*INTP takes a deep breath* Okay, so Sentence a (parenthesis… pauses because their brain was faster than their words. Finishes with modified parenthesis), rest of sentence a. *picks up speed* Thus Senten- Stutters. Starts Sentence b again. Weird, high-pitched noise/imitation that illustrates their point. Uses their eyebrow game. A very, very long sentence c. Why Question 1? Because Answer 1. Or Alternative Answer 2. Perhaps Sarcastic answer 3. Huffs for comedic effect. Sentence d.1. Sentence d.2 (the other side of their argument). So yeah. Sentence e. Question 2? Quiet sigh.
Que es necessita per estar sa, que és el procés natural, que els peixos són estúpids, que els lleons maten els animals, que ahora mismo me comería una vaca, jajaja, que si un dia em fa mal el cap és perquè no menjo carn, que si estigués a una illa deserta què faria, que fem un favor menjant carn perquè hi hauria sobrepoblació animal, que les plantes també senten, que una persona no fa la diferència, que si he de prendre suplements, que la carn està molt bona, que necessitem la llet pels ossos, que si em crec millor que la resta del món, que si m’han adoctrinat, que si uns pares van matar a un bebé perquè eren vegans, que els ous no són pollets, que si la carn és ecològica, que si la B12, que si…
Merda, merda i més merda . No teniu ni puta idea. Per començar, no teniu ni idea de com de difícil i meditada va ser aquesta decisió, de la quantitat d’informació que vaig contrastar, del gran canvi que vaig fer. Sembla que us penseu que vaig néixer vegana. No teniu ni idea de quantes vegades, ni de quantes persones, m’han dit exactament el mateix que vosaltres, dia rere dia, any rere any. No teniu ni idea de com de difícil és aguantar-me les ganes de cridar de ràbia, per la vostra injustícia, i de plorar per saber-me incompresa, i de sacsejar-vos perquè no enteneu res. Sou tan, tan estúpids, i no pareu de riure, i no escolteu, i parleu més alt perquè penseu que teniu raó. Crec que us deu semblar divertit anar explorant els límits, anar pressionant, intentant que es trenqui la meva serenitat. Que no enteneu una merda i ni tan sols us ho plantegeu, que teniu el cap rentat i no penseu i només mengeu i esteu bruts, ben bruts, per dins i per fora.
Honestly tho this book about Argentina is creeping me out cuz they’re writing sentenes that are almost identical to lines in Evita. One sentence was “It was time for the military to be their constitution”
“I love you too Sw-,” Killian attempted to whisper but a soft kiss cut his words short.
Emma fell off of him with a giggle, pushing her body back under the sheets, her eyes pulling momentarily away from his handsome face in an attempt to get comfortable.
“You know love, if you keep kissing me like that I’ll never be able to finish a senten-“
Emma laughed once more at the humor of his unfinished statement, assuming this was another one of his attempts to be funny. “Hilarious,” she said turning her face back to Killian’s who was silent for the first time sense they had fallen in bed together.
Only unlike the lines of pleasure that had once creased his brow, now his face seemed contorted in a painful expression. His palm, clear in the pale glimmer of moonlight, was pushed tight against the left side of his jugular.
“Killian,” Emma continued, a short laugh still in her throat over whatever joke she hoped he was trying to make.
“Swan,” he murmured under the crescent glow, and it was now when she heard him speak that she knew something was wrong. “Swan what’s happening,” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
Panic rushed over Emma and she quickly thrust herself back out from under the linens, hurling her body towards the light switch with intense fury.
It took only a second after the light filled the room to see what was happening. For as she returned back to the bed, the image of the man she loved filled her eyes in crisp resolution. Emma took in the scene at lightening speed, analyzing every frame of him in a desperate attempt to seek out the cause of his pain and mend it.
At the corner of his perfectly pink lips sat a stain of crimson blood. It was small, nothing short of a dribble, but instantly it sent a heat wave of panic through her insides.
“Killian,” Emma yelled, throwing herself above his body and putting her hand over the his palm which was clutched tight to his neck.
“Excalibur,” he said moving his hand away from his skin to showcase the same wound he had obtained in Camelot. A wound that had long healed but now seemingly was back in place.
“What-no-“ Emma yelled again, confusion and hurt searing beneath her skin like hot liquid. Quickly she bunched up the sheets, pressing the white fabric to the open wound, which in turn had begun to change the color of the covers to a dark red. “Killian,” she began again. Her voice breaking as it came out. Tears drenching her face as she applied greater pressure.
Hook said nothing. Instead his mouth simply opened and closed briefly, in a desperate attempt to speak, resulting only in failure. Emma watched the horrible sight of her true loves eyes falling shut and his breath crashing to a sputter before being entirely silenced.
“Killian,” she yelled again, her hands shaking over his throat, burning with a power that seemed to be failing in its attempts to heal him. She watched the white glow encase the entirety of his neck and then his body, but still the wound continued to pour fresh blood.
“Killian,” she said again, only louder. For there was nothing else she could do but let his name pour off her tongue and crash against the walls of their bedroom.
* * * *
“Emma Love, wake up,” Killian said. Immense worry rattling the confines of his words as he shook Emma’s body awake. Her skin was wet with sweat beneath his fingertips and as her eyes shot open, quickly he acknowledged the panic that burned inside them.
“K-Killian” she breathed harshly, her words escaping from her mouth as if she had been submerged under water and was just now catching her breath.
“Emma, it’s alright,” he said, taking her body into his arms, his hands pulling her skin tightly to his own in an attempt to comfort her. “You’re were screaming in your sleep again,” he explained. “But you’re safe,” he announced, whispering the words against her ear not once but twice as confirmation.
They sat there for a moment like this. Her wrapped tightly in his arms. Him holding her head close to the groove of his shoulder, quieting the shivers that passed over her in the dead of the night. Two pieces in their rightful places, doing what they did best. Protecting each others hearts.
“I’m sorry,” she said, all of a sudden sobering up and tearing herself away from him. “It was just a dream.”
Killian took a deep breath, having heard these words for the fifth time this week, sense his return.
“These dreams,” he said, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to not add to whatever anxiety his Swan was already facing. “They’ve woken you like this almost every night this week.”
Emma smiled at the softness in his voice. The utter endearment and gentility in his tone . made her want to fall once more against him, but instead she moved further back, her eyes dropping away from his face.
Killian paused at this gesture, for she had spent many nights this week distancing herself after such an ordeal; clearly in some attempt to spare his feelings.
Slowly he examined Emma’s face, searching the canvas of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on for any kind of information he did not yet hold. Hoping to uncover the root of the issue, so he could take her hand and help her fix it.
Even here in the shadows, hair tangled and face dewy with sweat, Emma still made Killian’s breath catch in his chest. So much so that he had a shake himself out of it in order to get back on track.
“Ever sense my return,” he added, shaking himself from the enchantment of her image, a theory brimming in his mind, “you’ve been having nightmares.” He said, ensuring that this last word held a certain sense of conviction when spoken. Letting Emma know that he could see what was happening. Reminding her that he knew her through and through. And as such he knew whatever it was that she was dealing with, it wasn’t as simple as as a dream that had done the poor disservice of waking her up.
What was haunting her in her sleep was so much more. These were terrors attempting to creep in her mind. These were fears making themselves known.
“Emma if there’s something going on,” he began, moving her hair away from her face with his hook, following this gesture by brushing his thumb delicately under her chin. Slowly he moved her head up so they were again looking into each others eyes. “You can tell me anything, love. You know this.”
Emma looked at him, and she could see now for the first time this week that these nightmares that had woken her, were also taking a tole on him. He looked broken. Like what was happening to her was now happening to him as well. Like the terrible images her mind was scheming up in the dead silence of night was somehow his fault. And instead of sparing him the details as she wished to do … instead of sparing him the image of his death once more …and instead of sparing him the terror she herself felt from these dreams, she was only adding to an already overwhelming sense of worry.
“Killian you don’t think that these dre—nightmares are your fault,” she asked grabbing his hand now at the sudden realization, the whole of her concern placed solely on him.
“They are about me are they not,” he said guessing. The idea of himself as the dark one flickering through his mind as he spoke these words.
“Well yes,” she said quickly, not wishing to lie, but also wanting to move on and release the truth before he had too much time to soak in the blame.
“Emma,” he interrupted before she could continue. His voice was a hush between them. “I know you love me,” he said with a deep nervous breath that sent her heart dropping to her toes. “But I understand if my time as the dark one has left incorrigible marks.”
“Oh Killian, no,” she said, moving closer to him now, her body nearly melting into his flesh, as she closed the space in between them. “I haven’t been dreaming of you as the dark one,” she said, eyes brimming with tears.
“Then what is it,” he asked.
And Emma knew now, looking at the man she loved; staring into his eyes which were still distinguishably blue even in the darkest room of their house, that she had to let him know everything.
“Ever sense you returned,” she said choking back tears at the happiness this sentence still made her heart feel, “I just haven’t been able to stop dreaming about your death.”
Emma listened as Killian’s breath sunk deep into his chest, a mixture of relief and sadness consuming the sound.
“I’m so terrified,” she began again before he could speak.
Killian flinched at the break in her voice as these words escaped, but he kept his eyes on her own, listening to the thoughts she had kept pent up inside, knowing full well she needed to release whatever it was that had been eating away at her.
“I’m terrified that every time I touch you,” she said, braving the fear and running her hand over the stumble of his chin. She watched as he kept his eyes locked on hers but moved into her embrace, fitting perfectly in her palm. “That every time I kiss you,” she announced, tears welling up again in her eyes and pouring over her cheeks as she leaned in to plant her lips on his own. She sat there for a moment, feeling the spice of rum dance along her lips, and the pressure of his mouth beg her to remain.
“Every time I kiss you,” she repeated somewhat breathless as she pulled away from Killian’s mouth. “You’ll disappear again.” Emma drew in air, her eyes fluttering open as she did to look back at the man she loved so insanely.
“I know its stupid,” she admitted, her chest settling with a sigh.
“It’s not stupid love,” he announced, understanding the fear of once again leaving her side. “But it’s also no way to live.”
Emma nodded, knowing he was right, smiling as his thumb brushed away the remnants of her tears. Her skin buzzing from the heat of his flesh on her own.
“I know,” she whispered, catching his hand as it fell away from her face, and kissing it like he had done to her in the elevator of the Underworld.
“The future is always uncertain,” he said smiling as her lips pulled away from his hand. “But it’s also ours.”
Emma smiled, her face red with heat as a series of new images filtered through her mind at the hand of his words.
Images of a night spent in this room, wrapped up in each others arms, clothes sprawled haphazardly across beige carpet floor.
Images of burnt eggs and water downed coffee made with love from a man who still hadn’t grasped just how to use the new kitchen appliances.
Images of Killian and Henry talking about sailing, their maps covering the entirety of the kitchen table.
Images of a wedding.
Images of kids.
Images of a future.
Images of their future.
“And—” Killian attempted to start again, his voice now singsongy once he noticed the smile on Emma’s face. Hoping to spend the rest of his days ensuring that it stayed there in place.
“Let me guess,” Emma interrupted, jokingly tapping her finger against her chin, though she knew full well what he was going to say. “The future is nothing to be afraid of,” she finished for him, a laugh filtering through the air.
“Aye, Love,” he said, a smile filling his face.
Emma leaned forward again to kiss him, and having both lost all willpower, together they fell against the bed, wrapping each other tight in one anothers arms, allowing the beige floor to quickly gather their clothing, unknowingly lurching into effect just one of the many images that had just seconds ago danced through Emma’s mind.
For, you see, not only is the future nothing to be afraid of. But the future also happens to be now.
O gölde buzlarla çevrilmiş, binlerce yıldır ölüydüm Uyandırdın. Uyandım ve yanmış bir ormanın sisinde buldum uykumu. Geceye yapıştı gövdem. Bir buzulun derin ışığından tene akan beyazlık Hatırlattı; O gölde yürüdün sen Ten ve iz bırakarak.