely needs to look at it, the piece flows out of her fingers from memory. Her eyes close ever so slightly, really feeling every note and rhythm.

“That’s a really fancy version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star huh?” a voice makes her jump in her seat, causing her fingers to pound on a horrible combination of keys.

She turns her head to see none other than her best friend, and long-time secret crush Jughead Jones leaning on the window frame as he peeks in the room with his head.

“Actually that was Wheels on the Bus.” she mocks, smiling as she spins around on the piano bench, turning to face him, leaning her elbows on her knees.

She mentally kicks herself, because she almost forgot, it was Wednesday, the day that Jughead always comes to write his novel when she practices.  He says her playing makes him write better, or something, but she can hardly believe it.

He climbs in through the open window and takes a seat on the bench right inside it, flopping his book bag on the floor as he does so.

“Well don’t let me interrupt.” He says, holding his hands up as he leans against the window frame before shoving them in his pockets, their usual location.

She can’t help but smirk as she turns back to the piano, placing her fingers lightly over the keys before picking up where she left off before she was so rudely interrupted.

She leans into your music this time, her whole body moving with the notes, and in that moment she could’ve stayed there forever, surrounded by the sound of keys filling the room. She almost forget someone is in there with her, before hearing a light clapping while hitting the last notes.

She lets out a breath, turning to see Jug smiling at her.

“That was good for a beginner.” he teases, getting up and motioning for her to move over.

She obeys, making room for him on the bench in front of the instrument.

He makes a big deal about cracking his knuckles and waving them a whole bunch before overdramatically placing them on the keys ‘delicately.’ She stifles a laugh, putting a hand over her mouth as she waits for what he’s going to do next.

He raises his hands ever so slightly before coming down fast, pounding several dissonant keys before continuing to play what she can only discern as some awful combination of the two mentioned kids songs.

Her hands reflexively go to Her ears, chuckling at his serious face while plays a few more chords, before he finishes with sliding his hand up to the highest note and back down again.

She slowly drops her hands, only slightly concerned he would continue.

“What, no applause?” he asks, giving her the side eye with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you should stick to the keys of the laptop variety.” She tells him, nudging his shoulder.

“Yeah, right.” he scoffs, getting up and going over to his backpack. He sits on the bench by the window again, pulling out his laptop and opening it, “The Jason Blossom case has stalled for the past few months. They haven’t found anything new. My novel has remained a blank page.” he says, looking at something on his laptop.

“Who cares what the cops are saying, weren’t you doing your own investigation with Betty?” she asks, trying not to sound too jealous or put any emphasis on the question. She has to remind herself that he’s allowed to hang out with other people besides her, even if that includes one of the most beautiful girls in school that she could never compete with.

She knows that he’s been investigating for a long time with her, but strangely he’s never talked about it that much. Her guess is that he doesn’t want to bother her with it, her focus being on music and all. She really wouldn’t mind hearing about it, though.

“Yeah, but that came to a screeching halt when we found the car on fire and Polly came home. She said she didn’t have time, but wished me luck.” he says, pulling up the document the novel is located in. Sure enough, it hasn’t been written in in a few weeks.

“You must have been getting close.” She says, taking the music off of the stand and putting it away in a folder on the floor next to her. She contemplates for a moment on the solution. Jughead is obviously very passionate about this, at least for the sake of his novel, and she doesn’t want him to stop something he loves doing. “What if I help you?” she proposes.

“What? (Y/N)? Really?” that gets him to look up, “but you have those auditions, I can’t rope you into all this.”

“Nonsense. I’ve practiced so much my hands might as well fall off and I’ll still be able to play.” She jokes, earning a small smile from her best friend, “come on, let me help.”

He sits and looks at your for a few moments, adjusting his beanie, a strand of his black hair falling to the side of his face as he does.

It seems like the silence goes on forever, when really it’s probably only a few seconds.

“Okay.” He finally says, “but only when you have actual freetime, not when you’re supposed to be practicing.”

“Deal.” she says with a smile, standing up to join him at the window, “when do we start?”

About two weeks later she is in full on investigation mode, while still practicing every day, her audition dates growing closer by the minute. Jughead still comes over every Wednesday, but she sees him a lot more often now. She’s not opposed, but their Wednesday sessions of just sitting with each other while she plays and he writes still hold a special place to her.

Today, in the early Monday afternoon, she’s  in the room with all of the pictures and connections all over the wall, looking over the latest work. They were getting close, she could feel it.

“So he roped you into this?” She hears someone ask, looking over to see Betty, smiling as her hands are on her hips, raising her eyebrows.

You give her a half smile, “More like I volunteered.” she says with a shrug.

“Why?” Betty smirks, walking over, her blonde ponytail bouncing with the sway of her walk.

“I think you know.” (Y/N) says, crossing her arms in a light-hearted way.

“Enlighten me.” Betty gestures to the board, looking at it with (Y/N).

“I wanted to spend more time with him.” (Y/N) admits, a blush coming over her cheeks. She’s a bit surprised at herself for telling Betty this. They’re not really friends, (Y/N) only know her through Jug. It’s the honest truth, though, and it’s not incriminating for a girl to want to spend more time with her best friend. And a friend of Jug is a she could deal with, she tells herself. She only half believes it, though.

“He talks a lot about you.” Betty says, “he talks about the way you play, the jokes you guys make.” she has a sad smile over her face, like there was something she was just realizing.

“Well you guys are pretty close, too. He practically ditched me to hang out with you.” (Y/N) rebuttals, trying to not sound too sassy about it. She knew it wasn’t Betty’s fault, at least not completely.  

Betty stands there, looking at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asks, noticing Betty’s change in attitude almost immediately.

Betty takes a few breaths, closing her eyes, taking a few moments before responding, “We kissed.”

“What?” (Y/N) asks, turning towards her. A shock going through her system she wasn’t expecting. That can’t be possible, surely Jug would’ve told her something like that. Her vision begins to spin as she tries to process what she’s heard.

“I -we- Jug. I kissed him.” Betty says again, an apologetic look coming over her face, like she’s done something terribly wrong.

“Oh.” is the only thing that can come out of (Y/N)’s lips, her world shattering around her. There was a sliver of hope before today, just a small one that maybe he would like her back, but now… she wasn’t so sure.

“It was nothing, I swear.” Betty lies, trying to make it feel better, trying to erase the bomb she just gave (Y/N). Betty knows that what happened between her and Jughead was wrong in some capacity. Betty knew that deep down, Jughead wants (Y/N), but Betty can’t help her feelings.

“Sure.” (Y/N) says, brushing Betty aside as she walks out of the room and down the school steps. She needs to get away, she decides, just for today. She needs to disappear for the afternoon to think.

She walks as far as she can away from town, wanting to get some fresh air. She knows that she’s probably being a little over dramatic, but at the same time she doesn’t care. If Jughead is her best friend, why is he still such a mystery?

A car pulls up beside her, but she doesn’t think anything of it. She isn’t concerned with anyone else now.

She hears a window roll down, but she ignores the sound.

Her heart beats are starting to increase, though, making the slow moving car feel like a heavy weight on her chest. There is definitely something fishy going on. She begins to speed up, but the car starts to follow. She slows down, it keeps pace.

She’s afraid to look over now, but out of her peripheral vision she can see a figure in a mask, driving a white van with tinted windows. Of course, the most obvious thing parents tell their children to stay away from.

She closes her eyes for a moment to catch a breath, trying to decide on what to do. She is too far out of town to run all the way back without causing a scene or them catching up. Her phone is in her backpack, and it will be too obvious as to what she’s doing if she tries that.

She’s stuck.

A touch catches her off guard as she spins around, and then doubles over in pain as the man makes a swift punch to her gut. Her backpack falls to the ground, her notebooks falling all over the gravel side of the road.

Before she knows it she’s being thrown in the back of the darkened vehicle, the stench of alcohol and weed filling her nostrils, making her gag. Her hands are tied tightly behind her back with rope before whoever her captor is closes the door, plunging her in darkness.

The car begins to move, and she has a sinking feeling she might be in some deep shit.

Jughead knocks on the bedroom window later the in the week, on Wednesday, of course. He hasn’t seen in her in a few days, seeing as they don’t have any classes together, he assumes she was probably busy practicing and taking a bit of time off from the murder case.

The window is closed, which is unusual. Normally (Y/N) leaves the window open a crack for him, always playing piano. He loves to sit and listen to her play, teasing her and writing when he has the time.

Her playing is one of the only things that can calm him in the midst of dealing with his dad and his novel. Her help with the murder is beginning to lighten the load, it seems like she spends just as much time on making connections as she does making music.

He cups a hand around his eyes as he peers in through the window, looking for a sign of her in the room. There’s nothing, though, which is also odd. He has been coming over every Wednesday since he can remember, since they were little kids. He comes in through the window, always.

He pulls out his phone and opens a text message to her.

‘i need to play my rendition of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” for you. where are you?’ he writes, pressing send, trying to make it sound as light hearted and not needy as possible. He knows she’s busy, that she may still be doing school work or out running errands, but it’s just so unlike her to not be practicing in her room on a weekday afternoon.

There’s no response, so he waits. He waits for an hour, which turns into two.

Soon it’s sunset, and still no sign of (Y/N).

The next day, Thursday, he approaches Betty.

“I need your help.” he says, making her heart flutter in her chest despite her protests to make it stop.

“What is it?” Betty asks.

“I know you said you don’t want to do any more investigating, but I think (Y/N) is in trouble.” he says under his breath.

“What? No, I just saw her Monday.” she says, pulling the books she is carrying closer to her chest.

“She wasn’t there yesterday. She’s always there on Wednesdays.” he says, a sinking feeling coming over his chest. Deep down, he knew.

“Maybe she forgot?” Betty shrugs. It’s not like she doesn’t care, because she does, she just knows that her and (Y/N) are in rocky territory right now, and she’s not even sure if she could call them friends. She wants to be friends, but knows it probably won’t happen.

“She doesn’t forget.” He argues.

“She’s probably fine, Jug, you’ll probably see her later. Don’t worry about it.” she dismisses him as the bell rings, walking down the hall.

The thing is, he can’t dismiss this feeling. This feeling of trouble.

He adjusts his beanie and begins to make a plan, trying to think like (Y/N) would. He exits the school, walking down the road. He notices a music notebook along the road out of town, and he knows she was there. She must have dropped it, or it must have fell. He looks around, and only then does he notice skid marks driving off the road on the other side of the road. They were fresh, like they had been caused only a few days prior. The tracks continued through the grass, off into the distance.

He contemplates what to do, looking at her stuff once more.

He kneels down and opens the notebook, reading the music notes on the page. On the top, the title of the song read, “The Boy Next Door”. Underneath, “for Jughead”. His heart wrenched, looking at all of the marks on the page. It looks as if it’s been redone about a million times, pencil marks everywhere, notes appearing in patterns he can’t understand. There’s a pain in his chest, and suddenly he knows.

It took her disappearing for him to realize, but he likes her, and he needs to tell her. He may be overreacting, but a part of him doesn’t care. Wherever she is, he needs to get to her, in a cheesy-romantic kind of way that kind of makes him of want to vomit, but pulls on his heart like nothing else ever has.

And so, he sets off down the road, not knowing where it’ll take him.

Tag list: @always-chocolate @theselfishllama @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @idle-lanes @xbobaaa @juneb (If you wanna be on my tag list, just ask!)

Sometimes it’s hard to explain to people how I simultaneously love girls so freaking much but also have internalized lesbophobia that makes it harder for me to view myself in a loving and committed relationships with a woman because of society’s fetishization of lesbians and wlw to the point where being with a girl just feels like I’m part of some kink to get straight men off

[ image description: A screen shot of a post that reads “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” Someone has crossed this out with a big grey X and underneath added “No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they’re worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.” End of descripton ]

I hate this post, I hate it so much. And let me tell you why.

At first it seems like a pretty good post, right? You should love people and do things for them because you want to or because it’s nice, or just because you love them, not because you expect something in return. Yeah. We learn that as kids. But listen. Listen to me. It is not that simple. Yes you should do nice things for people. Carry in your grandmother’s grocerys even if she forgets to say thank you. Sure. But you should never, never, pour yourself into someone who does not give back to you.

Doing everything for someone who gives you nothing in return is not love.

A friend of mine worded it really well “The point of the original post was to emphasise that your own mental/physical health is more important than someone’s selfish needs.” It’s not romantic to run yourself into the ground for someone who can’t even be bothered to care about you. And not only is it not romantic, it’s unhealthy.

I have, on more than one occasion, “crossed oceans” for people who I do believe loved me, but who didn’t even come close to crossing them for me. And do you know what I got out of that? The first one I lost 10 pounds because I was so miserable I could barely eat and I was throwing up what I did eat. And I was still doing whatever I could to be with them, and make them happy, even though they didn’t seem to be willing to put any work in themself. Why bother, I was always there. The second one I ran my own mental health so thin that that literally could not do anything for him, all I could do is sit in the bathtub and think about how I coudln’t feel anything. But I still refused to turn my phone off and ignore his messages. I still made myself avaible to him because he “needed me.”

There was nothing romantic about either of those situations (note: only one was a romantic relationship but the idea of giving and giving and giving when you’re gettin nothing back is romanticized whether it’s in a romantic or platonic relationship.) There was nothing beautiful or selfless about it. It was miserable. I was miserable. I can remember one of my friends telling me he missed me because all I could talk about was the person I had allowed to become my whole life.

And in the end, both of them stopped talking to me.

Don’t believe anyone when they say the second part of that post. It’s bullshit and I’m really tired of seeing it romanticized. It tells people (especailly young girls) that this is an okay way for a relationship to be, that this is what they should be doing. 

There is nothing selfish about demanding that your emotional labour be reciprocated. That’s what makes a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) healthy. That’s what love is. Both people giving. Both people supportin each other. Not one person giving until they have nothing left for themself. 

anonymous asked:

Why do you act like you know Harry?

Well, for one, I don’t.

And for two, why does anyone act like they know him? Why do we have blogs about him? Why do we write stories about him? Why are we all here? Time is a circle. The beat goes on. We’re taking the road less traveled and it’s making no fucking difference at all.

Originally posted by xnsietyscxrs

suzuki manages to convince yamato to exchange clothes of their Respective Cliche Fashion Styles, and yamato is surprisingly far from uncomfortable in idol fashion. SUZUKI, HOWEVER………

jungkook, Protect Jimin Movement Member™

alex supporting maggie so wholeheartedly because she knows that mistakes don’t define you. that maggie cheating doesn’t make her a bad person, it makes her flawed, sure. but not bad. 

alex tells her they all do dumb stuff, and alex’s? well, she drunk and she partied and she got arrested. but she realised that it doesn’t define her, that was who she once was. before the deo, before supergirl, before maggie. her past was a seemingly straight party girl failing out of school. if alex believed, even for a minute, that your past is who you are, she’d still be that same girl. she wouldn’t be a top agent at the deo, saving lives daily, working with superheroes, gay as you like and in a relationship with the love of her life. 

maggie was supported and shown care and love and exactly what she needed after a lifetime of not getting that. and you can tell that she felt absolutely horrible about what she did to emily. that she still held that as something that made her feel like she was a bad person who doesn’t deserve the happiness alex gives her. the part of her that made her believe her other ex when she said she was insensitive, borderline sociopathic… after she was outed to her parents, she hid inside herself. she didn’t open up to girlfriends and lost many relationships. her longest relationship was emily and was when she was pretty young (probably very early 20s) and she sabotaged it herself. because she hasn’t believed she deserves happiness long before emily told her so.

but here alex is. here she is telling maggie that she does deserve happiness, love, kindness. that anything her ex girlfriends, her parents, ever said to her, is not true. alex is ready to fight to the end of the earth to protect and defend maggie to herself and to others that may think badly of her. and she knows maggie. she knows what she’s done, what she has been through, and loves her because of that, not in spite of it. and god, does maggie sawyer deserve alex danvers.

More OTP prompts
  • you’re dating my best friend but i think i might be falling in love with you
  • we sit next to each other in the park every day during our lunch breaks and one of these days i will have the guts to say something to you
  • we both want the same shoe but there’s only one pair left in what happens to be both of our size
  • you fell off your skateboard, i laughed and you saw me
  • ben & jerry’s is giving away free ice-cream and we team up together to find out where their stupid truck is so that we can gorge ourselves on the goodness
  • your kid threw up on my in the waiting room at the hospital
  • you caught me in the library watching hours of pimple popping and blackhead squeezing videos but didn’t say anything because they fascinate you too
  • “hi i know you don’t know me but i have no idea where i am and i really need the bathroom, can i please use yours?”

hc. 007

–– “Navir, Ohmu, Yone, and myself.

It was just the four of us, training under Master Inguei.

He so rarely took in new students, so it was a shock to the whole village that he was suddenly teaching one, let alone four. At the time, I couldn’t understand it either. I had believed myself to be the only one with any potential at all to master the wind.

Looking back, though, Master Inguei must have seen that potential in them far better than the rest of us could. And though they never reached my level of understanding it, they were still just as skilled in the style our school taught us as myself.  

We all knew each other’s strengths, training together as we did. Ohmu was physically the strongest of us, Navir the fastest, and Yone the wisest. Yet I was the only one who could call upon the wind, so in Inguei’s eyes – and I suppose in all of our eyes – that made me the star pupil. It would be a lie to say such treatment did not go to my head; humility was a virtue I had yet to fully appreciate.

And as we knew each other’s strengths, we knew each other’s weaknesses as well. Ohmu relied so heavily on his strength that his movements were sluggish and predictable. Navir’s dual blades were short, thus requiring her to close a much larger gap than with a normal blade. Yone always thought he knew his opponents better than they knew themselves; that they would adhere so perfectly to the same rules and tactics we were taught.

We always thought that we would have each other’s backs. It was never once thought that I would be forced to use the knowledge of their weaknesses against them.

And with each one my blade cut down, I could feel a piece of my heart be cut away with them.”



Sera: This is probably hands down my favorite friendship in the game??? They get along so well like they can just let loose and make silly lewd jokes together and I love how they get each other so much since they’re both from kind of shitty backgrounds and IT’S JUST THE BEST okay?? Sera’s probably one of the only people he can be genuine around when he’s still trying to be Blackwall and like ;_; their friendship is so important

Varric: I love these ridiculous grownass men losing their shit over jousting. I also think it’s super interesting that Varric likes Blackwall more once his secret comes out???? I also fucking love how he calls him Hero all the time and how low key annoyed Blackwall is by that nickname.

Dorian: LMAO well Dorian appreciates Blackwall in his own way… which involves a lot of soap. I love seeing their initially testy relationship grow into genuine caring!

Iron Bull: They punch things together and tbh I feel like Bull can understand where Thom Rainier was coming from idk


Cole: I love that throughout the banters you can see Blackwall warming up to Cole even though initially he’s really wary and unsettled by him!!! I imagine Cole trying very hard to help him post-judgment and it warms the cockles of my heart

Blackwall deserves love and friendship!!!!! slowly… kisses this game….

sbecks11  asked:

Hello, while I was in high school/middle school I read a serious of books in which the main group of characters worshiped the goddess Nyx and her consort, Erebus. Though it is a fictional book, I feel a connection to the goddess they describe and the way the utilize the casting of circles connected to the elements to worship her, closely related to Native American beliefs. I was wondering if you could shed some light on the goddess, or guide me to where to begin my research. Peace be with you

This is going to turn into a lot of word vomit because I have so many things to say about this. If you’re referencing the House of Night books then let me tell you a little something:

That’s exactly where I got my start worshipping Nyx.

When it comes to the practice of calling to the elements and casting circles and such, I say go for it. Research what the different elements can stand for, apply them to spells, etc. But do NOT appropriate any Native practices you may find in the books if you are not of that Native tribe i.e. You can smoke cleanse, but don’t call it smudging; you can research any native practices without actually putting them into practice. I believe some Native cultures allow practice if you make the effort to go learn from an actual Native teacher and adhere to their rules about their religions. But that’s some, not all and I may be mistaken.

When it comes to Nyx, there’s not a lot to read on her. As much as I enjoyed the HoN books when I was in high school (although I do like the first few over the last few) they don’t paint Nyx in the most accurate light. Sure she’s a loving goddess, but she is also a jealous goddess, a powerful goddess. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve mentioned that even Zeus dared not upset her because he feared her.

Working with Nyx (and even Erebus, though I have less of a relationship with him) can be a little tricky. In my personal experience, she likes it to be made obvious that you need her help. Sometimes I’ll just outright say “Okay, I really need some help here. I don’t have much to offer but I’ll leave a dark chocolate Godiva bar on the altar” because sometimes that’s all you can do.

The elemental worship factor is nice, especially because if I’m feeling like getting a different kind of help (other than that the night and darkness provide) I’ll call on the elements. I’ve gone with lots of the cliche affiliations, like wind for messages, fire for passion, water for change, earth for grounding, and spirit for strengthening myself personally. Even casting a circle and calling all the elements for their abstract combined power, just to give your spells or rituals or anything else a little boost. But respect the powers you are asking for help, whether they be deities or other powers found in nature.

If you have any more specific questions, or fi you want to talk about the book series (because I’m always down for that) you can message me on my pagan blog :)

nocturnal wix

anonymous asked:

what do you think of all the hate people give about bughead and all the other ships?

honest opinion? I just try to ignore it. people have their opinions and share them with others, I have my opinions that I share with others. some people choose to be more vocal about it on different social media platforms than others. 

my complete honest opinion? 

Keep reading

the boy that stood by the sea 1/3

Killian has been a part-time carer for Henry Cassidy for nearly five years now, over which time he has come to appreciate and value the balance it’s brought to his mostly tumultuous existence. But when Neal remarries and brings someone new into their lives, he finds his precarious peace about to be disturbed forever. All he knows is this - no matter what happens, somebody has to fight for Henry’s happiness.

(Which may well make Emma Swan the best damn thing that ever happens to them.)

Captain Cobra Swan. Loosely based on Henry James’ ‘What Maisie Knew’.


A/N: Henry af. CS af. Captain Cobra Swan af. this has literally been bursting at the edge of my consciousness for ~weeks~.
Rating: T
Warnings: slight tw for.. certainly not abuse, but perhaps what some could delicately consider dubious treatment of a child. some parents don’t always get it right, even when they desperately want to. 

now, on we go! 

This is just like Neal.

“You don’t understand,” Killian tries to reason, “I’m not even supposed to be here, I have the week off. Henry’s father is supposed to be picking him up today.”

“Yet, as you can see — Henry is still here, and it is well past the end of the school day.”

It’s his sodding week off, and of course it only takes two days for his cell to light up with the familiar number from Hopper’s Elementary with a receptionist on the other side demanding to know why nobody has come to pick up Henry Cassidy after the final ring of the bell. Killian had jetted down there as fast as the Boston traffic would allow, but he only has his bicycle and there’s no chance in hell he’s letting Henry on it without a helmet. Not to mention he has a shift starting in thirty minutes and Neal still won’t answer his bloody phone. He’s probably at work and has completely forgot about the basic parental responsibility expected of him, he usually spaces when it comes to Henry if Killian isn’t around, but he’s still his father. There are certain things you don’t just forget — and Killian only started looking after the boy as a favour to an old friend with a busy professional schedule.

That was five years ago. Becoming an on-off live-in nanny for half of his income had never been the plan. Yet, here he is.

“Miss Blanchard,” he begs, “I’m on my way to work, all I have is my bike. I can’t take him. There has to be some other solution.”

Henry’s small hands begin to play with Killian’s fingers resting at his side as he hums quietly to himself. His heart melts for the six-year-old, and he finds himself crouching down so he can lift the boy into his arms — it isn’t Henry’s fault, it never is. The lad is always so good about being handed around like a sack of potatoes from sitter to Killian to sitter to Dad, bearing it with a staggering patience and grace for a child his age.

As much as Killian considers Neal a friend, that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t deserve Henry, or Henry’s good favour. Killian presses a kiss to the crown of his chestnut hair.

“I wish there was something I could do, Killian. Aside from calling social services and letting them deal with it there’s very little else within my power — we only rang you because you’re Henry’s emergency contact.”

Just at that moment, as Killian is trying to furiously think his way out of the dilemma, there is a quiet knock on the classroom door before it opens to reveal the most arresting woman he has ever laid eyes on. She steps hesitantly inside.

“Uh, sorry to — um. Neal Cassidy. He sent me to get his son?”

With long, lightly curled blonde hair that falls to her waist and frames a lovely, unblemished face with fierce green eyes, Killian finds whatever response he had been about to utter to Miss Blanchard dying instantly on his tongue. She’s wearing only a simple red jacket and jeans and he struggles to identify just what it is about her that takes his breath away — he’s not entirely unused to the objective attractiveness of women, after all. On closer inspection of the storming jade of her eyes he can detect a hardness to her stare. Although her expression exudes the sheepish timidity of one having walked in on a conversation they weren’t invited to, there is some sort of mask in front of it that snaps any semblance of emotional connection. It’s difficult for him to describe. He feels as if he is merely observing an impossibly detailed artist’s impression of the human face rather than the article itself. A person with a screen in the way.

She’s beautiful.

But she’s also unfamiliar to him — and apparently she’s here for Henry.

Killian’s arms tighten around the boy protectively, who is watching the stranger with interest in his keen brown eyes.

Miss Blanchard’s response is in direct contrast to the way Killian’s hackles have raised, and blesses the newcomer with a friendly smile. “And who might you be?”

The woman shrugs awkwardly, stepping fully into the classroom. “I’m, uh. I’m his — I’m sorta like Henry’s step-mom.”

That Killian hadn’t been expecting.

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anonymous asked:

I actually saw your Yurio comic and I came back again looking for it again until I realized what happened (I'm sorry). I actually have emetophobia because of a type of stomach condition I have (and trust me it's not fun) and sadly enough Yurio is in a lot more vomit related things (that I can't handle) than cold/sneeze related stuff which is why I got so happy when I saw your comic (that I considered vanilla too. People overreact too much) because I actually like stuff like that with my.........

(Continued) favorite with characters especially Yurio included since I can’t handle him suffering over the type of pain I go through 24/7. I understand your reason of why not drawing him in your sneeze art to respect others but have you considered an older Yurio? Even if you’re worried about drawing him older and still looking young, I’m pretty sure you can get by as long as you state in the description he’s 18+. I’ve seen a lot of artist that draw him older and he still looked young.

ohh I’m sorry to hear that >: (I’m sure it’s not easy)
I have considered drawing an older version, which is something I’m willing to do. I just have a few things on the pipeline so it’s something that will probably come later down the road.

anonymous asked:


My stomach is like Donald Trump right now:

“There’s going to be vomit. A LOT of vomit. A YUGE amount of vomit. Nobody produces vomit like I do, and you’ll see. Sick! It’s going to be big”

My stomach shows no evidence of vomit.

Do you ever just...

Imagine Rin and Haru laying in bed after a long day of training. Rin hits the sheets and falls asleep quickly, but Haru just lays there for a moment, body turned to Rin and just slightly curled in against the other’s warmth. Haru listens to the soft in and outs or Rin’s breathing, feels the rise and fall of his chest against him, and softly inhales the scent of expensive shampoo and chlorine that never fades. Outside there’s the soft ambient noise of living in Tokyo, but it’s as though the entire world is narrowed down to the small world of this bed. And just as he’s about to roll over and try to sleep himself Rin’s head tilts to the side and rests against Haru’s hair, still fast asleep. So Haru closes his eyes thinking, ‘it can’t be helped’, and settles in pressed against Rin’s warmth.

fangirlscout replied to your post:despite how funny they can be, i don’t really get…

Are you being put to sleep though? Or just local anaesthetic? That is generally the difference between loopy (put to sleep, usually at a dental surgeon for more complicated wisdom teeth), or business as usual. I was put to sleep for mine and mostly just had big stretches of time missing (and also lots of vomiting because fml apparently).

i’m getting a local anaesthetic, obviously also at the dental surgeon, but as far as i know you don’t generally get put to sleep to have them pulled? i haven’t heard of anyone having to get a full anaesthetic for wisdom teeth removal unless it’s really really bad so that’s why i was confused. oh and also, i did undergo surgery nearly 10 years ago and i obviously was put to sleep, and i don’t remember being loopy afterwards, just really tired and nauseous. so i thought it was just the effect the painkillers gave those people, when my dentist said i could just take a couple of ibuprofen and be done with it