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4getfulimaginator2022 · 2 years

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Thorns in My Side, part 2/7

Thorns in My Side on AO3 | Thorns in My Side on FF.net

Part 1 |

Part 2 - Heart Attacked 🌺🌺🌺🌺

Emma had never been the type of person who made friends easily. She was a self-proclaimed introvert, one who always walked alone. She had fallen in love ― just once ― and she had literally been shoved into the jaws of hell for it. It was she, and she alone, who had pushed herself into college once she was out of prison, and with a crappy part-time job and the cheapest rent she could afford, she had picked herself up from the confusion and anguish Neal had left behind him when he took her heart, her love, and her hopes away from her.

Hearing Killian ― no, Jones ― indirectly dismiss her had aroused more than a little selfishness in her. He was rejecting all she had done for him, all she had felt for him, and it was maddening.

Injured or not, she wanted to hit him over the head with the back of a frying pan until he came to his fricking senses.

But she hadn't.

Once Dr. Whale had come around to check on his ever silent patient and assure her that he was alright, aside from the mounting surliness and despair etched into his sullen expression, she had taken the nurse's none too gentle advice to come back during visiting hours.

Still, if they hadn't practically forced her to leave, she wouldn't have, no matter if the mysterious man she had grown to like was literally and figuratively turning his back on her.

That just goes to show, Emma told herself sadly as she pushed the key into the lock, that you can't rely on anyone but yourself.

Stepping in Jones' house when it was empty was a decidedly unnerving experience. The walls, the floor, the barren furniture ― they all screamed out their owner's absence, and she felt like she was tiptoeing through a forbidden land.

It got worse when she hesitantly approached the doorway of his bedroom.

The very moment she laid a hand on the door handle, her mind was barraged by images: Jones crumpled on the floor, unconscious and cold as stone. A large bottle half-filled with rum at his right, a wrinkled photograph that seemed worn and faded at his left.

The woman captured in that very photo was also sitting on top of his dresser, set in a silver frame. Though her facial features were too blurred to make out, she was smiling, carefree and with a look of love on her face.

As for his stash of alcohol...

The bed was still unmade, the curtains drawn, the air musty and thick from being confined for nearly a week. Everything was as she left it, but nothing was the same. She hadn't been here until now.

Opening the window, she let the sunshine in to ward off the stench of death's brief visit. Emma inspected the room once more, noting Jones' propensity for reminders ― another photo here, a painted portrait of a man who resembled him over there, more books by his bed ― before deciding to give the area a thorough cleaning. It surely needed it.

So for the rest of the afternoon, she swept away the remnants of that horrible morning, extending her sanitizing abilities to the entire house. Classical music played in the background from the newly discovered CD player as she went through the refrigerator's contents, tied up the rotting garbage bags, and vacuumed the rugs, running the dishwasher and mopping the kitchen floor to boot. It was strenuous and annoyingly mundane, but Emma took comfort in the familiar routine and realized that she was finished before sunset. As usual. How ironic.

She went to turn off the lights, careful to check that all was locked tight and secure ― and then she saw one of his notes to her, stained and rumpled and lonely, discarded behind the sofa. The words ― his words struck a mournful chord in her, though they were anything but sad, a touch of humor and kindness smeared between the lines. The numbness left her then, however she pleaded with it to stay, and soon she was crying out in protest, wanting to shut the door and not get out to face the dusk.

Emma didn't want to be stuck in her little apartment all alone, accompanied by only a stack of overdue school assignments and work worries. She didn't also want to be stifled here by Killian's harbored pain and tragedies, regrets and unfulfilled wishes hiding in the cupboards and the dusty corners.

When she found a large collection of whiskey and rum bottles gathered in the pantry closet, she lost control of her temper and proceeded to dump them all into a large trash bag, carrying them outside with a vengeance until she threw them forcefully into the bottom of the recycling container, enjoying the sound of tumbling, breaking glass and swishing, escaping liquid.

No remorse.

However, irate and crumbling inside as she was, she clung desperately to the scents and sights within Killian's sanctuary. Making herself at home as best she could, she used the shower, blessed herself for taking a clean change of clothes with her just in case of grime (a well thought out precaution), and tried to whip up something from the remnants of food lurking about. Eventually, three servings of hot chicken noodle soup and a stack of saltine crackers later, Emma was chewing slowly on a bunch of rather crunchy peanut butter cookies she'd managed to procure.

The food wasn't alleviating her disposition, unfortunately. Everywhere her eyes glanced, she could picture him, even though she had never really seen him there. He had hidden himself from her so well, in so many ways, and he clearly had no intention of stopping. But somehow, unconsciously, he was ingrained into the very fibers of the wooden walls, his presence almost tangible as she sat on the bar stool by the kitchen counter, sipping a tall glass of milk sweetened with honey. His own recommendation for insomnia.

It was surreal ― all of it. His fall from survival, his self-inflicted injury, his contempt for himself, her reaction, her unwillingness to let him go and slip away. This could almost be some twisted fairy tale, she drily marveled after slipping into the extra large t-shirt she could only assume belonged to him.

Inhaling his natural musk and the smallest hint of cologne, she first turned off all the lights except for in the bathroom and barricaded the door before settling herself into the guest bedroom. Pulling the sheets and cuddly blanket around her like an endearing cocoon, Emma yawned widely and acknowledged how much of a toll this whole experience was taking on her body and her energy.

But the more she told herself that she couldn't possibly go to sleep, stress and anxiety making her head pound and her stomach ache, the more tightly she shut her eyelids, inviting dark to dispel light and encourage her rest.

Let the new day come.

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There was no one to see her, no one to watch the way she stared at the dying blooms. Finally, she was allowed to feel them, but there was no point or pleasure in it now. The rose petals were streaked with brown and orange, a sign of winter and certain death, the strong stench of decay permeating the chilly air. And as Emma stalked the fence posts, going from rosebush to rosebush, she realized what the nearly flowerless stems and stalks, now devoid of color, reminded her of.

The thorns, the edge of a sword in their tips and danger in their touch, were still entwined, unbroken like the links of chains. The dark screen they had formed around the home of Killian Jones, shielding his very existence from the rest of the normal world, was much like a wall ― his wall. He held the barriers up because he didn't want to let anyone in, not when they could threaten to destroy the one thing that kept light and humanity and life out. Safety and protection and abounding loneliness, all rooted in.

She had recognized that wall of his, because in truth, it looked all too similar to her own.

Wanting to drive away that aura of departure that was sweeping through the rooms and the yard during every moment their owner was gone, Emma took charge. She pulled up the blinds and pinned back the shutters, calling in the sun. While the dust flew out through open windows, she tied back the drawstrings of the shades to ensure that there wouldn't be interference of any kind. A small dish of rose oil was placed in the kitchen, the bathroom, and the two bedrooms, and she was careful to place a rather large helping of the fragrance in an unseen spot.

Other than those changes, the prospects were rather bleak.

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When she set foot in the hospital again, it was after a full day of school and work, both back to back. There was no escaping her boss' prodding, her classmates' annoying questions covered by fake concern. But throughout it all, she focused on his face, his steady breaths, her hopes and prayers that he would stay alive.

Yes, she wanted so desperately for him to live. But she didn't know how to pinpoint what she felt for this stranger who was closer to her than anyone else she knew. It took a Lost Girl to know a Lost Boy.

Holding the worn copy of Peter Pan close to her chest, she wearily went through what the hospital staff liked to call "standard procedure" before she could visit Killian: the nurses asked too much, the waiting room stank too much, the floor looked too much like the reflection of death itself, she endured a lifetime of anxiety before she could take one step through the door of the man whom she had to see.

Still they called her his girlfriend, and still she went along with the lie. She was more desperate to be in his presence than for standing on ceremony.

He didn't tell them that he didn't want to see her, but here she was, sitting in front of him while he blatantly ignored her. Dr. Whale had been all professional smiles and discreet decorum, insisting that his patient's release date has been set for the following week. The way one of the nurses eyed a very distant, very grumpy Jones was not encouraging, however. In comparison to what she had seen so far, his room was rather spotless, but...

Worse than his house, it reeked of his stubbornness, his infuriating refusal to acknowledge anyone's pain but his own, his damn selfishness, and ― damn it. Why wouldn't he just speak to her?

"So..." she began uncertainly, fidgeting in the uncomfortable metal chair she'd reluctantly taken from the corner and moved to his bedside. "The doctor said you'll be free to go soon." Emma tried her best to sound excited and happy.

The terrible look Killian gave her before facing away, yet again, silenced everything she was feeling and thinking. Her blood was ice and her heart was frozen inside her chest. His next words shattered both.

"Why did you have to ruin it?" His voice was so full of loathing, of merciless self-hate, that Emma was suddenly frightened by being faced with the enormity of his problems.

"What are you talking about?" she backtracked nervously, gripping the sides of the book harder. She still had not shown it to him, and it seemed she wouldn't get an opportunity to do so. How could she read to him a tale about living forever by being young at heart, about the pains and joys of both childhood and adulthood, about the value of growing up and the price of innocence?

It was as plain as day that he still wanted to die.

Shifting until he had raised himself up on his arms, sitting upright with his back hitting the hospital bed's headboard, he grimaced as the IV needles moved restlessly under his skin, as the horror of living was clearly made more unbearable by the reality of his physical injuries. His hand-less left arm fidgeted, and Emma was struck by the pitiful, heart-rending picture before her.

"I mean," he growled out, teeth bared, "that everything was proceeding as it should. I was ready ― as ready as I ever could be ― but you ruined it all. You let them save me, when I obviously wanted this." He was staring through her, his eyes burning her soul. "You forced yourself into my life, ever since you touched that bloody rose, and ― and you have no right. You have no right."

She wanted so badly to sob, to scream at him, to explain why she felt he was worth saving, but all she could see was her own anger, her hurt. Again, she was rejected. Again, she was spurned, all for the simple act of caring too much. "No right?" she whispered, biting her lower lip to restrain herself from crying in front of him. Then her tone hardened as what had been growing and boiling inside since she had found him unconscious on the floor came out into the light. "Do you even know...how much your stunt has cost me? How much I have suffered in the process? How much I have sacrificed, not only this past week, but all these months when I've been slaving and toiling and scraping, and all for you?" She choked on stuttered breaths but held fast, her voice now loud and unyielding. "I've been sitting here for days, waiting for you to awaken, and all you can say to me is how much you despise me for preventing your suicide?"

He smiled coldly. "Actually, the question is why did you bother, when it would have been so much easier for you to have left me there on the floor? Wasn't it clear that I had chosen my path?"

"A path of self-destruction, you mean?" she nearly shouted, unable to reprove him without exposing herself. "Only cowards want to escape so desperately!"

"Cowards?" His face was now a deep shade of red, his jaw clenching. "Bloody hell, it's my damn life, you daft girl ― and what kind of life is it when you have nothing to live for!" he yelled back, his fisthold tightening on the sheets. "You shouldn't have gotten involved ― you shouldn't have stopped me ― it's not your damn duty! In fact, you should have been happy that you wouldn't be inflicted anymore with the bloody savage who forced you under blackmail to be his servant ― the grimy pieces of a man who tormented you and made you so miserable ― the monster who made you clean his filthy house and endure his filth every single day―"

"Because I liked you!" she cried out, hiding her face in her hands as a sob finally emerged from her throat. It was a wonder that no one came rushing in to witness the heated argument when they were nearly at each other's throats, making the very walls shake from terror. "I still do ― and this may have started out with me...disliking you, but it didn't end that way. It doesn't have to. If you wanted me to hate you so much," she murmured brokenly, daring to peek at him, "then why...why did you speak to me in your letters? Why did you write to me, words I wanted to carry with me everywhere? Why did you see me, when I barely saw you? Why drag me along on your ride of self-pity, when I have only ever tried so fricking hard to please you?" By this time, she was crying in earnest, tears leaking into her mouth and her nose as she attempted to wipe them away in time and failed.

His expression morphed slightly, as if he had allowed emotion to invade it, and then, weakly, his right hand stretched slowly toward her, reaching for her. "Emma," he rasped quietly, his gaze dimming. "I―"

But she couldn't listen anymore. She only heard him say "me me me" and it was echoing, convincing her that she had once more let her heart betray her. Dropping the book on the bed, right beside his lap, she tore her jacket off from the back of the chair and raced to the door, yanking it open and slamming it behind her.

She never looked back. Because the weight of his gaze would only crush her further.

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Emma didn't visit the hospital again. And she didn't go the day Killian was supposed to be released either. Finally, she was convinced of her utter unimportance to him and how he never wanted to see her again. She sickened him, obviously...disgusted him...and she couldn't do right by him. He thought she was there out of obligation, out of fear, when all she had ever wanted...

She didn't know what she wanted from him, though. A friend? A sympathizer? Consolation? Compassion?

The loneliness of those thoughts, of how she had paid such a devastating price to gain a few memories of comfort, was cutting her deeply.

School drifted in and out of monotony, and as for work... Well, it was dull, as could be expected. Being a simple clerk was like that, unfortunately.

When she stumbled over the doorway of her apartment, the blank walls and frigid corners taunted her. The roses, in their simplicity and innocence, had brought some semblance of beauty to her life in all its repetitive sadness and senselessness, but now, that was gone. They were standing dead in his backyard. And her hopes...whatever they had been...they were gone too.

4 months she had watched them from behind a frail white-washed fence (one that sorely needed repairs). She had witnessed blooms become flowers, flowers become empty seeds, the cycle of plant life in all its stages. She had smelt the intoxicating perfume, captured the priceless beauty in the memory of her eyes and remaining senses.

4 more months...4 months and 14 days (and still counting) since she had agreed to be part of Killian's one-man household, viewing his nonexistent life through the windows she had cleaned, basking in the tiny part of his attention he had afforded her.

For a little while, both had been her life. She had left the mundane in the background and brought a sad, lonely, neglected man and his home into the foreground. School and work...they had a place in her life, but not in her heart. That was reserved. And she knew exactly who for, even if it hurt so much to say it, to even think it.

It was inevitable, wasn't it? She would never see the roses...or him...again.

It was hard, trying to get over what Killian Jones had told her in that dismal hospital room. One would think he really was her boyfriend and she was surviving a break-up, the way she was moping about, unable to find any peace.

Then, as misery never failed to find her, things got infinitely worse.

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Refurbishing the shelves and counting products at the grocery was nice and boring, and it paid what little bills she had, but then ― then she got her student loan statement. Just like that, her creditors had decided to raise the interest rates on her, some lousy explanation etched in fine print at the bottom of the letter about rising costs and whatnot. Emma had received a significant amount of financial aid when she had enrolled, but what help it was didn't cover everything.

And now she had to pay the piper, as the saying went. Unless she could pay back the loan in full by the end of the month, they were raising the interest rate by ten percent. For some, that would be a minimal change, but for someone saving on food by eating only one meal a day, scrounging around for coupons in the newspaper, and surviving on minimum wage, it was catastrophic.

She wouldn't be able to pay the rent with only the salary from her one job.

At first, she had gone into a full-blown, desperate panic, and having no one to vent her worries to, she ended up crying on the floor, watching as her tears sank into the flimsy carpet of her tiny living room. When the walls of the place were closing in on her, suffocating her with their silence, she fled, taking a quick stroll through the nearby streets.

Her walk turned into a several-hour trek, and that's when she saw it.

The diner was a comely little place, and it had been in business forever, apparently. Same old-fashioned wallpaper like in the fifties, swivel high chairs and smooth, reflective, laminated counter straight out of Grease. The lady in charge called herself Granny, and she was, in fact, exactly that. As unbending and strict as iron toward the teenage miscreants who entered her establishment, kind and knowledgeable toward her regulars and shy newcomers, the grandmotherly woman was the epitome of what a restaurant owner should be like.

That's exactly why Emma took advantage of the "help wanted" sign posted in the front window and immediately asked for work. Hearing of her experiences in customer service and her devotion to her classes, Granny hired her on the spot and told her to take the evening shift. She also mentioned some light cooking might be involved when the cook was overwhelmed with orders, but Emma only nodded enthusiastically and accepted the red apron she gave her.

The rest of the evening was spent accustoming herself to her new work environment, meeting the customers, and attending the cook, but despite Ruby's eye-rolling and provocative comments ― had Granny actually said this girl, flaunting a mini-skirt and outrageous high heels, was her granddaughter? ― she enjoyed it. Mornings at the store, midday and afternoon at school, evenings at Granny's Diner, Emma hummed to herself as she waved at her pleased new employer, smiled, and waltzed out the door when the time came to close shop.

At least...at least she didn't have to think of the past when she was there. At least, when she was there, she didn't feel so alone.

Maybe her life wasn't a vicious circle of unhappiness. Maybe she had finally gotten a break from it.

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The tranquility of her existence, however temporary, was interrupted in less than a week.

A new manager was hired in the grocery store where she worked, her old familiar one mysteriously gone. Not that she was complaining. He had always acted like an electrocuted ass.

But this one...this one considered himself quite the charmer. And the looker. She could have sworn he winked at her when he came to meet all the employees and tour the store.

The second annoyance was when her landlord pestered her when she was descending the stairs, intending to make it on time to class for once. He said a man had come asking for her in the morning, when she was at work.

Flashes crossed her eyes, flashes of that night in that alley, where she had been handcuffed and humiliated and ruined. That word... She bit down on her lower lip, afraid to demand a description of the stranger. It could have been Neal. Or it could have been―

"I told him you were out, though. He was wearing a leather jacket ― dark hair, wearing boots... Though to look at his eyes, bloodshot as hell ― acting all jittery and anxious, too. Either he's a drunk or a dope user or both, I said to myself." The dried up old man gave her a nasty grin. "Wasn't willing to let him in at all in the first place, but then he said your name, and well, a girl like you...who am I to tell you what company you should keep, eh?"

His lewd comment was meant to be a slap in the face, but for once she turned the other cheek (figuratively) and focused instead on how the thought of Killian Jones coming to see her both scared and excited her.

When she barricaded her door that night and tiptoed around the following morning in only socks so her shoes wouldn't clack against the kitchen floor, it was clear which reaction was stronger. Of course she wondered why he was here, invading her personal space when he had stated so effectively his antagonism toward her. Of course a little part of her, small and unheard, rushed when she pictured his face and form and presence so near her.

But if she saw him again, the anguish of that encounter would surely give her a heart attack. Neal or Killian, both men were trouble.

Trouble she wanted to avoid. Trouble she didn't need. Trouble she didn't want.

Neither of them were worth the trouble.

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It was a sigh of relief that escaped her lips when her landlord never again mentioned any strangers lurking about her door, wanting to visit her. But then again, she had bigger problems.

The main one was named Walsh.

Walsh was a rigorous accountant, a decent salesman, and a well-liked manager overall, but she started feeling very uncomfortable going to her morning job after certain...incidents.

The first was when he seemingly bumped into her when she was going through the aisles and collecting expired goods.

The second was when he brushed her hip with his while walking back from the coffee machine in the staff room.

The third was when he squeezed her shoulder after handling a particularly irate customer.

The fourth was when he arranged her breaks so that he was always present in the staff room when she was.

She could be wrong about how awkward and wrong this all appeared to be ― but still, he didn't need to be touching her to communicate with her. He was very good with words when he talked, so why all the bravado and..groping?

He started being everywhere she went and appearing where she would be. Even when he was paged over the intercom to come to the front and help out another cashier, he would find all sorts of excuses to hang around, from "double-checking your work" to "assisting you with cleaning the floor" and "let me help you stack the oranges into a perfect pyramid."

To some girls, that might be cute attention, but to her, it was plain stalking. He was her boss, and that was it. She tried to make it clear that she in no way welcomed his advances, but no matter how she smoothly rejected his company and refused his actions in as polite a manner as possible, he didn't get the hint.

Or perhaps he didn't want to take a hint and leave her be.

"Has he touched any other part of you that's not your hand?" Ruby inquired shamelessly as she took an empty tray back to the kitchen, impatiently tapping at the window counter with her long red fingernails while she waited for the next order to be ready.

Emma fiddled with her pad and pencil, chewing on the eraser absently. "Not yet. But he's following me everywhere in the store, and it's becoming a nuisance."

"Well, if he follows you here, I'll get my old crossbow out and shoot at him," Granny offered with a dark chuckle, scoffing. Men, she mouthed at the ceiling, shaking her head. Emma and Ruby shared an amused laugh.

Walsh wasn't the end of the world, she scolded herself later after closing the diner. He was just some foolish guy, probably hoping to get laid. He probably wasn't some creepy stalker with sinister intentions.

Emma kept reminding herself of that for days afterwards, but she didn't really believe it.

She only knew that she didn't want any man to ever touch her again.

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"Hello?" Emma snapped, frustrated from frantically searching for her phone under the sofa and from that stupid chemical reaction problem she had been working on for the past half hour.

"Hello, am I speaking with Miss Emma Swan?" came Dr. Whale's cheery voice, clearly not experiencing any impatience on his end.

"Um, yes...?" she murmured, watching as her books and pencils slid to the floor. Damn, she must have dropped them on recognizing who was calling.

"Oh ― I apologize if I've disturbed you, Ms. Swan―"

She sighed into the speaker. "Please, call me Emma. And no, it's okay ― I wasn't doing anything...special." Except for schoolwork she hated with a passion.

He chuckled. "I understand, Emma. To get to the point...the reason I'm contacting you is Killian."

Emma nearly stopped breathing. "Oh?" she stuttered, pacing across the cheap laminated floor of her kitchen. "What's going on?"

"Frankly, you're the only person on Killian's contact list, and as his girlfriend...well, I'm not sure what's going on between the two of you, but I never had a chance to talk to you when he was released from my care―"

"Maybe you should have talked to him."

"Oh, I did ― but I have no idea if he listened or not. I had an appointment with him for a follow-up on his internal injuries, but he didn't show up. I was concerned and wanted to call him, but he never wrote down his phone number."

That would be because he doesn't have one, Emma groaned to herself. She said between her teeth, "I, uh, can't make him go see you, you know."

"Of course not ― it's his right to refuse, and it is his decision. However...under the circumstances, I needed to confirm with you that he is doing okay."

This was starting to sound suspicious. "Um, why? He obviously was well enough to walk out of the hospital after you signed him out, so..."

"Emma." Now Dr. Whale sounded a little vexed. More than a little, maybe, but he was keeping it in check because he was a professional, and professionals are supposed to have nice "poker" voices that don't betray how annoyed they are. "Let's be honest with each other, shall we? Your boyfriend almost committed suicide, and it was because he came in with you that I didn't transfer him to psychiatric care and I kept him under my own supervision."

"Wait...because of me?"

"Yes, I was convinced that therapy was an option he would be able to discuss with you in a more personal environment, and at a pace good for both of you. Usually, procedure is that if a patient is hospitalized without a blood relative present or available, the physician has the authority to make the best choice for the patient's health and well-being. I saw the state you were in when you came with the paramedics, and I honestly thought that pushing Killian into a mental health ward to be constantly watched was the last thing either of you needed."

Ah. So that's why the nurses were whispering about suicide watch, why they gave Killian odd looks. He wasn't supposed to be in the emergency room in the first place. Emma shuffled the phone a bit and sat down heavily on the couch, huffing slightly. "And what exactly do you want me to do about all this? Killian and I..." She swallowed. "We're not together anymore."

"Oh." He was defeated. "I see. Would you mind telling me how I can reach him?"

She covered her face with one hand, pushing away that nagging sense of empathy as far away from her as possible. She didn't feel sorry for Killian Jones ― she wouldn't― "Actually, you know as much as I do. The man doesn't have a phone ― all he has is an address." Silence on the other end of the line. "Thank you for all your help, Dr. Whale, but there isn't anything I can do. Not anymore."

She didn't hear him protest when she disconnected, throwing her phone into the wastebasket full of paper. Forgetting about her chemistry assignment, she lay down on her back, cushions piled under her head, and stared up at the unfriendly ceiling.

Killian hadn't gone to see the doctor, he had mysteriously found her apartment and then disappeared without a word, he wasn't communicating with anyone...

Her curiosity was telling her to go back. Back to the roses. No, that could just be guilt.

Her pride was reining her in, saying he didn't deserve to see her again. But she wanted to see him.

Her sleep, filled with restless dreams, reflected that conflict, and when she woke the next morning, her skin covered in sweat and tears, the pull of that impending choice was suffocating her.

To go or not to go.

To care or to forget.

What should she do?

Hmph, dilemmas are such a pain in the ass.

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The whole question of whether to dare to check on the house of thorns or to stay away for her own sake had been bugging her all week long. Emma's attitude had been affected as well, and right now she was grumpy, tense, and distant.

Walsh's current behavior was not helping at all.

The man was like a monkey in his limited understanding of what personal space is. Twice today he had crept up behind her when she was manning the cash register, and when she had (however reluctantly) needed him to change the cash box inside and replace it with another, he did not let her step out first. Instead, he piled into the small square of floor where she was standing, squeezing their bodies together until Emma could have sworn she felt something move down there where his thigh was brushing up her skirt, his face way too close to hers. He took longer completing the task than necessary, complaining about "complications" and making every excuse about mechanical deficiencies. The wide smile he gave her afterwards made her grimace in return, and she muttered under her breath, pardon me, I have to go to the restroom now and puke.

He was still grinning like an idiot when she turned her head for the umpteenth time to see if he would cross the ultimate line and grab her. Harmless, lovesick fool? Maybe. But if he put those hands of his on her...he had another thing coming.

After she had clocked out and was leaving for the day, happy that all of her classes had been canceled at the last minute and she would have some free time before going to Granny's, Emma was accosted again by Walsh as she was walking through the back parking lot to get to the other main street.

"Emma?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

She smiled painfully. "What can I do for you, boss?"

"Hey, there's no need for that!" he said with a laugh. "Listen ― there's this great place around the corner, and they have the best Italian spaghetti you've ever tasted. If you're not doing anything right now, maybe we could―"

A door chimed to welcome a customer into the store next door, but the noise made Emma jump. Shaking her head, licking her lips, she awkwardly began, "Look...you're my boss, and I work here ― that's one reason ― but even if that weren't part of the picture, I'm not...I don't...I don't date. Anyone. Ever."

His eyes narrowed, but then the most mischievous expression altered his face, and when he grinned wickedly at her, she was suddenly afraid. "I never said I was particularly interested in starting a relationship, Emma ― but physical comfort...that I can definitely work with." When he walked forward, she walked backward.

"No, you're misunderstanding me," she replied, irritated beyond belief at his interpretation of her rejection. If she could, she would stomp her foot at him. "I can't be anything with you. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever."

He was cornering her, pushing her against the wall until she blocked by both of his arms and unable to escape. Looking around to see if they were out of earshot and the lot was empty, he growled, "So why have you been leading me on all these weeks? Wearing skirts so I can see those legs of yours, legs I want wrapped around me when I screw you? Feeling your hips...hips I want to ride until you're good and sore?"

She was in such a state of shock that she couldn't say anything back, her mind fluttering with words and phrases like sexual harassment and he's going to try to rape me and run. "Get away from me," she hoarsely shouted, holding her purse up in front of her face as a weapon of self-defense.

He simply laughed, one hand drifting down until it groped her breast and squeezed it through her shirt. "Not when I have such a wonderful opportunity." His hand went lower and started rising beneath her skirt. "Don't fight me, and I'll make you assistant manager."

All of her life, Emma had taken her falls and picked herself up again. Neal had torn her into pieces, but she had survived. Survival. It was her talent. It was her goal. It was every person's goal, but it was even more so hers because she was the downtrodden and ignored, the beaten and abused. She had more to battle than others did, and she would not be defeated.

Especially not by this savage animal who was preparing to take advantage of her.

When she did the all-time classic move and thrust her knee up hard, his hands reflexively went to his groin in a classic reaction to pain. She then lifted her purse as much as she could and slapped it across his face. It wasn't martial arts, but the momentary distraction allowed her slip out of his grasp and run, not stopping until she was by the busy intersection and out of his sight.

She had decided to take the bus in order to prevent Walsh from finding out where she lived, but then she remembered that he could easily read that information in her file at work. She had sat stiffly in the bus seat, not daring to glance at the other passengers...but then, at home, she had shut the door behind her, thrown her purse on the floor, and curled up into a ball in her bed.

She had promised herself that she'd never cry again after Neal ― after Killian ― but it seemed fate was altering that choice for her.

Again.

In the evening, the diner had held some small measure of comfort ― Ruby's ear-bleeding curses against Walsh and Granny's death threats against him ― but when the night truly came and she was all alone again, she felt the same fears and the same longing.

The longing for someone...anyone...to really give a damn about her, to hold her in their arms and keep the shadows and nightmares away. To help her chase the fear into the darkness, where it belonged.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

The next morning was one of the hardest Emma had ever had to go through in her entire life, but, of course, Walsh was nowhere to be found. She didn't see him for the whole day, and not once did he pop up next to her during her shift or while she visited the staff room.

Then, when she happily pulled out the paycheck stub that had been slipped into her locker, she found out exactly why.

Being furious past the point of no return is one of the most empowering feelings in the world. The high energy, raging pulse, fearlessness combined with recklessness ― irresistible. You genuinely believe you can conquer any foe, brave any danger...consequences be damned.

With this in mind, Emma was marching from the staff room to the manager's office, and without so much as a knock, she yanked the door open as forcefully as she could. Oh yeah...Walsh was there. In his chair. His transformation instantaneous, from arrogant prick to pale and deadly afraid. His smirk gone. His eyes not meeting hers but constantly flickering about the room, his anxiety wafting in the air like some goddamn scent she could track.

Excellent.

Hand on her hip and the other clutching her paycheck, she took action immediately. I should have kicked his ass weeks ago.

"You son of a bitch!"

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

One bottle of wine, cheese, crackers. Nothing that manifested a real meal. Junk food strewn across her kitchen counter. The TV on, fixed on a channel she hated.

Emma rested her head in her hands, glad that it was nighttime and that the light couldn't blind her. A migraine was enough without extra triggers.

In less than five minutes, the job she had clung to for more than a year was gone out the window. In all that time, she had worked every morning without fail and without holiday, day after day after day. And the hours had shown up, respectively, on her paycheck. She clocked in, clocked out, and money added up. The sudden drop in her most recent paycheck had been suspicious on first glance, as her work hours had not changed and she had not been absent once.

Walsh had at first vehemently denied cutting her pay to his advantage, but after much swearing and cursing on her part, not to mention a clear threat of a repeat of what she had done to him in the parking lot, he had admitted to it.

Not that there was anything she could do about the whole damn mess.

Sure, she could draft a complaint, send it higher, make a fuss out of it all. File for sexual harassment, sue Walsh for stealing her money. Heck, she could report it all to the police.

But she knew about the police and the justice system. Oh yes, she knew all about it. The corruption, the cruelty, the inhumanity.

She didn't want to have anything to do with any of it.

Instead, she had called Walsh all the names she wanted, ranted on and on until she was out of breath, yelled and screamed at him until her voice was scratchy and dry, and then...

She had resigned ― quite normally, as a matter of fact. Cleaning out her locker, removing traces of her experiences there, telling the other cashiers present to be careful, as there was an ape of a sexual predator on the loose and he was currently sitting in the manager's office. Walsh's face, all crimson red and pulsing from anger, was a glorious finale.

And that was the end of her grand career as a grocery clerk. Emma glared at the blaring television and forced herself to go turn the damned box off, grabbing some more tissues on her way to the fridge. She blew her nose violently as she rummaged through the freezer for some ice cream.

There wasn't any. And hell, she didn't feel like shopping right now.

Great. Just...great.

Knock knock knock...knock.

Her head snapped up and spun toward the source of the soft pattering, and when it happened a second time, she buried her head under the sofa pillow and prayed that whoever it was would think she wasn't home and go away.

A thought entered her mind suddenly. What if it was Walsh, come to get revenge?

Emma gritted her teeth and stood on her feet. Never mind that she was only wearing socks. Never mind that her slip of a t-shirt and short shorts were kind of revealing.

She was ready to punch his face and smash his ass and give him the beating, rhetorical and other, that he deserved―

Flinging the door open, she took one step over the threshold due to momentum and then barely stopped because of inertia. Damn she had never been good with science or scientific terms damn damn damn it all―

It was like a dream, a fantasy, her imagination gone wild. She nearly choked on her own ragged breaths, because she couldn't simply believe what she was seeing.

It was impossible.

It couldn't be.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

Killian Jones. Holding a red, red rose in one hand (his only hand). Still as handsome as ever. His striking eyes searching her face so thirstily. His dark, dark hair, so unkempt and unmistakably shaggy, asking to be caressed. His crystal blue eyes widening from relief and want and god, he was trembling.

"Swan," he whispered huskily, his voice sending a thrill of longing through her.

Had she missed him so much?

Had she forgiven him so readily, when she would never do the same for anyone else?

Why was her heart nearly humming?

Why did her hands disobey her and reach out, only to pull back because Killian hated her and Killian despised her?

But...but...here he was, in front of her.

He had searched for her.

He had found her.

One way or another, he cared.

Silently, making her decision, answering his unspoken question, and never looking away from him, she invited him inside.

The slow grin he gave her turned night into day. It tore her apart. It made her smile back.

For once...for once...someone had come back for Emma Swan. And she was so glad it was him, of all people.

Yes...world broken, self shaken, mind-numbed, hell on earth...in spite of all this, she was glad.

🌺🌺🌺🌺

Please reblog/comment if you can!

Part 3

#cs ff au #cs ff #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs fic #4getfulimaginator #cs fanart #beauty and the beast au #cs beauty and the beast au

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

The Bartender

Genre: Bartender!AU

Pairing: Jinhwan x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,202

A soft smirk tugged at your lips as you looked at your schedule for the day.

Being a health inspector for the city was very rarely boring; most places you visited, you could safely say you never really knew what was going to happen as you did your walk-through.

But when you saw Jay’s on your schedule, you knew exactly what to expect.

The bar had been open for about two years now, but every time you visited, the owner openly and ruthlessly flirted with you. Even though you’d told him -- Jinhwan, his name was -- it was incredibly unprofessional and certainly wouldn’t help raise the bar’s health score, he still did it.

...That may have been because you’d never been able to tell him he was being incredibly unprofessional with a totally straight face.

Because, man, was he cute.

In the past, you’d tended to go more for the brawny, chiseled guys. Jinhwan... was not that, but there was just something about him that intrigued you. His face was beautiful, yes, but... it felt like something more than just his looks.

Maybe his flirtatious comments were just working and that’s what intrigued you.

Either way, you were scheduled to inspect Jay’s later this afternoon, so you would get another chance to figure out just what it was about the owner that kept you from transferring the bar off of your rotation.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from thinking about it in the hours leading up to it.

You were very professional during your other inspections, of course. It’s not like your head was too filled with cute bar owners to prevent you from doing your job properly. Absolutely not!

But in-between visits, in the car, while you waited... you wondered what Jinhwan would say to you today.

Not that there was anything he could say to break your professional resolve, though. Definitely not.

But still. You were curious. Like, on a scientific kind of level. It would be interesting to see what else he could think of since, by now, he’d basically complimented everything about you he could see.

It’s not like you were looking forward to it or anything.

No.

Of course, not.

...Anyway.

You shook your head slightly to rid yourself of all these wonderings as you pulled up to the one and only Jay’s. A slight rain had began during your drive, so you grabbed your clipboard and hurried to get out before any sort of deluge could catch you.

Since it was a bar and it was not even three in the afternoon, the place wasn’t open when you arrived at the front door.

But Jinhwan knew you were coming, so he’d left the door unlocked for you -- as he always did. Many restaurants and bars weren’t so gracious. I mean, you were just doing your job! You were trying to make sure their establishments were safe for citizens! It’s not like you were there to try and close them down -- not at all.

Oh, well. The health of the general public was more important to you than having people like you, and that was that.

“Ah, one of my two favorite times of the year,” you heard a familiar -- and sultry but also sweet -- voice call out. “Health inspection time.”

A soft, amused smile tugged at your lips as you hugged your clipboard to your chest and headed over toward the main bar area where Jinhwan was currently wiping down glasses.

“Oh?” you replied in lieu of a greeting, keeping your voice as solid and professional as possible. “What’s your other favorite time of the year?”

“The other health inspection,” he answered with a very (attractive) smirk on his lips.

...You should have known. You came by once every six months, and Jinhwan was definitely the type of flirter to make it seem like you were truly all he cared about. Whenever you were in his bar, he only focused on you.

Did it sometimes interfere with your inspection? Yes.

But did it bother you? ...No.

“Of course,” you murmured with a small shake of your head. And then you let out a deep sigh and lifted your eyebrows at him. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Jinhwan clutched at his heart as he set the glass down on the bar, his brow furrowing. “Ouch,” he hissed. “Get this over with? I just told you this is my favorite time of the year, and it’s something you just want to get over? That hurts, Y/N. It really hurts.”

“This is just my job,” you reminded him with a chuckle.

As you began to make your way back into the kitchen, Jinhwan pushed himself away from the bar and followed you. “You say that, but I know you enjoy coming here,” he said. “If you didn’t, you would’ve asked another inspector to take over. And don’t say I’m wrong, because I’m not.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder before shouldering the kitchen door open, reaching into your bag with your free hand to retrieve your pen. “I do enjoy my job, yes.”

“I can tell,” Jinhwan replied. “But you can’t say that you don’t enjoy coming to my bar more than other places.”

“Did you take care of that latch on the freezer?” you asked, shifting your gaze down to your checklist.

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Except let me do my job in peace.”

“But if I didn’t come with you, how would I answer questions like ‘did you take care of that latch on the freezer?’ And how would you answer questions like ‘can I take you out tomorrow night?’”

“I am not answering that,” you snorted.

“Because you’d say ‘yes,’ and that’s unprofessional,” Jinhwan rejoined hastily. And then he tilted his head and shot you a self-confident half-grin. “I know you, Y/N.”

“Then you also know that flirting with me is not going to --”

“Raise my health score. Yes, I am well aware, but you know that’s not why I do it.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you murmured with disbelief before opening the pantry. You came by every six months to inspect the bar because it was your job, and he tried to butter you up and flatter you because the bar was his job. You weren’t stupid! (Plus, as we’ve established, he intrigued you -- you certainly didn’t mind that he wanted to do his job in the best way he found possible.)

“I’m serious!” he cried as you checked off that all dry and canned goods were stored properly.

“Oh, really?” you smirked. “Then why?”

You almost immediately regretted asking him that because it was entirely unprofessional, and you weren’t even sure you wanted to know the answer.

“Because I like you,” Jinhwan replied in a tone which made it sound like his answer was utterly and completely obvious.

And why hadn’t it been obvious to you? It should have been since his actions and words toward you hadn’t affected his score -- ever -- and yet he continued to flirt with you.

The guy ran a pretty successful bar; he was smart. You had to give him credit for that. It’s not like he would think you would ever actually change your mind and slip a few extra points onto his score or pretend like you hadn’t seen something just because he constantly flattered you and asked you out on dates.

So... yeah. Of course, it should have been obvious.

He flirted with you because he liked you.

“You -- you hardly know me,” you pointed out with a breathless, awkward chuckle.

Jinhwan let out a chuckle of his own as he continued to follow you around the kitchen, though this one wasn’t awkward or breathless as yours had just been. His chuckle was one of gentle amusement at your expense. “Does a person really need to know another person to be interested? You’ve never seen someone and wanted to ask them out on a date even though you don’t know their favorite color?”

...Unfortunately, he had a point.

But you really didn’t want to have this conversation while you were trying to make sure his garbage disposal methods were up to standard.

So, instead, you asked, “How often do you take the trash out?”

“Never,” Jinhwan replied immediately.

Your stricken gaze shot up to meet his. “Never?!”

“I have the Busboy do it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief, and you shook your head a little at him. “How often does the Busboy take out the trash?”

“At least twice during operating hours.”

You scribbled it down on your checklist as you held back a smirk.

“See? I have a sense of humor,” Jinhwan pointed out in a smug tone. “If you like guys with a sense of humor, you should definitely go out with me.”

You simply made your way back out to the bar area to finish up here before moving on to the dining area and bathrooms.

Jinhwan followed you around and, as expected, he continued to flirt with you. He looked over your shoulder at your checklist, he complimented your outfit, and he asked you out no less than three times.

“Okay, you won’t verbally say ‘yes’ because it’s unprofessional or whatever,” he said just after you handed him the sheet with his new health score (a 100, by the way). “So, just wink at me or something. If you want to go out with me, reply with a wink.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and turned on your heel toward the door.

Jinhwan scrambled to follow you, quickly setting his report card down on the bar. “At least -- okay, at least come to the bar when you’re not working!” he suggested. His tone was just a little bit desperate, but... it was still kind of cute.

“Nice job, as usual,” you replied. “See you in six months.”

“Not if you come to the bar!”

You plastered an angelic smile on your lips and glanced over your shoulder as you reached the front door. “Have a great day, Mr. Kim.”

“We open at 5!” he called out as you headed toward your car in the parking lot. “Close at 2! In the morning! You got all night!”

You waved at him before opening your driver’s-side door and getting in your car, all the while trying not to grin with amusement. He just really wasn’t going to give up, was he? And if you’d explicitly told him ‘No,’ that wouldn’t be okay.

...But you hadn’t ever told him ‘No.’ You had never told him you weren’t interested. And you still couldn’t quite figure out why.

Ah, well. You would try again in six months. (Which is probably the exact same thing Jinhwan was thinking.)

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked as you answered the phone. If your Caller ID was correct, one of your good friends from university was contacting you on this warm Friday evening.

“I’m feeling nostalgic and bored and I want to go out,” Emma replied. “Please come out with me. My treat.”

You looked down at your fuzzy blanket-clad lap (because, even though it was now summer, you still liked to be cozy so you kept your fan on high at all times), and while you should have been very reluctant to leave the comfort of your own home at 7 PM on a Friday... it had been a while since you’d seen Emma. The two of you had been roommates for two years back in the day, but ever since you’d both graduated and started your professional careers, neither of you had the time to meet up regularly.

“Yeah, sure,” you answered with a small grin. “But you don’t have to treat me.”

“Yes!” Emma squealed. “Where do you want to go? Where should we go?”

You opened your mouth to request that she choose somewhere... but then an idea popped into your head.

It was probably a crazy idea. Probably a bad idea.

You were going to pitch it, anyway.

“Actually, I think I know a place,” you said as you slowly nodded your head.

“Ooh, where?”

“It’s --” You had to take a breath before you said it which only proved that it was a bad idea. “It’s called Jay’s. I’ve done all their health inspections, so it’s a grade-a place -- literally.”

“Sounds good to me!” Emma chirped. “I’ll pick you up in about half an hour?”

A tiny grin pulled at the corner of your lips, and you said, “Sure. See you then.”

As soon as you hung up, you regretted it. You regretted saying you would go out with her. You regretted suggesting going to Jay’s. You regretted agreeing to her picking you up in half an hour.

You knew you should pick up your phone and call her back to tell her you couldn’t go, after all. Or, at the very least, you should go to a different bar.

...But you didn’t.

You simply threw your blanket off your lap and headed toward your closet to get changed.

Because tonight you were going to Jay’s.

Part 2

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marvelous-writer · 4 years

Text

Baby Giraffes & Overheated Spider-Kids

Summary: In which Peter faints during a family trip to the zoo.

Word count: 2,203

Genre: whump, humor, fluff

A/N: Thank you @whumphoarder and @xxx-cat-xxx for beta reading!! Bethany, you’re a saint for putting up with me. ❤️

Link to read on Ao3

“So where should we go next? Lions, zebras or giraffes?” Tony asks as they come to a stop in front of the sign displaying the zoo’s map.

“Giraffes!” Morgan exclaims excitedly from her spot on Tony’s shoulders. “I want to see April and her baby!”

Grinning, Tony continues along the crowded pathway. “Giraffes it is then.”

Happy is bringing up the rear with Peter, carrying the day bag Pepper had packed for them. “We have a two-thirty reservation at the Rainforest Cafe, so we only have enough time to visit one more exhibit after.”

“I heard one of the hippos just had a baby last week. I think they’re near the alligators,” Pepper says.

Morgan lets out a small gasp. “A baby hippo? Can we go?”

Pepper glances at her smart watch. “If we have enough time.”

The four of them continue moving through the hoards of people toward the enclosure. They’ve been at the zoo for well over three hours now, going from exhibit to exhibit. Morgan seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself, especially when they stopped at the petting zoo where she was able to hand-feed the farm animals. One of the goats even tried to knock Tony over by ramming into his legs from behind.

Peter on the other hand… wasn’t having the best time. The hours of walking around in the sun on a sweltering July day have really taken a toll on him. He’s exhausted, his feet are killing him, and all he wants to do is call it quits and go back to the car, turn the AC on full blast and fall asleep until they get back home. But this is Morgan’s day, and Peter is going to suck it up for her. She’s been looking forward to their day at the zoo all week and he isn’t about to ruin it for her.

When they finally reach the giraffes paddock ten minutes later, they’re met with a horrifyingly long line at the feeding station.

“I can’t see the baby,” Morgan complains from Tony’s shoulders.

Tony peers through his sunglasses around the crowd. “She might be inside the barn.”

Peter wishes he thought to bring his own along—not that they would help much right now.

“Can we feed them?” Morgan asks.

Tony looks over at the line. “We can… but we might not have enough time to see the baby hippo.”

Morgan hums in thought as she looks back at the giraffes. “Giraffes,” she decides after a few seconds.

Peter resists the urge to groan, wishing that they could just skip the rest of this and head to the restaurant to get out of this heat wave. But it’s Morgan’s day, so it’s her call what they do and Peter is going to go along with it.

“It’s not everyday you get to feed a giraffe, right, Pete?” Tony asks, looking back at him as they step in line.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees with a tired smile.

Happy on the other hand, doesn’t seem too thrilled. “You don’t think they bite do you?” he asks warily.

Pepper seems to ponder the question. “Well… I’m sure they’re used to visitors coming here and feeding them,” she reassures.

“I don’t know… animals are unpredictable, especially exotic ones,” Happy grumbles.

Tony turns to him with a raised brow. “Are you telling us you’re afraid of these things?”

“No!” Happy retorts. “I’m just worrying about Morgan getting up close to them.”

Tony nods, his lips spreading into an amused grin. “Oh yeah, sure,”

When Tony turns back around, Happy shoots a glare at the back of his head, causing Peter to huff out a short laugh.

“We can sit this one out if you want,” Peter offers, turning to him.

“You sure?” Happy asks. “It’s not everyday you can get up close and personal with one of these things.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.” The sooner they can get out of this line and find somewhere nice and shady to sit, the better.

Happy nods and turns to Tony, tapping him on the shoulder. “Pete and I are going to walk around for a bit while you guys do this,” he says.

Morgan pouts at that. “You don’t want to feed the giraffes?” she asks disappointedly.

“Not today, but you have fun,” Happy says with a gentle smile. He turns back to Tony. “Call me when you guys are done and we’ll meet you back here.”

Tony lets out an overly-dramatic sigh. “Alright… but you guys are missing out…”

Happy rolls his eyes as he turns away, lightly nudging Peter’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They both step out of line and continue down the crowded pathway. Peter squints in the harsh sunlight, only adding to the headache that’s been steadily worsening since noon. It feels like a fog has settled over his brain, making it hard to think.

“So what do you want to do to kill some time? We can head over to the hippos and take a few pictures of the baby for Morgan?” Happy suggests.

Peter nods as he wipes a hand across his sweaty forehead. “Yeah… she’d like that.”

“I’m just not sure where the exhibit is. Maybe they have one of those maps around here. I knew I should have grabbed one back in the gift shop…” Happy trails off, his voice becoming lost as Peter’s ears start to ring.

He feels lightheaded and breathless all of a sudden, like the hot air is weighing him down, making him even more exhausted than he already is. “Uh, can we… can we stop for a sec?” Peter asks as he looks up, finding that Happy is now walking quite a few steps ahead of him, typing something into his phone.

“Yeah,” Happy says distractedly. He slows his pace, oblivious to Peter’s distress. “I’m trying to pull up the zoo’s mobile map but I can’t get on their WiFi…”

Black dots dance across Peter’s field of vision as a rush of heat washes over him. He sways, struggling to keep his heavy legs moving. Happy’s figure grows more and more blurry as the seconds pass by.

Peter licks his dry lips. “H-Happy?” he mumbles, blinking sluggishly. “I… I don’t feel so good…”

That seems to get Happy’s attention. “Huh?” He stops, turning around to face Peter with a frown.

That’s when Peter’s legs suddenly decide to give out underneath him, the ground rushing up to meet him. He’s barely aware of the pair of hands that catch him under his arms, saving him from face-planting against the asphalt before he passes out.

...

The next thing Peter’s aware of is someone tapping his cheek.

“...c’mon, Pete wake up…” someone says. Their voice is a bit muffled, kind of like they’re underwater, but that doesn’t make sense. It’s so hot — there can’t be any water around.

Peter groans as feeling starts to come back to him. His head is swirling and pounding and he’s so hot , despite the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. He manages to open his eyes, only to find Happy kneeling over him, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Did I pass out?” Peter mumbles.

“Yeah, you did,” Happy says. “How are you feeling?”

“Really dizzy… tired,” Peter answers, suddenly very aware of the people that have started congregating around them.

“Think you can sit up?” Happy asks.

Peter nods sluggishly. “Yeah.”

Happy helps him sit up and Peter has to shut his eyes tightly against the lightheadedness he’s met with from the change in position. After a few minutes, Happy helps him to his feet, keeping a firm hand on Peter’s arm as he leads him over to a thankfully empty bench in the shade under a tree.

Happy eases him down on the wooden bench before standing back up and looking around. “I’m going to get you some water,” he says, glancing back at Peter. “Stay here. There’s some right over there,” he says, pointing to a vendor across from them that has a long line in front.

Peter nods. He leans forward, arms resting on his knees as he hides his face in the crook of his elbow to shield his eyes from the light.

Happy comes back not even three minutes later, two water bottles in hand, and Peter doesn’t want to know how he managed to skip that line. Peter slowly sits up a bit, arms still braced on his knees. He winces as a sharp pain shoots through his right temple.

Happy unscrews the cap from one of the bottles and hands it to him. “Small sips,” he instructs as he sits down next to Peter, watching him with concerned eyes.

Peter takes a few small sips of the icy water, just as Tony suddenly appears. He’s a bit breathless, as though he’s been running.

“Happy called. Are you alright?” Tony gasps out as he crouches down in front of Peter.

Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. “Feel like hot garbage,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, bud,” Tony says sympathetically. He takes off his sunglasses and slips them onto Peter, causing the boy to sigh in relief. “I think we’re just gonna just order some food and eat it in the car on the way home.”

“I’ll put an order in at the cafe,” Happy says as he stands up. He hands Tony the other water bottle before stepping away to make the call.

“Did you get to feed the giraffes?” Peter asks as Tony sits down next to him.

“Nah, but Pep and Morgan are over there now,” Tony says.

“Maybe we can make it back in time before they’re done?” Peter says as he tries to stand up from the bench, ignoring the way his vision swims a bit.

Tony stops him by gently grabbing his arm, keeping him seated. “It’s alright, Pete. There’s always next time. Besides, I’ve got my own hungry kid to feed.”

“But-”

Tony shakes his head. “No buts about it. You just fainted and you need to take it easy.” He uncaps another water and hands it to him. “And keep yourself hydrated.”

Peter sighs, but he takes the bottle anyway. “Okay,” he mumbles before taking a sip.

They sit there for a few minutes, just watching the people passing by. Eventually Happy finishes his phone call and walks over to join them.

“The food’s all ordered—should be ready by two-thirty,” Happy says as he stops in front of them. He looks worriedly at Peter. “You feeling any better?”

“A little,” Peter says. His head still hurts and he feels a bit shaky (probably due to the fact that he really didn’t eat much at lunch), but mostly he’s tired.

“That’s good. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you drop,” Happy says, taking a seat beside Tony on the long bench. “I think the heat might’ve gotten to you.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees as he leans forward, resting his arms on his legs as he lazily sips at the water. “Don’t really know what happened.”

“Well, I texted Pep and told her where we are. She and Morgan are almost done, so when they find us we’ll head to the car so we can get you out of this heat,” Tony says, glancing up from his phone to look at him with worried eyes. “I’ll even let you sit in the backseat and eat while you watch Star Wars if you want,” he offers with a small grin.

Peter smiles at the offer. “That sounds good,” he says, even though he knows he’ll probably end up passing out before the opening credits roll.

Several minutes later, Pepper and Morgan arrive, spotting them almost instantly.

“Petey!” Morgan shouts as she runs over, practically dragging Pepper after her. “We heard you weren’t feeling good, so we got you this!” She holds a fluffy giraffe stuffed animal out to him.

Peter smiles tiredly at her as she hands it to him. “Awe, thanks, Mo,”

Tony smiles. “That was very nice of you two,” He says as he helps Peter stand up from the bench. “Now, lets head back to the car so we can all get out of this heat.”

“Amen,” Happy groans, pushing himself up.

…

Thirty-five minutes later (including a ten minute search for the car), Peter is sitting in the backseat with the AC on full blast, snuggled up with his new giraffe plushie and almost half asleep while 101 Dalmatians plays on the small built-in TV.

The car is silent, except for the sounds of the movie and the highway as they drive, but it’s soothing, lulling him to sleep. Peter blinks slowly as he leans back against the headrest. His gaze shifts to the front when he sees Tony raise a hand from the wheel to adjust the rearview mirror. He smiles softly at Peter when their eyes meet. The corners of Peter’s mouth lift into a small, tired smile in return before Tony looks back at the road.

Peter’s eyes drift over to the window, watching the world go by in a blur as his eyelids get heavier. Eventually he gives in and lets them drift shut, feeling safe and content, knowing that Tony will get them home safely.

#fainting #heat exhaustion #dehydration #peter parker whump #happy hogan is a good bro #irondad #spiderson #fluff #peter parker & tony stark #irondad fic #morgan stark #irondad & spiderson #my fic

240 notes · View notes

milanosbitch · 4 years

Text

rec list for endhawks gems

as usual during this quarantine, i went through a challenging quest, searched through every single fic on ao3 about a single ship and made a rec list, ended up with around 25 works out of 630. nearly all of them should be free of explicit, problematic and triggering content besides one or two in the mature content sense. and i’ll note those down separately but i always suggest reading the tags before starting a fic regardless the rating, just so you know what you’re diving into. furthermore, there’s this author note at the end of a fic that i’ve found which pretty much sums up my feelings about a mess that’s called todoroki friggin’ enji:

“ I love Hawks and Endeavor together. They're a great dynamic, whether it's platonic or not. I'm a pretty open guy when it comes to shipping, and me and a certain lilviathan love going back and forth with dumb ideas about them.

And that's kind of where the contradictory feelings for the Flaming Garbage Man that is Endeavor kind of come from? Because I really do think he's a very interesting and well-developed character, but I also have a very strong urge to stab him at any given time.

I want to make his life miserable and hurt him, but I also want someone to sit him down and tell him that while he owes his family an apology, they do not owe him forgiveness. I want to see him grow. I want to see him face the repercussions of his actions and move forward. ”

—by Canarianyellow on archiveofourown.org

last notes; starred ones are my personal favorites, and i'm adding to this list as i go,, so look out for updates!! you can find a better formatted version of this list here on google docs.

that being said, here are the gems i found on a yet another holy quest:

Walk Alone by adastrad*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You've lost your wings, you've lost your speed, and in the crowd ahead, you've lost him too. How do you know what name to call out when you don't even know what to call yourself?

as usual, kick-starting the list with one of the first fics i’ve read about them. we have some pretty good angst related to the latest manga chapters in our hands and a fascinating second person pov here. the ‘stream of consciousness’ style of wording kicks you right in the ribs, in a good way.

&&.

It's Cold, I Don't Want To Be Lonely

by onlyatitagain

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: When in the presence of Todoroki Enji, it was easy to feel warm and overwhelmed by heat in more ways than just physical. Hawks was very aware of the fire burning in his heart that roared to life whenever he was with his childhood hero, who was now his best friend. The relationship they had was special in the way of how close they had become, Hawks trusted the number one hero with his life and could always count on him no matter the circumstance.

What would happen if he said something and ruined that trust, the friendship they had built over months of knowing each other?

You should never play with fire, unless you want to get burned.

truly a beautiful hurt/comfort fic. enji’s characterization is gentle and might feel slightly OOC, but give it a chance. there is also some pretty cheesy couple stuff at the end and that might not be your cup of tea, just a heads up.

&&.

Fallen by copper_leaf**

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 7.3K

Summary: Hawks’ attempt to infiltrate the League goes wrong.

Enji is the one he turns to.

both its part one and part two, this series can take my soul. literally 7K of sheer hurt/comfort, and a caring enji. hawks’ eyeliner is probably ruined by now. can i say this is probably the best fic i’ve read about them softness-wise? i can.

&&.

Burning Embers by copper_leaf**

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Hawks wakes up, wingless, in Enji's arms.

the continuation of the fic above, here’s more content that will make you feel all mushy. a beautiful excerpt from it:

“It’s a flicker of light in the darkness, the last ember left in the heart that still has the power to bring all else to flame.”

&&.

The Bird Who Swallowed a Star*

by angyhawks (Soll)

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Endeavor remembers Hawks' small hands, how they didn't burn as he danced on his palms.

How Hawks had whispered sweet nothing into his flames, words not important as his lips moved and his voice chirped.

He remember Hawks finding him, small and spent, and gifting him a feather to feed on.

Endeavor wishes a feather had been his only offer.

//in which Endeavor is a fire demon, Hawks is once again tied to the ground, and wouldn't it be nice if they could kiss?

&&.

Light by Caahs*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Since he was a boy, Hawks gathered an eternal distaste for darkness, which was preserved until his most recent days. However, the blazing figure of Endeavor always came up like his warm source of light, illuminating the most obscure paths and clarifying the most difficult decisions.

&&.

Emotions Are Hard, Love Even More So...

by aurora_whitlock

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Hawks and Endeavour at the end of a long week. Alone. Together. Its just some cute, fluffy bullshit basically. Warm your hurt little hearts.

&&.

Cuff me to the truth of failure

by Not_A_Valid_Opinion

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: The kid’s eyes are so wide, Hawks can see the entire silhouette of his wings in their reflection. “I want to be you.”

Shit.

“No, you don’t, kid,” he can’t help but promise, can’t stop the sadness in his eyes from flickering into view.

Hawks has dinner with Enji after a bad interview.

&&.

Look at what amounts from the jump

(and I'm never coming down) by

Not_A_Valid_Opinion

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3K

Summary: He stares at Endeavour with something close to regret, maybe closer to suspicion, but before Endeavour can catch the look it’s gone and replaced with a pursed lip and a glance at his phone. “I’ve gotta go. See you around, Enji.”

But the burly man stops him with his name. “Watch where you’re flying,” he says gruffly, though it’s different. It’s not an order. It’s not a request.

Whatever it is, Hawks takes it as a challenge.

Endeavour is worried about Hawks. Hawks doesn't know what to do with that information.

&&.

You mesmerise me in red and gold

by Arayne

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Enji has never gotten to tell Hawks what's on his mind so he tries, in several ways, to make it clear how he feels.

&&.

We've got a good thing going

by lehnsherry

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Enji is watching Shouto, so he notices the way his eyes snap to the kitchen doorway just before he hears the soft footsteps and the rustling of wings, and his heart jumps into his throat. He turns in his seat just in time to see Hawks walk in, eyes still closed and a hand scratching at his messy hair.

“Mornin’, babe, do you know where my -” Hawks breaks into a huge yawn, and then opens his sleepy eyes, and freezes in the doorway like Shouto used his power on him.

Enji’s mouth makes an involuntary sound of embarrassment, and Hawks flushes all the way down to his chest.

&&.

As He Lived by uzumae*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Hawks wants to imagine that he still has a place in a world he no longer belongs to.

&&.

future hearts by rire

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: When the rest of Hawks is putting on airs, it’s his wings that give him away.

&&.

Break off a piece of your heart by kettleowl

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 890

Summary: The High-End incident, but they are actors who are too emotionally invested in their roles.

&&.

to take a fall by rire

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: “What’s with that look, Endeavor-san?” Hawks smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Now I’ve got more free time than I know what to do with.”

&&.

A Thousand Flowers by adastrad*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 440

Summary: "Let's hope the next time the cherry blossoms fall, we will all be smiling."

&&.

#fantheflames by adastrad

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 54.9K

Summary: Todoroki Shoto accidentally, on purpose, and with great regret helps make Hawks/Endeavor happen.

this is wholesome. one hundred percent cheff kiss. peak comedy with a dose of stan twitter. actually a shouto-centric fic and more like an outsider pov of slight endhawks.

&&.

This Gentle Earth by adastrad**

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Hawks buys a better excuse to keep visiting Musutafu, but damn it. Enji hadn't been looking to adopt.

guaranteed to melt your insides. enji ends up being a plant parent.

&&.

The Winner Takes it All by adastrad

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 25.2K

Summary: Endeavor's eye is gone. He may say his injuries are his own responsibility, but it's Hawks' fault, isn't it? He will give Enji everything he can. His top secret mission will take the rest.

slaps the roof of the fic this baby right here is a shortcut for a brain burn. with a complicated storytelling and equally complex characterizations, which results in a slow but satisfying reading if you’re looking for a detailed story!! there’s seriously so much pining that it keeps you on your tiptoes until the end of it.

&&.

Roasting the Roaster

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Hawks gossips with the receptionist at Endeavor Hero Agency about what a dork the boss is, discusses Endeavor lookalike porn, and then ropes Shouto into lunch with Endeavor, whereupon Shouto just roasts his dad the whole time.

Can you roast a man who's already on fire? Apparently, yes. Yes you can.

(includes the hit single Did You Need Some Ice For That Sick Burn by Hawks, ft. Shouto Todoroki)

[Only tangentially related to the other fics in this series.]

slight crack fic for humor but it’s truly well-written. a shouto and hawks team up over endeavor was something i never deeply gave attention to yet it is gold and i need more of it. hawks writes a bop, endeavor’s whole agency thirst over the said man and everything leaves you with tears in your eyes from cackling at these dorks.

&&.

the fics listed below the cut are rated mature or

explicit by the authors, and therefore contain sexual content:

Penumbra by Nicolefrickle

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Enji wants to touch Hawks' wings. Badly.

this one is rated mature but the theme is only minorly implied so i can say it is safe to read without worrying about the rating. more like a fluff fic with hawks being a happy birb.

&&.

An Imperfect Cage by Crandberrycrush

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 55.5K

Summary: Hawks is an orphan, brought up in a charity school and thrust into the world at eighteen to work as a governor for the Todoroki family, a family that has more secrets than he can hope to unravel.

*A gothic romance based heavily on the novel Jane Eyre*

&&.

Liquid Nitrogen by surveycorpsjean

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 23.8K

Summary: Enji can't figure out why the hell Hawks keeps sleeping in his office.

the plot? the writing? the characterization? everything is perfect. i’m normally uncomfortable with this much amount of smut and debated if i should put this on the list or not, since it might consist of triggering content for some. please read all the tags beforehand starting this piece.

&&.

Palindrome by Nicolefrickle

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7.9K

Summary: Hawks doesn't realize just how much he needs Endeavor, or why it feels like he's still racing time.

A character study of Hawks with flashbacks and inner thoughts, heavy on the Endhawks, heavy on the hurt

#boku no hero academia #my hero academy #endeavor #hawks #todoroki enji #is an asshole #endhawks #endhawks fic #fic reccomendations #fic rec #bnha fanfic recs #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #makes an appearence in some fics #he is so done #quarantine had me digging ao3 #bnha fanfiction #beggs' rec list

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atomicdisappointment · 3 years

Text

The Squirrel

A/N: This is kind of just random. As I was playing the Witcher 3, there was the obviously shocking scene in Whoreson Junior/Cyprian Wiley’s mansion. This is me writing about one of those women in his mansion (before she got there, Cyprian doesn’t actually appear in this fic). Pretty much just sad garbage. Also, this is the first fic I’ve ever completed, and the first fic I’m posting! Also, all of the places in this, and Whoreson Junior, are not mine.

Warnings: possible Witcher 3 spoilers?, heavily implied smut, description of a dead body, idk what else...

Word Count: 1710

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his chest while his face rested in the crook of her neck. With every inhale he took, her scent soothed him, lulling him. As her chest rose and fell, he could feel every breath under his palm, hear every gentle sigh that escaped her lips.

He brought one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, revealing part of her face to him. His thumb ran along her jaw before returning to her ear, tracing the smooth edge. He lingered there a while, too long, and she turned around in his arms to face him. She placed a palm gently on his cheek, her fingers resting on his ear and touching the pointed tip. She sighed, saying nothing but staring deep into his striking jade eyes. They were made even more vivid by the soft light filtering through the trees. A warm hand covered her own, before bringing it down to his lips. A soft kiss to her fingertips, communicating more than words ever could, eye contact never breaking.

But the moment couldn’t last. Before long he was watching her dress and then gather her belongings, heading back towards Novigrad. But only after she was out of sight did the spell break. He felt the emptiness return as he pulled his trousers over his narrow hips and slipped his shirt over his head. He grabbed his bow, slung his quiver over his shoulder, and trekked deeper into the forest, away from her and back towards camp.

The Whore and the Squirrel, he thought to himself, chuckling softly into the silence.

~~~

The man finished with a grunt before collapsing on the bed beside her, breathing heavily into her ear. While he laid there, recovering his senses, she distracted herself by thinking of her scoia’tael lover, as she often did during work. She thought of his silvery voice and how rough it would get, his stunning olive-green eyes staring deeply into hers as she ran her fingertips over the pale scars on his chest and arms. The way he made her feel alive. She lost herself in memories and fantasies, and soon the man laying next to her was gone, having paid and left.

She wished she could stay there, dreaming of her elf, but the matron’s voice echoed through the halls, carrying the sound of her name, and she was pulled back to reality.

~~~

He was starting to see her everywhere, in every human he shot from the trees. Their ears no longer repulsed him as they once had, they only reminded him of her. Her bubbly laugh and soft lips, her delicate curves, her sweet voice and the little sounds she would make. He thought of the way she had touched his ear so gently only a few days past. Somehow, she wasn’t repulsed by him either.

He probably looked like a damn fool, grinning to himself on a tree branch dozens of feet above the ground. He didn’t care.

~~~

She was being escorted to Oxenfurt by two armed guards. They hadn’t explained much, only negotiated a price with the matron to take three women to Oxenfurt. It wasn’t an entirely unusual request, except perhaps the more distant location, and the men were willing to pay a considerable amount.

As they passed the forest, she couldn’t help but wonder whether he was out there, watching her as she travelled. Her squirrel, sitting in a tree somewhere at the edge of the forest. Just thinking of him made her stomach flip in excitement. It had been too long since she had last seen him, she wished she could meet him again tonight.

~~~

He pulled the hood further to obscure his face as he passed guards. He knew rationally that no guard would know him on sight, and elves weren’t forbidden in the city, but he still tensed every time he put his back to them.

It had been a long time since he had visited Novigrad, and he hadn’t planned on visiting it for a long time more, but circumstances had changed recently. She was always on his mind, torturing him every minute of the day. He needed to see her, tonight. To hold her and reassure himself that she needed him the same.

Entering the brothel, his senses were overwhelmed with sounds, smells, and bright colors. He pushed past the small crowd in the entryway to find the matron. But as he walked further into the building, what he had already known seemed to become more real. All of these men could be coming to visit her, to climb into her bed. What if when he found her she was with someone else?

The thought made him sick. He was going to get her out of here. He was going to take her somewhere far away from here. With him. Tonight.

He walked up to the matron as she was talking to other men, clearing his throat to get her attention. She turned towards him, almost immediately noticing his ears. A look of distaste briefly crossed her face before it neutralized.

“We don’t-” She began, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“I need to speak with Sabina.” He kept his features guarded, his expression steely. But the longer he spent in this place, the more he became desperate to see her.

“I’m sure-” But he cut her off once more.

“Urgently.”

Her brow twitched in irritation, and she paused before speaking again.

“She’s not here. She’s working.”

The matron began to turn back towards the other men, but he was not satisfied with her response.

“Where?”

She sighed as she turned back to him, “I’ll not-”

“Please. It’s very important.” He felt his expression slipping into one of his true desperation, and could see her face harden in response.

“I’m sorry. You’ll just have to come back some other time.”

As he moved to leave, he noticed a door slightly ajar at the far end of the room, with a stack of papers on a table inside.

He decided he’d stick around a while longer.

~~~

The city was beautiful, even more beautiful than Novigrad, she’d decided. She had never been to Oxenfurt, but in the darkness it looked peaceful and otherworldly. As they crossed the bridge, the sharp beats of hoofs on stone, the gentle rustling of the coastal breeze and of the guards’ armor seemed to come together to make a wonderful song.

As they passed through the city she could almost hear the clink of silverware and the roar of laughter from the noblemen’s houses. The steady, crisp hoofbeats still underscored it all. She closed her eyes, breathing it all in, a dull ache settling in her chest as she realized she would rather be with him.

~~~

His hand trembled as he held up the note. Oxenfurt. The name rang in his head. They had taken three girls, including her, too Oxenfurt.

To Whoreson.

The Scoia’tael could be called many things, but they were indisputably vigilant, observant. They knew that Whoreson regularly had whores delivered to his house in Oxenfurt. They also knew that they never came back out.

His hands still shook after he set the paper down. His ears rang and he could feel every heartbeat, every rush of blood as it pulsed through his veins.

Maybe he still had time.

~~~

The garden was ethereal, the building breathtaking. The smell of flowers wafted through the cool night air, and the trickling sound of water could be traced to a fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

As they walked into the house, everything got quiet and still.

~~~

The cold nipped at his nose and cheeks. His horse flew underneath him, exhaling sharply with every snap of his hoofs against the dirt road. Dust flew, the wind tore at his clothes and his hair. The sky seemed to darken as he crossed the bridge.

The city was eerily quiet, the only sounds seemed to come from his horse as its hooves pounded against the stone, its breath becoming more labored by the second.

When he reached the gates to the courtyard, he quickly jumped off his horse before nocking an arrow and rushing into the garden.

It was silent. Bodies lay on the ground before him, scattered across the stone. He slowly lowered his bow, stepping over the corpses and making his way over to the house.

It was difficult to breathe.

Slowly, he opened the door of the mansion to find more dead bodies. All Junior’s men, none of them were her.

The air felt wrong. The house felt wrong. His hands were trembling again. As he walked through the house, he felt detached. His footsteps echoed across the lonely halls.

As his eyes fell on the stairs, his breath caught in his throat. Somehow he already knew what awaited him at the top.

He climbed the stairs carefully, as if they would crumble beneath him. Every step was agony, the uncertainty and tension building until he felt like that alone was enough to undo him.

But when he reached the second level, he saw her.

Her hands were nailed to the ceiling above her, light shining on her body making her look like some macabre sculpture.

He walked closer to her, unable to stop himself from reaching out to caress her cold, lifeless, cheek. He remembered the way her hand felt on his own cheek, remembered the way she used to nestle her face into the crook of his neck, her breath tickling his skin. His hand brushed down to her lips, remembering the stories she would tell him as they laid underneath the stars. The way the corners of her lips would quirk up, and that sweet, melodic laugh that would follow. Her soft gaze into his eyes, full of love, passion, mischief, humor, mystery, sorrow, life. He pulled his hand away slowly, but kept his eyes trained on her face. The face that used to be hers.

He didn’t even feel his legs give out, didn’t feel his knees as they hit the wooden floor, but soon he was kneeling, bowing his head at this repulsive perversion of her.

With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend that this was just a dream.

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pinespittinink · 4 years

Text

If My OCs Were In A Dating Sim...

Who would you choose? Your pick from 11 potential routes! I thought this would be a fun way to know ocs a little more. Feel free to make your own and tag me in them~~

Victory

meet-cute where you literally crash into each other, knocking him off his bike

he’s incredibly apologetic, worried he’s hurt you and you fall in love instantly

he works in a flower shop and sends you very cute texts and animal pics and neat facts about plants, laden with emojis

hand-holding dates around the park lead to playing with each other’s hair and him teaching you to make daisy chains

soft love confessions come at home under fairy lights in a pillow fort

kisses in the rain

the original romantic boyfriend route

Enfriator

she’s your personal trainer at the gym

looks aces in a sports bra, you try and fail not to stare at her abs, and it’s a growing problem whenever she helps you with your lifts and spots you

maybe you have a strength kink

she’s picked up on it too, but will never let you know beyond the odd smug look

she agrees to get a smoothie one afternoon and you start hanging out, playing chess and Overwatch (she beats you. always)

long quiet times slumped together on the couch turn into slowly opening up to each other emotionally

you catch her with heart eyes from time to time and tease her about it

Aubra

the lacrosse jock himbo of your dreams

he’s a golden retriever whenever he sees you, equipment falling left and right

can haul you over his shoulders with ease

friends to lovers

you go to pride together

he’s a sweet fumbling flirt who occasionally drops a smooth move leaving you weak at the knees

is oblivious to the fact that you like him in return, brags about being your best friend

Domini

sweaty grinding dancing at the club

you fuck the first night

he’s a grungy hot shit fuckboy with jealousy issues, rattling self-esteem, and the tact of a teaspoon.

he’ll follow you around like a mangy dog if you give him attention

you cheer him on while he gets his ass handed to him in a denny’s parking lot

don’t date this man unless you want to roll around in garbage with him, get drunk, and press a bag of frozen peas to his black eyes inflicted through his own awful decision making

Solene

you haven’t been able to get a hold of a particular book because some asshole keeps renewing it week after week so you track it to the library hermit

he looks like he lives in the gutter and steals couch covers from the goodwill donation bins

unsurprisingly, he refuses to give up the book, so you insist on sharing it

turns out he’s actually very witty and has the driest sense of humor

he also survives off of the library vending machines

you slowly grow fond of him, bringing him snacks, spending nights stargazing on the roof

will-they-won’t-they tension ultimately culminates in him slyly revealing his attraction and fucking in the library stacks

Moses

you start talking to him at a party when you notice he’s alone in the corner

he’s taciturn and Awkward and endearing

blushes every time you compliment him, constantly tries to leave

will memorize your schedule and wait for you without prompting

you kiss his cheek once and he runs away and leaves you on read for two weeks

eventually he grows a backbone and comes back into your social sphere

you mention a scarf you like at one point and he saves up pennies to buy it and turns into a tomato when he gives it to you

his route is a lot of patience and a lot of work

Eaves

daycare worker who you become very quickly smitten with

he’s great with kids, humble, and charming

the ultimate gentleman

walks you home after your dates, gives you a kiss at the door

cooks dinner for you, brings you breakfast in bed

he refuses any kind of charity for his poor family, determined to get by on hard work

works a million jobs

you help him realize he doesn’t have to do it alone and it’s okay to have the support of other people every once and a while

Addie

loud aries lesbian

arcade champion until you come along and challenge her scores

rivals to lovers in a firecracker romance

she’ll show up at your house at four in the morning to drag you out on an adventure that might not be entirely legal and usually results in you running from the cops

a kitchen disaster when she helps you cook, flour everywhere

popcorn fights during movie nights

big promposal type love confession, very bombastic

Mateo

your soft spoken biology TA who tutors you

he’s a nursing student and works nights, perpetually sleepy

his affection is very subtle and genuine

brings you your coffee and smiles when you’re flustered

takes you on dates to botanical gardens and science museums and aquariums

gentle good morning texts

sometimes sends you quotes or bits of poetry he likes

Daemyung

you work at the clinic where he brings his dog

he’s cranky and removed

you like Molly more than him until you see how much he really loves her

bonding over late night walks and philosophical discussions

you share a blunt once, ending in shotgunning until you notice his dog watching and awkwardly break apart

he opens up about being a distant only child and shying away from intimacy

kinky af when you eventually get it on

Phaedron

modern art student

has a reputation as a no-strings-attached hookup

you fail to have no-strings-attached

he’s very humbled when you ask him out on a date and confesses that no one’s ever shown an interest in him beyond sleeping together

you woo him with boxes of candied fruit slices and chocolates and chai lattes

date nights in consist of take-out and chatting over whatever’s playing in the background on netflix

he sits in your lap constantly, falls asleep with his head against your shoulder

tells you he loves you mid-fuck

Emerson

the TA in the medieval lit class you took for a required English credit

way more attractive than any English TA has the right to be

you run into him at a frat party and do a double take because you almost don’t recognize him

he’s got a screwdriver in one hand and an empty Long Island iced tea in the other but he’s amazingly standing coherent and excitedly arguing about the merits of Stargate Atlantis

you hook up and end up spending winter break together in his apartment eating chocolate graham crackers

bike dates for coffee and visiting the city duck ponds

you get to ride him on the couch while he wears his unzipped totoro kigurumi

#writeblr #ask memes #writeblr game #oc ask game #i was inspired by the ask of the same nature: so i just added routes so people weren't flying blind #mp #edit: i had to add emerson

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happy-haunts · 5 years

Text

Constance Hatchaway ( Pt. 2 )

WARNING THIS POST CONTAINS THEMES OF ABUSE AND VIOLENCE.

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

She spoke the last part quietly but perked up the instant after, there was something different about her appearance today... looking closely her blue eyes were bright - so filled with warm happiness, but they were rimmed red?

“You’re very beautiful.” She blurted, catching me off guard and making me turn red.

“Oh... Why thank you Miss DeClaire, you are quite exquisite yourself...” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “DeClaire you said? Such as Howard And Elizabeth DeClaire? I had no idea they had a daughter.”

“No, no, I’m their granddaughter. I apologize I should have clarified.” She began blushing. “And I heard you were to be arranged with a gentleman in town?” This took me back.

”Why yes... I have already married him actually, did you not know?”

“How awful...” She took my hands and met my eyes, “I don’t know what I would do if I was arranged a marriage ... Is there anything I can do?” You could understand that I was thrown off by this notion, Ambrose was widely adored by the town because he was the son of a wealthy farmer who made him sound like his child was made of gold.

“No, no ... I’m handling this pretty well- you know being cooped up in a house and treated like a servant rather than a wife.” I gave her hands a squeeze, “But that’s just normal I suppose ... I have to just ... realize that.” I smirked at Emily - giving her a shrug.

“Who is the one that dictates what normal is?” She straightened a bit and knitted her brow to me. “No one thinks I’m normal, not that they’ve outright said so but I can see it in their eyes - but here I am.” Emily placed a hand over her heart, “All I can do is be unapologetically myself and hope one day they see ... not being normal isn’t so bad.”

“You don’t understand.” I felt my voice shaking, “How much they would hurt me, how they would treat me if they knew ... I’m not normal.” I pulled my hands away and gulped down the burning in my throat, but I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t mind if you’re not normal.” I gritted my teeth as the burning filled up my throat again and I finally hissed.

“I want to marry a woman, not a man not any man.” I kept my voice low as I told her and the weight from finally letting someone in on my secret was ... so uplifting... But it came crashing down when I realized - I let someone in on my secret.

“Well ...” Emily blinked placing a hand on her hip. “I’m even more sorry to hear about your arranged marriage.” I turned bright red now, if I had looked at all put together before I was a mess now.

“B-But the town and - I’m not normal ... I’ll never be able to -“

“There is more to every story, and yours isn’t over yet.” She took my hands again, “And until your story ends I believe you’ll find your happy ending.” I couldn’t hold back and I hugged her right there on the street.

“CONSTANCE!” I heard my name shouted from behind where we were and pursed my lips - pulling myself away from Emily. I remember his face as if it were happening now... Deep red unlike I had ever seen before, his pupils almost seemed to shrink to nothing, and his breathing was fast - did he run here? “I came home half an hour ago and I thought you had been swept away by some maniac!” His furious eyes looked to Emily who was now standing somewhat behind me. “What are you doing talking to that gypsy thing?”

Curiously I looked back to Emily and then to Ambrose - thing? This girl? This literal angel! (Might be an exaggeration but she didn’t spit in my face when I told her about wanting a wife so.) “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but if you ever address her like that again I-.” Emily placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t ... Constance, I’ll go...” She gave a curtsy to Ambrose. “Mr. Harper, good day.” And I watched her leave down the street till she turned a corner and left my vision. I blinked a ew times as though time were stilled - the town people were quiet as they continued to watch the scene before them- Ambrose had made his way across the street to me as I was in a trance watching Emily leave- he grabbed my arm and squeezed.

“We’re going home, dear.”

————

Home was worse, he slapped me across the face and threw me to the ground. “You weren’t here and what’s worse you talked to that gypsy!”

“I needed air Ambrose! She isn’t a gypsy she is a DeClaire!”

“Oh please, the whole town talks about her- we’ve all seen her dancing with them! And how many times have you slipped away to see that... that...” He shook his head. “I saw how you looked at her, the whole town saw how you looked at her!”

“What is so wrong with her?” I screamed down from where I was cowering on the ground. “And are you angry at the fact that she doesn’t act the way you want her to? Or the fact that I will never look at you like that?” He reared up his foot and slammed it into my face.

“Don’t try to compare me with that ... that... ARGH!” He kept stomping on me as I screamed, I was reaching for anything I could beside the fireplace now - anything! That’s when I grasped onto it ... It was as though fate was bringing me towards it ... My hatchet.

I am humble enough to say that I missed the first time - but the second time I landed a hit to his stomach... He was so shocked that it was happening it gave me ample time to get to my feet and pull out the hatchet for a second swing. “Till Death do us part.” I growled and hacked away till his head rolled off his shoulders.

I should have felt something- anything! But my body was numb... guilt overcame me - I killed him! And then realization... I killed him. Then anger again... He hurt me. I sat there- breathing heavily- and I screamed covered in the red blood from my handiwork, I began punching his limp body and clawing at it out of fury.

How could he do something like that ... How could he ... Sweet Ambrose my mother said, what a gentle boy everyone had said.

Garbage, he was garbage ... Just complete garbage...

I took him outside just like that as well - I waited until night time and threw his body in the trees along the Mississippi, I then scrubbed down the house till there was no stains in the house.

I couldn’t just go to the authorities right then ... I waited until the next night and went down there in a mess and sobbed to the authorities, “He’s not come back! He’s left me he must have left me!”

“Easy now Constance, are you talkin about Ambrose?” The more stout man questioned.

“Yes! we - we got into a fight last night ...” I touched my face for effect, “He went out for a drink is what he said ... And he hasn’t come back! Oh please! Can you look for him? I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t come back!”

“Don’t you worry Constance, he’s probably just stayed at the bar all night if the fight was that bad...”

It was just the start.

I should have listened to Emily and found my happy ending - I should have ran away somewhere to where there were people like Emily who didn’t care if I wanted to grow old with a woman and would celebrate how different I was from all these people. But my mother had another man lined up for me every time, and I remember hearing her voice in my ear man after man.

My mother insisted -“He is in good health this one - such a gentleman and so kind.”

Frank Banks, he was kind for a week after I married him and then when I told him I didn’t want to have children or touch him in the way he wanted me to ... He tried to make me. He should have stopped at infatuated for now he’s decapitated.

My mother again insisted - “Surely this gentle soul so sweet and sincere would be better suited than that old Frank.”

The Marquis De Doom, he spent no time telling me my duties as his wife and I remember when I first told him I was going to relax that day, he dared lay his hands on me like Ambrose did. He shouldn’t have tried to act so much taller, for without a head he’ll surely be smaller.

And she insisted -“He has been widely talked about in town for his great sense of humor at the pub- I’m sure he’s finally your match.”

Reginald Caine, he was actually genuinely a nice man ... He didn’t pressure me into anything nor did he raise a hand to me! But unfortunately his times drinking at the pub may have lead him to an early grave...Apparently he was a wanted man and let it slip to someone while he was drinking and was taken in to face his sentence ... A beheading. Although his death was not done by me, I’ll take the fall for the guillotine.

Once more she insisted - “Very stocky - close to your age and has such a love for children!”

George Hightower, it’s true he loved children and since I had gotten so old he had given up thinking there was still time for him to have a son. But I had hope with George ... We had gotten to know each other well enough through the years that, when I found him cheating on me with a younger woman to attempt and creat an heir to his business, I told him about how I didn’t like men and I was fine with him doing what he wanted with any woman he wanted as long as he stayed being reasonable to me. Sadly though it wasn’t so and dear George’s head had to go.

————-

I had been going from suitor to suitor, man after man... I had been planning weddings and murders so much so that I never got the chance to catch up with Emily and find out how she was... I brought her up to my last husband, George, he had bought the Gracey mansion and recounted how she died falling from the attic window. Everyone had a different story, she killed herself, her lover killed her, her fiancee killed her, or even that her grandparents killed her. I had a hard time believing the last one since not long after they passed in a house fire, alot of people said they had a hard time believing it was an accident - that they must have felt so guilty about their granddaughter dying so suddenly they burned themselves alive.

I tried not to dwell on it too much, although I wished I had come by at least at one time... If I knew she would die so suddenly... I just wished.

Years passed and I grew into an old woman, no grandchildren just an old cranky lady who soon passed peacefully in her sleep, imagine my confusion when I was pulling my form from my grave.

You could understand the confusion since I had lived in this house and never realized it was filled with all this ... activity? Ghosts were everywhere! Drinking, dancing, and singing?

I made my way through the halls and reminisced to all the years I spent here alone ...

Then I got to the attic and heard her crying.

“Hurry...” she sobbed, “Hurry back...” A girl - adorable purple and blue bride with a beating heart that was thundering in the attic so loud I could feel my non-existent pulse.

“Excuse me are you okay?” I leaned down and placed my hand on her shoulder gently- then I noticed her crown of flowers, petals fallen into her hair like she rolled through them. “Emily?” I whispered - shook to my core.

Her eyes were glowing blue - blue like her eyes used to be ... Tears were pouring down her cheeks. “Who...? Who are you?” I had to sigh because of course she might not remember me.

“Constance - Mrs. Harper remember? I was married to Ambrose all those years ago ... I heard you jumped from the window...” I looked over to the dusty attic window and pursed my lips, “It must hurt you so much to remember...” She was staring at me hard now, as if in deep concentration. “Constance...” I pointed to myself, “Hatchaway? Maybe you remember my serial killer name?” She turned a pale shade of purple. “No, no, no! Not like- I would never kill YOU just my husbands! But they were mean except one... and to be fair I wasn’t the one who did the beheading that time.”

“I- I’ll just take my leave...” I grabbed her hand.

“Wait! I won’t hurt you, I promise I chopped off their heads because of-.” But at the mention of it she yanked her hand away and placed her palm on her head.

“His head ... They chopped off his head...” tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Who? Emily tell me what’s wrong... I want to help, I’ll stay in the attic-.”

“Take it!” She screamed at me, “I’ll go! I just - my head!” I watched her leave through the door as I plopped onto a trunk in the attic.

I waited for her to come back but she never did... That was until she brought Red with her.

And Red was the blessing I had always hoped for in life... She made me smile, she would let me be myself unapologetically -occasionally she would tease about my beheading of husbands (when you’re a ghost those jokes don’t carry as much weight to them). We are inseparable...

———

I was lounging in the attic with Red as I reminisced my humanity and origin- she was playing with my hair and made a face as I revealed my first meeting with Emily.

“I mean I can understand her having a hard time remembering things since she took a dive from the attic, but she must have known one of your victims.” I shook my head.

“No way, I would have know... I’m so sure I would have...”

“Well what are the chances it’s just some random dude who got beheaded?” I flopped my back atop her chest and gave a heavy sigh.

“True... We should investigate.” Red looked down to me and laughed.

“I’m up for any adventure you have, sweetheart... and if anything it will make for a great series of stories.”

“Lets start with someone who is bound to know something, maybe ... Let’s start with Hatty.”

And as we left the attic- for the first time in the mansion I felt as though someone was watching me.

#disney parks #haunted mansion #disney world #disneyland #emily declaire #we wants the redhead #disney #ghosts #webcomic #wewantstheredhead #constance hatchaway #disney parks fan #fanfiction

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starlingsrps · 4 years

Text

micah holden

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: micah oliver holden REASONING: i think only emily and june have logic to their names for the holden kids - micah and sawyer are just good names. NICKNAME(S): nah. PREFERRED NAME: micah BIRTH DATE: november 5, 1991 AGE: twenty eight GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him ROMANTIC/SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: caucasian CURRENT LOCATION: san francisco; wherever his suitcase and a piano take him LIVING CONDITIONS: decent apartment - still small because san francisco real estate but he's close to where he needs to be and there's room for a piano so he's got it made.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: new york HOMETOWN: same EDUCATION LEVEL: julliard FATHER: isaac holden MOTHER: kit holden SIBLING(S): sawyer, 30; emily, 19; june, 15 BIRTH ORDER: middle-ish CHILDREN: noooooope. PET(S): sergei, black lab mix. sergei is micah's WORLD. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: nah. PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: various CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: single and ready to get nervous around anyone he finds attractive

OCCUPATION & INCOME PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: concert pianist CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: it's everything he's ever trained and worked for so it's p great PAST JOB(S): piano tutor SPENDING HABITS: self indulgent, impossible at keeping receipts for his accountant MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: sergei and his piano

SKILLS & ABILITIES PHYSICAL STRENGTH: deceptively strong. like, he's weedy but his hands are so strong he can crack walnuts with them. DEFENSE: yelling? SPEED: speed walker - he's impossible to keep up with INTELLIGENCE: p bright - he's not been academically stretched in a long damn time (performing arts high school, julliard, etc) but he's not dumb. ACCURACY: aight AGILITY: i'm trying to not make it filthy but he has extremely dexterous fingers. STAMINA: endless TEAMWORK: not terrible TALENTS: piano, obv. he's also genuinely kind. he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean and doesn't want to leave a negative impression on anyone. SHORTCOMINGS: pushover. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, a little of each romance language for piano (reading sheet music let's not get wild), polite but limited japanese (weirdly big in japan) DRIVE?: dear jesus no JUMP-STAR A CAR?: nope CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: nope RIDE A BICYCLE?: more or less SWIM?: yep PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: piano, guitar, violin PLAY CHESS?: no BRAID HAIR?: nope TIE A TIE?: regular AND bow PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS FACE CLAIM: jamie blackley EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: dark brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: short on the sides, long in the front. he likes to have something to flip back when performing. sort of wavy. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: contacts mostly but glasses when he's been at it too long DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5'11 BUILD: long and lanky EXERCISE HABITS: every day except weekends, alternating between cardio and weight lifting. SKIN TONE: fair - burns easily. TATTOOS: seven chevrons on his left arm - it's his tradition with nev whenever either of them reaches a milestone. PIERCINGS: right ear USUAL EXPRESSION: he has a rather serious resting expression, despite being a happy guy. he tends to look like he’s thinking very hard about something when nah. just fine. just thinking about where to get a hot dog. CLOTHING STYLE: he looks like such a ~rocker~ when he’s not performing but he spiffs up nicely for performing. so yeah, he owns a few nice suits and a tuxedo but he wears skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket more often than not. JEWELRY: earring and a leather wrap cuff days; cufflinks and tie bar and such for performing ALLERGIES: nah DIET: garbage disposal PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nah but he's very watchful of staying healthy and keeping his hands in good shape

PSYCHOLOGY ENNEAGRAM TYPE: 6 - the loyalist MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good TEMPERAMENT: melancholic MBTI: INTJ MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: anxious and superstitious. he's very specific about how he prepares for things and can get a little obsessive at times about perfecting the Craft. SOCIABILITY: ambivert? like, he's both. PHOBIA(S): anything happening to his hands. like, they are Insured. ADDICTION(S): nah DRUG USE: c'mon, pot doesn't count. ALCOHOL USE: he's not much of a drinker but when he does...woof. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not at all

MANNERISMS SPEECH STYLE: medium deep, gentle delivery. ACCENT: like, the faintest of new york accents but. HOBBIES: music, eating, netflix NERVOUS TICKS: fucking with his hair DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: success, proving people wrong ( FEARS: like if someone chopped off his right pinky, he'd be so fucked. POSITIVE TRAITS: kind, loyal, generous, daring, ambitious, gifted NEGATIVE TRAITS: self indulgent, cocky, too soft, obsessive, needy SENSE OF HUMOR: he's stealthily sarcastic DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: not too much

FAVORITES WEATHER: november - birthday, thanksgiving. it's perfect. ACTIVITY: playing piano, still. ANIMAL: dogs, specifically sergei. BEVERAGE: black coffee. there's always a pot at the ready in his apartment. BOOK: american gods COLOR: black DESIGNER: his tux is armani and it makes him feel like a million bucks FOOD: burritos FLOWER: roses are pretty HOLIDAY: thanksgiving MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: walking MOVIE: fantasia MUSICAL ARTIST: rachmaninoff - sergei is named after him SONG: prelude op.3 number 2 in c-sharp minor by rachmaninoff SCENERY: cities SCENT: the inside of a piano, paper, coffee TELEVISION SHOW: parks and recreation VACATION DESTINATION: beach

ATTITUDES GREATEST DREAM: man, just keep doing this at a slowly increasing level until he can do whatever the hell he wants. GREATEST FEAR: getting his pinkies chopped off by a madman on the subway MOST AT EASE WHEN: jamming with nev and avery LEAST AT EASE WHEN: ten minutes before curtain BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: he's got a long list of accomplishments but being able to get an apartment big enough for his piano made him feel pretty damn good BIGGEST REGRET: eh!!! he tries to not have them!!! but probably that playlist he made when avery left julliard because it was a little dramatic. BIGGEST SECRET: oof that crush on avery TOP PRIORITIES: music, family/friends

#c: micah holden #baby boy

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hayleysstark · 5 years

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Broppy and Branch for the ask meme?!

sdgbhytrfgbhgfrdfgbfv yOU ASKED,,,,,,,,,, ABOUT MY OTP,,,,,,,, AND MY LOVELY SASSY SULKY SON,,,,,,,,,,,, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH,,,,,,, FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY,,,,,,,,, TO SCREAM,,,,,,,,,,,

dfggfvbvb okay okay

When I started shipping it if I did: I kind of knew they’d be endgame from the trailers alone ((Brooding Boy/Gentle Girl trope vibe was STRONG w/ them. like. come on. i saw it coming a hundred goddamn miles away. y’all saw it coming a hundred miles away. King Peppy himself saw it coming a hundred miles away.)) and that was admittedly kind of ://// for me at first but I gave it a shot anyway because hey, the character designs were fun, eighties’ music, which is Objectively the Best Era for Music Ever, don’t fight me on this, and Dreamworks usually puts out cute stuff, so I was like whatever, obvious ship is obvious. i was kinda prepared to hate, i admit, bUT THE SKATING RINK SCENE HAPPENED AND I LOST MY GODDAMN SHIT. LIKE BRANCH???????? RECITING LOVE POETRY AND SMILING AT POPPY?????? VERY GOOD. I’LL TAKE 1000000000+. GIVE ME THAT PINING!BRANCH JUICE ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

My thoughts: fuckin,,,,,,,,,, really adorable, but also so much potential for angst, too??? I also like their friendship just as much as I like their romance, if not more, which is definitely a first for me with a romantic ship. I like that they’re really snarky and sassy and just generally assholes to each other, but also support each other unconditionally and aren’t afraid to be affectionate with each other and look out for each other. I like the balance of the gentler and quieter side to their relationship vs. their constant banter and teasing, and how both are portrayed as genuine ways of showing affection. Would die for the way they bring out the “best” in each other - e.g. Poppy lifts Branch up when he gets too down, but he helps her bring her down to earth when she lets her optimism and imagination run away with her. Love how they’re shown to be complete, unyielding opposites from the outset, and they learn, right alongside the viewer, that this isn’t the case at all. After the first touch of common ground has been established, they become a lot more tolerant of the other, and slowly uncover more and more similarities. Also like that they both get to save each other multiple times. good shit.

What makes me happy about them: They’re so cute and flirty and bouncy??? and just good in general???? love how well they play off each other whenever they’re put on-screen together.

What makes me sad about them: w h e r e was the mutual pining. w h e r e. the entire MOVIE was a solid hour and thirty of Branch pining. poppy? the popster??? the goodest girl???? practically nothing. i am a SLUT for mutual pining and i THOUGHT thats what i was signing up for with Trolls, damn it!!!!

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: o o f this fandom is very small, I feel like I’ll be targeting someone specific if I say anything, but I’m seriously not trying to??? I guess I just don’t like,,,,,,,,,, the “Soft Kids” trope some fics do??? like. these fuckers will ruthlessly, mercilessly destroy each other. don’t. don’t take that away from me. aLSO WHERE IS MY MUTUAL PINING A G A I N GOD THEY ARE SO RIPE FOR IT WHY DOES NO ONE BUT ME THINK THAT

Things I look for in fanfic: fhjtrfthfhfgv i,,,,,,, am,,,,,,,,, GARBAGE but any and all fics where Branch is Irreversibly Convinced that Poppy Will Never Love Him and he Does Not Deserve Her and he Must Never Tell Her. Never Let It Show. Conceal Don’t Feel. g o o d s h i t omg. also fics where Poppy falls in love w/ Branch before the film!!!!!!! very extremely good content right there!!!

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: anyone for Poppy, tbh. she is Too Beautiful and could have literally anyone. oh, wait, no, not Smidge. she and Smidge are SISTERS and that is BEAUTIFUL and i will NOT let anyone take their friendship away from me. but yeaH. Queen Poppy could have her pick. she is the biggest catch in Troll Village and you can fight me on that. but tbh Branch,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, it’s Poppy or nothing. who else would want to date this dude anyway. he drinks his own sweat. literally. who would date that guy besides Poppy

My happily ever after for them: give me old-ass Branch and Poppy with wrinkles and streaks of grey in their hair just like,,,,,,, sipping tea by the fire in a cottage by the sea. done with all the adventure. done with all the fighting. all the quests. all of it. give me older Branch and Poppy just. chilling. a quiet life. they deserve it. after all the excitement of their youth, they more than welcome it. Branch more so than Poppy, but Poppy’s kind of an adventure all her own, and life itself is enough for her nowadays.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: listen,,,,,,,,,,, liSTEN,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,it’s branch. branch is the little spoon. y’all know this. Poppy likes him to be the little spoon because it lets her give him the affection she feels he didn’t get when he was alone and grey. he says he doesn’t need it. says he doesn’t even like it. he does. he really, really does.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity: dancing tbh!!! intimate, but not overly so.

fhjtrftghbfdfgb im SO SORRY THAT BECAME,,,,,,,,, A GODDAMN NOVEL DHFRGFDFGV ONTO BRANCH!!!!!

How I feel about this character: y’ALL FUCKIN???????? KNOW HOWI FEEL????? WHY YOU DRAGGIN ME LIKE THIS ANON. WHY YOU DRAGGIN ME LIKE THIS. BRANCH IS,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, SUNSHINE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, IN A PERSON,,,,,, AND I WOULD FIGHT AND DIE FOR HIS RUDE SNARKY GRUMPY PARANOID ANXIOUS ASS.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Just Poppy!!! im a basic bitch

My non-romantic OTP for this character: GIVE ME BRANCH AND GUY DIAMOND BEIN BROS AND JUST BROIN’ IT UP IN BRO TOWN. oooh also really likin Branch and Smidge, Branch and Bridget, and Branch and Gristle as friends, too!!!! Branch and Smidge would bond b/c they’re both tough and touchy and quick to anger, Branch and Bridget because they’re both hopelessly in love with royalty lmao, and Gristle because he’s just. he’s just a fun guy. he’s got a wicked sense of humor, and he’s not as affectionate or demonstrative as a troll, so Branch feels more comfortable around him than some of his own kind. once they get past the ‘one nearly ate the other’ issue ofc r i p

My unpopular opinion about this character: why does everyone want to fuck him i dont understand

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: can i get some uhhhhhh more info about his family maybe???? also just his past in general like how’d he slip through the cracks so bad when trolls look out for each other so much??? why did literally every adult in his life drop the ball??? wHY WASNT HE PUT WITH A PROPER FAMILY AND LIKE ALSO MAYBE GIVEN SOME THERAPY THIS DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE PLS.

My OTP: P O P S T E R

My crossover ship: dfhgdgfdgffb i feel,,,,,,,,,,,,,, weird abt interspecies shipping so im gonna have to say no one????

A headcanon fact: really really into science. esp meteorology.

sdfghgfrghgfg thank you,,,,,,,,,,, for asking,,,,,,,,,,, ‘tis fun to scream abt my faves.

send me a character/ship

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #ask #anonymous #Anonymous

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marcoharem · 5 years

Text

Last random thoughts of the year

Hello everyone, and welcome to the last “Random Thoughts” post of 2018. I know I’ve been very outspoken about things I didn’t like from season 3 and… I know that some of you enjoyed S3 and that’s okay because it’s important to have different opinions, all that goes without saying.

Now, the reason I’m bringing this up is because, instead of talk about what went wrong, this time I want to focus on what went right. What makes SvtFoE so appealing, and in order to understand this, we need to talk about the most important aspect of every succesful cartoon: The Characters.

The problem is that this show in particular has way too many characters to analyse and discuss, so to make it nice and clear, we’ll just focus on the main characters: Marco and Star. People of the MvtFoL community, I present to you:

Top 8 Reasons Why (I Think) Marco is a better character than Star

DISCLAIMER: The thoughts and opinions expressed on this post belong solely to the author (that’s me) and doesn’t necessarily represent the views of the MvtFoL community as a whole.

#8-Sidekicks: I know this one technically doesn’t count because we’re talking about the main characters, but on my experience, the friends you choose to hang out with tell a lot about you on a personal level (especially if you’re a teenager like Marco and Star)

Star has Princess Ponyhead, a rude, loud, egotistical and obnoxious character that (from my perspective) only exists to appeal to younger kids who love memes and internet culture. Marco on the other hand has Alfonso and Ferguson, two stereotypical geek characters that were created out of executive meddling (and that’s not my perspective, Nefcy already comfirmed this statement)

Now, I’m not saying that Alfonzo and Ferguson were particularly outstanding or interesting, (in fact a lot of people find them annoying) I’m just suggesting that they are less obnoxious than Ponyhead, not because they’re human, but because they seem more genuine as people, unlike Pony Head who always seems like she’s trying WAY too hard to be “hip” and “cool”.

#7 Character Archetypes: Now, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Star, I don’t think she’s the worst of her kind, nor she should go away and allow Marco to become the main character (it would be nice for a change, but that’s beside the point) my point is: The energetic-cutesy-bubbly-lovable-sillypants archetype has been done like a million times before, so in terms of personality, she brings nothing new to the table.

Marco is completely different story. Yeah, he may seem like the average teenage boy at first, but unlike Star, he plays these character traits to his advantage. For example, on the first episode of the series, when Ludo and his minions were about to attack to take Star’s wand, he jumps in front of Star to protect her and shows his karate skills for the first time, subverting the idea that just because he’s “the safety kid” it doesn’t mean he’s a useless coward with no skills or talent whatsoever.

#6 Character Appeal: This part is more subjective if we consider that we’re talking about characters from a kids show and… I’m not part of the main target audience, but with that said: I never found Star very appealing, I mean, she’s skilled with magic, can be occasionally funny and design-wise she’s good looking. But other than her magic and goofy antics, Star is not very likeable. In fact, she can be overbearing at times (especially when she’s paired with Pony Head)

Being an average human being, Marco’s skills such as karate, cooking, psychology, etc. comes from his own hard work rather than just play the “it’s magic, don’t question it” card like Star does. Not to mention his deadpan sense of humor and delivery is way more subtle than Star…. Also, for what I understand, he’s considered to be pretty handsome both in-universe and by the fanbase, but that’s something I’ll leave for open interpretation.

#5 Better Living Through Chemistry: One of the things Starco fans always bring up when they talk about the couple, is the amount of chemistry between Marco and Star and… yes, they’re right from a certain point of view, but here’s the thing: Marco has good chemistry with pretty much everyone.

I mean, every time he shares screentime with a female character (whether be Star, Jackie, Janna, Hekapoo, Kelly and so on) he nails it almost everytime, I mean aside from being a good speaker, he’s nice, gentle, loyal and (for the most part) selfess… Star on the other hand… well… There’s Oskar Greason and… StanFan13 I guess?

Which is funny considering how in season 1 gave us the impression that the writers were going to take “reverse harem” route and make Marco, Tom and Oskar falling for Star, but come on… she’s both a wizard AND a member of the royalty. She doesn’t need a bunch of guys fighting for her as well (even Tom seems to have better chemistry with Marco than her, just remember the “friendenemies” episode)

#4 Role model: Now, I don’t think that all the characters on every kids show should be a role model nor preach us with sappy morals and stuff… but here’s the thing: Fiction is a form of escapism and characters serve as self-insertions in which the audience project themselves either at a concious or an unconscious level.

Characters like Marco work with this idea at the right level. He’s strong, intelligent and charming, but he’s also shy, clumsy, naive and has moments of childishness as well. He has enough character development to distinguish from the average harem protagonist, but he also has enough flaws to avoid the mary sue territory. That sounds like a good role model to me.

And Star is… how can I put it? She acts like a brat. Not only that, but she’s also very vain and shallow, even when she seems to fight for a noble cause. The irony is that while Brittney was created as a foil for Star (both of them are rich, self-entitled princesses) Star can be just as rude and spoiled as her.

#3 Symphaty contest: Once again, Marco outperforms Star on almost every level. And this may sound bias to all of you but I’m sorry, I can’t feel any sympathy towards Star even when she’s being naive or well-intended.

The only episode I can recall where I felt symphathy for Star was the “Other Exchange Student” episode, because it was the first time someone else took the spotlight away from her. Also it was a breath of fresh air to see her getting jealous, but not on a romantic way…

#2 Character Development: During the first 2 seasons, Marco not only proved to be a highly talented individual, but also proved to be capable to overcome every single misfortune that got in his way (Tom, the naysaya, the cashier of the VHS Depot, the monster arm), he found the courage to speak to Jackie only to find out that she reciprocates his feelings, and just like like every human being he commited mistakes such as trying to slander Jeremy by recording a video of him being a douche to expose him to Sensei Brantley, only to realize all by himself that spy on people is bad.

And meanwhile, Star… pretty much remains the same. And no, turning into a giant butterfly with god-like superpowers doesn’t count as character development. And like I said, even though she learns that monsters are creatures with hopes and dreams just like the mewmans, it doesn’t change the fact that she still treats Marco like garbage (Booth buddies), annoys her mother even when she’s on a highly stressful sitaution (Battle of Mewni) and kisses Marco and keep it in secret only for Marco to do the right thing and confess (Divide/Conquer) so don’t be surprised to find people on the internet that… doesn’t like her very much.

#1 Overall Best Person: And once again, it seems like I’m beating a dead horse, but it can’t be said enough: Marco is an individual with higher moral values than Star.

I mean, seriously: He’s willing to do ANYTHING for Star, whether be cross-dressing, fight monsters, give up his entire life and happiness for a vague promise of being knighted. And the fact that so many people find acceptable that Star keeps perpetuating this cycle of abuse as if is “cute” is just… ugh… I’m sorry, I just cringed for a moment.

And again: I have nothing against Star, but please: Stop pretending she’s like a perfect little flower that deserves being rewarded only for who she is rather than her own merits. And as long as that old, tired dynamic doesn’t change, I’ll keep saying that Marco Diaz is a much better character than Star Butterfly.

And that’s all I have to say for today. Thank you for your time and I wish you all a happy new year. And rembember: The point of these posts is to encourage discussion and keep this page alive, because let’s face it: It’s up to us to give Marco support by shipping him with all the female characters (including Star), even if it’s not cannon. That way we’re reaffirming the fact that Marco is more important to SvtFoE than Star ever will…

#haremshipisthebestship

#submission

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morethanonepage · 6 years

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thoughts on Keanu Reeves Constantine?

y’know this is an interesting question bc i actually have a lot of….if not affection for the movie, at least respect for some of the adaptation choices made. Like the most common line in re: film!Constantine is that it’s a good movie but it’s not a good Hellblazer movie and in a sense that’s right, it’s not – but it’s interesting. A noble failure, definitely.

What I think it hinges on is that it’s an American setting so they went full blown American with it – which is a mistake in my mind bc the point of Hellblazer is that it’s a quintessentially English story, and that’s why every run with an American writer in the comics is meh for me – but in the sense of “American AU Constantine” I think there were some really interesting/clever choices made.

Like starting with their John – Keanu is all wrong for original brand Constantine. His John is broody, he’s brunet, he’s Good At Magic. And comics!John is the opposite of all those things. And while comics!John can be broody, the important thing is the comics themselves tend to undercut that – there’s a lot of kind of snarky takes about John being in a sulk for whatever reason, some of it even from John himself. You get very little of that in the movie, and the movie itself is very TAKE THIS MAN’S PAIN SERIOUSLY about it, so. BUT in a sense that loner self flagellating thing is an American Male Archetype the way comic John has a very English & self deprecating sense of humor, so: ok, I can kinda see it, more as a translation (to American audiences) than an adaptation.

[READ MORE BC OMG WHY DID I CARE SO MUCH???]

They make John Catholic in the movie, which is another kind of interesting choice – in the comics he’s not anything specifically though I would imagine he would’ve been raised Church of England as likely as anything else. But they kind of commit to John’s Catholicism in the movie, most likely because it has more ~mysticism~ (and the association with exorcism in general) behind it. But it also kind of sets John up as An Other, because it’s the religion of a lot of the second class immigrants (like, the Irish initially, then Latinx Americans, etc). White Catholics have a bit of a different rep, but given that the film is set in LA in the late 20th century, for me it set up more of those associations than anything else. It’s also so much more about the SUFFERING and the MARTYRDOM and the REDEMPTION NARRATIVE, which is not so much a thing in the comics (where John often does/tries to do good things but usually NOT for the explicit purpose of ~cleansing his soul~, so it’s kind of notable/interesting that both American-based adaptations [TV and Movie] focus on that a lot more. It’s may also make more sense as an arc for the medium but y’know) but IS notably a big thing in the movie.

And the thing about John, even in the comics, is that he’s an Other but Normal Passing – with comics he presents in a very Proper English Man (which is why it’s SO IMPORTANT for me that he starts off on his adventures with his shirt properly done up and his tie right, and then as the day/his bullshit unfurls he gets sloppier) way, he’s white, he’s blond, he’s handsome etc, but he’s also a bisexual mess/working class disaster mage with a progressive bent, and in the movie he’s kind of a traditional American anti hero but also has his own stuff going on. It’s not as well executed as it could be – there’s not a lot of subversion in the film version, which is kind of the point of John – but at least you get hints of his potential sexuality and they go into his mental health issues (suicide attempt, etc) and his smoking, etc.

So John is an interesting translation – not perfect, but interesting. I would even argue that he’s the weakest point in the movie as a translation-not-adaptation (tho lol baby bear Chas Kramer is up there), bc he’s very basic supernatural protagonist with no flourish. Which is not the case for the rest of the film, which COMMITS to the genre it is and does it honestly very well.

For instance I love their conception of Ravenscar, the mental hospital John has A Bad History with – in the comics it’s got an old, spooky, mad house aesthetic from the 19th century, which fits the comics and John’s history and vibe really well. The movie version goes what I feel is a very modern American direction with it: one of the 20th century industrial monsters, a huge grey building, with the fear of mental health coming from that very specific post-war fear of anything ABNORMAL (including sexuality but y’know).

The setting of LA is great – a couple of (American) comic writers have given John’s arcs there, probably for the irony of CITY OF ANGELS etc, but I think it’s a really interesting choice/contrast to everything London (where John’s mostly based in comics, tho he does sometimes roam the countryside fucking things up) represents: superficial, modern, bright days, beauty, opulence vs the grey gritty grunginess of John’s London life, etc. So for that to be movie!John’s homebase is kinda neat, frankly, esp because of the cases John gets to work on there. The set design is also great – very colorful, very willing to pull in the florescent glare of a modern city, with the Latinx Catholic touches on the streets (look the votive candles and shrines are SUCH an easy go to for ~creepy urban flavor~ and it’s probably at least a little problematic for this film featuring some other really questionable racial choices I will get to later, but) in general it LOOKS great. Their conception of hell is also fascinating and very well executed imo.

I also think there’s ONE (1) thing I think the movie does better than the tv show: the setting is WAY more dug into the working class/legit poverty of LA behind the shiny surface Hollywood stuff. The show really only hit that point in the New Orleans ep and even then….didn’t fully commit to it, but it’s SUCH a key part of the comic universe. Like Chas himself (in the show) is pitch perfect but in the ep about his family they’re LIVING IN A BROOKLYN BROWNSTONE which, real talk, is worth millions of dollars. Literally millions. On a cab driver’s salary???? Ridic. Still mad about it w/e w/e. Baby Bear Chas Kramer with his shitty cab and probably shitty apartment, following John around like a stunned duckling, is way more comics canon accurate, probably.

Rachel Weiz’s character has a lot of potential – they make her Catholic too, to have some sort of connection with John, which is eh, and they also make her a twin, whose sister kills herself at Ravenscar. Given how much John’s early backstory issue are focused around HIM being a twin (whose birth killed both his mother and his (theoretically stronger) brother) that could’ve been a cool thing to allude to, but they don’t touch on it. And Angela (ANOTHER ANGEL THING) is p cool as a character – she’s unconvinced about the ~spooky shit~ stuff until she sees evidence of it, and then believes it, as a normal average human likely would. She’s brave, she asks questions, etc. She’s not just Love Interest tho there’s a bit of that. And anyway I love Rachel Weiz generally, she’s great, could’ve had more to do though.

Tilda Swinton shows up a lot in the gifs and it was a cool choice to cast her as Gabriel – they play up the androgyny and make her less obvious of a dick than comics Gabriel is (though she ends up being…probably more of one, or at least more effective). I think their Lucifer is good too – oily and weird and creepily gentle at times. He also doesn’t get a lot to do, but he doesn’t need to – he doesn’t in the comics, usually, either.

BUT the racial stuff – the supernatural macguffin that’s supposed to bring about the end of the world is found IN A MEXICAN DESERT and then SMUGGLED OVER THE BORDER to LA to bring about the end of the world, like, who wrote this, Donald J. Trump?? – is generally #bad. But this is something it shares with the show (GOD THOSE MEXICO EPS, I LEGIT ALMOST QUIT THE SHOW BC OF IT), tho at least they had an actual Mexican actress to temper that nonsense. NO SUCH LUCK from the movie – just lots of creepy zombish brown people trying to bring around an apocalypse, super cool.

And not only is meh as a metaphor, to impute such a conservative metaphor into a the Hellblazer Verse, with its infamous/classic DEMON YUPPIES FROM HELL and in general tips toward the progressive/pro immigrant ethos, is BAFFLING to me. I mean maybe more in tune with American sentiments about everything, which I have argued above is an interesting choice, but still, boooo.

Also the fact that John quits smoking at the end of the movie is such Hollywood garbage it almost outweighs the positives. I mostly imagine he and Angela date for like a month, he’s such a bitch when going through withdrawal that she dumps his ass, and then he goes back to smoking/sulking around LA doing bad exorcisms. That’s the real John Constantine, babey!!!

#oh god i scrolled up and saw much i wrote this is nonsense #more than you or anyone else should ever know about my feelings about constantine (2005)#constantine #hellblazer #waverly-earp

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sparda3g · 6 years

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Gintama Chapter 685 Review

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I don’t know how much fuel I have left in my laugh box. Honestly, I’m amazed with Sorachi’s talent in comedy, even at this late of the stage. You wouldn’t think that we are in a final arc with a serious problem for these characters. We are deluded by a series of hilarity. This chapter had me rolling with laughter from hilarious twists and the cliffhanger that seriously got me really curious, just to see how this would end.

After the false death report of Binbokusai, his face is covered in mosaic for whatever reason. Supposedly, he’s being recorded for documentary. He monologues his life and his view on trash. He comes off like an old wise man that fulfilled his purpose within his family. It’s no wonder the last chapter had a mellow tone. The way he sees trash basically follows the concept, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” It’s simple and delightful; nice to see him moving forward to something he enjoys. Then hijinks ensue…

Till this day, Gintoki is still acting like a mannequin. I know he is hiding from his friends, but this is dedication level or even worse. It’s funny how Bin uses him as something that defeats the purpose or rather wrongfully used. It was fine with him putting a jacket that reads, “Third Generation,” a reference to a band, but out of nowhere, he uses him as a roach swatter. I believe I get the joke behind the Third Generation part. As dumb that was, he tops it with Hijikata, who still acts like a mannequin, and uses him as a replacement. Seriously, he doesn’t really need to act like one, but whatever I suppose. Funny he was written with “YouTuber.” Is this a message from Sorachi to us?

I completely lost it with the next page. Even the mightiest edgelord Takasugi is caught in the middle of this stupidity. I don’t even know how he was even buried in the garbage and still kept his cool face. Hijikata and Gintoki’s reaction just don’t cut it anymore; this is very dumbfounded. Someone has a grudge against the director since they suggest to write it on Takasugi in order to make it a target practice. I’m sorry, but I’m still baffled by the fact this edgelord is in this mess and I don’t mean the garbage.

He falls on Bin before any ridiculous stunt happens. I guess the edgelord knows his limit after all. It’s the perfect time for the other two to roll out and escape, but no, grudge runs deep when they went over there to beat up Bin. That or trying to free Takasugi, I don’t know which, but they’re pretty pissed off for a reason. Well, at least the documentary has ended. Can’t wait to see the complete version.

Finally, Gintoki stops playing as a mannequin. I was close to be convinced that Gintama is about mannequin. Funny how he channels the fans’ thought about Takasugi goofing around, even mocking his edgy characteristics. I love how this series is so self-aware and understands its fans. Then a twist happens and it turns out that guy is not him. He was wearing a wig.

Gintoki actually believe that Takasugi has gone bold. Wow, his reason to destroy the world is definitely reasonable. It’s even funnier that he asks him to shout out his catchphrase. I cannot believe this series is really mocking itself. But I got to say, it’s a shame that it wasn’t Takasugi in the first place. He threatened the guy to swap places and that guy took the role of a mannequin. Oh well, it’s understandable since Takasugi is too serious for that kind of stunt; even Hijikata thought the same.

Oh how dumb I am to underestimate Sorachi. Sure, Takasugi didn’t act like a mannequin, but he still pull a stupid tactic as he dressed up as a cartoon character out in the open. What’s even stupider is he is even wearing an eyepatch for the costume. Why?! This series is going to end me. Gintoki takes the wig from the guy to disguise as Takasugi or going by Nisesugi. Now we are in disguise arc. What a transition.

Not even a page in, he’s already stopped by someone. What the hell did he expect? He is the most wanted man on Edo. When I saw kunai, I thought it would be either Sacchan or Tsukuyo, though more on the former, and surprise, surprise, it’s Sacchan. She looks about the same, just her uniform is revamped. It looks similar to Nobume’s, though later on, it’s addressed that she works under Soyo, so that does explain the concept. Needless to say, she still looks nice. That all said a new set of hijinks ensue. I’m surprised I’m alive to write this.

It’s hysterically funny to see how far Gintoki has to stick to the role, up to the point he has to rely on the special effect to display his intimidation. It is fourth wall broken at its finest. It is hilarious how Sacchan didn’t care about Takasugi with his two eyes, already signaling fake, so she just take out one. Irony. Gintoki’s logic to recover an eye is to use a marker to draw a dot and somehow it replaces its pupil, even if it is too large. And so, the story begins with the fake Takasugi.

I love how Gintoki has to imitate him with his over exaggerated edginess. It’s so damn hard to take him serious with his disjointed eyes. His dialogue is so humorous; it must end with dark and sinister tone by default. The panel always darkened for dramatic effect with the “kuwah” sound effect. It got to the point that Hijikata took notice of his stupid antic. Gintoki goes so far to even reference a TV personality with “Indian people don’t tell lie,” just for the sake of the effect. Now that’s just being too desperate.

For some reason, he transfer his sinister vibe towards a stranger because he needs to go to the bathroom. Shouldn’t he cut down the charade when dealing with other? In a surprise twist, he asked for the bathroom because he was feeling odd in the stomach. It turns out that Sacchan threw a kunai with a toxic that will force him to explode in his bowel movement. Now that is worthy of “kuwah.” Sorachi is genius on timing and execution.

I should feel bad for Gintoki to be humiliated, but I feel like this is an indirect way to punish him for leaving them. He’s now enslaved to Sacchan and in order to get the antidote, he must find himself. Go figure. The guy is so helpless; any minute now, he will blow up inside. One of the dumbest (which there are many already) yet clever move is the bathroom tactic, and I am not referring to Gintoki’s idea. He wants to go to the bathroom but lies about Gintoki being in a convenience store. Somehow, someway, every single one of them is occupied by Shinobi. It’s all according to the plan. Unbelievable…

It’s comical how this revelation transitions to a flashback, but it’s a nice and somewhat touching scene. It’s a shame that Zenzou did leave Edo after the war. Even with his latest development, he felt that he would have been a problem for Soyo, since he believed he’s dangerous. This confirms Sacchan to be the one in charge of Oniwabanshuu. It’s a heartfelt farewell because how well they know each other. There’s this undertone feeling that they can be more than friends, especially when tough things get going. It’s gentle of him to rely on her with upmost confidence. Hopefully, he does return later on…

Because she is using her forces to find Gintoki and force him to marry her! Sweet merciful heaven! This must be her ultimate trump card; do or die attempt. Hilarious that she will bring him back by force, yet here he is on a leash. He didn’t say the famous quote, “Wait for me,” to her. Not to go into shipping mode, but maybe he’s, ahem, not the one for you. Well, it is the final arc, so go for broke.

I love how there’s a store named, “Shits.” What a fitting message for Gintoki in his stance. But it’s not exactly what I thought, because he’s awkwardly walking to the store, and when you see someone doing that, it cannot be good. He wants to change clothes. Why? Because well, let’s just say he doesn’t need to go to a bathroom anymore. Yep. It happened. That’s just sad. What’s even sadder is he could only afford a man’s diaper; a perfect image to describe him in this chapter. My mind was blown when Gintoki decides to put an underwear over his face again. We are freaking back to the mannequin charade! Oh. My. God!

At least I cooled down with Tsukuyo on the scene with a new look. She reminds of the second movie design; I quite like the mature feel. I wonder if she has her pipe still. I also wonder if she can sense Gintoki, but not sure how to react with her being chained with him. It’s nice to know that she is with Kyuubei since they did form a nice friendship from the war. That said that means all 4 girls are in one place. Harem Round 2? Even worse, Gintoki is wearing Kyuubei’s underwear. Yep. Our protagonist, ladies and gentlemen.

This chapter was a trip. I laughed throughout the chapter and it only differs in its volume level. The comedy was gold with hilarious twists and turns. It’s hilarious to have Hijikata being the spectator throughout, reacting with how we would react. It has one touching scene and it was pleasant. The cliffhanger is very interesting honestly speaking. Very curious where do we go from there. The editor’s note says that Gintoki may die in the next chapter. Who’s ready to say goodbye?

#gintama #chapter 685 #review

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fairyling · 6 years

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mismatched // part 1

summary: everyone has marks on their body that match their soulmate. stan doesn’t belive that there’s someone out there to complete him while richie dates people left and right in hopes of finding the person to finish his life.

a/n: this is just to introduce the story, but i want to turn this into a series so please let me know what you think !!

word count: 1663

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 //part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8

At some point in your life, you would notice a mark on your body. That mark would be identical to that of your soulmate. It tended to be explained to children very early on so that they could start looking for their mark with excitement. It also helped children to avoid ending up with the wrong person as they tended to wait until they found their other half, for lack of a better word. This wasn’t the case for Stanley Uris. He didn’t buy into anyone completing him as he believed that he was whole on his own. Someone else being his missing piece sounded like garbage and anyone who ended up with Stan would know that they added to his life, but he would be able to survive without them.

While Richie Tozier believed in soulmates and was often checking his body for a mark that would lead him in the direction of his soulmate. There was no telling when or where it would show up, but while he waited Richie had short flings until other people got their marks. While he insisted it was only fun, the boy couldn’t help but wish that everyone he was with would end up being his other half. As much as the boy wanted to believe that no one would complete his life, it always felt empty. His parents marks didn’t match, but Richie didn’t have to know that to know that they weren’t meant for each other. He only hoped that one day he would find someone to fill the void that his parents left.

When Stan and Richie met, it was an instant click. As much as Stan gave Richie shit, he wouldn’t ask for a different best friend. He was supportive of all of his friend’s relationships, but Stan always felt a pang of jealousy when Richie was walking around their school carrying a different girl’s books. It would never be admitted, but Stan also always felt a tad bit jealous when he saw how close Richie and Eddie were. At night, Stan would blame himself for pushing Richie away but when they were together again he wouldn’t change his behavior. It took a few years, but Bill eventually commented on Stan’s behavior.

“You’re always staring at R-Richie.”

“He’s always doing dumb shit.”

“It’s a d-different kind of stare.”

“There’s only one kind of stare, Bill.”

“I think y-you’re jealous.”

“Of what? His awful sense of humor?”

“Of E-eddie.”

Stan stiffened, but scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of Eddie?”

“He g-gets almost all of R-richie’s attention.”

The pair fell into a silence now as Richie looped an arm around Eddie. They couldn’t hear what the others were saying, but they could see Eddie trying to get away from Richie’s touch only to be jabbed in the sides by the taller boy. Stan wondered why he would be jealous of that, but he also wondered why he was watching with such intensity. Huffing, he looked away and trained his eyes on the trees in search of a bird. Even if he did like Richie, there was a mark on his hip that he hadn’t seen anywhere on the other boy. Not that Stan bought into any of the soulmate stuff that his teachers and his friends talked about, but he knew that the others did. He had yet to even tell them that his mark had appeared.

“Eds! I know you love me!”

“Fuck off, Richie. I’m trying to study.”

“Oh, please. I’m way more interesting than whatever it is you’re studying.”

“You’re not worth the failing grade, even if you were more interesting.”

Richie huffed and rested his chin in his hands. His own textbook was open before him--- Eddie had opened it to the proper page, but Richie hadn’t so much as glanced at it. Instead he trained his gaze to a curly haired boy behind Eddie. Stan had left the pair almost immediately when Eddie had mentioned studying with Stan and Richie insisted that he come along. The boy was silent for a few moments before he got up, abandoning his textbook and his backpack so he could go sit beside Stan.

Before Richie even opened his mouth, Stan knew that the boy was coming his way. He heard the boy’s footsteps coming his way and closed his textbook with a sigh. Even if he wanted to pretend that he was more interested in studying, Stan knew that Richie wouldn’t let it fly. “What do you want, trashmouth?” he asked, watching as long legs clambered into the seat beside him. Richie’s hand reached out for Stan’s curls and the boy swatted it away. “Ouch! I just want to know how your hair looks so amazing all the time. Also, why does it look like noodles?” There’s an eyeroll and Stan turns to go back to his textbook only to have it swiped away from his fingers. “Richie, I swear--” he gets cut off by Eddie loudly shushing the pair.

Silenced, Richie and Stan exchange a look before Stan glances over his shoulder to see Eddie flipping through his own textbook. Bringing a finger to his lips, Stan grabs his backpack and quietly slings it over his shoulder. Richie gets the memo and tucks the textbook under his arm, ready to follow Stan’s lead. The pair leaves quietly with Richie’s books still strewn across the table in front of Eddie. As they walk down the hallway, Richie is eyeing the empty classrooms before he spots one that he knows is always unlocked. Nimble fingers wrap around Stan’s wrist and tug the boy into the classroom before he can yank his arm away. It’s a chilly classroom because one window is stuck open and there’s a lingering smell of cigarette smoke. No classes ever seem to be in this room so Richie and Beverly frequent it to smoke when they don’t feel like going outside.

The smell hits Stan before he’s fully in the room and he crinkles his nose, but doesn’t comment. Richie had to of known about the smell or even been the cause so it was pointless to mention it. Instead he sets his backpack on one of the desks and slides into a chair. Richie moves the backpack before Stan is even fully in the seat to sit on the desk. The taller boy studies Stan for a few moments before he fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “No.” Stan states, snatching the pack from Richie’s hands and giving the boy a look. He opens his mouth to protest, but Stan shakes his head. “I’m not going home smelling like smoke. I hate trying to get it out of my clothes. It makes me feel dirty.” he explains, tucking the pack between his thighs as he stares up at his friend.

Richie glances at the pack before a blush rises to his cheeks and he brings his eyes back to Stan. “Are you saying that I smell dirty?” he challenges, shifting on the desk so his full body is facing the other with one knee bent upon the desk and the other leg hanging off the edge. “You are dirty. It’s more than just the smell.” Stan counters with a smirk. There’s nowhere for him to put his hands on the desk without touching Richie so Stan decides to rest one hand on Richie’s thigh and the other on his knee. There’s a pout on the taller boy’s features, but it eases up under Stan’s touch. “You wouldn’t be touching me if you really thought I was dirty. I think you’re a liar.”

Stan moved to flinch away from the other, but Richie was quick to cover Stan’s hands with his own. There was a look of dangerous determination on Richie’s face and part of it scared Stan. Whenever the other seemed this set on doing something it usually worked out in his favor. Last time Stan was alone with Richie and saw that face he was talked into sitting through a horror movie marathon with him. Stan hated horror movies. “What are yo---” he was cut off by Richie leaning in to kiss him. It was far more gentle than he expected Richie to be, but as gentle as he had hoped it could be. Richie’s hands had moved from Stan’s to cup his face and he took the opportunity to grab the front of Richie’s shirt to pull him closer. When they pulled away from each other Richie was in Stan’s lap with an amused smirk on his face. Stan wanted to kiss Richie again so he would lose the smile, but he abstained.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

“Well, you wouldn’t have kept kissing me if you really thought I was dirty.”

“I can still kiss you if I think you’re dirty. Hell, I think you’re dirty and I like you.”

“The Stanley Uris likes little ole me? What have I done to earn that pleasure?”

Rather than answering, Stan pulled Richie in for another kiss. It was surprising to the dark haired boy, but he complied. As he wrapped his arms around the other, Richie wondered if this was fate. He had had a crush on Stan for quite a while, but he never saw it working out. Something told Richie that the other boy would never feel the same way. Instead of pining after Stan, Richie had thrown himself into the Derry dating scene. He hardly made it past kissing with most of the people he met, but Richie was desperate to find someone with a soulmark so that he could see if he had a matching one. Instead, Richie came up empty. He didn’t know if he even had one yet. It was all so dark for the boy.

“You’re distracted.” Stan’s voice broke Richie’s thoughts and the two looked at each other before Richie attempted to brush it off. “Just thinking about you, Stanny boy.”

#stozier #stanley uris #stan uris #richie tozier #it #it 2017 #it fanfiction #fanfiction #stozier fanfiction #richie tozier fanfiction #stan uris fanfiction #stanley uris fanfiction #mine.

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lolainblue · 7 years

Text

Presque Vu Chapter 17

t/w: SMUT

Of course, Shannon's hour turned out to be more like 90 minutes, but Raina was already used to his creative interpretation of clocks and schedules. She remembered her promises to Jared about the way she had been eating and made sure to at least get a salad to go with the pizza, which she still somehow managed to get delivered at the right time in spite of Shannon's lateness. He showed up with brownies and beer and they made a big nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of her living room floor to watch the movie from.

“Are you feeling okay?” was his first question as soon as they had made their plates and settled in.

“I'm fine, really. I took the weekend to rest up and now that I'm out of classes for a few months my stress levels should come down nicely,” she told him.

He gave her a soft smile. “You really did have me worried you know. I get that you're a bit of a porcupine, you don't like to be crowded, and I tried to respect that and give you some space but I kind of wanted to camp out on your doorstep until you came to your senses.”

“I'm a porcupine huh?” Raina laughed. “Nobody's called me that before.”

“Well, it's true. You're all defensive spines on the outside but you're still somehow adorable.” He took a swig of beer while she shook her head at him. “Someday you'll tell me how you got all those spines.”

Raina shrugged and dropped her eyes, the humor seeming to melt from her. It felt like everyone wanted something from her, first Cassie and her questions, then Jared and all his discussions and then the doctor and her interrogation, and now Shannon, who was supposed to just be her chill buddy, was starting in on her too. It was as if everyone had lost confidence in her to be able to conduct her own life. She knew she had her issues but she mostly kept things together on her own and she resented all of them for implying otherwise. This is why you don't open up to people Raina. They just turn it against you.

'And there they go again,” Shannon said sadly, shaking his head and retreating back to his side of the pillows. “I'm sorry, I'll back off.” He turned the TV on. “So what are we watching?”

Raina felt a twinge of guilt at his obvious disappointment but she was relieved that conversation was over. “I don't know, I thought we could pick something out on Netflix,” she said. The movie really hadn't been the point when she had invited him over but now that it looked like she had upset him she figured she had better pick a good one because that was probably going to be the extent of her excitement for the evening.

They settled on an action flick about international art thieves that neither one of them had seen. They sat close to each other eating as the movie progressed but barely a word was said. There was an awkwardness that had settled in between them that made Raina more uncomfortable than the questions had. She realized that as attractive as she found Shannon, and as great as their sex had been, it was his companionship that she craved the most deeply. She wasn't sure what to do about that. It was a lot more dangerous than craving sex. She thought about just getting through to the end of the movie and then collecting their dishes and kicking him out, pushing him away once and for all. It would not only stop the awkward questions but it would neatly solve her dilemma with Jared. Choice made. Instead, almost at the end of the movie, she found herself doing something unexpected.

“I lost everything,” she said simply. “Everything that meant anything to me, I lost it or let it fall apart and now I don't trust anyone. Not even myself.”

Shannon picked up the remote and turned off the TV in the middle of the car chase that was currently on the screen. “That's...” he trailed off for a moment, considering his response. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No no no no no no no no no I don't. “There's not a lot to tell, really. I thought that if I did everything I was supposed to and played by the rules that everything would work out for me in the end. I trusted fate. I trusted people I shouldn't have. Now I know better.” She didn't want to go through the whole story again for the second time in less than a week. The details didn't really matter anyway. They didn't change the fractures on her heart.

Shannon gave her a long look and Raina was afraid he was considering whether or not she was worth the bother. Although they seemed to have bonded they had only been on a few dates, had only been to bed together the once. He really didn't have that much invested in her. If he was going to cut bait and run now would be the time to do it. Instead, he asked her another question. “How much do you know about me?”

Raina shrugged. “Not much. Just what you've told me. Why?”

Shannon gave her a wry smirk. “Let's just say I'm an expert in fucking things up. I get not trusting yourself. But that's a hell of a way to try to live.”

Maybe that was why she felt so comfortable with him. She had been afraid of him finding out how broken she was, but maybe there was some broken in him too. “Maybe,” she conceded. “But how do you let it go? I thought I could, I moved out here to put it behind me, start over. But so far I haven't been able to do much of that. I just keep myself cut off from everyone and everything. It's just Cassie and work and school I don't have any real kind of life. I'm afraid of what would happen if I tried.”

“You just do. You learn what you can and then you leave it behind." He looked her carefully, those disarming hazel eyes of his taking their assessment. "Like, right now, I'd bet you've got a dozen reasons running through your head for why you shouldn't be having this conversation with me. You're probably trying to think of some way to get rid of me so I'll stop poking all the sensitive bits in that whirring little brain of yours, right?” Shannon raised his eyebrows and looked at her expectantly. She knew he didn't need an answer, she knew he already knew he was right, but she nodded her head anyway. “So don't listen to them. Know that they are garbage, that they are just voices from that past hurt that want to take you down with them. Leave them behind. Be here, now. You came out here for a second chance. So take it."

It sounded good. It sounded simple and straightforward, but Raina couldn't find the voice of the here and now with all the din in her head from the then. “I can't find it,” she told him. “I don't hear anything else but the old voices.”

Shannon leaned over and took her hands. “Yes, you can. It was the first voice, the first thought you had, the one that sent all the others screaming.”

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what thought had started this particular cascade of self-doubt. “I was thinking how much I enjoyed spending time with you.” There was another sentence that should have been spoken there, the other half of that thought. It felt like too much. Too big a confession. To admit that she actually wanted anyone was hand to over power that terrified her. To re-open the path to ruin. She did it anyway. “I was realizing it wasn't just sex I wanted from you.”

She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to risk looking at Shannon and seeing the panic on his face as he tried to get out of the pit he had unwittingly stumbled into. It doesn't matter. If he gets up and walks out now it's okay because at least I finally said it to someone. At least I'm facing how I feel. At least I feel. She was surprised instead by the soft brush of his lips against hers. She opened her eyes to see Shannon's face inches from hers, peering at her intently.

“I didn't realize that was all we were doing. I thought we were trying to be friends,' he said.

“It was all I was doing,” she confessed. “Or at least that was how it started out in my head.”

If she was expecting him to be angry, the mischievous grin that had returned to his face quickly removed that thought. “Well, I'm glad to hear that I'm more than just a hot bit of booty,” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Raina couldn't help but laugh back at him. “I didn't mean it that way. I just meant I'm very guarded. I don't set out to be friends with anyone these days.”

“Well you've got me now,” he said. His voice changed timbre then, lowering to that seductive purr of his that went straight to Raina's core. “Of course I hope that doesn't mean you don't still want the sex too,” he said, grasping her chin and tilting her face back to his. “Because the sex is so much fun.”

He pulled her mouth open, his tongue meeting hers even before his lips closed against her. Raina was quickly reminded of why she had invited him over in the first place. He leaned back against the sofa, pulling her with him and into his lap. She wrapped her legs around him with a sigh, the physical contact already starting to soothe her jangled nerves. He ran his fingers through her hair, gathering it in a bunch behind her head while they sampled each other, and Raina could feel his arousal growing beneath her parted legs. Sex with Shannon was so different than with Jared, but she loved the chemistry that they had together.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Raina leaned back and pulled her shirt over her head. She was dying to feel those powerful hands of Shannon's on her back. As if he read her mind he quickly obliged, unfastening her bra and casting it aside before pulling her against him, his palms flattened against her spine as his mouth made its way to her breasts. Eyes closed and head thrown back, she rocked her hips against him as his tongue teased her nipples into hard little peaks. That mouth of his drove her mad anywhere he put it.

Suddenly Shannon lifted her up and laid her back onto the blankets. He covered her with himself, hips pressed into hers, her face cupped in his hands as his tongue passed languidly over hers. He was being terribly gentle, terribly intimate, but it wasn't what Raina wanted. She pulled his shirt off and wrapped her legs around his hips. But the more aggressive she tried to get, the more Shannon slowed her down, pinning her wrists to the floor by her head. She whimpered.

“Please Shannon. I just want you to grab me, take me, claim me. I don't want to feel fragile anymore,” she told him. He paid her pleas no attention, continuing to cover her in soft kisses.

“What I think you don't want to feel,” he said, nuzzling her cheek, “is vulnerable.”

Raina groaned in protest and thrust her hips up against him. He just gave her a little smirk and slipped his hands back behind her head, his tongue diving into her again as he deepened his kisses. Raina wasn't sure how to respond, she had already loosened the tight reign on her emotions as much as she could handle for one evening. Shannon let her head go, trailing his hand around the sides of her neck to the front of her throat, slowly moving them lower until they reached her hips. He hooked his fingers in the edge of her shorts and raised himself off of her.

“That's okay though,” he said, smiling so wide his eyes were almost crinkled shut. “I would hate to make you do anything you don't want to do. If you just want to be my little fuck toy for the evening I can oblige.”

Without further warning he yanked her shorts off, taking her panties with them. Quickly then he grabbed her legs, pinning her knees back to the floor near her head where her wrists had been minutes earlier. Raina had just enough time to be glad she hadn't been skipping her visits to the gym before Shannon ran his flattened tongue up her damp crevice, stopping just short of the bundle of nerves at its apex. As he grinned lewdly at her over her exposed sex he slipped a finger into his mouth, getting it slick with his saliva before bringing it back to circle that swollen nub. He kept his eyes on her as he teased her, his bottom lip caught behind his teeth while she made soft little sighs of pleasure. He finally released the other knee, running his hand up the exposed underside of her thighs before roughly grabbing her firm ass and plunging his tongue into her with a growl. Raina let out a ragged cry as he rolled and swirled his tongue through her channel, leaving her in awe of his skilled mouth for the second time that evening. The heat in her core built quickly, and soon she was on the quivering edge of orgasm, unable to tear her eyes away as Shannon devoured her like she was the last meal on earth.

He then abruptly changed tactics again, raising up from her now dripping center to fish a condom out of his pocket before shoving his pants down his hips. Her bottom came to rest against his chest as he prepared himself, rolling on that thin layer of protection before he moved to claim her as she had pleaded for him to do earlier. As soon as he was ready he grabbed her roughly again, hauling her onto his waiting cock as he shifted to rest back against his heels. Once he had her where he wanted her, straddling him while he gripped her hips tightly, he began thrusting into her. He spared her no time to adjust, he simply began fucking her for all he was worth, his fingers digging into her as she bounced on his thick shaft.

“Giddyup, cowgirl,” he said teasingly, smacking her ass. She could hear the slapping noises as their bodies met, feel her juices leaving a slick swath between them, hear the satisfied grumbles from Shannon's chest as she rode him like a carnival ride. It was exactly what she had wanted. She grabbed his shoulders and let her head fall back, the bliss of her climax starting to claim her.

“Oh yeah, fucking cum for me Raina, show me how much you like being my little fuck toy,” Shannon growled, sliding his hand between them to once again work her hardened clit. The wave of pleasure that had been building suddenly slammed through her, and she heard herself screaming his name as she dug her nails into his arms so hard she was sure she must have drawn blood. He didn't slow down at all, just kept that punishing pace, both arms gripping her waist tightly as he grumbled and moaned like an animal underneath her.

Once again he suddenly changed tactics, shoving her roughly off of his lap and onto her knees in front of him. Quickly he pulled the condom off and grabbed Raina by the hair, hauling her mouth onto his newly exposed length. Her eyes watered as he roughly shoved himself down her throat, and she grabbed his thighs to keep from falling over. She wanted to do more for him, wanted to run her tongue against him the way he had liked it previously, but all she could do was try to breathe while he held her in place and fucked her throat as roughly as he had just taken her pussy. Finally, with a loud groan, he shuddered and spilled into her, releasing her only when the last waves of his climax had completely passed through him.

Stunned, Raina fell to a seated position on the floor, wiping her face as she collected herself. Shannon got up and pulled his pants back into place then went to discard the condom he had tossed aside. He grabbed his shirt when he returned, pulling it back on along with his shoes.

“Are you leaving already?” Raina asked, pulling her own shirt on.

Shannon shrugged, that mischievous grin falling back in place. “Sorry babe. Booty call is over. It was fun though. Maybe we'll do it again.”

Raina rolled her eyes. “You are such a brat.”

He leaned over and picked up the bakery box he had brought with him. “Oh, and I'm taking my brownies with me,” he said. “You can keep the beer though. Wash that taste of your mouth.”

Raina threw a pillow at him. He gave her a laugh but bent over to place a quick kiss on her forehead.

“I'll call you soon, my second-chance girl,” he said with a smile. He then grabbed another piece of pizza and shoved it crust end first into his mouth and walked out.

Raina sighed and reached for her shorts. Dinner, a good hard fuck, and a laugh. It was actually exactly what she had needed. With a smile, she began cleaning up the mess they had made.

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious @meghan12151977 @snewsome756 @fyeahproudglambert

#shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #Presque Vu

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