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sunnomnoms · 4 years

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Hiiii I Found Your Blog In The Tags And I Never Thought I Would Enjoy Ace Attorney Imagines Before. I've Been Into It For Years And I Think This Idea Is So Adorable. I Hope Requests Are Open, And If I Can Ask For Relationship Headcanons For Hobo Phoenix Where There Is An Established Relationship Between You Two, And How It Continues Once He Gets Disbarred? I Always Wonder How Those Eight Years Would Have Been When He Had Some Light In His Life Besides Trucy. Btw I Love Your Aizawa Writing!

Aaaa ! A new anon that actually likes my AA stuff ! I’m so blessed :,) I’m truly flattered my writing is what got you interested aha, you’re too sweet ! Also, thank you!

I got SUPER CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I AM SO SORRY

Fun fact: I actually cried while writing it 🥺🥺

Some warnings: this is female coded! Some angst, some fluff, family cuteness, family struggles, agh-! It has a happy ending though!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

You had known Phoenix for at least a year or so before you started dating. You were a witness to a crime he took, which is what brought you two together in the first place. If it’s important, yes, your testimony did help a good bit for solving the case!

While working on it, Phoenix found himself feeling a bit... fuzzy, around you. It wasn’t ever something he intended to happen, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be in a relationship. But he couldn’t just deny the immense amount of chemistry going on between the both of you.

Oddly enough, the two of you didn’t lose contact after the case was over. Phoenix took it upon himself to go and see you sometimes when he wasn’t working on anything. This fuzzy feeling was starting to get worse, and the chemistry was slowly turning into tension...

... and within a year or so of knowing you, he took it upon himself to ask if you would be interested in something more. You happily accepted.

With you now at his side, Phoenix felt a bit more confident. You meant a lot to him, and he made sure to express it as much as he could to you. He really was a sweetheart, he made it his goal to let you know how much he loved and appreciate all you did for him. Whether it be helping him figure out a case or just making him dinner after a long day in the office, he never took any of it for granted.

The incident happened a few years later, and it wasn’t something you could have seen coming from a million miles away.

Your boyfriend, an attorney, came home without his beloved badge... and a few days later, was asked to care for a child.

Phoenix was reasonably shaken about losing his badge due to his fatal mistake, but he was more worried about someone else.

“[Y/N], she’s got no where to go...” He said as he held your hands, tears brimming his eyes. The little girl I’m question, Trucy, sat in your living room as the two of you spoke quietly in your bedroom. You felt Phoenix give your hands a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t we give it a try...?”

Truth be told, you and Phoenix had been trying for a baby for a good while now, but nothing seemed to be working. It had started to take a toll on you mentally, making you fear you would never have children at all. Trucy had appeared at a time when you were sure you were going to give up entirely. Perhaps... this could be what you needed all along...?

With tears in your eyes, you agreed happily to raising Trucy with Phoenix. He brought you into a tight embrace as you began to feel yourself cry. He quietly whispered about how good of a mother you were going to be to her, and how he’s going to do everything he could with you to give her a normal life.

Raising Trucy wasn’t a struggle at all. Though mischievous at times, she was a delight to deal with. Your stresses of how you were raising her was fading, because despite everything... she held on tight and was strong. She seemed just as determined to live a normal life as you were to give her one. That is, as normal as raising a little magician can be!

Phoenix, in the beginning, was also great with her. You had never felt so close to him until now. You felt like you had that family you always dreamed of. Granted, it wasn’t perfect, Phoenix was still struggling with coping over his lost badge. You did what you could to assure him that life would untangle itself with time, and that no matter what, you were sure things were going to end up okay. You were there on the countless nights he felt himself fall to apart, you always helped him put back the pieces.

For awhile, you were sure things were getting better. Trucy was doing great, and it seemed like Phoenix was...

Unfortunately, your beloved wasn’t always honest with his feelings. He had suppressed so much... and before you could help him, it’s as if he fell into disrepair.

The struggles came with Phoenix’s sudden and rapidly declining mental health. He had gained a habit to isolate, and you began to go days without seeing him. When he’d show up again, he was vague as to where he was, if he told you at all. It began to take a toll on you, you were beginning to practically raise Trucy alone at this point. Sometimes he’d disappear with Trucy, and that tortured your poor heart more than anything. You could only handle so much paranoia about where they were.

It got to a point in which you basically begged for Phoenix to get professional help. He seemed stubborn when it came to the topic, as if he didn’t want to better himself. You couldn’t even be mad at him, you were too busy sorting out your feelings of dispair and hopelessness. You just wanted a normal life, you wanted a lover, a child, a stable family... you were so close, why did everyone have to fall apart...?

You had ended up taking yourself to therapy to sort out your feelings. Your family and friends gave you conflicting answers as to what to do. Some said to leave him and take Trucy, some said to stay and try and talk to him more, some said to take legal action...

You couldn’t tell what was right at this point. With so many people saying so many things, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to believe. Part of you downplayed the situation, this was how all dads were supposed to be, right? Part of you felt hypersensitive to everything, part of your conscious screaming that you should have ran away the second the red flags began to appear. You didn’t know what to do... so you chose to endure. For Trucy.

It didn’t help that Phoenix picked up a habit for drinking.

The only thing you could ever thank him for was that he stayed away from Trucy when intoxicated. She didn’t need to see him like that. Besides that, he was insufferable to deal with when intoxicated. He was the “I’m not that drunk!!” type, even if he couldn’t stand up. If you had a dime for all the times you had to drag him to bed, you’d never have to worry about the bills ever again. When drunk, he wasn’t physically violent or anything, but he had a habit of saying things that really hurt. It was common for you to put him to bed and spend the rest of the night crying and wonder what went wrong between you two. It was awful that occasionally, Trucy had to come and console you. You felt safer with your daughter than you did you own boyfriend... was it truly supposed to be this way...?

When Apollo came into the picture, you were delighted to meet him. He reminded you of how Phoenix once was when he was a lawyer. Apollo often questioned the family life of the three of you, but you always responded with vague answers. Things like “it’s certainly not perfect, but when is life ever supposed to be perfect?” We’re common time hear from you. It satisfied him for awhile. You’d always hear a ton about Apollo through Trucy, and it was for the most part positive things. Whenever he and Trucy visited the house, you’d quietly thank him for looking over Trucy when Phoenix wasn’t around. He always said it was no issue or whatnot, but you knew deep down he wasn’t expecting to be lowkey babysitting as a lawyer.

As far as you were concerned, Apollo was an addition to the family. Trucy always spoke of him as if he was a big brother, and it warmed your heart to know Trucy had a positive male figure in her life now.

When Phoenix had gone away for longer than usual for his “secret mission”, you had only expected for him to be away to go get messed up in a town over or something. But when he came back, he... brang news.

It was so much to take in at once. Trucy participated in her fathers “disappearance”, her mother was still alive, and Apollo was her half sibling.... what were you to do with yourself? What was it all supposed to mean? Was Trucy going to stay with you? And Apollo, was he now... your son?

You saw Apollo a bit less for the next week or so, you knew that case took a toll on him mentally and you were sure he was up to his eyes in paperwork. You made sure to call him at least once a day to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself.

Trucy was home a bit more now. You were happy to see here in the midst of the storm passing over the whole lot of you. You could tell she was torn up inside, but she still beamed at you with that beautiful smile you adored the second she came into your life. She was so strong, you couldn’t help but tear up a little when you saw her smile in the face of it all.

And Phoenix...

He was still gone for a bit after the fact, but one night he had come home late without you realizing. You were about to go to bed when you heard him call your name from the porch.

You felt your heart drop hearing him, worrying he might be drunk again. You padded your way to the back door, opening it and walking out onto the porch. Phoenix stood from his previous position of leaning on the railing, gesturing to some of the chairs on the deck. “Come sit. I... I wanna talk.”

You sat in one of the chairs, Phoenix pulling up one right in front of you. He inhaled deeply, then letting out a sigh. You were about to ask what this was all about when he gently took both of your hands.

“I... I’m sorry I dumped a bunch of information and left for a few days.” He apologized softly. “... I’ve been getting help.”

You let out a soft gasp. Phoenix looked up at you, and you felt yourself get lost in those beautiful steal blue eyes the same way you did all those years ago. You knew he was being sincere when he said it, but part of you didn’t believe it, what was this supposed to mean...?

“N-Nick, what is this about...?” You said, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt yourself getting choked up.

“[Y/N], this is about us. I lost sight of everything all those years ago- this isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I want and I know it’s not what you want.” Phoenix said, his gentle gaze never leaving you. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity but it just wasn’t there.

“Nick...” you croaked, tears beginning to roll down your face. You watched the tears begin to well up in his own eyes, but he quickly blinked them away.

“[Y/N]... I want to be a family again. A real family, [Y/N], I don’t want to be a stranger in this house anymore. I don’t want you to be afraid of where I am anymore, or be afraid of how Trucy is gonna grow up. I want a real family. I want you, me, Trucy and even Apollo to function like a real family...” He said, bringing your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to them.

“... I’m so sorry [Y/N].” He spoke against your fingers. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but I regret these past years so much... I need you to know that I’m sorry [Y/N]....”

You tried to hold back so you could speak, but your frantic sniffling caught Phoenix’s attention immediately.

“Nick, I-I-!”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you as you fell to pieces in his arms. You sobbed harder than you probably ever had for those past seven years or so. You clutched onto him for dear life, terrified he might disappear again if you let go.

“N-Nick- I-Ive waited s-seven years to hear you say you’ll come back!!! I-I-I’ve waited so long for you to c-come back home again, I-I-!” You wailed, your sobs getting the better of you as you gasped for air between your tears. He whispered gentle apologies to you as he ran his fingers through your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a good bit. You sooner or later leveled out, your sobs dying down to gentle sniffles. Phoenix gently released you from his embrace, taking your hands in his again.

“[Y/N]?”

“Y-Yeah?” You responded shakily. He looked you in the eyes again, a gentle smile on his face.

“I... I want you to be my wife.” He said gently, earning another gasp from you. “Y-You don’t have to say yes now, I understand, b-but I don’t want to just be a lover to you anymore, I-I want to be your husband, [Y/N].” He spoke gently. You felt the tears sting your eyes again. He watched your face for a second, waiting for any sign of an answer to his proposal. You brought a hand to your face as you wiped the fresh tears rolling down your face.

“Oh Nick, I... I’d love to be your wife, Nick. I-I truly thought you would never ask...” You said, smiling as you watched his eyes light up. He let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Y-You mean it? After everything I’ve done you... you still love me..?” He asked. You nodded. “Of course I do.” Letting out another laugh in disbelief, he cupped your face and brought you into a deep kiss.

You were basically smothered with kisses, the two of you giggling like idiots, as giddy as teenagers getting their first tastes of love.

“I’m gonna get better just for you, and I’m gonna go retake the bar exam and I’m gonna fix all of this [Y/N]. I’m gonna give you the life you want and the life you deserve. I’m never going to lose sight of you again. Not you, not Trucy, not even Apollo, we’re gonna be a family and I’m not gonna let anything ever destroy that again. Maybe we can try again for another kid, maybe we can adopt another, I’ll give you anything to make our life perfect again...”

“I love you so much [Y/N].”

#ace attorney phoenix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #phoenix wright #phoenix wright x reader #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney imagines #bro i am CRYINGGGG #WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF #ryu AA tag

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chiseler · 3 years

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Great Zilches of History

Film is light. There are times, though, when that light may take on a Stygian cast, burning with a flamme noire severity, a weird and otherworldly keenness. Or it may burn lurid and loud — especially if it’s a very old film, acting like a séance that summons the unruly dead. The darkness in cinema best typified by that form we call film noir is in its essence an extension of the peculiarly American darkness of Edgar Allan Poe.

Early, nitrate-based film stock, with its twinkling mineral core, gives Poe's crepuscular light its time to shine and thereby illuminate the world. No longer held in the solitary confinement of a page of reproduced text or an image, frozen, rendered in paint or ink. Poe's singularly tormented vision is finally written alchemically, in cinematographic rays beamed through silver salts; into moving images of such aggressive vitality as to blast every rational thing from one's mind. A Black & White image flipped into negative makes black fire, or black sunlight such as illumines Nosferatu’s Transylvanian forests, through which a box-like carriage rattles at Mack Sennett speed. But with the slightest underexposure, a little dupey degradation of the print, or even a little imagination (such collaboration is not discouraged), this liquid blackness will spread everywhere and anywhere, the most luminous pestilence known to creation. Be it in the laughing nightmare of Fleischer cartoons of old (Out of the Inkwell, indeed) or John Alton’s vision of the night, we are left to wonder: is daylight burning out the corner of a building, or is it the blackness of the building which is eating into the sky?

As with many such questions, film permits us no easy answer. We are simply to watch as the characters smudge. As their shadows pulsate and flicker, emanate out beyond themselves. But if Poe represents the loss of control over one’s existence and the ensuing panic, then cinema, consciously or not, takes existential dread as a given.

God, a vague and unseen deity, died at the moment cinema was born, replaced by a new celestial order. Saints and prophets made poor film characters, giving off the feeling of having stepped out of a stained glass window, flat, Day-Glo icons moving uncomfortably through three-dimensional space. Movies rather rejoiced in dirt and rags, texture and imperfection, so that the most lacklustre clown easily outperformed all the icon messiahs. At 45 minutes, Fernand Zecca’s The Life and Passion of Christ (1903) is one of the earliest feature films, but compared to the same filmmaker’s less ambitious, more playful shorts, it’s a beautiful snooze. A different execution climaxes his Story of a Crime (1901), in which we get to see, by brutal jump cut, a guillotine decapitation before our very eyes. This, as Maxim Gorky prophesied, is what the public wants. Or maybe the events of 1901, cinematic and otherwise, allow “the public” to define itself in ways heretofore unthinkable. The year brings Victoria Regina’s propitious death. And with her passing, Edgar Allan Poe’s pronunciamento on celebrity, “the ludicrous heightened into the grotesque," comes to new and anarchic fruition as an incendiary schnook, one of history’s finest.

When he shot President William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo on September 6th, 1901, the currents of fear and vengeance unleashed by Leon Czolgosz would carry him on a journey from reflexive beatings at the hands of police and a post-Victorian mob – ladies in bustles shedding all restraint, transformed from well-honed symbols of middle-class decorum into yowling banshees, screaming “GIVE HIM TO US!” – straight to the electric chair, from whence his corpse would be taken for additional punishment, a process where ghoulish prison authorities at Auburn separated the head from the body, and then poured sulfuric acid on what remained, before secreting the sorry residue of America’s anarchist son into an unmarked grave.

Despite attempts to erase Czoglosz from history, a visual document survives, oozing with pathos and bitter recrimination. It is impossible, looking into those eyes, not to feel unnerved and, yes, sympathetic with him – his desperate act, after all, was as critical a part of America’s greed-engorged industrial fantasia as the near daily spectacle of peaceful strikers, his friends among them, being slaughtered in the name of profit.

Cinema’s misspent childhood years in late-Victorian fairgrounds are followed by a grimy adolescence in Edwardian nickelodeon parlours. The medium, which finally comes of age amid gaudy palaces built in its honor, morphs many times. However, All Talking Pictures are the final death knell for the Victorian standard, belching from the screen a thousand inbred tongues that invade the ear willy-nilly. They remind us that when Queen Victoria breaths her last Naturalism sheds decorum, taste, breeding, good table manners.

Edgar Allan Poe essentially owns motion pictures via ongoing necrophilic obsession, since celluloid preserves the dead better than any embalming fluid. Like amber preserved holograms, they flit in and out of its parameters, reciting their own epitaphs in pantomime; revenant moths trapped in perpetual motion. Film is bona fide illumination — as opposed to religion’s metaphorical kind – representing the supremacy of alchemy and necromancy over sackcloth and ashes. The inmates, emboldened under the spell of Klieg lights, were not only running the asylum, but re-shaping the world in their own image. Both Church and State with their blunt instruments of repression proved impotent against the anarchy of this freshly liberated ghetto.

Holy men were unceremoniously defrocked, their doctrine of abject compliance to class-based norms re-written into storylines enriched by grease-painted floozies, costumed villains, and snooty dowagers brought down a notch by the drunk hobo in her drawing room. Amidst widespread labour unrest and mass poverty, followed soon by the Great Depression, filmgoers of the silent era had a front row view of the plutocracy’s helplessness against a swelling tide of restless humanity. Charlie Chaplin’s itinerant laborer may have accidentally thwarted a plutocrat’s plan for world domination and/or a house renovation, just as Groucho Marx seemed to have spontaneously derailed a social climbing matron’s equally fierce ambitions.

All hail the magic mirrors! Celestial mandalas! Giant eggs and butterfly women! Segundo de Chomón’s The Red Spectre (1907) ruthlessly assaults our eyes with a wraith-magician dissolving through his coffin lid in a red, hand-tinted, flame-flickering hell. His presence, caped, skull-masked, was to herald a new thespic truth, that from this moment forward the art of acting would be reduced to how you respond to light, and how light responds to you. The Specter of Chomon’s dark bauble is in every element Poe’s Red Death — japing and performing tricks for us, his adoring fans and welcome guests, before announcing our doom — literary metaphor slammed against a literal backdrop of amber stalactites, pellucid as an ossuary.

That was a long time ago, in the first decades of the 20th century, before artifice and studios and the commercial paradigm of stardom finally swallowed cinema in one ravenous bite. It was a period when one could see, if one paid close attention, the dreariness of ordinary life at the centre and around the edges of every motion picture brought forth. It lived onscreen in film’s early days, exposing the pretense, however fitful, of opulence or period as simply that: pretense, a fundamental desire to escape reality. But this “escapism” had always been erroneously attributed to the audience’s needs, when in fact it was rather those bankrolling the nascent medium not yet sufficiently in control of itself to impose any order.

The censors were on to something, even if they could never fully articulate what precise blasphemies were being committed.

Take Hitchcock’s Vertigo, for instance, which isn’t pure noir but is pure Poe: what would the surgical excision of an influence look like? Granted, the noir genre seems an unlikely Poe derivative, but what of Laura — fatalism, romance and necro-fantasy (with Lydecker as Usher)? DOA is the kind of concept Poe might have dreamed up; one of the great noir scribes, Cornell Woolrich is channeling Poe through an all-thumbs pulp sensibility. And how hard would it be to cast Val Lewton as the horror noir hybrid, with premature burials, ancestral disease, lunatics taking over bedlam? Jean Epstein, who adapted The Fall of the House of Usher in 1928, complained that Baudelaire’s translations fundamentally mistook Poe’s innocence for ghastliness.

The dead in Poe, writes Epstein, are “only slightly dead.”

To the extent that Epstein was correct, the whimsy that Poe bequeaths to cinema finds itself absorbed in almost material terms — not as sensibility but as a texture whose particular nap or weave is never granted names. In Mesmeric Revelations a voluntary subject is quite near physical death and under the ministrations of his mesmerist, answering precise questions about the nature of God. Before dying, he says God is “ultimate or unparticled” matter: “What men attempt to embody in the word ‘thought,’ is this matter in motion”. The same unnamable textures apparently survive on television, a case of Poe resonating inside our minds, a collective consciousness replaced by cathode rays.

Deep within the 18 hours of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks: The Return, there is a moment that, on its incandescent surface, could have been lifted weightless from the great post-war dream of material deliverance; as if the zeitgeist of the mid 20th century had somehow got lost and ended up in this one: Daytime, the top on the convertible is down, the radio tuned, The Paris Sisters singing I Love How You Love Me as a reincarnated Laura Palmer lifts her face to a cloudless sky. Within this tapestry of an early Phil Spector production — his trademark reverb eternally evocative of Romance and Death (two conditions Spector knows well) — the voice of Priscilla Paris could be a siren sound from the American Beyond, or a dream goddess lullaby from the whispering gallery, or sweet nothings from the crypt. We don’t know. We’ll never know.

In this oneiric echo chamber, Poe smiles down upon American blondness, muscle cars soaked in sunlight, candy for eye and ear; the terrible ecstasy of unending motion and immortality.

If Lynch’s Return means going back home, then home is that Lemon Popsicle/Strawberry Milkshake species of innocence proffered by America's music industry between 1957 and 1964. The horror genre always has to have some component of innocence to devastate, be it the existential kind which inspires the malevolence everyone paid the price of a ticket to have vicarious transit with; or the mere victimisation of the unsuspecting. Either way, there was no other period in American popular culture when innocence, of any variety, was so lavishly examined, toyed with, killed. The free floating chord that opens The Everly Brothers song, All I Have To Do is Dream, remains a lamentation in sound: the sudden recrudescence of Poe’s beating, tell-tale heart. Adoring such guilt-free teenage odes to sleep, death and sexual desire, David Lynch finds a muse in Amanda Seyfried. Specifically her visionary eyes melting Phil Spector’s dark edifice of sugar in a deathless, Sternbergian close-up — iridescent search lights, ever more urgently scanning the sky above, waiting for the sun to swallow her whole. We can only bear witness, and internalize this shimmering ingenue, this angel in a red convertible, trading places with Old Sol; as if whatever she just snorted has entered our system through hers. But in that ephemeral instant she achieves oneness with all things; the transcendence of stardom — true, temporal stardom — shorn of fame and the imperatives of show-business.

To this day David Lynch’s favorite film remains Otto e Mezzo, directed by Federico Fellini: Western Europe’s sorcerer of confectionary delights and unending motion; the man who put the “dolce” in La Dolce Vita. Fellini, he states, "manages to accomplish with film what mostly abstract painters do; namely, to communicate an emotion without ever saying or showing anything in a direct manner." Even if one were to take him at his word — and we must, of course, for no filmmaker has ever been known to misrepresent themselves to us — this seems a strange instance of gravitational pull, particularly in the light of the formal strategies of both men as they developed through time. Lynch has always favored a blunt pictorialism that, in its bluntness, borders on the language of Imagism: the studied simplicity of the language used to complex, powerful effect. Fellini, in 8 1/2 and throughout much of his career, by contrast, unleashes upon the viewer an insanely fluid, brutally precise camera ballet. Any good cinephile might be tempted to resolve the disparities and move toward a brighter, less subterranean comprehension. But, ultimately, such understanding would be a didactic burden no moviegoer needs. For here, in these conflicting dialects, you have a fleeting taste of ideologies swirled together like ribbon candy: a blur of four-wheeled luxury from the New World zooming past regional splendor into that fraternity of man: the socio-economic nirvana imagined by Karl Marx in the Old.

Careening from one via to another at harrowing, white-knuckle speed, Fellini was once heard to lament that “Some of the neo-realists seem to think that they cannot make a film unless they have a man in old clothes in front of the camera.” George Bluestone, recording these words for the pages of Film Culture in 1957, was sitting in the literal passenger seat of that ideal metaphor for post-war ebullience in action: expert, 20th century precision hurtling them through Roman streets with graffiti-scrawled churches proudly bearing the hammer and sickle; that famous Black Chevy skirting the Italian Scylla (the Vatican) and its equally dogmatic Charybdis (the Party). At that velocity, anything could make sense.

“Appearances aside" Bluestone wrote, "the Chevrolet is at every moment under Fellini’s control. He weaves in and out of traffic, misses pedestrians by inches, swerves away from Nomentana’s interminable monuments, dodging yellow traffic blinkers as if he were trying out a darkened slalom.” It is every bit a performance. Rome, after all, is the land of Bernini’s The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, Apollo and Daphne — marble-cum-flesh, even as flesh itself gives way to forms that leave the viewer in terrified awe. While reliving his own mythic, carbureted experience, Bluestone does some weaving of his own, quoting Genevieve Agel’s one-line pronunciamento (and, in the process, defining what would soon be labelled 'Felliniesque'), “Fellini is a visionary of the real”, as the passenger positions his driver somewhere between corporeal reality and ecstatic truth while the big man (no old clothes for this maestro) drives and drives. “As one hand lightly guides the wheel, the other gestures — it acts.”

Spirits of the Dead is one of those compendium films, with voguish directors (Malle, Vadim, Fellini) entrusted with bringing to the screen a Poe story each. Only the Fellini episode, Toby Dammit, is notable, but it's very notable, a hallucinatory yarn owing as much to Mario Bava's Kill, Baby, Kill! as to Poe's Never Bet the Devil Your Head, its ostensible source. The title character, played by Terence Stamp with white-blond hair and dark roots and constant beads of witch hazel perspiration, is in Rome to attend an awards ceremony and to play Christ in a western, but he's fatally distracted by his new sports car and a vision of the devil in the form of a little girl. Toby's ride through a hellscape of nocturnal Rome seems lifted from Jules Dassin’s 10.30 p.m. Summer (1966), but works even better for Fellini than it did in the Duras adaptation. An oppressively subjective film, Toby Dammit narrows down to the view in the Ferrari's headlights, a ghastly floodlit interzone where human forms are gradually replaced with mannequins and cut-outs, as the city becomes unreal, an elaborate movie set, an uncanny valley laid out for the staging of an epic stunt/snuff film.

Fellini and Lynch celebrate bodily extremes in intriguing if differing ways, which should, in our time, naturally gallop beyond the pale, but nevertheless become wholly, weirdly digestible. It is perhaps the innocent glee of these artists, their wonderment at the vast variety of shapes the human body can assume; an innocence which suspends toward erasure our awareness the way physical representation functions in the 21st century. Lynch presents the disabled as childlike, mysterious, magical beings without ever worrying about lending them agency (The Elephant Man’s John Merrick functions both as passive whipping boy and chic spectacle for the whole of Victorian London), or the mendacity of adult sophistication (the latest Twin Peaks iteration includes a pint-sized hitman who whines like a puppy when his icepick is broken). Is it any wonder Lynch evolved a style which placed them front and center in unmoving shots, without irony or pity?

Poe, while certainly a pioneer of fake news, also had a way of vindicating the lumpen masses of humanity (to the middle-brow’s abiding chagrin).

The Mystery of Marie Roget, a Parisian murder mystery, presented as a fictional sequel to The Murders in the Rue Morgue, was simultaneously trumpeted as a correct solution to the real-life murder of Mary Cecilia Rogers in New York. When a news article presented fresh evidence while the story was still being serialised, Poe made minor changes to the final instalment to keep his fiction in line with the facts.

He later published a story about an Atlantic crossing by balloon, accomplished in three days, in The New York Sun in 1844. "Signal Triumph of Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine!!!" The piece was presented as truth, and only revealed as "The Great Balloon Hoax" a couple of days later. “The more intelligent believed," wrote Poe, "while the rabble, for the most part, rejected the whole with disdain.” He saw this as a new development: “20 years ago credulity was the characteristic trait of the mob, incredulity the distinctive feature of the philosophic.”

What had changed? Perhaps the acceleration of scientific and social progress meant that the more literate and scientifically-minded had become inured to startling new developments, so the most surprising events now seemed credible. And since these same technological leaps were always presented as social benefits, the working class was growing skeptical, since they rarely saw any improvement in their condition.

by Daniel Riccuito, R.J. Lambert and David Cairns

Special thanks to Richard Chetwynd

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zahra-kha · 3 years

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Dear Diary 33 pt 2

We get to the clinic and Scorpius is on his way to recovery. I’d say full but I have no idea the condition of his balls and I do not want to know please no one tell me.

Not everything needs to be shared among friends.

Anyway, we get there and Aria is trying to get pizza off of a kid named Var (who reminds me of a wilder, more vulgar version of my little brother. He’s cute, I’d spoil him. Little brothers are meant to be spoiled, it’s how you throw them off when they least expect it) which I’m amazed by because we’d just eaten. Aria’s got a huge appetite I guess.

So anyway, we get there and Scorpius is ready to show off his huge manga that’s got a detailed version of his revenge plan against Khallendra, the Siren captain that assaulted him and literally crushed his family jewels. The first step of his revenge plan was to pee in the Siren’s practice pool.

We quickly decided we needed a new plan of action. Ray was there, bless him, and together with Aria the whole room tried to put our heads together. Eigaar was less than impressed with our influence on a young boy but well, that wasn’t really our problem, sadly. And well, that kid really didn’t need our help to come up with schemes and plots anyway - he’s a little shit all on his own. I really don’t think we can make things any worse. If anything, he helped us. I think he’s darling.

Just in case something happens and this diary gets compromised, I won’t write our plan down until after the fact. But it’s a good plan.

I won’t continue discussing what happened at the clinic save for the fact that Garlean technology is frightening. Some weird contraption nearly ate Aria and we had to do an emergency stop on it. I left shortly after that since we’d finished discussing what we needed to.

Then there was the Plume! Wowee was that a night! We had fighting on and off the stage! It was a pretty busy night, we didn’t have a bartender so Conor and I were splitting duties and tag teaming. There was this dotharl woman who was pretty snooty and making a fuss about this and that while getting drunk. That wasn’t really an issue, I suppose, since she knew Conor and he was handling her. She was mostly just distracting since I had other tables besides hers to wait on.

Then there was Shampoo Hair Advertisement Murder Hobo Guy who looked like he had come there specifically to stab anyone who looked at him wrong and look fabulous doing it...which was both amusing and annoying at the same time. You can’t be a murder hobo and attractive. Pick one my guy.

So anyway, I called out a warning about fighting outside of the stage since tensions were rising with Murder Hobo Shampoo Hair but oh no, it wasn’t him that decided not to follow the rules.

It was the dotharl. Because Zhao called her a barbarian. Because of course she did. It’s what Zhao does. If she doesn’t insult someone at least once during the course of the night it’s not Zhao.

Of course, Miss I’m From The Steppes and in The Steppes We Disembowel Anyone Who Insults Us didn’t know that so she decided to break out an axe and start swinging. Because that’s how my night was going to go, I suppose. Let’s prove the person who called us a barbarian wrong by...acting like a barbarian!

She blatantly ignores the entire staff when we ask her to disarm because, why listen to us, I guess? We only work there. Goes on a rant about, fuck if I know at this point she’s drunk and I’ve all but stopped caring about her reasons. Blah blah blah, Zhao hurt my feelings, blah blah blah, I’m a dotharl, blah blah blah, I guess the establishment needs to take responsibility for what its patrons say at a bar, because that makes perfect sense.

It doesn’t, but whatever.

So we’re cowards for some reason, I had lost track of her logic long ago and my empathy meter reached zero around when Zhao walked away and she still didn’t put away her fucking weapon.

Oh wait, there’s more! Because the drunk crazy woman didn’t want to let it go! She eventually is talked down by Conor and leaves...oh wait she didn’t. No, she hangs outside and harasses people as they’re leaving. Specifically Murder Shampoo Hobo and Finn, of all people? Someone completely unrelated to the incident! Everyone except the person who originally insulted her! Gotta love drunks!

By this point the place has nearly cleared out with the exception of regulars, and my fight has ended (my winning streak is over, oh no. Kidding, I’m not really mad about it) so we can clearly hear something is going on outside. We get out there and Finn has been bloodied by this woman and Tamala looks like she wants to murder.

We’re able to get things under control and finally psycho axe lady gets the hint that maybe what she’s doing isn’t earning her any friends. She starts cursing and spitting and whatever else drunk jerks do before they piss off to whatever drunk holes they go to settle in.

I don’t really care if she comes back or not, but I’d really like it if the bar sets a hard limit on what she gets to drink. That was a nightmare. And maybe if she does come back, it’s with thicker skin. Getting called a name at a fight club is hardly the worst offense that can happen to you that you need to break out a whole axe and wait for people to come out to start fights with them. If she’s that sensitive when she’s drunk then we need to ban her from the bar.

The grudge match between the Gil Turtles and the Sirens was shortly after that. I only went to cheer on Scorpius, who had joined onboard with the Turtles (they needed bodies for the game) for the sake of revenge. And boy was he angry. It was a good game, and although it didn’t count for anything, I wasn’t mad about the fact that the Turtles trounced the Sirens (after a shoot off).

I’ll give it to the Siren’s goalie. Ga Bu did a great job catching Neroki’s kick. The poor little guy looked like that took years off his total lifespan.

A few days later we met with Lord Thiji, mostly to give thanks for his sponsorship. We had a lovely dinner and he gave us our gifts early, these cute turquoise chocobo chicks. I originally named mine Warkie but he was a rambunctious little guy! He would run in circles and then go on the attack! He went after Hath’s tail but Hath caught on and he was too quick. The little guy was a little miffed but not deterred. He then made a beeline for Ray’s tail and I’m not sure if it’s because Ray really loves cute things but he didn’t even fight it and his tail got chomped.

The look on poor Ray’s face as he tried to continue conversation with a chocobo chick attached to his tail. At least the little chick looked happy?

Eventually, he got bored with that and I was able to snag him. He kept trying to bite my horns though, so I renamed him to Bitey. Little bugger is adorable when he’s not trying to go after my tail or horns. When I brought him home he was very curious about Fènghuáng, who looked offended I had brought home another bird, and a chick at that. He huffed and puffed out his chest and fluttered about. I had to give him some treats to calm him down. Bitey is very curious about Fènghuáng, who refuses to come down from his high perch now and just looks down at the curious Bitey with this air of superiority.

I have some strong personalities in my apartment. I don’t know how I’ll be able to take care of this little chick, I’ll have to talk to the apartment managers. I should be able to set aside a little area for now, but once he starts getting a little bigger maybe they’ll let me stable him?

#zahra's diary #zahra kha #zahra kouris #ic

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valleydean · 7 years

Photo

Did I do this meme right?

#too mean?#i honestly adore him and his terrible fashion sense #like a drunk hobo toddler #colin morgan #my post #my man on the moon #katie was right i DO want to just keep him

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dru-plays-starbound · 3 years

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Oh hey, I discovered how to take slightly wider screenshots, no stitching required for this one ^.^

The Alpine Cottage. Alpacas. Fine, braw lads and lassies, every one of ‘em. I’ve got one much further down the way, but I wanted to give this one a bit sprucier (see what I did there?) digs. Also, I’d just gotten Foodie’s Furniture and went a tiny 🤏 bit crazy with the jam jars. All vanilla, apart from the food, and the nautical cabinets from WW Furnishing.

Hobo Landing. Just some fella who’s pitched his tent and got a fire going. Don’t mind the ‘wanted’ posters; they’re just keepsakes.

Ice cream truck. This is from Foodie’s Furniture, and I adore the fact it gives a little jingle when activated.

Autumn home. Such a sweet cozy build. Might have gone a little crazy trying to make the wallpaper match the furniture. Made with WW Furnishing, Foodie’s Furniture and a few bits from General Store.

Artist’s Home. For the creative mind needs a creative space, and that’s just what the Artist’s home is. Featuring a cozy bedroom, a place to organise orders, a client meeting space, a well-stocked kitchen, and a light-filled studio. And because we all know that Creatives are scatterbrained, count the number of cold cups of tea and coffee! (Totally not inspired by the half-drunk cold tea I discovered on completing this build...)

I had a few odds left over from various other builds, so I cobbled them together to make a couple of nice little outside seating areas, featuring art by Necatli.

#starbound build #starbound #Dru builds #Colony Level 07 #Altais Precipice Colony

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

As Luck Would Have It

Summary: What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

It’s just too bad none of her fantasies will ever come true though. And it’s not because there’s zero chance he would ever be interested in her because, well, she works at Walgreens and he’s way too good for her.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

A/N: This is something short and fun that I wrote for @onceuponaprincessworld. I talked to you about writing this before, well I finally got around to writing the thing. I hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Happy Friday!

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke for looking it over!

Rated: a very Mature Teen for salty language and mature topics

For someone who hasn’t had sex in faaaaaaar too long (much longer than she cares to admit) Emma knows way too damn much about condoms. Like more than any one human being should. There are flavored condoms, ribbed condoms, dual-action condoms, pleasure shaped, lubricated, colored, french ticklers and even edible condoms. Who the hell even comes up with this shit? There are twisted condoms, her pleasure sensations, intense, warming, and pleasure packs. There are latex and ultra-thin and bare skin and ultra-smooth. The list goes on and on.

Way too much.

Emma never even uses them, or at least she hasn't in years, but she works at Walgreens. She’s a Designated Hitter, so she does a little bit of everything there, and when she’s not working in the pharmacy or behind the checkout counter, she’s working in the feminine hygiene/baby/contraceptive aisle which means she orders the products, stocks them, prices them, hangs up sales tags and does it all over again the next week.

At first, she would get all squeamish whenever she was working with condoms. Every time a male customer passed by or stopped to take a gander at the condoms, she would move down the aisle, pretending to work on something else. Now, she sells them like she’s selling candy to a child. When the male customers are browsing through the selection, she asks what kind they’re looking for and happily suggests one, grabs it off the shelf and hands it to him.

Tonight she’s working behind the front counter on a Friday night, selling lots of alcohol and snacks and wishing she was on the other side of the counter, buying wine and chocolate so she can go home and veg out on the sofa of her lonely apartment watching her favorite rom coms. Instead, she’s here at work, forced to engage in monotonous small talk with strangers while doing her best to ignore the thieves who wander in and out of the store because she’s not allowed to say anything to them, even when she sees them taking packs of hand soaps or household items off the shelves and stuffing them into their bags so they can sell them on Facebook.

She has to put up with these antics until midnight before she closes the doors and prays she doesn’t find a drunk, homeless person on the restroom floor again while cleaning. Yep, that’s happened twice since she’s been here. And she’s only been working here for eight months! Which is one of the many reasons why she’s going to school to get a decent job. The pay isn’t too bad, and the insurance is great, but she sure as hell doesn’t see herself selling condoms and waking up hobos in the restroom when she’s eighty years old. Because if that’s what she has to look forward to when she’s eighty then, Lord, just end it now and get it over with.

The only thing she can look forward to while working at Walgreens, however, is Mr. sex on legs—a Greek god with a pair of the most alluring blue eyes she’s ever seen. She’s never had a particular thing for men in uniforms, men with dimples, men with accents or men in general, really, but Killian fuck-me Jones is hotter than a scolding cup of coffee in his uniform, has the most adorable dimples on his cheeks and has a sinfully decadent British accent that makes her panties melt.

What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

Of course he is. After getting her heart stomped on years ago by he who shall not be named, she hasn’t been with anyone, not even for a one-night stand. And the one time she actually has eyes for someone, the one time she meets someone she’s even remotely interested in, he’s gay! It's like the devil is mocking her.

It’s just her luck.

Officer Jones frequents this location with his partner on a daily basis. They work together and she’s pretty sure they’re not only partners on the streets but also partners in the sheets.

At first, she thought they were only joking around, like the one time when Killian was trying to pay for his purchases but was short on change, and David handed him a dollar bill and said, “Here’s a dollar, sweet cheeks. Keep the change.” He slipped a dollar bill into Killian’s pocket, kissed him on the cheek, winked at Emma and said, “I’m his Sugar Daddy,” He walked out the door, leaving Killian blushing adorably as he handed her the cash for his morning blueberry muffin and energy drink.

He rolled his eyes and his deep, rich laugh warmed her heart. That's right, even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“I can’t take him anywhere.”

“I see that.” Emma giggled with him as she took the cash from Killian’s strong-looking hands, which certainly did not play a vital role in her fantasies. Which also does not bear any sign of a wedding band, she had noticed at the time (and several times before that). She’d brushed off Killian’s interaction with the other cop at the time, thinking there was actually a real connection between them and not one between the two men. The signs were all there, she just read them all wrong.

But now they’re both standing at the front counter in their street clothes, buying two jumbo packs of condoms, claiming it’s because the Trojans are on sale if you buy two. But she has a feeling that’s not the only reason why they’re buying in bulk, because if she had a lover like Killian, then she too would be having sex with him all the freaking time. In fact, she wouldn’t let the man leave the damn house. So yeah, she can understand why David would want that fine piece of British ass all the fucking time. And no, she’s not insanely jealous of a dude. Definitely not!

~*~

“Buying condoms isn’t gonna get me laid, Dave.”

“Well no, but then you won’t have an excuse to back out when a gorgeous woman hits on you. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally gather the courage to ask the checkout girl out.”

“Don’t call her that,” Killian chides, scolding his friend briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “She has a name.”

David holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I just meant you’ve been obsessing over Emma for six months and it’s time you make her more than your checkout girl, don’t you think?”

“What does that have to do with buying condoms? You think buying condoms will automatically get me into bed with her? Even if it did, Emma’s too good to be someone's onetime fling.”

“I’m just saying, buying condoms is the first step. The next step is to ask her out. What happens from there is up to the two of you.”

Killian chuckles as he pulls into the Walgreens parking lot. “Thank you for the inciteful advice on how to pick up women, but I’m not some horny sixteen-year-old boy, and this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“I know that, but you haven’t dated anyone in five years. You fell off the horse, and I’m afraid if I don’t give you a boost, you’re never gonna get on that horse again.”

Killian rolls his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt once he parks the car. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back on the horse without your help.”

David cocks his head at Killian and shrugs, unconvinced. “Then prove it.”

“I will.” Killian accepts David’s challenge and hurries out of the car, determined to prove his partner wrong. He doesn’t need help getting Emma. He just has to be himself, right? If only it were that simple because as soon as he steps inside Walgreens and gets one look at the beautiful blonde behind the counter and those sparkling green eyes, his mind becomes an empty void of darkness and his brain turns to mush.

He quickly makes his way through one of the aisles to avoid her. Now he remembers why he hasn’t asked her out already. He’s never been this nervous around a woman, but Emma… she can turn him into a complete nervous mess just by casting a glance his way.

He can feel her stare burning into his back as he stops and turns in the middle of the aisle to make it look like he’s nonchalantly browsing the razors rather than coming here to ask her out but failing miserably to gather the courage to do so the second he saw her lovely, smiling face. She’s so fucking adorable, he can’t even turn his head to look at her without grinning like a fool.

God, he’s in love.

He remembers the first time he saw her. He came to the pharmacy to get pain medication after he broke his arm during a softball game with his colleagues. He stepped up to the counter and saw her long golden hair, dazzling emerald eyes and the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. Since then, he never starts his day without stopping in and getting his daily energy drink and muffin. Even if she’s not working at the front counter, just seeing her and saying hi is all he needs to get through the day.

Fuck, he’ll never be able to ask her out.

Killian lets out a frustrated sigh as he looks at the razors again.

David was right. Damn bastard.

Speaking of his partner, Killian hears David’s arrogant whistle; he’s obviously gloating as he enters the store and sees that Killian had hidden in one of the aisles instead of going up to Emma and asking her out. The aisle with the razors is in front of the checkout counter, giving Killian a clear view of Emma, so he can hear David when he approaches Emma and asks her in a loud and rather obnoxious voice, “Hey, Emma, where are your condoms?”

Bloody fucking hell.

Killian curses under his breath as Emma leaves the counter to show David where the desired merchandise is. He can smell Emma’s intoxicating perfume when she passes him. David follows behind her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, Killian, Emma is kind enough to show us where the condoms are.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Grumbling under his breath, Killian begrudgingly follows David. He’s going to kill his best friend.

The three of them reach the condoms, and Killian is contemplating murder when David asks, “What do you recommend?”

Okay, now David is just trying to mess with him. David doesn’t need help picking out condoms, and he certainly didn’t need to be directed here in the first place. He and his girlfriend are sexually active and they always use protection.

“Um… besides the obvious, what are you looking to achieve with condoms?” she asks, glancing between Killian and David. “Something to get the job done or to add to the sensation?”

Oh, God.

Killian buries his face in his hands to hide his burning cheeks; he could die from mortification right about now.

When he drags his hands from his face, David still has a stupid grin on his face.

“These are buy-one-get-one-free with your Balance Rewards card, so you might as well get two,” Emma suggests, handing David two boxes of the condoms she’s referring to, which are jumbo-sized. Of course they are. Because Killian doesn’t need anything to add on to the humiliation he already feels burning his cheeks. Certainly not. Then again, it’s not like things can get more embarrassing than they already are.

“Great, I think I will. Killian, you like ribbed too, right?” David asks casually as he tries to hand one to Killian.

Correction. It can get ten times more embarrassing.

Killian’s face is on fucking fire and he wants the floor to open up and consume him because it beats being humiliated by his best friend, who he’s doing his best not to punch in the face.

He snatches the box from David’s hand and storms away to avoid seeing the look on Emma’s face right now. She’s probably laughing at him with her eyes, either that or she’s glaring at him, thinking he’s a total douchebag or maybe she assumes he’s in a committed relationship. Or maybe she’s indifferent and couldn't care less. Neither thoughts are good ones as far as he’s concerned. He wants her to care enough to wonder why he’s getting them, but he’s too embarrassed and flustered to think that’s a feasible possibility.

Killian grabs a six-pack of beer as he thinks about how he will murder David. But if he did, he’d spend the rest of his life in a lonely prison cell and he’d never get to see Emma’s pretty face ever again. So he supposes he won’t kill his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see Emma’s face every day during his morning commute. She’s a good enough reason to not want to go to prison.

He and David place the items on the counter as Emma returns to her spot behind the register and rings them up. Killian reaches for his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, but David puts out his hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it,” David offers. “I’m the sugar Daddy, remember?”

Killian forces out a strained chuckle and doesn’t argue as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. After the shit David just pulled, he owes Killian. Big time.

Emma calls out the total, and Killian finally gathers the courage to look at her face. She’s offering him a warm smile, a small amount of blush painting her cheeks.

She doesn’t hate him. That’s a good sign at least.

She starts to put the boxes of condoms in a bag, but David stops her.

“That’s okay. We don’t need a bag.” He grabs one of the boxes and hands it to Killian before picking up the other one for himself.

Killian manages a small smile at Emma and leaves the store without his dignity or his pride. He doesn’t kill his best friend, but he does make a promise to himself; he’s never taking David with him anywhere ever again. He may just have to find a different partner.

~*~

Emma yawns and slowly nurses her coffee. She hates closing and then opening the very next morning. She’s told her boss several times to stop scheduling her like this, but he never listens.

She hears the automatic doors slide open and has to force herself to remove her lips from her coffee lid so she can lift her head and greet the customer who’s just walked in.

She’s not prepared for sex on legs today or those smoldering blue eyes, or how ridiculously attractive he looks in just a t-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, but she’s not complaining when he walks up to the counter without even purchasing anything.

“I was hoping you’d be here…” he says with a timid smile as he scratches behind his ear and draws a shaky breath. “Although I’m a little surprised you’re back at work so soon.”

Emma shrugs. “I know. They should give me a cot in the back because it feels like I’m always here anyway, so why not sleep here too?”

Killian flashes a small smile, and she can’t help but notice that the air between them is more tense than usual. He seems nervous and she’s not sure why.

“So, how can I help you today?” She narrows her eyes at him. “You didn’t use all those condoms already, did you?”

He chuckles, his cheeks turning crimson. “God no, actually, I wanted to…” he pauses and scratches behind his ear again, taking in a long, wobbly breath. “I wanted to… will you have coffee with me tomorrow… or whenever you have a morning off?”

Emma hopes the shock she feels isn’t evident on her face, but she finds her mouth opening on its own accord. “Sure,” she blurts out, “but… well…” She stumbles for words. She’s not opposed to hanging out with Killian as a friend, but she’s not exactly sure how same-sex relationships work. Do gay men get jealous when their male partners hang out with female friends? “Would David be okay with that?”

Emma’s surprised when Killian laughs at her question. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with it? He’s the one who’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months. Not that he’s the reason why... ” He buries his face in his hands. “Bloody hell, I’m severely fucking this up,” he mumbles into his palms. Dragging his hands away, he reveals those stormy blue eyes again, and he looks completely wrecked and apologetic.

She’s utterly confused. “David suggested this?” Wait. Is Killian bisexual and David was trying to find his partner a woman to scratch an itch of Killian’s? Are they swingers or—what the fuck is going on?

“No, he just encouraged me because I’ve been too fucking nervous to ask you out. You’re...” He plants his hands on his hips and closes his eyes briefly, taking another long breath. “I like you, Emma. I’ve liked you for a while, and I would very much like to take you out on a date, that is, if I didn’t completely screw this up already.”

“Wait, I’m confused. So David’s okay with this?”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Love, I don’t need his permission to ask you out,” he chuckles. “I’m a grown man.”

Emma frowns in frustration. It’s too damn early for mind games right now. “Yeah, you’re a grown man who’s in a relationship with another grown man,” she says louder than she had meant to. Her words draw the attention of other customers passing by and she receives some odd looks.

“Wait a bloody minute. You think David and I are…” Killian pauses to burst into laughter.

Emma wrinkles her brows. “Wait, you’re not?”

Killian shakes his head, laughter still booming from his chest. “No, I can assure you, I’m very much into women. David and I are best friends and partners when we’re on the job, but we’re not gay.”

“Oh.” Now Emma’s so thoroughly and utterly confused, her head is spinning. She hasn’t had nearly enough coffee to deal with something so confusing and her head’s starting to pound. “But what about the condoms?”

Killian presses his hands against the counter, drops his head, shaking it furiously, like he’s silently cursing. “I’m going to kill David.” He lifts his head, his expression etched with apology. “The condoms weren’t for us. David was buying them for himself and his girlfriend. He was only taking advantage of the sale and wanted me to have the other box because he thought if I carried condoms on me then I wouldn’t have an excuse to not ask you out.”

Oh. Now it makes sense. Kinda sorta. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Emma sucks in a long breath, “you and David aren’t lovers, and you’re currently single and asking me out on an actual date?”

“Now we’re on the same page,” he says, his eyes lighting up as a smile curves his lips.

Emma sighs in relief. But now remains the other question weighing on her mind. “But why me?”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I work at Walgreens.”

“I fail to see the problem, love.”

“But you’re…” she waves her hands, gesturing at him and his glorious form, “you’re you, and I’m… well,” she shrugs, “I’m me.”

“I know.” He smirks, and it makes her heart do a little flip. “That’s why I’m asking you out. Because you’re you, not because of where you work at.”

Emma’s heart flutters at his statement and she smiles. They’re silent again, but this time it's a comfortable silence as they stare into each other’s eyes. She knows the moment is about to be ruined though because a customer approaches the counter, impatiently waiting to be rung up as Killian backs away from the counter. Emma really doesn’t want this conversation to end, but she knows it has to, at least for now.

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Killian asks, his lips slanted into a grin when Emma starts ringing up the customer without giving him an answer.

She looks up from her task of scanning the items and flashes him a frail smile. She knows what her answer is, but she doesn’t want him to leave yet. “Can you wait outside for a few minutes?”

Killian nods without hesitation. “Sure, love.”

Emma sighs in relief and finishes ringing up the customer. When she’s done, she quickly picks up the store phone to page another cashier so she can take her fifteen-minute break. Once Emma is relieved by her coworker, she hurries out of the store and searches for Killian, her heart slamming in her chest. She sees him, leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets. Emma marches up to him and takes his hand, leading him to the side of the building, where they'll be less visible.

"Where are we going, love?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, but she's pretty sure the determination in her step says it all. She presses him against the wall when they reach the side of the building, and without any sort of warning, she grabs a fistful of his shirt and crushes his lips with hers.

Killian responds with a groan as he cards his hands through her hair. His lips are even softer and more luscious than she’d imagined. And God he’s a good kisser; she’d nailed that part in her fantasies. They get caught up in a delicious, mind-numbing kiss that has her heart racing and her breathing shattered. She can't believe she's kissing Killian fuck-me Jones, sex on legs , the man who's been the star of her dreams for six months.

How did she ever think this guy was gay? Because judging by the way he kisses her and teases her bottom lip with his teeth, the way his tongue greedily explores her mouth to find her own tongue, the way he wraps some strands of hair around his fingers and grabs her hip with his other hand to tug her toward him, pressing her against him, judging by the hard bulge in his pants that causes the heat to spread to her core, he’s definitely not gay.

When they break for air, they’re both panting as he gently leans his forehead against hers. He caresses her cheek, his eyes flickering with hope as she licks her lips. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“No.”

His face clouds with disappointment, and his expression makes her heart hurt.

“You asked me to go out for coffee with you tomorrow, but I’m thinking; what if we went out for dinner tonight after I get out of work instead?”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Emma smiles vibrantly and blushes. “Good, then it’s a date.”

He pulls away, taking a shaky breath of relief. “And just so we’re still on the same page, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything more than dinner since David bought me those condoms last night. As I said, that was David’s twisted attempt at trying to get me to ask you out.”

Emma laughs. “I’m not worried. Either way, there’s no rush to use them up. Condoms have a shelf life of five years.” She flashes him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know way too much about condoms.”

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, love. I told you I don’t care about your occupation… or that you thought I was gay.”

Emma swats him playfully on the shoulder. “In my defense, David did call himself your sugar Daddy.”

Killian blushes.

God, he’s so fucking adorable when he blushes.

“You’re right, he did. He likes to joke around like that… and embarrass the hell out of me.”

Emma laughs. "I've noticed."

He takes out his phone to punch in her number and address and agrees to pick her up later tonight. Then they go back to making out until she has to get back to work. They bid each other farewell, and she practically floats through the automatic doors with a smile blooming across her face, her lips red and swollen.

She’s so glad Killian’s not gay.

They end up making use of the condoms David bought him, but it sure as hell didn’t take five years to use them all. More like two weeks. If that.

#cs ff #captain swan #with a side of captain charming #my fic #for onceuponaprincessworld

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itstheapocalypsebaby · 5 years

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TUA Power HCs Part 1!

Luther

Discovered them at age 3 (He was the first)

He accidentally broke one of their nannies fingers

Had trouble controlling his strength (still does)

For personal training Reginald first made him build up his body

Because just cause he had incredible strength, didnt mean his body could take said strength

He used to accidentally break his arms when he used too much strength

They always healed fast though

As if they never broke to begin with

Baby Luther used to hide the fact that he broke/sprained/bruised his arms, legs, basically any part of his body because he felt like a failure whenever he got hurt

Later in life (maybe at 10?) Reginald discovers that Luther not only is super strong but also had super endurance

(Special Training was not fun that year, Reginald wanted to see how long he could last without food, water, air, shelter, etc.)

After that year, special training was a mix between building up his strength (weight lifting heavier and heavier objects every week) and building up his endurance (running around the room carrying a crap ton of weights, carrying a really really heavy weight and Reginald seeing how long he could carry it before his body gave out)

Diego

They first discovered his ability to breathe underwater first

Diego unlike his sibling absolutely adored bath time as a child

He would stay in the tub for hours if he could

One time his nanny had to leave him in the tub because one of his siblings was having a tantrum

She comes back to a sleeping Diego

Who's asleep in the tub

submerged in water

Was lowkey jealous of his siblings' powers while growing up

Reginald was so disappointed in him for having such a "useless ability"

Poor baby took it into heart :(

Special Training was awful before he found out his secondary power

Reginald wanted to see how long Diego could last underwater (he discovers Diego could last an indefinite amount of time down there)

He stopped liking water after that

He finds out about his secondary power at age 6

He likes to help Grace in cooking and usually cuts up the vegetables for her

He gets really good with the knife

So when Reginald demands he learns to wield a weapon he immediately chooses the knife

At first its was all stabby stabby but then one of his siblings goads him enough to rashly throw the knife at them

His aim is perfect. The knife is sailing through the air, going exactly where he wants it to be, except he wanted it to be in their head and oh god Diego panics, he didnt mean to throw that knife he never meant to hurt his siblings and he loves them and -

The knife is sailing towards his sibling's head and then it suddenly curves

Diego runs up to his sibling and hugs them and apologizes

Diego never wanted to pick up a knife after that

But then through some persuasion (Allison), he forgets the incident and picks it up again

Special training is all about accuracy and precision. All about moving targets, really tiny targets, living targets

Reginald wanted to know how much he could curve, what could he curve and all that jazz

Diego learns Physics because its an absolute must

(He learns how hard he has to throw for it to curve that much, how fast it needs to be to keep in the air even after it curves, how heavy should the knife be if he wants this specific result)

At first its hard and because he can curve anything he likes through pure instinct why does he need to learn Math?

But Reginald wants him to be as accurate as possible

(He motivates Diego by putting Mom and his siblings in situations where one false error could lead to their deaths)

He learns physics quickly

(Five and him bond over physics, Five helps him, He helps Five until Five gets too advanced and well...)

He actually gets super good and can do equations on the fly

People are constantly surprised at the amount of math needed for his powers

Allison

as a kid had absolutely no control on when her powers would activate

it would activate all the time leading to a lot of accidents

one time she snapped at Klaus to stop talking and he couldnt speak until she was able to reverse it

Reginald decided the best way for her to control it was through trigger phrases

she went through a lot of them because it wasnt cool enough for her

there was "listen up", "somebody once told me" (someone always interrupted her, usually Klaus, with the world was gonna roll me so she dropped it after like 3 uses) and a bunch more before settling on the iconic™ "I heard a rumor'

early on she learned that she had to be very precise with the wording or else the rumor wouldnt turn out the way she wanted it to

so special training was mainly focused on her wording, her pronunciation, and her learning other languages

allison is fluent in italian, french, spanish, mandarin, filipino, somali, she also can speak in a bunch of other languages but isnt super fluent

allison was actually pretty ok with special training until she was 10

thats when reggie brought in actual real life people

until that point she had only rumored her siblings (reginald actively encouraged it as long as he wasnt the one who got rumored) and occasionally the businessmen who came over to talk deals and shit

reggie was smart and only brought in people he was sure no one would miss, homeless hobos, drug addicts, people who lived by themselves and didnt have much family or any family at all

at first few meetings, she could stomach the feeling of wrongness

it was still easy for her to reason that what she was doing wasnt really wrong after all the commands she was issuing were really mild (like i heard a rumor you stubbed your toe, i heard a rumor you could play the piano perfectly)

they were just testing the reach of her powers

(could it rewrite your brain? create illusions, hallucinations? make you gain talents you never had? make you feel things?)

(reginald already knew her rumors could affect the memory, no need to test that, same thing with if her rumors could affect herself)

but then the more they pushed the boundaries the darker the rumors, the harder it was to stomach this sense of wrongness that threatened to swallow her whole

(could it override survival instincts? could it fake relationships? could it wreck relationships? can the human mind take multiple rumors at once? how about multiple conflicting rumors? how many rumors does it take to break the mind?)

its a lot easier to deal with special training when you cant remember

(but in her dreams she cant forget, she wakes up screaming, absolutely terrified and cant remember why)

Klaus

at first thought everyone could see the ghosts

actually he thought they werent ghosts cos they didnt appear to him with their death injuries

realized they were dead people when he accidentally walked through them

at first the ghosts were ok (they were mostly the nannies vanya killed so they were nice) they were loud and sobbed really really loud all the time but they didnt actively seek him and so he didnt actively seek them either

he still didn't like his powers even back then when they werent as bad as they are now

since he didnt really have any interest in his powers, reginald forced him to use them more, to explore them

klaus really didn't want to talk to any ghost so Reginald locks klaus into the mausoleum for the first time

this is where everything goes to shit btw

Klaus is absolutely terrified because these ghosts arent like the ghosts in the mansion (the nannies)

these ghost were malicious and horrible and they were dead for so long that they lost any sense of self or humanity in them

this is where klaus develops his fear of the ghost and his powers

this is where klaus loses a grip on his powers and it causes horrible repercussions

he sees the way they died now

and it terrifies him even more

from ages 8 to 11 hes facing the full force of his powers whenever hes trapped in the mausoleum

every session his fear gets worse and worse

the ghosts appearance actually reflects on how he feels about them actually

thats why ben and dave dont look awful

and why the rest of the ghost do

klaus loves ben and dave

he's absolutely terrified of the rest of them

he discovers that drugs numb their abilities when one of them gets hurt badly during training and is on really heavy pain medication

maybe it Five who broke 5 ribs when sparring because luther forgot to control his strength

Five couldn't jump at all when he was on those meds and he hated it

but Klaus? the moment he put two and two together he jumped at the opportunity to temporarily get rid of his powers

he would purposely get super banged up during training just to get rid of his powers and it scared the living shit out of his siblings

they ask him to stop and he does, he doesnt like it when he scares his siblings

but the ghosts get too much and klaus is severely tempted to fuck himself up to get that sweet relief that the pain meds provide

he stumbles upon Reggies alcohol cabinet and discovers that while getting drunk doesnt exactly cut off his powers it gives him this buzz that makes it a lot more bearable

he discovers drugs when he sneaks out one night to get more booze

he starts off with weed and gets hooked

the ghosts are always worse after coming down so he scrambles to get high as soon as possible

he doesnt try anything harder until ben dies

after ben dies he spirals

TUA Power HCs Part 2 is coming up in a bit, ask me if you wanna get tagged for it :)

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heartofdaydreams · 5 years

Text

101 facts about my para: Shota (idea by @kai-has-gone-madd)

Shota is based off of Shota Aizawa from My Hero Academia

He's probably counted as a verit but calling him a para is easier

He's my favourite and main para right now

Shota's name can be spelt 3 ways: Shota, Shōta, and Shouta

Shota is grey-demisexual and homoromantic

He's a professional hero (goes by Eraserhead) and a teacher of heroics

Shota has diagnosed PTSD, Major Depressive Disorder, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Anorexia and insomnia

The first of those 3 got diagnosed when he was 12 and the last 2 at 13

Shota is 28 years old

He always wears a long af grey scarf which acts as a capture wepon for his hero work

He is married to Hizashi Yamada (or Present Mic) and has been for 7 years

He started dating Hizashi at 16 years old

They've only ever fought once while together

Shota hates media which is awkward as Hizashi is a radio star (although Hizashi low-key hates them too)

Shota is the #1 underground hero but refuses to take the title as it goes against the point of being underground

He hates the ranking system because he believes heroes shouldn't battle for popularity, just save people

He has only 4 close friends (Tensei, Nemuri, Emi and Rue)

He met Tensei and Nemuri in high school

He met Rue online on a PTSD awareness page

Shota suffered physical, emotional and sexual abuse from his father as well as neglect

He then suffered neglect, physical and emotional abuse from his aunt when he finally got away from his father

Hizashi is the one who saved him from his father and called the police when they were 12 (1 year after they met)

He lived in an orphanage for a while before going to live with his cousin at 14 where he stayed until he was 18

At 18 he moved in with Hizashi

It's impossible for him to sleep at night unless Hizashi is by his side

He's a human cat

So much so that Hizashi calls him kitten (which he secretly loves)

He used to have a brother called Tadashi who was murdered by their father when he was 10 and Tadashi was 8

His father was a villain and wanted him to be one too

Tadashi was killed because Shota refused to follow orders and kill someone

His mother was also murdered by his father when he was 3

This happened simply because his father was an angry drunk

His father now has a life sentence in the most heavily guarded prison in the world: Tarturus

Shota wears black 24/7

He likes to wear oversized hoodies

And sweatpants

He's extremely insecure about his sexuality due to being exposed to a lot of homophobia growing up

He doesn't like music but likes Hizashi's singing

He doesn't have a bad singing voice but he doesn't like to sing

He sounds like he doesn't drink water ever

He probably doesn't and just has coffee instead

He's killed 1 person when he was 7 years old (pressure from his father became too much)

He still feels guilty

He feels responsible for Tadashi's death

He only gets 3-5 hours sleep a night due to intense night terrors

He's a cuddler

And a little spoon

And a bottom

He has long hair because he was never allowed to grow it out as a kid (his father said he'd look gay (joke's on him)) and because Hizashi said it would look cute

He's the type of guy who doesn't seem to have a sense of humour but makes passing casual jokes that you almost miss but are halarious

He's baby

His favourite colours are black and yellow/gold

He likes to stay busy if he doesn't have company

Being alone unsettles him

He's paranoid

He didn't know what an arcade was until he was 17 due to his messed up childhood and Hizashi immediately dragged him to one when he found out

They won 2 cat plushes that day and still have them (Shota got ginger and Hizashi got black)

He's fast af

Also strong af

Them abs got Hizashi reeling

Acts emo but is a soft boi

Adores cats

He and Hizashi adopted a cat he found in a tree and called him Hero

He keeps bringing stray cats home but Hizashi says they don't have room for another

Calls Hizashi just to hear his voice even just 5 minutes after he left

Always listens to Hizashi's radio show even though he denies it

Bordering on tsundere but also not

Needs constant attention or will become grumpy

He's grumpy anyway but oh well

Trash hobo

Steals Hizashi's hoodies because they're big and smell like him

Survives off protein gel and needs to eat proper food

Refuses to take days off

Needs a break tbh

His class are his children. Touch them and die

Even though he's always yelling at them

Has scars literally everywhere from his childhood and work

Likes Disney marathon and pillow fort type dates

But is up to restaurants if Hizashi wants to

Probably the reincarnation The Grinch but soft

Favourite song is Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers (by Hizashi in my paracosm)

He might as well live at Starbucks at this point

Early morning hero patrol shifts

Has at least 2 flashbacks a week

And 3 panic attacks

Feels like a burden

Good at lying but not to Hizashi or Nemuri

Gives facts bluntly

Realist

Likes quiet (but can deal with Hizashi being loud)

Would be a hermit if his friends and husband didn't drag him into sunlight

5'8"

Hates his looks

Probably ready to yeet out of existance

Brave af

Smart af

Looks like an actual god with his hair tied up but he thinks it's uncomfortable so doesn't do it often

Favourite genres are horror, mystery and romance

The one friend with common sense

"Fuck off I'm not your friend" to his friends of 12 years

Fluent in Japanese sign language and sometimes prefers to use it after a flashback

I know other people are doing this thing (I'm gonna be doing a lot more) so I propose we use the tag #kai101 for it after our lord and saviour of oversharing who came up with this idea.

#madd #kai101 #tw mention of abuse #tw swearing #para #paraportal #maladaptive daydreaming #immersive daydreaming #actuallymadd #tw mentions of homophobia

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noelgarcias · 4 years

Text

[ tommy martinez, cismale & he/him ] did you know that NOEL GARCIA was on full disclosure? yeah, apparently the TWENTY FIVE year old CHEF was hiding HE’S LIVING UNDER A FALSE IDENTITY TO AVOID HIS PAST. i never would’ve expected it from our resident ARTISAN. i wonder how they’ll deal with this, considering how PASSIONATE & STUBBORN they are. // written by pepper: twenty three, est, she/her.

it is i, pepperoni mcpony back once again to bring you yet another messy ass muse. i am once again on that new muse juice, but also kind of on the recycled muse juice like i’ve used this fc and this name before but it didn’t work out, so i’ve changed a lot about him and revamped him and so now he’s better than every babeeyyy. down bellow will be a bit about noel, or rather dante if we’re being technical. you can just call him noel though. full disclosure (badum tss sdkjsdkj) this is gonna be messy as hell, because noel’s inspo is more scattered than percy’s but we’re gonna push through folks.

BIO ;

okay so noel’s family is kind of inspired by the quinns (from ‘you’ on netflix), the castillos (from how to get away with murder) and like henry gouldings family in crazy rich asians.

dante isaac campana was brought into the world in madrid spain with a silver spoon dangling out of his mouth. you’d never guess from looking at him, what with his hobo chic style and generally unkept appearance but it’s the truth. he came in this world out of a well paid surrogate as the second child of the infamous sofia and gabriel campana. and he wanted for nothing because of it, his parents made sure of that.

gabriel was a ceo and sofia was a wildly successful author, and from the moment noel could breathe his parents had his whole life set up for him. after all they wanted their son to be successful and they planned to make sure of it. a hefty trust fund in his name, to be accessible at the age of eighteen. a place in the family business that he would fill the moment he finished university. they even had an arrangement for who noel would marry eventually, before he was even old enough to understand what the concept of marriage was. it was all planned out for noel without the slightest bit of input from noel himself, and dante was just supposed for accept that. the funny thing is at first he did.

after all he was young and he had no reason not to. he loved his parents deeply at first, and they probably loved him in return, even if they had a bit of an odd way of showing it. dante’s parents were the type to shower their children in superficial affection. buying them things. kissing and hugging them when there was someone around to see. encouraging them only when it came to pursuits that they approved of. sure noel could draw, and learn guitar, and learn piano, as long as those things were just hobbies. as long as he didn’t forget the plan because The Plan was law.

dante only became aware of how conditional his parents love for them was when his elder sister started to slip under the pressure they put on her shoulders. anya campana was about fifteen at the time, and dante, six years her younger, had to watch as his sister crumbled. anya had always cared too much about what their parents thought of her, about impressing them and making them proud. it didn’t help that her parents made it clear that they would not accept anything less than excellence. the pressure drove anya to substance abuse, just to take the edge off, just to make things easier. it wasn’t long the weight of their parents expectations had drove anya to a full on addiction, all in the pursuit of success. but of course when dante’s parents found out they had no sympathy for her. only disappointment. their father had every plan to make anya, his eldest, the head of the company when she came of age, but that ‘slip up’ cost her the role. instead the position would be given to dante, and anya would be sent quietly to rehab. it was an eye opening experience for dante, honestly. to see just how replaceable their parents saw them.

the truth is the campanas were fake. plastic. sure they smiled in the public eye and the relationship between the siblings at least was genuine, but the truth was gabriel was cheating on sofia when he thought no one was looking, and sofia had openly slapped each of her children across the face at least once, usually when she got a bit too much wine in her. the older dante got the more and more he felt his love for his parents becoming more of an obligation than anything tangible.

when dante was thirteen, around the time anya’s second stint in rehab, all hell broke loose in the campana household. initially dante thought that his mother had uncovered one of his fathers many affairs again, but instead it was much worse. his mother had discovered his father had an illegitimate child with dante’s favourite childhood nanny of all people. considering sofia couldn’t have children herself (hence the surrogate for both of the campana children) and even gabriel was struggling with impotence, this was a shock and a slap in the face. only emphasized by the fact that dante’s ex nanny had passed away, leaving dante’s father as the kids legal guardian.

and so suddenly dante had a younger sibling. it was a situation that took getting used to but it wasn’t long until dante adored them, and the feeling was quickly mutual. while dante’s father could barely interact with the child without inciting his wife, and dante’s mother treated them with coldness, dante and his sibling became painfully close due to circumstance.

for years it went on like that. the three campana siblings all attempting to impress their parents for different reasons. his youngest sibling to feel less like an outsider, dante just because he knew no other way, anya because she desperately wanted to get back into their parents good graces. but anya never could do anything quite right, always somehow ended up messing up spectacularly and publicly. until one day, anya disappeared.

dante and his younger sibling were the first to notice. his parents just assumed that anya was on another bender, and when the siblings brought this to their attention that’s exactly what they said in reply. but they were wrong. in 2012 anya campana was kidnapped and held for a ransom of one billion dollars. dante can still remember getting the ransom call. he can still remember the sheer panic, the cold fear. and he can still remember his father refusing to pay the money. trying to negotiate with the kidnappers, as if anya’s life was just another deal. he can remember begging his father just to pay the money, because it wasn’t like they didn’t have it. but his father was convinced he could get the kidnappers to lower the price, or that the police would find anya before he had to pay it. they didn’t. anya campana died in the winter of 2012 at the hands of a couple of common criminals, all because their father apparently had his own idea about the worth of each of his children.

dante was furious and disgusted and grieving. his sister, his confidante and likely one of the two people in his life to love him unconditionally, was gone. dante officially snapped when his mother had the audacity to write a book about the experience. by the time the book was picked up by a publisher, dante had packed his bags, liquidated his trust fund, taken his younger sibling and fled spain with two new identities for them both. his sibling was under the age of eighteen at the time, so the campanas really could have called the police and reported dante for kidnapping, but dante knew that his parents wouldn’t risk making a scene so soon after the spectacle that anya’s death was. he and his sibling would be safe for a while as long as they laid low. and they did. dante -- now known as noel garcia-- and his sibling moved to san francisco and have been keeping a low profile ever since.

honestly, noel adapted to the american dream like a fish to water. having a new name, having no one in this continent knowing who he was, finally being out from under his parents thumb -- it was all so freeing, and noel really dove head first into that feeling. ever since he’s just been living the life he always dreamed of having. doing exactly what he wants and nothing less one hundred percent of the time (which is exactly how and why he got married, and is still married honestly). he lives his life on pure free spirited impulse one hundred percent of the time, with exception of rare show of responsibility he puts into helping raise his younger sibling. he tries to live his life in a way he hopes would make his sister proud. he’s determined to live enough for the both of them.

somehow, despite the multiple private investigators his parents have undoubtedly sent to find them, they’ve remained undetected. that is until full disclosure decided to expose him. now noel is just waiting for the day one of his parents shows up at his door demanding he come back to take over the family business. he isn’t looking forward to it, but he is kinda looking forward to finally telling them to fuck off, which is really the only silver lining.

PERSONALITY ;

god who knows folks like i said dkjsdjksd noel is a mess in my brain

PASSIONATE THOUGH! god he’s so passionate, like noel just feels everything on 10 one hundred percent of the time. The type to get teary eyed over a dead bird, but also the type to like stay up five days straight working on a project because he can’t get it out of his mind

despite this thinks romantic love is a straight up myth lmao because of his parents relationship, so we love a contradictory king. a bleeding heart but also a philiophobe.

nurturing honestly? but only with people he actually cares about like his sibling and wife. a dad friend i suppose.

but also impulsive. like the type to suggest going to vegas on a whim and get WILDLY FUCKED UP DRUNK, but also that really coherent drunk who can be doing body shots one minute and be trying to gently coax someone else to drink water the next.

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is tbh. very sarcastic honestly.

a big ol’ flirt just naturally. also bi, so equal opportunity for everybody.

very touchy feely tbh because he’s a tactile person.

a live and let live kinda guy like actually,,, so close to a hippie that percy is triggered.

a bit promiscuous but he’s okay with it. he’s a hoe but he knows it you know.

the most generous person when it comes to money and kindness. the type to sit down with a homeless person and end up giving them his jacket, five hundred dollars, and a new outlook on life.

the type to hold a grudge until the day he dies, but also the type of person who can’t NOT help someone who needs help you know. like he hates his parents but if his mother called him tomorrow like i want to see you one last time before i die, he would fly out to spain to see her smh he might not talk to her the whole time because he’s petty and like ‘there, you’ve seen me’ efjkdsfj but he’d do it.

very liberal. literally can’t talk to conservatives without wanting to physically fight them. has definitely gone to a protest and gotten arrested for punching a nazi. luckily was released before the whole living with a fake identity thing could be found out.

HEADCANNONS ;

alright now onto the fun stuff.

deaf in his left ear and has been all his life. it’s kind of difficult for him to hear a specific person talking in a crowd of too many people, especially if you’re standing on his left so he might straight up text your instead. also if you’re standing on his left side in general, he might turn to face you better to hear you.

noel’s occupation is a chef at a restaurant but in truth at heart he’s an artist. like his art is his heart, and it’s actually very popular and he gets a lot of offers from people wanting to buy it but he can never part with anything he’s made so he always refuses the offers, no matter how much money the customer is bidding. he has refused offers on grounds such as ‘i didn’t like the vibes he was giving off’ or ‘that asshole was wearing a jack johnson shirt’ or even, once ‘pretty sure i saw that guy in a dream once. he fucking sucked.’ so most of his art decorates his and evie’s apartment instead, and he’ll even give some to friends for free. noel actually wants to become a full time artist but considering how picky he is about who actually buys his art, it’s unlikely because he’ll literally make no money. hence, being a chef. no matter what noel enjoys seeing people enjoy his food, so it works out.

actually learned to cook from his family chef, and hasn’t really had time to get any professional training but he really wants to. he has absolutely snuck into culinary school very briefly before just to sit in on a few classes. just pretended he went there and made a bunch of friends and learned a lot of stuff, and even taught some culinary students a few things. but he was eventually discovered and kicked out rip, but it was a great time while it lasted.

honestly pretty good at anything having to do with his hands, hence the artisan label. noel is the type of person who knows nothing about like mechanics but can like fix something if you put it in front of him. likes to make furniture as a hobby so hit your boy up if you want a sexy chair. also makes sculptures and does a bit of pottery, like your boy has his fingers in more than a few pots

intelligent in the way that he just has a lot of pretty well informed opinions like if you want a fun fact don’t go to noel but if you want a good insightful conversation he’s your man.

a big defender of the environment.

has a bunch of tattoos. i imagine him with at least one sleeve and he’s probably starting another. is seriously considering a neck tat. his parents would hate it and that just makes him love it more.

honestly got married a bit because it was a choice he got to make for himself that his parents had no control over. the thought of his parents still believing he will be playing into the arranged marriage they had laid out for him only for him to tell them he already married his bandmate was super satisfying.

doesn't do drugs at all, the most hell do is smoke weed. used to see his sister at her worst (aka withdrawal symptoms, two overdoses) and so he doesn’t even want to be close to anyone who does drugs, cause he can’t do that again.

if you watch jenna marbles i want you to know that noel is julian in the kitchen and julian in the kitchen only

surprisingly has a green thumb? can revive almost any plant with relative ease

never learnt how to ride a bike tbh

surprising the type to get into physical fights when he’s drunk, which he hates, because it reminds him of his mother.

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

younger sibling ; if you’ve guessed that i’m going to put a wc into the main for noel’s younger sibling than you’ve guessed right but if anyone here wants it before i put the message into the main let me know!

claire to his brad ; ... please. i’m begging here. noel is a chef but i haven’t decided where and i really want him to have a chef friend or baker friend who he just messes around with in the kitchen. maybe they even make amateur funnily little gourmet-makes-esque youtube videos where noel doesn’t show his face because he doesn’t want his parents to see but sdkjsdkj he’s like julian behind the camera, making comments and having a good time. give me this.

a virgo ; speaking of julian, noel does have julian energy and so he therefore probably needs a jenna. please give him someone to help with his impulse control. someone to say, hey, maybe you shouldn’t deep fry that turkey in a huge vat right outside your apartment in the middle of may. maybe you should just take a nap. you know?

a love hate relationship ; honestly i just want someone who noel actively despises but still helps out anyways. like he doesn’t like who they are a person, but he can’t leave them alone, because they’re usually in some sort of trouble and unfortunately noel just can’t watch people implode.

one night stands / hookups / previous dates ; noel’s marriage is open but since he was keeping his whole marriage a secret in the first place these people probably wouldn’t have known that at the time sdkjsdkj but noel is perfectly willing to explain that now that full disclosure has exposed them and he’s got no more secrets to keep.

a best friend ; or two! i’d love a bromance for him and another close friendship that doesn’t have to be a bromance, just someone who he’s really close to.

okay this has gotten hella long so i’m gonna stop now but like this if you want to plot and i’ll come running! and to anyone who got all the way to the end of this... you’re the real mvp. <3

#fdintro #n.g. | bio.#i... think this is longer than percy's #how did that happen #drugs tw #death tw #kidnapping tw #i think that's it!

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justanotherboyinblue · 4 years

Text

Unusual Asks

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? spotify!!

is your room messy or clean? ...depends if i don’t have company, or i haven’t been made to clean it, it’s relatively messy. well. it’s not messy to me, because i know where everything is and why things are...not...put away, but messy to Literally Everyone Else

what color are your eyes? brown!

do you like your name? why? i Love my name mostly because i chose it and i like how it sounds I Just Think It’s Neat

what is your relationship status? taken! i have two beautiful partners that i love very very much

describe your personality in 3 words or less Chaotic Disaster Gay

what color hair do you have? also brown dkjbsgalk

what kind of car do you drive? color? i don’t drive! don’t have my license yet

where do you shop? anywhere and everywhere alksjdb meijer? ig?

how would you describe your style? Grunge

favorite social media account discord! ‘s how i talk to my babies :3

what size bed do you have? a twin! v comfy, v bouncy

any siblings? unfortunately two brothers both are Assholes

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? switzerland honestly first of all, lgbtq+ has been legal there since 1942 like look at them Go oh my gosh also! i love german, it’s such a fascinating language but the biggest reason? that’s where moje rojena wants to live

favorite snapchat filter? i don’t have snapchat, and don’t really plan to kjasbdl

favorite makeup brand(s) don’t wear it! the only thing i use is chapstick lmao a wonderful vanilla chapstick by Eos

how many times a week do you shower? sometimes every night, but mostly every other night! so three or four

favorite tv show? oh gosh there are so many she-ra is probably at the top i love supernatural, and elementary, bbc sherlock, person of interest, steven universe there are a bunch of amazing shows i love!

shoe size? i think i wear like a ten and a half quadruple e do with that as you will

how tall are you? 5′4 i think probably

sandals or sneakers? flip flops!! or barefoot kadjbsgl

do you go to the gym? i don’t think i’ve ever even seen the inside of a gym

describe your dream date cuddle pile some show or movie on tv So Many Blankets but the most important thing the Most Important thing is that my babies are with me and that’s all i really need

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? i don’t have any cash, but i have like a little over $50 on my card

what color socks are you wearing? white with gray designs

how many pillows do you sleep with? normally three, but i’ll bring in another three if i want to build a Nest:tm:

do you have a job? what do you do? no job! i think my first job will be working at my local library

how many friends do you have? uhhhhhhh no idea a dozen? idk maybe half a dozen i really have no idea, and i have a horrible memory

what's the worst thing you have ever done? I Will Not Divulge Such Information

what's your favorite candle scent? there’s this one candle we have that’s tide+kelp scented but it just smells like a speedstick it’s awesome

3 favorite boy names Leo (obviously) Tobias Axel

3 favorite girl names L(again, obviously) Celeste i’ve always loved the name Andromeda as well!

favorite actor? Ezra Miller!! they’re a nonbinary icon, first of all, and they’re an amazing actor in my opinion! they’re Credence in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Barry in Justice Leauge

favorite actress? hmmmmmmmmmm probably Margot Robbie tbh love her stuff also? have you seen the trailer for Birds of Prey? we Stan

who is your celebrity crush? don’t have one kjdsablg

favorite movie? oh gosh I Cannot Choose A Favorite Anything Okay i love Avatar(the one with the blue aliens not the Disgrace Of A Movie), and The Dark Knight, Captain Marvel, Abominable, and so many others

do you read a lot? what's your favorite book? i do! i used to read almost a full book every day Finding Me by Katheryn Cushman is really good, and so is Five Feet Apart, i love the Divergent series too!

money or brains? brains duh, if you’re smart you can make more money but if you’re an idiot with money what happens when you run out

do you have a nickname? what is it? not really kjabdsga my partners have their nicknames for me of course, but with my actual name you can’t have a lot of nicknames Leo calls me Q, i’ve been called Stefano and Viktor, one friend used Quimberly for a while akjfgbslkdfg

how many times have you been to the hospital? other than when i was born, i think only the once!

top 10 favorite songs Here We Go sweet tooth-Scott Helman adderall- Max Frost bambi- Hippo Campus roxxane- Arizona Zervas grixtronics- GRiZ iSpy- KYLE truth hurts- kidz bop (fuck off it slaps) walk man- TMG mr.clean- Yung Gravy peach scone- Hobo Johnson

do you take any medications daily? nope!

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) definitely oily

what is your biggest fear? Ya Boi Out Here With Abandonment Issues

how many kids do you want? i’ll stick with my fur babies thank you very much

what's your go-to hairstyle? in my face covering my right eye so i can’t see with it because it annoys my mother and i think i look Hot

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) medium i would think? we don’t have a second floor or a finished basement, but i’ve never had to bunk with either of my brothers so

who is your role model? no one specific! just, kind people, yk?

what was the last compliment you received? i think it was on...monday? when Leo kept telling me i was adorable XD

what was the last text you sent? to a gc with my partners saying i was going mia because I Have The Right To Not Interact With Anyone For Several Days And Watch Movies no i will not be taking criticism

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? like somewhere from seven to nine i think i have no idea dude, i have the memory of a goldfish

what is your dream car? .... 1967 black chevy impala

opinion on smoking? bad for you, love the smell, not gonna tell you to stop, will just worry quietly in the corner because i won’t tell you what to do with your life

do you go to college? nope! still in high school, i probably won’t go to college tbh

what is your dream job? owning my own bookstore! with a cafe a cat cafe i have it planned out to a concerning degree

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? i’ve lived in one place my entire life and it’s on the side of the highway with no neighbors so Suburbs Be Like Scary

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? oh absolutely

do you have freckles? no and i’m salty about it

do you smile for pictures? of course! never with my teeth tho because my canines are halfway up my face :)

how many pictures do you have on your phone? don’t have a phone! i have a Whole Bunch on my computer though

have you ever peed in the woods? did not work out tried once Never Again

do you still watch cartoons? of course i do i’m gay it’s legally required

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonald's? i’ve never had McDonald's nuggets but Wendy’s has the best for sure

Favorite dipping sauce? ranch or campfire sauce

what do you wear to bed? pajamas???? in winter it’s long sleeve tees with fuzzy pants in summer it’s basketball shorts and whatever twenty-year-old shirt i can find in my closet

have you ever won a spelling bee? i’ve never entered one so no homeschool for the win

what are your hobbies? Anything On A Screen and books mostly books on a screen but i’ll occasionally pick up a paperback also food and swimming

can you draw? s o m e t i m e s

do you play an instrument? i played guitar for a while, but i broke one of the strings and don’t have the tools to replace it i really want a ukelele

what was the last concert you saw? i went to a college campus for four days with my youth group, and a band named Sing Love played every night

tea or coffee? Neither

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Also Neither i’ve been to starbucks one time and it was the most disappointing drink i’ve ever had i am a loyal biggby customer even though i haven’t been there in over a year

do you want to get married? not in the traditional sense i couldn’t even if i wanted to because the us said No Polyam Rights

what is your crush’s first and last initial? L.R. + L.G.

are you going to change your last name when you get married? probably! or we’ll both take a new one together

what color looks best on you? warm colors!! i do look Fabulous in a nice cool forest green though

do you miss anyone right now? Of Course I Do I’m In A Long Distance Relationship With Two People

do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed if it was open my asshole cat would eat all my hair ties and my fairy lights

do you believe in ghosts? nope!

what is your biggest pet peeve? uh people who assume? ig?

last person you called? Leo XD

favorite ice cream flavor? mint chocolate chip!!

regular oreos or golden oreos? The Golden Ones they taste like lemon even if they’re not the lemon ones i love it

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? i don’t like sprinkles because i’m a Monster

what shirt are you wearing? i’m Not It’s Hoodie Season

what is your phone background? my tablet backgrounds are Leo and L because i’m a Sap

are you outgoing or shy? Both i’m getting a lot better in the confidence department, but i still get nervous and overwhelmed sometimes!

do you like it when people play with your hair? I Cry Every Time and so does Leo it’s adorable

do you like your neighbors? if i did i would hate them because i Can

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? not outside of the shower

have you ever been high? nope

have you ever been drunk? nope

last thing you ate? leftover itallian mac n cheese

favorite lyrics right now ..... ................. raindrops on rose and whiskers on kittens~ sTICKING-

summer or winter? winter!!

day or night? night, of course

dark, milk, or white chocolate? milk! or dark with sea salt

favorite month? hm maybe august because it’s just starting to get cold, but you can also still swim on the warm days

what is your zodiac sign pisces! as i’m sure is obvious

who was the last person you cried in front of? my mother Because Leaving Me Alone For Five Minutes Is Impossible

thank you Luxet for the questions!

#meet the blogger #long post #tw cursing #tw caps #tw alchohol #tw drugs #tw marriage #tw college #i should #probably finish my school #after taking like two hours to do this #I'm A Responsible Child

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thirstygirlclub · 5 years

Text

Junior - Platonic SAMCRO

An imagine where male reader is Bobby’s half Mexican /white kid and he sings/performs like Bobby does and one day he’s in accident because of club rivals and loses his voice. Reader gets depressed and angry, so he starts abusing alcohol and Bobby asks the club for help and so Gemma and the entire Samcro mother charter help Bobby bring reader back out and have him go to AA meetings and find projects to keep him busy and practice his sign language

word count: 4,153

The sound of guitar strings being plucked and tuned filled the clubhouse as the guys returned from their quick run into Stockton. They saw Bobby Junior sat on the bar with his dirty boots on the freshly cleaned bar stools and a guitar in his hands.

Junior looked almost nothing like his father. He was tall and slim, like his mother, with tanned skin and dark eyes and hair. The only thing that made them look related was the masses of wild, curly hair he had inherited from Bobby.

“Junior!” Bobby called, “Get off the bar. Gemma’ll have your head!”

With a snort of undeterred laughter, Junior carefully set his guitar on the bar and hopped off before going to meet his dad and all his uncles. He hugged them all and asked about their trip, grabbing the bag of muffins from Tig and rooting through for his favourite flavour.

“Ya like a damn animal!” Tig exclaimed, “Bobby, you ever gonna teach your son any damn manners?”

“I’m 24 Tiggy,” Junior laughed, spitting crumbs and chocolate chips down his shirt and over the floor, “I’ve got plenty manners.”

Bobby just laughed with his son and snatched the paper bag away from him, much to the younger man’s protests, and gave them back to Tig who just glared and held the bag behind his back so Junior wouldn’t be able to get anymore. Everyone loved Junior like he was their own son but that didn’t mean he didn’t infuriate them every now and again.

“You ready for your show tonight?” Bobby asked his son, patting him on the shoulder, “Got her all tuned up?”

“Uh huh,” Junior nodded, “got my set list made and everything. You mind looking over it for me Dad?”

Bobby smiled and agreed, “You got the voice of an angel Junior, it’s not gonna matter what you play.”

Gemma had arranged for a fundraising concert for the school and the guys had had to go and pick up last minute decorations for it. Both Bobby and Junior would be performing along with some other acts but obviously Elvis would be the main act; the oldies loved him.

When the concert was in full swing and Junior was playing his set, with teenage girls and mothers alike fawning over him, the sound of motorcycles rumbled gently under the sound of acoustic music and the singing boy. Nobody paid attention too it; plenty of SAMCRO members were yet to arrive after all. But then there was no way that anyone could miss the gunshots that got fired.

From behind the adoring crowd, Junior could see a team of 4 unfamiliar motorcycles and guns held out but before he could jump down, pain hit him in the throat; taking his breath away and making him fall to the ground. His dad was at his side with his Elvis costume in his hands then wrapping it around his neck to stop the bleeding from both the entrance and exit wounds. Junior couldn’t talk. All he could do was look up at his dad’s tearful, sobbing face in panic, hands desperately trying to hold onto his dad for comfort and security. If he was to die he would have been angry that it was without telling him he loved him.

Ambulance sirens cut through the shouts and screams and the paramedics rushed up to the stage to try and save Junior’s life. Bobby watched in horror and painful worry as his costume was removed from around his son’s neck to reveal the large hole in his skin and the blood that seeped out into his hair.

Bobby leapt into the ambulance behind the stretcher, not even looking at his friends because he knew they were already getting to their motorcycles to escort them to the hospital. He held Junior’s hand in both of his, talking to him and trying to keep him conscious like the emergency team told him.

“You’re gonna be ok Kid,” he sobbed, stroking the wild hair from the boy’s face, “you’re gonna be alright. You’re not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m not letting you leave me.”

Junior tried to speak but no words could come out.

Waiting in the waiting room with Bobby broke the hearts of all of his friends. he was inconsolable but there was no way he was going anywhere without his son.

“Mr Munson?” The doctor asked, looking over the group of bikers until he found Bobby, “Can I speak with you?”

Bobby stood up after Chibs patted his shoulder firmly and wished him good luck. He made his way to the doctor then through to the room where Junior was lay unconscious with a large bandage wrapped around his neck with his hair spread up over the pillow.

“Is he going to be alright?” Bobby asked hoarsely.

“He’s going to live,” the doctor nodded, “but... the bullet went through his vocal cords and-”

“No...”

“He may be unlikely able to speak again. Now we have got a great range of-”

Bobby couldn’t stop himself from launching himself forwards, gripping the doctor by the front of his coat and shaking him violently; getting into his face and shouting. It would be terrifying sight for anyone and the doctor didn’t know what to do.

“Fix him!” Bobby shouted, spit flying from his mouth and angry tears falling down his eyes, “You better fix him or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out-”

The doctor reached over to the bed to press the emergency button while struggling to make this bear of a man let go of him. The alarm went off and almost immediately, before any doctors or nurse could get in, Chibs and Clay pulled the struggling Bobby away from the man. Anger turned back into sadness and he fell into the armchair with his face in his hands. Chibs sat on the arm, hugging his friend close but listening to the doctor explaining the situation.

“He’ll never sing again,” Bobby sniffed, “he’s going to be heartbroken. You know how much he loves it.”

“I know, mate,” Chibs nodded, tears catching in his own throat, “we’ll get him through it.”

Bobby sat with his son everyday he was in hospital. When he told him what had happened and that he would probably never sing again it was just as heartbreaking as he thought. He had prepared himself for the worst but he hadn’t prepared for a full blown breakdown. Junior had tried to speak, to shout, to cry but it just came out as guttural noises while he gripped onto his hair and rocked backwards and forwards on the bed. He refused to eat, refused drink, refused any kind of comfort his dad or anyone would try and offer him. It hurt Bobby every time his son would push him away.

Whenever anyone came into his room they would find the young man curled up in a ball with the blankets covering his head. He wouldn’t even look up when people called his name.

The day came when Junior was allowed out of the hospital. No one knew what to say to him. Bobby had the armfuls of leaflets that had information on different therapies and the sign language and Chibs was carrying the bag but Junior didn’t even look at them; just kept his head down and followed them out. He shook off Chibs’ hand on his shoulder.

Out of the hospital things went from bad to worse. Junior wouldn’t get out of bed regardless of how much Bobby tried. His heart broke every time he saw the discarded guitar in the corner of his sons bedroom gathering dust. He had suggested that Junior at least tried playing it but he could only pluck out a few notes before he would start getting angry that he couldn’t sing before throwing it back into the corner.

“It’s time to start learning this,” Bobby said, sitting on the side of the bed holding the sign language workbooks, “the tutor’s coming over tomorrow.”

Junior grumbled and put his pillow over his head.

“Junior, come on. At least try? All the guys have been learning it. Juice is getting pretty good.”

Silence.

Bobby sighed. He didn’t know what to do for his son anymore.

If his mother, Yolanda, was around he suspected she would know just what to say. He had met her while she was in America, had a whirlwind romance before she had to go back to Mexico. He had asked her to stay with him, even proposing to her so she could stay but she had to go back for her family. They kept in contact, mostly through letters and emails, and one day he got the letter with an ultrasound of a baby boy in it. Then, when he got the letter with the first photograph of him; the same one that told him his son had been named after him he had cried.

Yolanda looked after her family and struggled with money. It had killed her to give her son to his father but knew ultimately that he would have a better life in America with his dad who had a good job and money coming in. They kept in contact, of course, but Bobby missed her a lot.

But Yolanda wasn’t here so he was going to have to try and get him through it himself.

"Are you drunk again?!” Bobby shouted after his son as he stumbled through the house, “Junior!”

He was served with hand gesture that no one needed to know sign language to understand what it meant.

Junior was drunk. He was always drunk and if he didn’t get drunk alone in his room he would be out with the hobo’s and the townspeople who never seemed to understand that he couldn’t speak. They just thought he was shy. Bars weren’t the place to go, how could he order what he wanted? So he went to the off licence and bought stacks and stacks of beer. He didn’t even hide it from his dad anymore.

Junior was drunk and angry. Before the attack he had spent his days practicing his songs and talking with the guys at the bar. He spent evenings performing in bars around town and out of town. That had been his source of income for as long as he could play the guitar properly. But now he couldn’t do anything he liked anymore. He couldn’t contribute to paying bills anymore. So he drank until he forgot he couldn’t talk and his mind was hazy and his hands were numb. Junior drank until he forgot that he hated the man he had become.

When his dad or the guys came in to try and get him out of bed or to try and cheer him up he would fight them off; blocked them out and ignored them until they left him alone again.

He didn’t want to be a pain in the ass because he loved his dad but he also didn’t see the point in being a functioning human being or even living if he didn’t have his voice.

Bobby looked... grey. Everyone saw how much of a toll Junior’s injury had taken on him but when they offered their help he wouldn’t accept it; saying Junior was his son and therefore his issue to sort out. The guilt that he felt radiated throughout the club.

“I can’t do it,” Bobby admitted to his brothers one Friday night; the 16th one without his son, “his drinking’s worse... he shuts me out. I can hear him crying at night guys...”

He scrubbed his eyes roughly and gulped down his beer. It killed the guys to see their brother having such a hard time and not being able to do anything when he didn’t accept the help but now he had reached out to them. Bobby hadn’t known there was already a plan put in place for them to step in but it had been thoroughly considered and agreed upon. Junior was like all of their kids and like a little brother to Juice, Jax and Opie. Juice and Junior often got mistaken for brothers so often that they just stopped correcting people.

“We’ll get your son back,” Tig told Bobby kindly and patted his shoulder, “don’t worry.”

“Operation Get Junior Help is go,” Juice said and clinked his beer with Bobby’s.

Junior was shocked awake by his door slamming open then icy cold water splashing over his blankets and head. When he sat up he was faced with an angry looking Chibs at the end of his bed holding a bucket. He opened his mouth to argue but no words came out; just breathy noises.

“Get up,” Chibs ground out, “we’re going on a little trip.”

When Junior didn’t move, just sat scowling at the man that was like his uncle, Chibs stepped forwards and gripped him by the arm to drag him up and out of bed. He tried to fight the Scotsman’s grip but didn’t get very far. Clothes were thrust into his arms before Chibs walked out and shut the door.

Junior looked back at his now soaked bed. There was no way he could just get back in now and he was kind of curious about what Chibs had arranged. If he was taking him back to the hospital though he was going to have a fight on his hands.

Once dressed, he walked out into the kitchen to see Chibs holding a flask and leaning against the counter.

“Drink this on the way. You look like shit,” Chibs told him and handed over the flask.

Junior scowled at him but took it from him anyway; smelling strong coffee when he did so. As they walked out of the house he noticed for the first time that Chibs wasn’t wearing his kutte. Where were they going? He had to admit though, the fresh air in his lungs felt better than the stale air in his bedroom and the sun felt good on his skin as they walked through the town towards the local church. Junior eyed Chibs suspiciously.

He was led into a small side room where there was some chairs organised in a large circle, a table to the side with coffee and cookies on it. Chibs was getting greeted by the other people in the room as they made their way to the cookie table.

“They’re shite,” Chibs said and handed three cookies to Junior and poured out a cup of black coffee, “but they’re free.”

Junior stuck close by Chibs and looked around to survey the room. Then he saw what was written on the whiteboard. Alcoholics Anonymous. Chibs had taken him to an AA meeting. When it was time to sit down Junior started to panic; looking over to his uncle, shaking his head quickly and grabbing his arm, fighting off tears. He wasn’t ready to face anything yet.

“The first one’s the worst,” Chibs reassured the young man gently, “but it gets easier. Sit with me here. You’ll probably cry and that’s ok.”

They sat together, other people looking curiously at the handsome new comer that hadn’t greeted anyone or even met anyone’s eyes.

“You got your notepad? Write what you need and I’ll read it out for you.”

Junior nodded and slipped the small notebook out of his pocket shakily then staring at it, not knowing what to write. And when it had come to his turn he looked back at Chibs and shook his head. He didn’t know how to condense his feelings into just a few short sentences.

“Filip?” The gentle man leading the session, Marvin, asked, “Why don’t you go while our friend calms his nerves?”

“I’m Filip Telford and I’m an alcoholic,” he said when he stood up and Junior looked up at him; amazed that this was even happening, “I’m still drinking but not as much as I used too. Days get easier without it now. I’m facing up to what it is that made me drink and the person I was under it.”

As Chibs told the story about his daughter and wife and upbringing Junior was shocked to tears. Even Chibs, perhaps the strongest man he knew had weaknesses, and that made him feel better about himself.

“This is Robert Munson Jr,” Chibs said, gesturing to Junior to stand up, “but we just call him Junior. He was attacked a couple of months ago so he can’t talk.”

“Hi Junior,” the group said kindly.

“So I’m gonna talk for him if that’s ok?”

“Of course.”

Chibs started relaying to the group about what Junior was like before the accident; before the alcohol and then what he was like now. Hearing the way he had changed and what someone on the outside saw crush Junior. Hearing how his drinking had affected his dad was the worst.

“Thank you for joining us, Junior,” Marvin said in the same gentle tone he had been using the entire session, “admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. It sounds like you have a lot of people on your side and a good support system around you. Use that.”

Junior nodded and both men sat down.

Once the meeting was over Junior felt exhausted. Listening to everyone’s stories was emotionally tiring so they just went home.

“Maybe next time,” Chibs started around the cigarette he was lighting, “when you’ve learnt more sign language you can tell it yourself.”

Junior nodded slowly and started to walk. Then, he tapped Chibs on the shoulder and stopped walking. When he looked back at him, Junior put his hand flat and his fingertips to his chin then brought it down in an arc towards Chibs; “thank you.”

Chibs smiled happily and ruffled his wild hair before they made their way back to the house.

Cleaning Up

Happy Lowman stood at your front door wearing his signature pissed off expression, black gloves and holding rolls of garbage bags was not something anyone particularly wanted to see at midday on a Wednesday. Junior looked him up and down with wide eyes but couldn’t see a weapon. Happy pushed passed him and started through the house towards Junior’s bedroom. When he was finally over his shock, he followed the killer through to see him stood in the middle of his dark bedroom and looking over the floor.

“You sleep in this?” Happy asked in disgust, pointing a roll at the mess covered floor, “Dude.”

Junior shrugged; trying to tell him that he was depressed and lost his voice. The last thing he was thinking about was the state of his bedroom.

“Get a bag. We’re cleaning this shit up.”

Junior nodded, knowing better than to push his luck with Happy, and joined him in picking up the old beer cans and food wrappers. The curtains and windows were opened for the first time in months and it already looked better. While Junior collected his laundry Happy gathered up the plates, cups and glassed that littered every surface.

The room was cleaned in a matter of hours and finished off with Happy vacuuming while Junior changed his bedding. The two men stood back and looked at their handiwork in satisfaction. It was like an entirely different room.

Junior waved to get Happy’s attention, put his flat hand to his chin and brought it down before getting both of his hands in front of him, flat then circling them alternately towards his chest; “Thank you, Happy.”

Happy nodded slowly with a small smile, going over to hug his friend’s son tightly and patting him on the shoulder.

“Anytime,” he said when they pulled away, “just ask.”

Practice

With his room cleaned and regularly going to AA meetings with Chibs, Junior felt better. He had been practicing his sign language with Juice semi-regularly. Bobby was right when he said he was getting good. He even used it when he was speaking to Junior even though he could hear what he was saying.

“It helps you learn,” Juice shrugged, signing as he spoke, “so you know what it looks like. That’s what the internet says anyway.”

Finger-spelling was hard enough but everything else was almost impossible for a while. He knew the basics and had made an effort to spell all of his friend’s names. Happy, Juice and Chibs were easy because he didn’t need to spell them. For Chibs he just used the sign for “knife” which everyone, including Chibs himself, found funny. Juice was just the sign for the drink and Happy was just the sign for the feeling.

The sign language tutor told him he needed to use the spelling to say their names but it was too much effort for talking to his friends.

Instead of going to the house, the tutor would instead go to the clubhouse where she would find herself with a small classroom set up and a group of bikers learning with the guy she had been instructed to teach. Juice was the star pupil because he flirted with her in sign language.

Eventually, Junior became good enough to only rarely use his notepad for things and even then that was only when he was ordering at the bar or in a coffee shop when he was with people that couldn’t sign. And sometimes he just used charades for the things he had forgotten which was both funny and frustrating at the same time.

One thing he had learned was useful about all of them learning ASL was that they could communicate over the busy bar on a Friday night and not have to strain their voices. It also helped the guys when they went on runs and had to stay quiet; Clay could just sign his orders to the guys and they would know what they had to do.

“I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner,” Tig said to Junior, “it’s so much easier.”

“You’re welcome,” Junior signed.

AA meetings became easier too. Chibs would translate what Junior was saying to the group instead of trying to read Junior’s hastily scrawled writing.

Recovery

Gemma had always been a stand in mother figure to Junior, as she was with all of the SAMCRO guys at some point. She had taken it upon herself to encourage him to pick up his guitar again.

“Just play for me,” Gemma said to him one day, “just one song?”

Anyone was hard pressed to say no to Gemma and Junior was no exception. He sighed and went to pick up the guitar from where it had sat for almost half a year in the corner of his bedroom; tormenting him every time he looked at it. Slowly he plucked out an Elvis song that he had always sang when he performed. He didn’t look at Gemma because he didn’t want her to see how much just picking it up again pained him. All playing did was make him miss being able to sing and eventually he just broke down into tears and sobbed, clutching it to his chest then letting Gemma hug him tightly.

She stroked his hair and hushed him while rocking him slowly back and forth; just letting him cry it out.

“You’re gonna be ok Baby,” she murmured to him and pulled the guitar from his hands, “it’s gonna take time.”

Junior nodded into her shoulder.

Time went by and Junior would pick up the guitar more and more often (only when the house was empty) until he could eventually play a song all the way through without breaking down. Then, with Gemma’s guidance he took the guitar to the clubhouse. His dad and the guys had been out in the morning to make some kind of deal with another club but would be back that afternoon.

“Show them how far you’ve come,” Gemma said with a smile as he hopped up on the bar with his dirty boots on her clean barstools.

Junior nodded then as soon as he heard the rumble of Harley’s filling the air he started playing a song.

The sound of guitar strings being plucked and tuned filled the clubhouse as the guys returned from their meeting with Alvarez. They saw Bobby Junior sat on the bar with his dirty boots on the freshly cleaned bar stools and a guitar in his hands.

Bobby almost immediately started crying. Junior finished his song without looking at them. When he put the guitar on the bar beside him and hopped down he was pulled into a tight hug by his dad. Junior was crying, Bobby was crying... everyone was emotional. Even Happy had tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

When Junior pulled away he pointed to himself, crossed his arms across his chest with his hands in fists then pointed at his dad.

“I love you.”

#male reader monday #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy headcanon #sons of anarchy platonic #male reader #bobby munson #bobby elvis

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grogiesnople · 5 years

Text

An Endgame Re-Write

The film opens, and we see Clint and his family on the farm. His sons playing catch in the background while Laura sets up the picnic. Clint teaching two girls archery on the farm. He corrects one of their footings, showing his house arrest bracelet. Both girls hit the bullseye, and they all high five, we get the "Good job Hawkeyes" and the rest of the scene plays out the same, with the only addition being him calling for Kate, as well as the rest of his family.

The scene on the Milano stays pretty much the exact same, except when Carol comes to save them, it's Nebula who sees her, not Tony, because if he's passing out from a lack of oxygen than he wouldn't be waking up to that, he wouldn't have the strength.

When they arrive back on earth, it's Rhodey who helps Tony, not Steve, for numerous reasons. Steve and Tony still need to work through their issues, Rhodey has been his best friend for many years more than Tony's even known Steve, and it makes the "I lost the kid" line more painful, because Rhodey would know what Peter meant to Tony, and wouldn’t be as rude about it like Steve was saying "Tony, we all lost."

The Pepperony reunion stays the same, as does almost all of the scene where Tony confronts Steve and gives him the nanotech reactor. The only difference is that we actually see Bruce, instead of just hearing, "Banner gave him a sedative."

The scene where they confront Thanos goes mostly the same, but with less time spent watching Thanos farm, and more emphasis on Nebula closing Thanos' eyes, showing us that just like in Infinity War when Gamora thought she killed him, it still hurts her. He was still her father and as terrible as he was to her, he was still important to her, she didn't know a life without him.

Thanks to Rat Ex Machina, Scott gets out of the Quantum Realm, and we see him try and figure out what happened. When he goes to the memorials, we see his name, but we also see the names of Cassie's mother and step-father, explaining their absence when the two of them reunite.

Steve's therapy circle and Nat's business meeting go almost exactly the same way, but when she speaks to Rhodey about finding Clint, Rhodes mentions that people have started calling him Ronin. We knew it was him as Ronin, but the name drop solidifies the change in our minds.

Scott goes to the compound in much the same way, but with Cassie by his side because he's all she has left now. She's a smart girl and this is her chance to help so she takes it, and I take the chance to help set up Moth-Girl/Stinger. I like the idea of her spending those years without her family studying the sciences she'd need to be able to take up that mantel, so she's as close to an expert on it as a 16-year-old can be.

Scott and Cassie explain their idea to Steve and Nat, and after eventually convincing them, they go to see Tony. Cassie and Morgan play in the background together, bonding over super dads, as Scott and the others try and convince Tony of their plan. The rest of the scene plays out the same, Tony refuses, and the others leave, going to go and find Bruce instead.

They find Bruce but as himself. Instead of the randomly given Professor Hulk story, Hulk as vanished from Bruce completely, no strength, no anger, no voice. No Hulk at all. The photo scene doesn't exist, instead they touch on the strange disappearance of Hulk and Bruce says he'll help.

The first attempt at time travel goes pretty much the same, but with Scott's intelligence not going ignored. He has a masters degree in Engineering, and he understands the Quantum Realm and it's science better than any of them, along with Cassie. Possibly Bruce joking about there being an Ant-Man, a Spider-Man, and a Wasp, so what does that make her? A moth? A bee? For more Moth-Girl/Stinger foreshadowing.

Bruce and Rocket go to New Asgard to get Thor and run into Brunnhilde, who welcomes Bruce happily, and asks who the rabbit is. Because I like the idea of all Asgardians just calling him a rabbit. She mentions that Thor only ever comes into town for supplies, but there's no looking at beer supplies because it's already been established that Asgardians can't get drunk on Midgardian alcohol.

They enter the house, and Thor has let himself go, but instead of being an assholey yelling at kids on Fortnite drunk, he's sitting on the couch with Korg and Miek, as they try and cheer him up and talk with him about his problems. Rocket enters first and sasses out Thor a bit, and we get a quiet "Hello Rabbit," before Bruce makes himself known. Thor gets up and stumbles over to Bruce and they hug. Bruce asks what happened to him and Thor briefly sums it up as only Thor can, and when Bruce says Thanos' name, Thor goes silent. He lets go of Bruce, walks back over to the couch, and sits down with his head in his shaking hands.

Korg explains that they don't say his name, and Rocket goes and pats Thor on the back trying to comfort him. Bruce tells Thor that they might have a way to bring everyone back, and as Thor calms down, he asks why they need him to do it. Bruce tells him that it's because he's the strongest avenger and that he needs him. Not that the Avengers need him, but that Bruce does. He says that Thor was there for him when he needed him, and now it's Bruce's turn, and he can offer Thor a second chance to save them all.

Tony still discovers the time loop after looking at his picture with Peter, but with Harley there by his side. In Iron Man 3, we learn that Harley only has his mother, so she gets dusted in this world, and Tony took charge of Harley, who's now Morgans big brother. A small change to Morgan is that her hair is a more of a rusty brown so that you can see the Pepper in her better. Pepper and Tony still have their conversation after "Love you 3000" and he heads to the compound, Harley going with him.

Everyone is at the compound now, Thor still out of shape and in his kinda hobo clothes, but no one makes jokes about it, and instead of Tony giving him nicknames about his weight, we get the return of old classics like Point Break and Hammer Time, and a few new ones, Storm Cloud when he gets upset and the like.

Tony, Bruce, Scott, Harley, and Cassie finish the science and we have the time travel movie conversation, as it establishes some of the rules, and lets us know that they're going to do it properly. Harley calls Tony "Dad" throughout the film, getting called "Son" and other fond nicknames, and at one point, Harley makes a bad meme reference or joke, and Tony slips up and calls him Pete. There's a moment of silence before Clint goes up and goes through time.

When Clint goes back in time, he picks up the mitt, but doesn't take it with him, he instead drops it when he hears Lila's voice, and he calls out to her before getting sent home. He tells them all what happens and they confirm that it all worked properly, then start to plan the stone time heist.

Thor doesn't get weirdly emotional about Jane, as it's been years since they saw each other. Instead, he mentions his mother's death, and how Loki faked his own, before coming to the crashing realization that Loki never came back. He didn't fake his death this time, and he's actually gone. This leads to him starting to break down and Bruce having to come up and help him back to his seat as he starts to cry.

We still have the adorable scene of Tony, Nat, and Bruce all laying on the table trying to plan out the stones and Nat realizing that three of them were in New York at the same time. Nebula tells them about the power and soul stones, and they split the teams and prepare to go, but Nebula pulls Nat aside. She tells her that only one of them will be able to come back, that Gamora never did, and Thanos had the stone. Nat thanks her, and they join the others to start their missions.

Bruce's mission goes about the same, but without the Hulk mimicking part, because no Hulk, and we get to learn our new plot line of returning the stones to their time.

Clint and Tasha get the soul stone in pretty much the same way, but Natasha says "A soul for a soul" at the same time as Red Skull, explaining that Nebula told her that Gamora never came back from here and that she's willing to make the sacrifice. They still have their argument and mini battle, and Nat falls to get Clint the stone.

Thor and Rocket go to Asgard to get the reality stone, Thor still has a panic attack when he sees Frigga, and it mostly goes the same way, with Rocket going to poke Jane and Thor running into his mother, but instead of just crying about being scared, he tells her about what happens to her, Odin, Asgard, and Loki, all while blaming himself for all of it, only for her to tell him that it was out of his control, that what happened happened, and he can't change that, and he did his best. The fact that he's in the past trying to fix it proves he's not the failure he believes himself to be, and that he can still be the leader his people need. Rocket runs in, and Thor still takes Myuh-Myuh because he needs the worthiness

Nebula and Rhodey go to get their stone with not quite the same issue. Nebula still syncs to Thanos's ship, but instead of being captured, they sync Past-Nebula to her, and she gets pulled into the future.

On Scott, Tony, and Steve's side, everything leading up to the first Tesseract attempt goes the same, except Scott, gets trapped in the case instead. They run out of time for the plan, and Scott has to escape the case and runs off with Tony after he's hit by Hulk. Steve's half of the plan goes almost completely the same, but Past Steve doesn't have time to call in the anomaly, as Steve just straight up decks him beforehand. They fight the same as it was before. Steve and Tony still end up going back in time for the Tesseract and Pym Particles, but nothing here changes.

They all come back to the present, and they realize that Past Nebula somehow got stuck along for the ride. They "capture" her and think the job is done, and then go to start their gauntlet. Thor is the one to use the new gauntlet and snap everyone back, as there's no Hulk and they aren't risking Bruce. This goes the same as it did for Professor Hulk.

While they're doing this, Past-Nebula breaks out using her technological enhancements and brings Past-Thanos and his people there. The fight goes on pretty much the same, Past-Gamora switches sides seeing them all fight together, for each other, with Nebula by their side, and Nebula shoots her past self in the leg, not the chest.

From the explosion, Bruce is trapped under the rubble and tries his hardest to get out of it, but he's not strong enough, and no one can get to him. In a desperate bid to escape, he starts talking to Hulk, as if he was still there, and slowly, we watch as the green fades into his veins and skin and he starts to grow larger. Hulk returns in Bruce's final hour of need, and he breaks out of the rubble, and up to the fight.

Once again the rest of the fight goes on almost the exact same, Steve wields Myuh-Myuh and Past-Thanos breaks his shield the way we see it in AoU. The snapped return, having aged the five years they've missed, with the triumphant "On your left," and they all get portalled in by the sorcerers, however, Brunnhilde does not have a pegasus. Steve stands up and says those magical words. "Avengers, Assemble." And at that moment, Hulk breaks out of the ground with an earth-shattering roar, and the battle continues. For the triumphant A-Force scene, Nebula is the one to take the gauntlet, not Carol.

Tony gets the stones, but instead of dusting away Past-Thanos and his army, he fixes it all. Past-Thanos and his army get sent back to their time, with no memory of anything outside of the proper timeline. The stones of the present return to form, in front of Tony and his gauntlet of the past. He doesn't die here, but he comes close, and we get a dramatic cut to make us think he does.

They return the stones to their places in the past, as well as Myuh-Myuh, and Steve takes his dance with Peggy, he fulfills his commitment and moves on. He returns to the present and stays there, retiring the mantle of Captain America to Sam, and goes on the be nothing more than Steve Rogers. He and Bucky settle in to live their lives as they did before, together. When the soul stone is returned, Nat is brought back, a soul for a soul, and her sacrifice is celebrated with honour. Her ledger is clean, and she's free to live with her new family.

After some time in Wakanda for study, they do something similar with the present stones. The time stone returns to the Eye of Agamotto, to the protection of the Sanctums. The mind stone is reunited with Visions body, and with the help of Shuri, he's brought back to form, a little worse for wear, but he's Vision. The Guardians take the soul stone to Vormir, and Gamora returns as well, just as Nat did.

The other three are protected in other ways. The power stone stays in Wakanda, hidden deep in the temple where the heart-shaped herb is being re-grown. Captain Marvel takes charge of the space stone, it's only fitting, given her more otherworldly life, Mar-Vell, and Goose. And the reality stone is given to Tony, who we see is alive, the right side of his body held in a brace to support the damaged half as it heals. It's given as a gift, a reminder of what he's done, what he's fought for, and how he finally has the world he worked so hard to create.

And then we get to see our heroes, old and new, celebrate. They're happy, they're with their families. We get calls to the comics, like Rocket freaking out about Goose, and some new cute things, Thor fawning over goose because oh my gosh a flerken, listening as Fury tells the story about how Goose ate the tesseract and Carol laughs as she tells the story of his eye, bewildering the rest of the team. Morgan, Harley, and Cassie meet Peter, Shuri, Kate, and the rest of Clint’s army of kids, Harley fooling around with a watch gauntlet like the one we saw in the Civil War, and they torment the adults all night. And we cut to the credits.

After the credits roll, we hear a very familiar laugh, from behind our heroes, a certain Ehehe, and we see a woosh of blue as Wanda's drink disappears from her hand. They turn and there stands Loki who fondly remarks, "I believe you owe me a hug brother." Thor rushes to Loki and hugs him tighter than he ever has before. The sunset beams in through the windows and Loki laughs. "I told you, brother, the sun would shine on us again." The blur returns, standing next to Loki, looking directly into the camera as Heimdall walks into the room as well.

"What, you didn't see that coming?"

End film.

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