#i nearly died reading this today it was insane

[dear-ao3]

#ao3 #ao3 tags #ao3 funny #i nearly died reading this today it was insane

[msmoony7]

New Beginnings

Summary: Y/N transfers to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny and finds herself intrigued by the quiet, sandy haired boy Remus Lupin.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader, reader not in a specific house

Word Count: 1.4 K

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

masterlist

You wake up in your bed to the sun shining and the birds chirping through your opened windows. You arrived late last night to Hogwarts and slept in a little later than you had liked; It was nearly lunch time. Classes are starting tomorrow, so you are planning to explore the castle a little before then to get used to your new surroundings. Transferring schools in your 5th year was difficult, so you were hoping to make the adjustment as easy as possible for yourself.

Since there are no classes today, you’re free to dress however you like. You opt for a pair of light blue jeans, black converse, and a blue sweater with some vertical stripes over your chest. You sit at your desk and do your usual makeup and hair routines before unpacking the rest of your things. First you unpack your records and record player. You put on your favorite album - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars by David Bowie - while you finish unpacking. You got lucky and your dorm has a big bay window with a built-in seat with cushions and large bookshelves built into the wall around it, which is great for you due to your love of reading and insane collection of books. Your bed is in the middle of the room with a huge bed frame and blue curtains draping from the top. After you are all unpacked, you decide to make your way down to the Great Hall for lunch. 

You only have to stop and ask 6 kids along the way if you were going in the right direction. The ever-changing staircases made for a confusing walk there. But finally, you make it down the last set of steps and can see the Great Hall in the near distance. You’re about to turn into the hall when you stop in your tracks as you hear a great boom in the hall followed by smoke and yelling. You see a guy with long jet-black hair run past you first with a glasses wearing brunette on his trail, followed by a shorter boy with blonde hair.

“Come on, Moony, we’re gonna get caught!” you hear the first boy yell. You’re about to turn around to walk into the Hall and see what’s going on but before you could do so, you hear an “oh, shit” and as you turn fully around, are knocked to the floor by someone running full speed out of the hall. You hit the ground and lock eyes with a sandy haired boy who's laying fully on top of you. You’re staring at each other for a solid five seconds before the blonde boy yells at him. 

“Moony, hurry up! Snape’s coming!”

Moony, who you gather to be the boy currently laying on you, quickly helps you up, mutters a quick “sorry” and runs up the stairs to follow the other three boys. You can hear them muttering and making fun of him for falling onto you as they’re running away, and you see “Moony” trip again before all four boys disappear up the steps. Just as they disappear, a raven-haired boy with smoke and powder all over him storms out of the hall and up the steps. You make out that he must be Snape and that the explosion was definitely caused by those boys. 

You finally gather yourself and you see three girls standing by the doorway who must’ve watched everything go down. 

“Quite a tumble you took there. That’s Moony, he’s a klutz,” says a girl with dark, curly hair and a darker complexion, “My name’s Mary. Are you new here?”

“Yeah, my name’s Y/N, I just got here last night.

“Ahhh you’re American! I’m Marlene,” the second girl speaks up. She has blonde hair and a really cool vibe to her. 

“You can come eat with us, if you’d like. I’m Lily, by the way,” says the final red headed girl.

The four of you walk into the hall and you cannot contain your amazement at what you’re met with. The ceiling is the highest ceiling you’ve ever seen, and it’s enchanted to look like the sky. Unlike your old school, which had tables divided by the houses, this hall had numerous smaller rectangular tables so that you could sit with whomever you liked. The four of you grab a table and start eating your meal.

“Those boys are the biggest troublemakers in the school,” Mary says, “Always pulling pranks.”

“Yeah, we still love them though,” Lily replies.

“You more than others,” Marlene says to her as she nudges and winks at her.

Lily blushes in response, “James, the one wearing glasses, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. A real sweetheart. Unless you’re Severus, of course.”

“I take it that’s the boy that had all the smoke on him?”

“Yep, you’d be correct. The boys tend to overreact, but he really isn't a nice person. Steer clear of him,” Mary says.

“Noted. So, that guy, Moony, what’s up with him?”

“Ooooo, Y/N’s got a crush already?” Marlene snickers towards you, making you blush.

“Not a crush, but from our five second interaction, I think he’s pretty cute.”

“You should go for it,” Marlene says, “In all our years at Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ve seen him talk to girls that weren’t us for more than a minute. I’d say you have high odds.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. I’m too shy,” you contest.

“Well, that’s perfect! He’s pretty shy himself. What do you do in your free time?” Lily asks.

You list some of your hobbies for the girls, including reading, writing, and music.

“Well, aren’t you the perfect girl for him. He loves all those things. Tell me you like Bowie,” Mary says. You say nothing in response, shocked that they can read you so well, which causes the girls to yell. “You ARE the perfect girl for him. Come we’ll show you around the castle and then we’re sending you off to him.”

Before you can fight them on this, they’re pulling you around the castle showing you every nook and cranny. You’re grateful for this; You wouldn’t have been able to find your way around otherwise. They show you all the classrooms, take you on a tour of the grounds outside, up all the towers, and finally, you end the tour at the library.

“This is the library,” Lily says, “Since you like to read, I’m sure you’ll spend so much time here. Lucky for you, this is Moony’s favorite place! And if my calculations are correct, he should be in there right now. C’mon, let’s go find him!”

Lily is dragging you inside, and she’s a lot stronger than she looks. They drag you to the far back corner of the library in a hidden nook, revealing the sandy haired boy from before sitting on a couch, nose deep in a book. He doesn’t hear you guys approaching at first and once you guys are a few feet away from him, he pulls his head out of his book and looks up. He immediately locks eyes with you, causing both of you to blush. 

“Gotta go, bye!” Marlene says as she pulls Lily and Mary away from you, leaving you alone with the boy. The two of you still staring at each other, not knowing what to say. 

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Hi,” he says back.

#harry potter #hogwarts #marauders #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #marauders aesthetic #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders era #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin insert reader #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x fem!reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

you’re the worst thing (i’m addicted to)

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here...

Part 1.

“Hey, Hels.”

There is no answer, only the warbling of a bird in a distant tree. The day is bright and blue, spring has come again in all her glory. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, that the sun should still shine, and the birds should still sing.

Because she is gone.

It’s been two years, but you still haven’t really wrapped your head around it.

You still have your last text message thread with her in your phone. It’s as though you could just punch a few buttons and still talk to her. Always, she would answer you, no matter what she was doing. Sometimes you want to type in I miss you and hit send, just to see what might happen.

But then, maybe it is appropriate, that today should be such a beautiful day. On this day, forty-two years ago, your sister was born. Roughly ten years later, you followed. As a direct result, your mother died of complications in childbirth.

Your father still blamed you, but Helen never did.

In a way, Helen was your mother, more than the woman who bore you.

It makes it all hurt so much more.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

You look down at the stone, this massive granite behemoth. You find it rather ugly, to be honest, but it will certainly stand the test of time, nuclear war notwithstanding. Loving Wife, reads the epitaph below.

You know it was true.

You know that perhaps John Wick is the only person Helen loved more than you. But the inscription still seems too brief. Short changing her, somehow. 

But then, John paid for the stone, so you suppose he got to pick what it said. 

You were ensuring her memory lived on in other ways. 

“I finally did as you asked,” you tell her. “I’ve used the photos you left me in a painting. We're going to be in a show together. I wish you were here to see it.”

There is a mean part of you that suspects your submission was only accepted because it contained work from the late, great, photographer Helen Morgan-Wick, but you shove that down into the seething pit with all the rest of your fears and doubts. You didn't use them for the attention. You did it to feel close to her, and because she asked you to. One final art project, the note had said. She knew you too well, knew that the only thing that kept you from toeing the line of the abyss was a good artistic obsession.

You knew she’d planned to leave a project for John too. A puppy, she’d said. You’d shared a laugh over it, through tears, the last time you’d been together. You never found out how that had gone. John hadn’t attended a family gathering since Helen passed.

Too painful.

You didn’t blame him one bit. 

“I miss you, Hels. I feel so lost without you.”

“Amen.”

The sound of another voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You turn to find him, in one of his signature tailored black suits, looking unfairly scrumptious despite the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't made a sound in his approach. He never did. The man moved like a ghost and looked like a dark dream. You'd always found him insanely attractive.

You'd never done anything about that, of course. But goddamn, you had eyes.

“Hi, John.”

“Hello, y/n.”

You’ve never run into him at the gravesite before, though you have seen the wilted offerings of daisies left by the stone, and you always had assumed they’d come from him. You haven’t seen him since Helen’s funeral. He hasn’t changed much, really, though there is a sharpness to his aspect you’d never noticed when Helen was alive. An edge to his gaze; how can eyes so dark convey so much? Despite yourself, it sends a little thrill down your spine that you absolutely know you should not revel in.  

Maybe you haven’t seen him in person after Helen passed, but you’ve gazed at him plenty through Helen’s lens. There had been so many photographs of him in the collection of prints she’d left you. Nothing risqué, but the way he’d looked at her even through the camera had been nothing less than intimate.

There were times, late at night in your studio, when you’d pretended he’d been looking at you that way.

“How…have you been?” 

He offers a grim shadow of a smile and a shake of his head that you understand all too well. 

“Nice to be with someone you don't have to pretend with.”

“Yeah.”

You both stare down at the grave, meditating on your loss of this woman who touched you both so completely.

“Do you think she can hear us?” you ask, unable to lift your voice above a whisper.

There is a long pause from her widower, the man she left behind.

“Not really.” He lifts his face to the sun, eyes closed, as though maybe he can feel something of her presence. “But you should talk to her anyway. I might be wrong.”

You smile at that.

“Do you ever talk to her?”

“All the time,” he admits with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But then, I might just be losing my mind.”

“Ah well. That makes two of us then.”

You gently lay down the bouquet of Gerber daisies you'd brought for her. Helen’s favorite. If you ever have a garden, you will plant some for her. As it is, you have to buy them from the store. You remember the patch of daisies she’d cultivated in the garden of your childhood home. Their cheerful faces and soft petals. They had been your mother’s favorite too. When you were a girl Helen would sing to you and braid them in your thick hair. You couldn’t know at the time, how precious those perfect days had been.

The wave of sorrow hits you like a freight train, the weight of your loss a crushing force. You start to cry, hiding your face in your hands; you would prefer to do this alone, but you cannot stop it.

You feel an arm about your shoulders. It surprises you—John was never a touchy-feely man, never one for hugs, always preferring a wave or a handshake. Only for Helen, did he ever display any sort of affection. They had always been touching, holding hands or sitting hip to hip on the couch, his strong arm slung protectively around her shoulders. You didn’t want to say you’d been envious of that, but…perhaps you’d wondered, what it might be like, to be so cherished.

When he pulls you against him you only manage some token resistance. “I’ll mess up your suit.” You sound pitiful, even to you.

“I have an excellent dry cleaner.”

His dry wit had always amused you. This time, it breaks you, and you give in. He is solid as an oak, and as it turns out, his chest is an excellent place to cry on. Under the shelter of his chin you wring yourself dry, until it feels like you have nothing left inside you. His large hand rests lightly upon the back of your head, shielding you from the world. He is warm, and his cologne is subtle but heavenly. Sandalwood, maybe, and something spiced. Cardamom, perhaps. A hint of pepper.

You don’t particularly want to move, even though you absolutely should. Yet his hold on you has not loosened, and you tell yourself that maybe John Wick needed a hug just as badly as you did.

“People keep telling me that it gets easier, and I just want to punch them in the face,” you sniffle.

A huff of laughter escapes him. You feel it stir your hair on the top of your head. “Yeah. I get that.”

Finally you pull back, though not as far as you should. You’ve never actually been this close to him before, and you look at each other from a foot away. Sometimes proximity can shatter the illusion of someone’s attractiveness—but not this man. The impossible angle of his cheekbones, the soft scruff of his beard…is it just you, or does the edge in his gaze soften a little, when he looks at you? It makes your legs a little weak, and you kind of hate yourself for it.

It has nothing to do with you, stupid, you tell yourself. Where you and Helen weren’t exactly twins, you did resemble each other strongly. In profile, you’d been mistaken for her in public plenty of times before. If anything, it was probably unnerving for this poor man who missed his wife so much, to hold you, a sorry facsimile, in his arms. Out of pity, most likely.  

Helen had been the good sister. The upstanding one, the kind one. You? You can be such a twisted little thing.

“Sorry,” you sigh, noticing the smudge of makeup on his lapel.

He doesn’t even glance down, that intense gaze still fixed upon you. “Don’t be.”

Unbidden heat blooms from your cheeks to your toes, finding yourself the subject of that gaze. You’ve got to go, before you really embarrass yourself.

“I'll leave you alone. It was nice to see you, John.”

You turn to go, hugging yourself against the early spring chill. Why did you have to feel so bereft, without his arms around you? You take a few steps before he calls after you, “Y/n?”

You freeze in your tracks, a thrill jetting down your spine. “Yeah?” you dare, turning to half look over your shoulder.

“I…was thinking about going to Helen’s favorite restaurant tonight. Would you like to join me?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest, as you slowly turn to face him. You should say no. There’s a thousand reasons you should say no. This was your sister’s husband. It doesn’t matter that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and that he’s been kind to you, and that he’s looking at you like he might drown if you say no.

“I would like that,” you answer, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears sounds like the hammering of nails into your own coffin.

Part 2

#john wick x you #john wick #john wick x you fic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #im going to hell #john wick fic #title from a black keys song i fucking love them

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 34

welcome to the thirty-fourth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics. 

1. Red Poppies by @icypantherwrites

Hanahaki (with a twist) AU — Lance has never experienced a case of Hanahaki this bad. He wishes he could say it’s just the amount of flowers he’s coughing up and desperately trying to hide from the team, just as he’s trying to hide the fact that he technically died at Omega Shield from them, but it’s not just that. It’s the fact he keeps choking out red poppies. And red poppies...

They symbolize death.

the most interesting take on hanahaki ive ever seen tbh. i know icy panther is known for her edgier storytelling, but this is one of my faves of hers! i like the originality of it, and of course i adore the addressing of the omega shield disaster

2. Voltron: Last Dialogue by @uncouth-peasant [IMPLIED CHARACTER DEATH]

After the events of Omega Shield, the Astral Plane has a visitor.

okay look i know everyone freaks about major character death but im asking u to read this anyway. for one its only IMPLIED, technically lance could still be alive, and also it’s just a really well-written fic. lance and shiro have so so so much potential with how similar their characters and arcs are, so i loved how this one explored that in its heartbreak

3. The Poison of Deceit by @icypantherwrites

This diplomatic mission is not going the way Lance had hoped. The diplomacy part on behalf of Voltron is going fantastic and Lance doesn’t think he’d be remiss in saying he had a large hand in that. But the whole impress Shiro bit is an epic fail as Shiro doesn’t seem to notice his efforts at all and it’s only worse with Keith showing him up at nearly every turn. The aliens they’re working on the alliance though have noticed his efforts. But as Lance stands here now, Shiro and Keith’s lives along with a vial of poison in his hands, he isn’t so certain that was a good thing.

the fuckin ‘i drank poison to save your life’ trope will NEVER get old idc idc. the heart dropping moment when the team realises that by doubting lance they may have cost him his life...insanity fr. like i eat this shit up every time

4. blind spots by @adelfie

Lance knows something’s wrong.

Keith turns his gaze on him, dark eyes latching onto him like an anchor.

Normally this is when Lance can think of something stupid to say to make Keith smile. Bonus points if he can get a laugh. Usually it isn’t hard — smiles come easy when it’s them. But something is wrong, and Lance knows that Keith’s smile will be the farthest thing from him if he says it.

-- Lance gets hurt during a mission with Keith and the Blades.

blade pining down bad keith in startled awe of bamf lance...it eats every single time like lets be honest my friends. bamf lance in every flavour is delectable but through keith’s view????? oh god it’s something special

5. Isn’t There A White Knight by @bosstoaster-writing

Kink Meme FIll: "In the first episode, Lance says that Shiro is his hero. But Shiro is still just a guy in his mid twenties, and we've seen him join in on silly stuff ("Blam blam blam!").

So what I want is five times Lance sees Shiro do dorky, ridiculous things, and one time he realizes he'd still follow this dork to Hell and back."

C'mon, as if I could pass that up.

five plus one? check. lance learning to know his idol as a human? check. gentle and careful and clumsy relationships? check. and dorky loser goober shiro, my love and light? CHECK CHECK CHECK. this fic is so so fun. shiro should get the right to be a dorky goober at all times and anyone who writes that is my hero

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#fic rec friday may have been the best thing i did on this blog tbh #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #shiro #takashi shirogane #lance & shiro #team as family #langst #fic rec #fic rec friday

[marvelmaniac715]

I started writing this post at exactly 23:06 PM just to plan out what I wanted to say and to make sure I wasn’t rushing when the time actually came. Wow, that sounds super dramatic, I’m not like deleting my account or anything, this is a happy post, I promise. 

At the time of writing, I am 16, but when I post this at midnight exactly, as many of you will know because I haven’t stopped going on about it, I will be 17. Yep, I was born at midnight, and fun fact - there was a debate at the hospital over whether I was born on the 28th or 29th of May then it was settled by a nurse who decided on the 29th, so I was causing drama even at birth. 

Not getting into it too deeply, doctors didn’t expect me to live past the age of 2 because of a variety of health complications (turns out quite literally being born dead - long story - doesn’t give you a long life expectancy in a doctor’s eyes), and I nearly died on numerous occasions as a child because my body hates me, but now I’m turning 17, so that showed them, didn’t it? 

I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about myself this year, I mean I’ve written loads of fanfiction, I’ve become more open about my love of Starkid, I discovered an undying passion for David Tennant and I’ve binged all or most of two shows (Glee and Doctor Who) that I’ve centred a lot of my personality around. I’ve even signed up for work experience and written my first CV, whilst attending college, which is so insane. 

I honestly don’t know why this post is so long, maybe I just had a lot to say? Before this post comes out I’ll have written and published my final fanfiction of my 16th year, just to end this chapter of my life the right way, so jump onto AO3 for angst (I may be filled with joy and excitement but angst is my best genre to write for some reason). 

Thank you to all of my wonderful friends I’ve met on here for being so kind and welcoming this year, a lot of you have been part of the Starkid/fanfiction community for longer than I have, and you’re all just really cool to me. If you want to join in my birthday celebration today, I will be wearing a scrunchie in honour of my queen Heather Chandler, so I’ve made it Marvel’s Scrunchie Day, just tie your hair up with one of the best hair accessories known to man and you’ll be part of the fun (absolutely not a requirement/compulsory, I’m not out here trying to choose what you wear, it’s just a fun/cute thing that I’d like to do). 

So yeah, it’s my birthday, I’m really excited and I’m probably going to sleep soon, thank you for reading this epically long post (it’s been 12 minutes since I started writing), you’re all amazing!

#birthday #long post #personal #marvel’s scrunchie day #so excited

[sleepy-vix]

oh yeah btw i went into the city with my sister today and it was a very nice day :) i'm now going to tell you all about it bc i need to learn to be more positive. also, i will add random photos from pinterest so this post looks mildly interesting

here i go:

- first we watched an anzac day march (i live in australia, yeah. idrm u guys knowing that. basically anzac day is a day where we show respects to soldiers who fought in the war/s) for a whole hour (yeah... it was very tiring but atleast all we had to do was sit and watch. its not exactly hard i suppose)

- then, we went to a cafe where we drank iced matcha latte and shared a chocolate cake slice. the cafe was so cozy and it had jaz music and it was dark wood + green + overgrown vines type of vibe :)

- then, we went to....

drumroll please

a second hand bookstore !!!

*dies, comes alive, dies, comes alive* (x4)

there were a million books in there (or so the sign at the front claimed) and it was such a lovely place

it smelled like old books. i nearly suffocated because the smell was so strong (but i didnt mjnd at all ofc)

in the back, there was a big space with no shelves and a few tables and chairs to sit and read (i assume?) (tho there were still shelves along the wall)

in the front+middle, there were shelves everywhere, with only space for 2 people in between each shelf

it was very cluttered. i struggled to understand the system because many shelves were unlabelled, but i think that adds to the charm and i loved having to look through all the shelves

at the very front, there is the cash register and a bunch ( a BUNCH) of book stacks on the floor with no price (bc the owner hadnt priced the books yet. the shop is personally owned and they price books by writing it in pencil on the first page. isnt that so charming??)

the books werent insanely cheap, but its a food place to fins different/collectable covers of certain books

i saw a red hardbound version of dead souls by nikolai gogol, which i was going to get bc i really want to read that, but it was falling apart so badly (like the spine was 4/5 off the book) that i felt like it was unwise to purchase haha :,)

in the end, i didnt get to look at everything bc my sister got restless but i did manage to buy 3 books that i am very happy abt:

1. "the adventures of tom sawyer" by mark twain :) this was 7.50 and it had a really pretry cover (also it was small sized, which i think is so charming and pocketable)

2. "the tenant of wildfell hall" by anna brontë. i have read none of the brontë sisters' works, but i really want to:) this was also only 7.50 and the cover was pretty, and it was also pretty small

3. "quiet" by susan cain. it seems so interesting and it was only $10, whereas its going for $20 on amazon 💀 :)

also the owner gave me a bookmark that looked old and it was beige + black and it had the shop name on it, contact info, promo stuff but also it was so cool bc the font was fancy and there was an olden day sketch of an oldman reading to a child in the middle of the bookmark :)

also the owner was a nice and chill old man. also there was classical music !

i cant wait to revisit that store :) i will be opting to purchase all of my classics there because they have covers that ive never seen before.

---

then we took the bus home

the end

#sleepy vix #vix's journal

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Recall - Part 1

A LONG F*CKING DAY

A/N: Howdy, friends! I am SO excited to kick this one off. This story has been in the works for a little over a year, and after spinning it around in my head like a rotisserie chicken, I am VERY pleased to say that it is finally Yee Haw Time. I have posted four short (the longest one is under 3k words) “teasers” leading up to this series, and they should probably be read along with it to get the full effect. They can be found on the series masterlist. This one is definitely going to be a bumpy ride, but I hope if you choose to read along you will find it worth the twists and drops. It is set during the events of Kingsman: Golden Circle, and that’s the last thing I’ll say about that. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: language, violence, gunshot wound, mild smuts, lots of angst, Jack Daniels himself. 

Summary: When Jack is shot on a mission with two Kingsman Agents, he’s treated with Alpha-Gel and rushed immediately back to the lab at Statesman HQ - where you, Ginger’s lead research assistant, wait to assess and reverse the damage. For Ginger and Champ and the other Agents, things like this are all just part of the job. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated. 

It had been a long day. 

No, that’s putting it too damn lightly. You pressed your thumb to the pad near the handle of your front door. The reader scanned your print, a thin blue line of light moving across it to identify the loops and whorls as your unique set. Letting out a sigh as the device beeped, you keyed in the code and heard the lock click as it opened. Today was batshit insane. 

A welcome rush of cool air greeted you as you stepped inside, and you let your heavy eyelids fall shut as you exhaled. You were tired and stretched thin and still in shock from the day’s turn of events. But at least it’s not hot in here. You slipped the shoes from your feet, stepping first on the heel of your left and pulling it free of the ankle boots you wore. Repeating the action with your socked foot on your right heel, you kicked them aside. They tumbled to join the small collection of footwear near the front door of your apartment, the three-tiered rack full of sneakers and sandals and other styles you hardly ever wore. 

Sighing heavily, you hung your keys and ID tag on the peg next to the light switch and flicked it on. The empty room came fully into view then and you gasped. Locking on to the mirror on the far wall, you nearly mistook your own reflection for an intruder. The skin under your exhausted eyes was puffy and swollen, the bottom lids rimmed red from rubbing at them. Your hair was a mess, the bun you’d had it secured in now loose and hanging low at the nape of your neck. Several pieces stuck out all over from the habit you’d formed of scratching your scalp with the end of your pen when the answer to a problem you were trying to solve continued to evade you. Wrinkled, untucked, and worn for going on 36 hours, your clothing only added to your general unkempt appearance, the look of utter deflation that was written all over you. 

Fuck, I look...

Closing your eyes, you released a slow breath through your nose and swallowed the chunky block of emotion threatening to rise into your throat. No wonder Ginger said what she did. You looked like absolute shit, but you were the farthest thing from surprised about that fact given the events of the last day and a half and everything that had gone wrong. Oh, Jack. His face flashed behind your clamped lids then as though you needed the reminder of just how close of a call it had actually been, and you shuddered, glad that you still had a hand on the wall near the light switch to help steady yourself.

He almost… he could’ve…

You didn’t know how to finish that thought, though, because the truth was that technically he had died. There was no almost about it. Luckily, the younger of the two Kingsman Agents Jack had been out with was quick-thinking enough to locate and use Jack’s Alpha-Gel, despite not having received the training that Statesman Agents did on how to do so, and it had been applied rapidly enough to start reversing the damage immediately. But the fact of the matter was that he’d been shot. In the head. At point blank range. And even with the advanced healing technology available at Statesman, there were never any guarantees that an Agent would wake up. 

He will this time, though. And that’s all that matters. 

For now that had to be enough. You reminded yourself that he was out of the worst of it now - that he would live and that if all went well, he’d regain his memory and would be back to the man you knew in a shockingly short amount of time. Ginger had started running the Recall program - something she would only do if all of his vitals were stable - right before all but ordering you out of the lab and back to your apartment. 

“I… I can’t leave him alone like this, Ginger.” There was no need to pretend that your desire to stay by his side had anything to do with research this time. Your study on the effects of the nanites and the way they knit brain cells back together had already been completed and submitted to Champ for review. But more than that, Ginger knew how you felt about Jack. “I’ll just-“ Your eyes scanned the room and landed on one of the empty bays, the cranial device lifted away so that it was essentially just a bed. “I can sleep here and-“ 

“No.” She shook her head, her short hair swaying above the collar of her white coat, her decision firm. The expression she wore was gentle and sympathetic though, as she reached for your shoulders with both hands. “Gonna put my foot down on this one. You’re running on fumes, Maraschino. Between the extra hours you put in when Tequila went down and all of this?” She gestured vaguely at the lab. “You’ve done all you can tonight.” But- She sighed, lightly squeezing your upper arms before dropping her hands to her sides. “I’m sorry. But you need to get some real sleep. And some food and maybe a shower.” 

You nodded, your attention shifting from her eyes and falling behind her, where Jack lay motionless. The sight made your whole chest ache, made your breath shudder. It was bad enough knowing what had happened to him, what he’d suffered physically to put him there. But unlike the last time you observed him undergoing the Recall procedure, this time you knew what his trigger image was. This time you knew exactly what was waiting for him when he woke up - the soul shredding loss of his wife and the son he never got to meet. 

And you knew not because you had gained access to his file through higher clearance. You knew because Jack had told you. 

“He shouldn’t be alone.” Your voice - thin from exhaustion and tremulous with worry - was hardly audible when you spoke, and at first you weren’t sure if you had actually said the words aloud. 

“He won’t be.” Ginger shook her head again, the motion smaller and slower this time. “I’ll stay. I haven’t been here for two straight days like you have. Besides, I have some files from Merlin to go over. I can do that here and keep an eye on Whiskey.” 

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but as long as he wouldn’t be left alone in the cold, dark lab, nothing but his own worst memory to keep him company, you agreed. Not that you had any say in the matter. Ginger hardly ever pulled rank on you, but you knew she was only seconds away from doing it then if you made it necessary. Licking your lips, you swallowed and finally brought your eyes back up to meet hers. 

“If I’m not back, will you call me before you wake him up? I… I want to be there.” 

She gave you a nod and a soft smile. “Of course I will.” 

Glancing down, you turned your wrist to check your watch, where you had set a countdown for the time left on Jack’s program. You had to blink the bleariness from your eyes to read it, the green-blue numbers seeming to shake against the dark screen before they sharpened enough for you to make them out. 

6:38:23 REMAINING

You stared at the seconds, watching the digits change as you let out a breath, and then dropped your arm back to your side. Okay. Moving on autopilot, you bypassed the kitchen and headed straight for the bathroom. Though you hadn’t had a real meal in over twenty four hours, you had absolutely no appetite. I can grab a protein shake on my way back to the lab. It would be easier to stomach than something solid, or at least that’s what you told yourself. I just need a shower. And some sleep. 

At the very least, you knew one of those things was possible.

Avoiding the bathroom mirror so you wouldn’t make eye contact with yourself again, you reached for the faucet and turned the hot water on. Wisps of steam billowed out over the top of the glass enclosure, the air in the room warming as you stripped your clothes off and left them in a heap on the floor. Reaching behind your neck, you undid the clasp on your necklace - the only piece of jewelry you ever wore to work aside from your comm watch - and coiled it in the little white dish on the counter. The shink of the chain and then the plunk of the pearls strung along it as they hit the ceramic were sounds that normally started to set your body at ease, especially when mixed with the rhythmic rainfall of the water. It was routine, something you did every night as you wound down and readied yourself for rest. 

That night, though, you hardly heard them. 

Regardless, you moved on with your process, stepping into the shower and pulling the door shut behind you. For several minutes you simply stood under the spray, eyes closed as the water soaked your scalp and skin, running down your spine and dripping from the ends of your hair to roll over your shoulders and chest. The steam in the air made it slightly easier to breathe than it had been for the past few hours, and you took a few full, deep breaths, bringing your hands up to your head and pushing your palms back over your hair. Fuck. A sob fell from your lips and you didn’t try to keep another from following it. You needed to cry, to let everything out that you’d been holding in since the call came into HQ that there was an Agent down. As a Statesman medical research tech you couldn’t let emotions get in the way of your work, no matter how you felt about the man currently convalescing in Recall bay two. But off the clock you were beholden only to your heart and the way it clenched painfully with worry and fear. 

Oh, fuck, Jack, you have to be okay.  

The thing between the two of you wasn’t exactly new, but it had been becoming more and more serious over the past few months. What had started as harmless - if not a bit shameless - flirting had given way to a mutual interest and attraction that sparked a flame from the very first time he cupped your cheek with his large palm and kissed you. It had grown since then, the two of you sharing your bodies and giving each other small pieces of your stories at a time. 

It had grown enough for you to know that you loved him. But those words had yet to make it from your lips to his ear. In that moment, all you wanted was the chance to tell him, even if he wasn’t ready to hear it yet. 

Finishing your shower, you toweled off and brushed your teeth before dragging yourself out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Changing into a set of sleep shorts and a loose tee, you finally climbed into your bed and peeled back the sheets to slip between them. The fabric was cool as it fell over your legs, and you let yourself sink into the mattress and pillows. 

But as you lay there in the dark, desperate for a few hours of respite from the emotions and adrenaline, all you could think of was the last time he was there between those sheets with you - and how maybe he was ready to hear those words. You rolled to your side and stared at the empty space beside you, letting your memory take you back to that night.

Eyes still closed, he blew out a breath as your fingers traveled into his hair. “Hot damn, darlin’, that feels incredible.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk that dragged its way across your lips at the change in his voice. Humming, you lowered yourself completely until your chest was pressed to his. “See what happens when you’re not rushing to put your boots back on, cowboy?” 

The boots in question still lay where he’d kicked them off, discarded on the other side of the room along with his jacket and the belt with the hefty silver buckle that you’d relieved him of hours earlier. From there, a trail of leather, denim, corduroy and suede, his clothing and yours, led to the bed where the two of you were tangled. It was longer than he had ever stayed with you, typically needing to rush off to a meeting whether virtual or in person. Once or twice he’d even had to leave quickly on a classified mission. Today though it seemed neither were calling him, and while you tried not to think anything of it, it was hard with the way he was reacting to such an innocent, casual touch. Swiping the tips of your fingers over his temples again, your smirk became a full on grin as you watched the muscles of his throat work down his swallow. 

It could be like this all the time, Jack. 

His large, rough hands slid over your skin, following the contour of your spine. “Seems I’m gonna need to find a better way to juggle my demanding schedule so that we can find ourselves in this particular situation with more frequency.” He took one hand from your body to lift your chin, the other settling at the small of your back, and found your eyes with his. “What’dyou think?” 

You felt your heart stop and laying that close you knew he felt it, too. Not fair. It was all you’d wanted for months now, ever since that one time had turned into many, many more. But you knew where he stood on taking things anywhere past sleeping together. “I fell in love once, darlin’, and I’m still deep down in it.” That’s what he’d told you when you’d first started this thing, and you knew better than to press him on it. You didn’t press yourself on it either, fooling yourself into believing that you wouldn’t love the way his boots looked on your bedroom floor. Or the way his scent clung to your sheets. 

But I do. 

Pushing that from your mind, you recovered and answered him. “I think it’s worth a shot, Whiskey.” 

He had asked you not to call him Jack in bed, and though at first you flinched each time you were forced to use his code name in lieu of his real one, you’d quickly gotten used to the condition. But this time when you did, you saw his eyes narrow, a look you thought was close to disappointment flashing in them before they widened and brightened again. What? Why did- You cut your own thoughts short then as your fingers found a small divot just beyond his hairline, slightly above his ear. Huh? What’s that? 

“Hey… D’you have a scar here?” You ran your fingers through his hair again, spreading the thick dark locks so you could get a closer look at what you’d found. Funny, I never felt that before… don’t think it’s in his chart, either. There was definitely a circular indentation there, though it looked old, completely healed over, and suddenly you were overcome with the notion that you were likely the only living person aside from Jack himself who knew it was there. 

He chuckled through a lazy smile. “You tell me, gorgeous. By now I’ve lost track of ‘em all.” Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he tightened his hold on you and flipped you over so that you were under him. The gasp that the quick reversal made you draw slipped out in a sigh as he settled his weight down on you. “You wanna see if you can find another one?” 

Yes. You wanted to know all that you could about him, because there was so much that he couldn’t share with you. You had worked within the Statesman organization for years before your path crossed his, so you understood the need for all of the closely guarded “company secrets”. As a senior Agent, Whiskey had access to information that would make most people’s heads spin and you knew that. 

Hell half of what I know would make people’s heads spin. 

The point was, you knew enough to know that what you didn’t know about his work- the details of his missions, the meetings- was for the best. It was safer that way, for you, for him, the other Agents, everyone. Your job was to assist Ginger in the lab, helping to ensure that Agents were always receiving the most cutting edge, top of the line treatments and care. Your clearance level was only as high as it needed to be, and you were fine with that. 

What you wanted to know about Jack had nothing to do with what made him a great Agent, and everything to do with the things you knew he could share with you but chose not to. 

I just want to… 

You knew about the woman he’d loved and lost, that she’d been carrying his child when she was taken from him. You knew that the cluster of three aster flowers tattooed over his left pectoral were in memory of the family they never got to be. Your heart shattered when he’d shared that part of his past with you, and ever since he had you could see it in his eyes; a deep sadness that swirled just beneath the surface. He never told you anything more about her, never gave you anything else about the incident and you respected him enough not to ask. You looked up at the man, his face hovering inches from your own, and threaded the fingers that were still buried in his hair around to the back of his head, flexing them to tighten your grasp. He groaned, like you knew he would, and his eyes darkened, erasing the sadness. 

I just want to make it easier for you, Jack. 

“No,” you finally answered him regarding a hunt for more scars on his body, even though you were fairly sure you’d just located another divot at the base of his skull with your pointer finger. “I can think of better ways to spend our time, J-“ 

Fuck. 

He cut you off then, kissing you before you could either finish his name or correct yourself. His hips dropped over yours as his tongue parted your lips, and the sound you made was one of complete shock at how intense his kiss was. You knew he had heard you almost slip. But instead of making him pull away like it had once or twice in the beginning, it seemed to spur him on. 

Interesting…Are you changing the rules on me, Daniels? 

Your thoughts were broken up as he brought his left hand to the side of your face, simultaneously tilting your head for a better angle and dragging the pad of his thumb over the rounded top of your cheek. His right hand traveled slowly up from your waist to your ribs. You responded to his touch by rolling your hips up into his while you pressed his bare back down on top of you. Still kissing him, you smiled against his lips at the tickle of his mustache near the corners of your mouth. Using that as his invitation, he slipped his tongue through your grin and licked a breathy moan out of you.

God, I could kiss him forever. 

He continued to kiss you for a few seconds longer, the movements of his lips slow and intentional, but Jack was the one to pull away first. He didn’t put any distance between your bodies, though, shifting only enough so that he could look at you - and at what he was doing. The hand that was on your ribs moved to where the chain of your necklace lay pooled against the center of your chest. Rolling one of the pearls between his rope-roughened fingers, he pulled away from your lips and gazed down at you with nothing but mischief in his eyes. 

“Wanna see somethin’.” He mumbled, maneuvering the small white orb in his grasp. “Hold still.” 

Pinching the pearl, he brought it over to your left breast, the chain uncoiling over your skin. Carefully, he set the gem on the peak of your nipple, pressing only enough to keep it in place with his pointer finger. “What are you-” Your question never made it out of your mouth though, and your eyes snapped down to your own chest to watch. 

Your breaths became more ragged as he dragged and rolled the pearl over your pebbled flesh, the delicate links in the chain brushing over the sensitive bud to make you suck in a gasp. He used the pearl to draw a series of circles both tight and close to your nipple as well as looser ones that extended out to the soft swell of your breast, and then let it go, the chain going slack against your body. “I’ve been thinkin’ about what that would look like for too long.” He brought his eyes up to yours again, that devilish curiosity still present in them. “Better than my wildest dreams.” 

You hummed. “Felt amazing, Whisk-” Throwing your head back suddenly, eyes shut, you sucked in a breath that instantly came back out in a moan as he brought his hand down between your bodies to slide two fingers into you. 

Oh, fuck.  

Curling his fingers, he leaned down and kissed you again. Hard. “Use my name.” But his growl was whisper soft against your lips as he unfurled his thick fingers inside of you, pushing deeper. “Please, darlin’. Wanna hear you say it.” 

You whimpered at the need in his voice as he said the word please, twisting his wrist so that his thumb could plead at your body, too. “Feels good, Jack.” You sighed, heat blooming simultaneously in your chest and lower belly at the moan he let out when he heard you say his name. 

You had been crying without realizing it, salty tracks running down your freshly cleaned cheeks to dampen your pillowcase. Eventually the tears stopped and you felt yourself finally give over to sleep, body feeling heavy and thick as you were pulled under. Stretching your hand out over the sheets beside you, you closed your eyes and let one final thought echo through your mind. 

I love you, Jack. 

–  –  –

The sound that woke you wasn’t the alarm that you had synchronized with the Recall program - it was a message alert. 

What? Did I miss the alarm? Is he-

Blinking rapidly as you inhaled deeply through your nose, you sat up and looked down at your comm watch. Your heart pounded and your head felt fuzzy and it took you more than a few blinks to focus your vision, eyes blurry after crying yourself to sleep. When you did, you saw that the countdown was still ticking away, and while it was close to done, you hadn’t missed anything. 

1:18:03 REMAINING 

Just below it on the display screen, though, another text box popped up just as your phone chimed on your nightstand, signaling a new message. 

GINGER ALE: MARASCHINO - GET BACK TO THE LAB ASAP - SOMETHING IS WRONG. 

No. You felt your throat tighten, trapping your heart inside of it as you read the words. No, no, no. Scrambling to free your legs from the sheets, you swung them down and over the side of the bed. No, Jack. You stood, your shaking hand flying out to turn on the light and blast your room with brightness that your eyes weren’t ready for. You were glad you hadn’t eaten anything when you got home, because the wave of nausea you felt then surely would have made you sick. 

No. He has to be alright. 

Licking your lips, you read Ginger’s message again, trying to calm your panic enough so that you could get yourself dressed and back to the lab as quickly as possible. What does it actually say? There were no codes used - Code White for when a reset didn’t take, Code Blue for when it did but only partially, Code Red for when an Agent was in critical distress. She didn’t… she didn’t use a code though, so… You took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. So it’s… whatever’s wrong, it’s not… 

He wasn’t dying. His reset hadn’t failed. If your countdown was correct - which it was - he wasn’t even awake yet. You allowed yourself to take what relief you could from those facts. But it was fleeting comfort when you realized what Ginger’s lack of code usage actually meant. Whatever the problem was, it was one that had never been encountered before. You would be completely in the dark. 

You reached for your phone, responding to Ginger’s message to say that you were getting dressed and would be back down to the lab as quickly as possible. Crossing the room in three brisk strides, you opened your closet and threw on the first pair of pants - a dark chocolate brown pair - and top - a light beige button up blouse - before heading for the bathroom. Fingers already gathering your hair at the nape of your neck as you moved, you used one hand to twist it into a bun, the other grabbing for the elastic on the counter that you’d taken out of your hair earlier, securing it again.

Arms coming down to your sides, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Good enough. You were about to turn away and make your way out to the front hall, but your eyes, wide and alert despite only getting about four hours of sleep, caught on the gold chain that was coiled in the dish next to the faucet. The memory that had played out before came back in flashes - the way the delicate piece of jewelry looked and felt in Jack’s hands, the way that since that night, whenever he saw you wearing it, he always made it a point to touch one of the pearls. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed the chain and clasped it around your neck, tucking the length of it beneath the lapels of your shirt. Alright. Time to go. 

As you leaned against the wall to shove your feet back into your boots and take your ID badge down from the peg, you blew out a breath. It had been a long fucking day. And it still wasn’t over. But all you cared about was the man laying in bay two, and getting back to him in time to help Ginger figure out what the fuck was wrong before the problem got worse. You could sleep later, when he was back on his feet and calling you darlin’ again. When he was healthy and safe and out of the woods. The panel next to your door beeped and the lock engaged with a click as you shut it behind yourself. 

I’m coming, Jack. Hold on, I’m coming. 

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.  

tags: @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @hellovanessax @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80​ @writeforfandoms​  @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​

#agent jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #pedrostories #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels kingsman golden circle #jack daniels fic #agent whiskey fic #series: recall #part 1: a long f*cking day #pedro pascal character

[they-didnt-last]

earlier today i was going insane in my uni's library while reading the hollow boy so here are some thoughts i had that were too long for a post

i've seen the "come off it, you know i'd die for you" line floating around tumblr ever since i finished the show but nothing could've prepared me for the context in which lockwood says that. he nearly did!! earlier in the book when he jumps to save her life amd ends up nearly fracturing his skull!! and then again he risked his life in the department store, she was thrown off into an underground abandoned prison with multiple spirits he goes after her!!

oh and the fact that the fetch pretended to be lockwood??? and lucy thought he'd died??? i knew was probably alive and i still had my heart beating fast as fuck

ALSO

the fucking title of the book. just last week i was wondering what "the hollow boy" might be referring to and then in the scene with the fetch where lucy realizes it's not actually lockwood because the body of thing was hollow i thought "oh that's why" but then he fucking drops this???

i was actually going insane over this

ALSO ALSO

this?? i know that at some point lucy leaves the agency and i think i'm starting to figure out why/how and i am not liking where this is going

#thinking about the scene in the show where he practically begs winkman to kill him and leave lucy alone #knowing all of this #absolutely not prepared for the scene where lucy leaves #but on a more positive note lucy and holly are maybe possibly kinda getting along now?? #lockwood and co #l&co

[denimbex1986]

'There are certain kinds of films that really impact me emotionally. One genre is what I will call “Saddest Film I Ever Saw”, and weirdly the Brits seem to have almost cornered the market on this one.

If asked, I usually say the very saddest film I have ever seen is “Never Let Me Go”, the heart-rending British Sci Fi classic based on Nobel-prize winner Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel. Oh, and if that didn’t make you cry, with its trio of Oscar winners and nominees — Andrew Garfield, Carey Mulligan and Keira Knightly — trying to love and live before they are forced to sever their limbs (yep), then the Merchant-Ivory production of Ishiguro’s “The Remains of the Day” has to.

Or your tear ducts have straight up dried up.

And, also from the UK, Saorise Ronan in the insanely sad Dystopian Sci Fi film, “How We Live Now”. Oh.my.garsh. There’s a new one: a distinctly British tale of late love, “All of Us Strangers”.

Gay Love and Heartbreak: Who Knew?

I have read a lot of reviews of this film, and, well, it had a nearly perfect IMDB Critics and Users score. I recently had a debate with some other people who are quite knowledgeable about film, about whether IMDB scores even matter. They eschew IMDB and use Letterbox’d — all the cool kids do, apparently (LOL).

Trust me, IMDB scores matter. Nearly every film I have ever seen that has had an IMDB score higher than 6.5 has been Good, and ones with a 6.8–7.1 score (they hardly ever (ever) go higher than that) are usually amazing.

What critics have keyed on is not that this is a beautiful tale of Gay love, of growing up Gay during the AIDS era and having parents who, in the words of The Fresh Prince, “just don’t understand” (or do they?), and then get killed in a car crash. Although all of that is present. Critics have keyed on the fact that “All of Us Strangers” is a timeless story of love and loss. Period. It could be any pair of people: old, young, gay, straight. It doesn’t matter, because Haigh’s and co-writer Taichi Yamada’s script and direction deliver the goods.

The Progress We Have Made

This film probably could not have been made, or been as successful even ten years ago. But today, when despite the forces of Evil arrayed against LGBTQ+ people all over the world, and especially in the US, Haigh presents us with an achingly beautiful love story between two people, who happen to be Gay Men. And it shows us, sans any prurience, gorgeous scenes of Gay Lovemaking that are the farthest thing from pornographic or even lurid.

And he does this by asking more narrative questions than he ever answers. Which I, personally, love.

Andrew Scott plays Adam, a screen-writer (how Meta) living in a nearly empty apartment building somewhere in London, at some point in time (the recent past? the near future?), who by a simple twist of fate ends up in the arms of Harry, played by Paul Mescal. I have loved Scott ever since his turn as a sexually active Anglican Priest in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s amazing TV series “Fleabag”, and also love Mescal for, among other things, the critically lauded “Aftersun”.

A Queer Ghost Story?

What makes the narrative so fascinating is that, in parallel with this surprising tale of new love, Adam decides to return to his home town and finds his Mother and Father still living in the house in which he grew up, and still the same age they were thirty years ago right before they died in a car crash.

Why and how this impossible thing is happening provides much of the narrative force for “All of Us Strangers”, and Haigh inter-weaves the yearning love of Adam and Harry with Adam’s need to talk to his parents. You see, he needs to know if they knew he was Gay when he was in school (they did) and whether his Mum approves of the fact he likes Men, not Women (She does).

If you are fully willing to “suspend disbelief” (as Poet Coleridge famously said) then you are all in, and the only important thing is to see how Adam’s dialogues with his Mum (played by the excellent Claire Foy) and his Da (played by the under-rated Jamie Bell) will give them, and him some Peace.

It Gets Weird, then it Gets…

And why do they need that? Because, and this not a spoiler, they are all probably Dead. Jamie Ramsay’s gorgeous, yet unintrusive, Cinematography establishes a dream-like visual language in which we simply follow along both the Love Story and the Ghost Story, and really don’t want it to end.

But, alas, the story needs to go somewhere, and in the third reel Adam comes back to the Apartment Building to find Harry dead in Harry’s apartment. Again, not a spoiler, as it is never clear if any of the few characters in the film are actually alive in the first place.

As they lie together on his Bed, the shot of the two of them starts to shrink against a white background, eventually collapsing like a Neutron Star. Queue tears — bawling, really.

Question posed? Yes. Answered? Brilliantly, no.'

#Taichi Yamada #Strangers #Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Never Let Me Go #Keira Knightley #Carey Mulligan #Andrew Garfield #Saoirse Ronan #Paul Mescal #Andrew Scott #How We Live Now #Phoebe Waller-Bridge #Fleabag #Aftersun #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Jamie Ramsay

[aponian]

One Punch Man OC - Tamaki’s reference sheet

(⚠️ Some info may not be accurate to the OPM’s world building, lore, etc.. I’ve made some to my own liking and to somewhat fit the character, ty for understanding.)

(⚠️ This sheet will also be long and go deep into the details, may add more in the near future.)

v

Appearance?

His name is Tamaki, meaning “jeweled tree”. He’s a young man, at around 19 years old. He is 167cm (5’5ft) tall.

He’s a Mysterious Being, but very docile and never has any malicious intentions against anyone. Doesn’t really like to admit that he’s a monster (obv), would avoid that topic.

His hair is almost shoulder length, cut in a wolf-cut style, and has fluffy black-ish denim colored hair. His eyes are sky-blue. Physique isn’t all that impressive (shrimpy), with half of his face and nearly half of his body covered in scars (healed, but almost noticeable).

Personality?

He’s overly sensitive; it's easier for him to sympathize and empathize with others, may notice subtleties and nuances that others might overlook, has strong intuition or gut feelings,...

And that sensitivity, however, sometimes leads him to be overwhelmed by almost everything, intense emotions can lead him to heavy mood swings, emotional outbursts, etc..

A bit weird, weird as in goofy-weird. Sometimes, he'd be a bit too straightforward and blunt.

He's a hot mess filled with emotions, however. Very insecure of himself.

Gets scared easily.

Additional Info

Loves flowers and flower language. Has a floriography book kept inside his apartment that he often reads. If things had gone in his ways, he would’ve become a botanist just like his father.

Absolutely loves food. A total foodie. You could persuade him with just food and he’d gladly accept.

Doesn't seem to have a favourite food or drink, since it varies from time to time.

He’d sleep for a long time. Calls it a nap when dude naps for like almost 7 hours.

Bad at cooking. Don’t let him cook (figuratively and literally).

Reminisces about his past memories of family and friends sometimes. Despite all of these agonizing years, he still remembers their faces and memories vividly.

A dog lover, but likes cats too.

Origin?

Tamaki was a human before. The cause of his transformation was due to a monster cell being forced inside his throat by two mysterious beings.

The incident happened 4 years ago, the day when his family and friends died due to a mad cyborg destroying his hometown. He was severely injured with burn scars covering his body.

Let’s not forget that monster cells are very largely mutated virus cell that transforms humans into monsters upon entering the human body. When a human becomes a monster, they experience bloodlust, sadism, ecstasy, insanity and a loss of humanity, morality, and even rational thought.

Despite that, Tamaki was be able to retain enough of his humanity and is now the person he is today, the complete opposite.

How is that possible?

Right.. It doesn’t make sense in the context of monster cells. I do have one explanation that makes some sense?

He possesses an inherent resistance or genetic anomaly that confers immunity to the transformative effects of the monster cell. Or he’s just that strong mentally?

His biological makeup or genetic predisposition prevents the cell from fully corrupting his psyche or altering his physiology in the same way it affects other individuals. This resistance could be the result of a rare mutation or genetic trait that sets him apart from others affected by the monster cell.

You could say that he’s a special case.

Set of abilities, physiology

In his human form, Tamaki appears entirely normal to the naked eye.

In his monster form (which he is absolutely dreadful about and never ever wants to appear in that way), an aberration. His body undergoes a grotesque transformation, resembling a mass of writhing flesh and sinew. His form is constantly shifting and undulating, with eyes and mouths appearing and disappearing at random intervals. The surface of his body is covered in pulsating veins and arteries, giving the impression of a living, breathing organism.

He also possesses a unique ability to transform specific parts of his body into something else, including powerful weapons without the need for a full transformation. These transformations occur seamlessly and instantaneously, allowing him to adapt to various combat situations.. when he’s willing to.

He can manifest tentacle-like appendages made of fleshy, yet durable, material from any part of his body, such as his arms, hands, or even his back. These appendages can extend and retract at will. Their fleshy texture provides a level of flexibility and resilience.

Additionally, Tamaki has the ability to alter the structure of these appendages, imbuing them with different properties to suit his needs. For example, he can transform the bone within his fleshy appendages into two distinct materials: standard bone for blunt force impact and a sharp, metallic-like substance for slicing through obstacles or adversaries.

He possesses regeneration abilities that allow his body to rapidly heal from injuries. When he sustains wounds, whether from physical trauma or attacks, his body initiates a regeneration process. This process involves the rapid replication and replacement of damaged cells, tissues, and even organs. The regeneration time varies depending on the severity of the injury.

Tamaki can manifest a specialized appendage resembling a serpent's fleshy tongue or tentacle, tipped with a venomous stinger or mouth-like structure. This appendage is capable of injecting potent venom into his enemies upon contact, causing paralysis, hallucinations, or even death depending on the type and potency of the venom.

How?

His central nervous system plays a crucial role in initiating and controlling the transformation process. When Tamaki decides to manifest a weaponized (or not) appendage, signals are sent from his brain to the targeted area of his body, activating the genetic instructions stored within the cells. These instructions guide the synthesis and assembly of specialized proteins and cellular components necessary for the formation of the weaponized appendage.

As the transformation process begins, Tamaki’s cells undergo rapid reorganization and restructuring. Cell membranes stretch and contort to accommodate the formation of the fleshy appendage, while internal organelles rearrange to support its functionality. The transformation is driven by biochemical signaling pathways that regulate cell growth, differentiation, and movement.

His ability to alter the bone structure of his fleshy appendages is achieved through the manipulation of mineral deposition and protein synthesis within his cells. By modulating the activity of specific enzymes and regulatory proteins, he can control the composition and properties of the bone material. For instance, he can induce the formation of standard bone tissue for blunt force impact or trigger the deposition of metallic-like minerals for enhanced sharpness and cutting ability.

At the cellular level, molecules and proteins within his body coordinate the regeneration process, guiding the reconstruction of tissues and organs. Cells proliferate and migrate to the site of the injury, where they differentiate into specialized cell types to rebuild the damaged structures. Additionally, Tamaki’s body may produce specialized proteins or growth factors that stimulate cell growth and tissue repair, accelerating the healing process. As the regeneration progresses, the newly regenerated tissues knit together, forming a seamless bond that restores his body to its pre-injury state. This "sewing" together of tissues ensures that the regenerated area is structurally sound and fully functional.

His ability to produce venom is rooted in his body's biochemical synthesis capabilities. Within his cells, specialized glands or organs produce and store venomous compounds, which are then transported to the tip of the appendage through a network of veins and ducts.

Way too OP. Limits?

While his abilities make him powerful when necessary, he lacks the aggressive instincts or killer instinct of more battle-hardened threats. As a result, he struggles to fully utilize his powers in combat situations, preferring to seek peaceful resolutions or avoid conflict altogether whenever possible. His moral code stops him from causing harm to others unless absolutely necessary for self-defense or the protection of others. This constraint limits his willingness to use his abilities to their full potential, as he hesitates to employ lethal force or inflict serious injury, even when doing so would be in his best interest. Not to mention, his pacifist nature makes him easily be manipulated. After all, he doesn’t like to be reminded that he would be viewed as a monster by the society at the end of the day.

Energy consumption is gonna hit him like a semi-truck. Prolonged or intense use of his abilities can lead to fatigue and exhaustion, leaving him vulnerable and unable to access his powers until he has had time to rest.

His regeneration ability isn’t instantaneous. The regeneration time varies depending on the severity of the injury, with more severe wounds taking longer to heal.

Although Tamaki can transform parts of his body into weapons or other forms, he has limited control over the exact nature or appearance of these transformations. In times of stress or duress, his transformations may become erratic or uncontrollable, leading to unintended consequences or malformations, which happens a lot.

He is susceptible to interference or inhibition by certain substances, energies, or environmental conditions. Exposure to extreme temperatures, electromagnetic fields, or magical wards will disrupt his abilities or render them temporarily ineffective.

His clothes are going to be ripped due to the appendages sprouting from his body. He is not mentally ready to just find himself in awkward situations where he’s suddenly exposed or partially naked. (i’m looking at zomebieman)

Despite the regeneration ability, he still has healed scars from the past..

While his body is capable of regenerating physical injuries, his mind still bears the scars of the traumatic incident.

These psychological scars manifest as memories, fears, and unresolved emotions that persist even after his physical injuries have healed. His scars serves as a reminder, however, that only makes him worse to remember that dreadful day.

More information

He doesn’t need to eat or drink. Tamaki’s monstrous anatomy has altered his metabolism, rendering him no longer reliant on traditional sources of sustenance such as food and water. Despite that, he still likes to eat and drink because he likes the taste, aroma, texture of different foods and beverages, indulging in them for the sake of pleasure rather than necessity.

Sometimes, inconvenient transformations can happen, they don’t always occur in the most opportune moments. He may find himself unexpectedly sprouting tentacles or fleshy appendages during mundane activities such as eating dinner, going out, sleeping, etc.. Why? They can be triggered by subconscious cues, such as stress, excitement, or heightened emotions. When Tamaki experiences strong emotions or undergoes intense psychological states, his body instinctively responds by activating his transformation abilities, even when he doesn't intend for them to occur.

#art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc #one punch man #opm #opm oc #original character #reference sheet

[siriannatan]

Ghost of Tumble Town - one shot

Yeah... @doodleshrimps' Bandit AU inspired me to write something about this idea of mine.

Warning, it is a bit sad at the start.

AO3 link for anyone who prefers to read there.

Canon differences (might contain spoilers):

warden wasn't brought to Tumble Town by fWhip,

it killed Jimmy, respawn is not a thing in this au, not for most. Joel and Scott can respawn but that's a god/fae thing and Scott's keeping it a secret,

totems are a thing and can stop you from dying. Very valuable and rare,

Norman and Flick returned as ghosts with Jimmy and the rest of the citizens.

Jimmy missed the hermits' 'visit' while dead/ getting used to being a ghost, not wanting to freak them out.

Scott didn't care how many jabs Joel tossed at him for still visiting Tumble Town even after Jimmy was gone. It wasn't like the 'god' knew Scott was a fae and how distant and foreign concept death was to him. Fae are immortal. He would never die. As long as he had access to magic it is… But that wasn't really death. Not how mortals understood it. A fae without magic just fades away until there are just faint memories of them left. Why Scott was so careful with keeping his real identity a secret? Being known as a weirdo with llamas was better than being known as a powerful fae. Especially with a witch around. As un-witchy as Shubble was it was better to be safe than risk his wings. 

Jimmy, the sheriff was probably the only one who figured him out. Shockingly, considering how dense he was. And didn't treat him any differently. Mostly. He did keep iron away from places Scott would visit in town. Would put his badge away when Scott was around. He did not mind how particular Scott was about specific order of things, and names, and greetings and… and all the fae stuff. Even if Scot never showed him his wings.

Which is probably why he never hid them when visiting Jimmy's grave. It was nothing special. just a mound of mesa sand with a crude cross marking the stop. No one wanted to stick around after the Warden just out of nowhere, seemingly, showed up and wrecked the town. Killing all the citizens and the sheriff. Vanishing without a trace soon after. Only then did the other emperors dare to come and check for survivors. There were none. Not even Jimmy's cats…

It was nearly two months ago. Before the rift business happened. And yet, despite never caring much for mortal races, humans even less than others, Scott found himself coming back again and again. To leave fresh flowers and take away the dry, ruined by howling wind old flowers from the last visit. And quietly tell the silent grave what has happened in the past week. Followed by sitting quietly until the silence and lack of colour drove him almost insane. 

Just to repeat it next week.

And so, Scott sat, his wings covering the grave in pretty colours with the light of the setting sun. Thinking it's about time to go back to Chromia. Not that they couldn't survive one night without him. Owen shouldn't be too much of an issue for some time…

"You brought poppies today…"

A sudden, familiar but impossible voice had Scott jolting to his feet and looking around. No one was on the ground so he looked at the full of holes ruin of Jimmy's house. There, on the roof, sat Jimmy. Looking almost as he did the day he died. But not quite. There was something off. Something unnerving but Scott ignored it. Too happy to see him.

"Jimmy? But you…" if he wasn't a fae and didn't have complete control of his emotions he'd probably crumble down crying. "You said they're your favourites once…"

Jimmy shrugged and jumped down. There was no sound as he landed, and Scott could swear he saw him sink into the ground a little bit. "I got better, I think…" he hummed. There was this weirdly distant quality in his voice. Like he was both here and somewhere else. "You weren't kidding, your wings are really pretty," Jimmy hummed going to touch Scott's wing but… his hand passed right through the fae. "Yeah… still figuring that out…" the sheriff chuckled taking a step back.

Scott didn't need to be told what 'that' was. What Jimmy was now. He did die. And now was back, as a ghost. And not just some ghost. As the blonde idly floated a few inches off the ground, likely forgetting to keep himself on the ground, Scott could see the magic radiating off of him. Cold and dry, neither good nor bad. Death didn't take sides. It just took people away. The good, the bad and all in between. "It's okay. I was a bit lost and overwhelmed when I left fae realms," Scott shook his head, smiling a bit. He was just happy to talk to Jimmy again. "It's good to see you again," he said reaching out to at least try to touch Jimmy's face. 

It worked and he could feel Jimmy's face. It was like cold wax. Not budging in the slightest under his touch. Scott met a few ghosts before settling where Chromia is now but Jimmy was different. Slightly translucent but not at all see-through. And much more present. Most of the other ghosts Scott knew would already forget who he was and move on to different things. Not Jimmy. He was staring at Scott even if his glassy, dead eyes occasionally glanced at the simple grave.

"Must have been a chock with how much you like colours…" Jimmy hummed tearing his eyes off the grave.

"Eh, winter fae's lands are always covered in snow, all in shades of white and grey with some green at best," Scott shrugged making a bit of snow whirling in one hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked letting it disperse. "We saw the aftermath… it was even worse than now…"

Jimmy shrugged, forcing himself to the ground. "I saw it, I think… the just after is a bit fuzzy, I was being pulled away but… something kept me here… It felt like the after is not meant to me for some reason…" he hummed walking out into the ruined town. Slowly more and more ghosts appeared, greeting their sheriff as if they were not all dead. "Like this was the end and there was nothing more…" he carried on talking as Scott silently followed. Watching the ghosts clean up the rubble.

The biggest shock was when two cats ran out of the sheriff's home, through a solid wall, and meowed, in that distant ghostly undertone. Rubbing against Scott's legs. They always liked him. Part of being a fae is being loved by all animals. Alive or dead, it turns out.

"Should I tell others you're…back or give you some more time to settle back into things?" he asked glancing at the sun. It was getting really low. Maybe he could stay the night now that the sheriff was back in town?

"Maybe wait a few days? Until this place isn't as much of a mess?" Jimmy grimaced stopping in front of the bank. It was pretty ruined, but, shockingly, nothing that was inside when the Warden attacked was missing. Scott heard some of the other emperors whisper about the place being cursed. "You can stay the night… if you don't mind all the ghosts…" Jimmy offered saving Scott asking.

"I don't mind," Scott grinned. "It's still the same Tumble Town, and it's not like I can die anyway," he shrugged as a dead bird flopped right next to him.

They were silent for a second, staring as the ghost of the bird left the body and dodged the ghostly cats that wasted no time pouncing at it. And laughed as it flew to a tree. They probably should have been worried about it but at the moment watching Norman and Flick chase it was funny. And fae had a rather unique sense of humour anyway and found dead birds very amusing even when they didn't leave ghosts behind.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #fanfic #empires smp #empiresshipping #flower husbands #empires jimmy #esmp jimmy #empires scott #empires au #ghost of tumble town

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 13

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt14, pt15

a/n meowmoewmeomwoemwoe its still 7 am and part 12 died so soon and too late and now I'm part 13 so sorry for their lost, credits '' every day'' by David levithan

Day 6016

Yn,

I think I remember everything. Where are you today? Instead of writing a long email, I want to talk.

H

I am roughly two hours away from her when I read this email, in the body of a boy named Park sunghoon. He’s a hardcore design geek, and his room is an orchard of Apple products. I access him enough to know that when he really, really likes a girl, he creates a font and names it after her.

I write back to Hanni and tell her where I am. She writes back immediately—she must be waiting by her computer—and asks me if I can meet her after school. We arrange to meet at the Clover Bookstore.

Sunghoon is a charmer. He also, from what I can tell, has crushes on three different girls at the same time. I spend the day trying not to commit him any closer to any of them. He will have to figure out for himself which font he prefers.

I am a half hour early to the bookstore, but I’m too nervous to read anything but the faces of the people around me.

She walks in the door, also early. I don’t need to stand or wave. She looks around the room, sees me and the way I’m looking at her, and knows.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I say back.

“It feels like the morning after,” she tells me.

“I know,” I say.

She’s gotten us coffee, and we sit there at the table with the cups sheltered in our hands.

I see some of the things I noticed yesterday—the birthmark, the scattering of pimples on her forehead. But they don’t matter to me nearly as much as the complete picture.

She doesn’t seem freaked out. She doesn’t seem angry. If anything, she seems at peace with what’s happened. When the shock wears off, you always hope there’s understanding underneath. And with Hanni, it seems as if the understanding has already surfaced. Any vestige of doubt has been swept away.

“I woke up and I knew something was different,” she tells me. “Even before I saw your letter. It wasn’t the usual disorientation. But I didn’t feel like I’d missed a day. It was like I woke up and something had been … added. Then I saw your letter and started reading, and immediately I knew it was true. It had actually happened. I stopped when you told me to stop, and tried to remember everything about yesterday. It was all there. Not the things I’d usually forget, like waking up or brushing my teeth. But climbing that mountain. Having lunch with Minji. Dinner with my parents. Even writing the letter itself—I had a memory of that. It shouldn’t make sense—why would I write a letter to myself for the next morning? But in my mind, it makes sense.”

“Do you feel me there? In your memories.”

She shakes her head. “Not in the way you’d think. I don’t feel you in control of things, or in my body, or anything. I feel like you were with me. Like, I can feel your presence there, but it’s outside of me.”

She stops. Starts again. “It’s insane that we’re having this conversation.”

But I want to know more.

“I wanted you to remember everything,” I tell her. “And it sounds like your mind went along with that. Or maybe it wanted you to remember everything, too.”

“I don’t know. I’m just glad I do.”

We talk more about the day, more about how strange this is. Finally, she says, “Thank you for not messing up my life. And for keeping my clothes on. Unless, of course, you didn’t want me to remember that you sneaked a peek.”

“No peeks were sneaked.”

“I believe you. Amazingly, I believe you about everything.”

I can tell there’s something else she wants to say.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just—do you feel you know me more now? Because the weird thing is … I feel I know you more. Because of what you did, and what you didn’t do. Isn’t that strange? I would have thought that you would’ve found out more about me … but I’m not sure that’s true.”

“I got to meet your parents,” I say.

“And what was your impression?”

“I think they both care about you, in their own way.”

She laughs. “Well said.”

“Well, it was nice to meet them.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that when you really meet them. ‘Mom and Dad, this is Yn. You think you’re meeting them for the first time, but actually, you’ve met them before, when they were in my body.’ ”

“I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

Of course, we both know it won’t go over at all. There’s no way for me to meet her parents. Not as myself.

I don’t say it, and neither does she. I don’t even know if she’s thinking it in the pause that ensues. But I am.

“It can never happen again, right?” she eventually asks. “You’re never the same person twice.”

“Correct. It will never happen again.”

“No offense, but I’m relieved I don’t have to go to sleep wondering if I’m going to wake up with you in control. Once, I guess I can deal with. But don’t make a habit of it.”

“I promise—I want to make a habit of being with you, but not that way.”

And there it is: I had to go and bring up the issue of where we go from here. We got through the past, are enjoying the present, but now I push it and we stumble on the future.

“You’ve seen my life,” she says. “Tell me a way you think this can work.”

“We’ll find a way,” I tell her.

“That’s not an answer. It’s a hope.”

“Hope’s gotten us this far. Not answers.”

She gives me a hint of a grin. “Good point.” She takes a sip of coffee, and I can tell another question’s coming. “I know this is weird, but … I keep wondering. Are you really not a boy or a girl? I mean, when you were in my body, did you feel more … at home than you would in the body of a boy?”

It’s interesting to me that this is the thing she’s hung up on.

“I’m just me,” I tell her. “I always feel at home and I never feel at home. That’s just the way it is.”

“And when you’re kissing someone?”

“Same thing.”

“And during sex?”

“Is Sunghoon blushing?” I ask. “Right now, is he blushing?”

“Yeah,” Hanni says.

“Good. Because I know I am.”

“You’ve never had—?”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to—”

“Never!”

“I am so glad you find this funny.”

“Sorry.”

“There was this one girl.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Yesterday. When I was in your body. Don’t you remember? I think you might have gotten her pregnant.”

“That’s not funny!” she says. But she’s laughing.

“I only have eyes for you,” I say.

Just six words, and the conversation turns serious again. I can feel it like a shift in the air, like when a cloud moves over the sun. The laughter stops, and we sit there in the moment after it’s faded away.

“Yn—” she starts. But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Minji or impossibilities or any of the other reasons why we can’t be together.

“Not now,” I say. “Let’s stay on the nice note.”

“Okay,” she says. “I can do that.”

She asks me about more of the things I noticed when I was in her body, and I tell her about the birthmark, about different people I noticed in her classes, about her parents’ concern. I share the Yeeun memory, but don’t tell her my observations about Minji, because she already knows those things, whether or not she admits them to me or herself. And I don’t mention the slight wrinkles around her eyes or her pimples, because I know they would bother her, even when they add something real to her beauty.

Both of us have to be home for dinner, but the only way I’m willing to let her leave is to extract a promise that we’ll share time together soon. Tomorrow. Or if not tomorrow, the next day.

“How can I say no?” she says. “I’m dying to see who you’ll be next.”

I know it’s a joke, but I have to tell her, “I’ll always be Yn.”

She stands up and kisses me on the forehead.

“I know,” she says. “That’s why I want to see you.”

We leave on a nice note.

Day 6017

I have gone two days without thinking about Haruto, but it’s clear that Haruto hasn’t gone two days without thinking about me.

7:30 p.m., MONDAY

I still want proof.

8:14 p.m., MONDAY

Why aren’t you talking to me?

11:43 p.m., MONDAY

You did this to me. I deserve an explanation.

6:13 a.m., TUESDAY

I can’t sleep anymore. I wonder if you’re going to come back. I wonder what you’ll do to me. Are you mad?

2:30 p.m., TUESDAY

You have to be the devil. Only the devil would leave me like this.

2:12 a.m., WEDNESDAY

Do you have any idea what it’s like for me now?

The burden I feel is the burden of responsibility, which is a tricky one to deal with. It makes me slower, heavier. But at the same time, it prevents me from floating away into meaninglessness.

It is six in the morning; Vanessa Martinez has gotten up early. After reading Haruto’s emails, I think about what Hanni said, what Hanni feared. Haruto deserves no less of a response from me.

It will never happen again. That is an absolute. I can’t explain much more than that, but this much I know: It only happens once. Then you move on.

He writes me back two minutes later.

Who are you? How am I supposed to believe you?

I know that any response I give runs the risk of being posted on Reverend Poole’s website within seconds. I don’t want to give him my real name. But I feel if I give him a name, it will make it less likely he sees me as the devil, and more likely he will see me for what I am: just a person like him.

My name is Akira. You need to believe me because I am the only person who truly understands what happened to you.

Not surprisingly, he replies with:

Prove it.

I tell him:

You went to a party. You didn’t drink. You chatted with a girl there. Eventually she asked you if you wanted to go dance in the basement. You did. And for about an hour, you danced. You lost track of time. You lost track of yourself. And it was one of the most fantastic moments of your life. I don’t know if you remember it, but there will probably come a time when you are dancing like that again, and it will feel familiar, you will know you’ve done it before. That will be the day you forgot. That’s how you’ll get that part of it back.

This isn’t enough.

But why was I there?

I try to keep it simple.

You were there to talk to the girl. For just that one day, you wanted to talk to that girl.

He asks:

What is her name?

I can’t get her involved. I can’t explain the whole story. So I choose to evade.

That’s not important. The important thing is that for a short time, it was worth it. You were having so much fun that you lost track of time. That’s why you were at the side of the road. You didn’t drink. You didn’t crash. You just ran out of time.

I’m sure it was scary. I’m positive it’s hard to comprehend. But it will never happen again.

Answerless questions can destroy you. Move on.

It’s the truth, but it’s not enough.

That would be easy for you, right? If I moved on.

Every chance I give him, every truth I tell him, lightens the burden of my responsibility that much more. I sympathize with his confusion, but I feel nothing toward his hostility.

Haruto, what you do or don’t do is no concern of mine. I’m just trying to help. You’re a good guy. I am not your enemy. I never have been. Our paths just happened to cross. Now they’ve diverged.

I’m going to go now.

I close the window, then open a new one to see if Hanni will appear in it. I realize I haven’t yet determined how far away I am from her, and am disheartened to find she’s nearly four hours away. I break the news to her in an email, and an hour later she says that it was going to be hard to meet up today, anyway. So we aim for tomorrow.

In the meantime, there’s Vanessa Martinez to contend with. She runs at least two miles every morning, and I am already late for the routine. She has to make do with a single mile, and I can almost hear her chiding me for it. At breakfast, though, nobody else says anything—Vanessa’s parents and sister seem genuinely afraid of her.

This is my first tipoff to something I will see evidenced again and again throughout the day: Vanessa Martinez is not a kind person.

It’s there when she meets up with her friends at the start of school. They, too, are afraid of her. They’re not dressed identically, but it’s clear they’ve all dressed within the same sartorial guidelines, dictated by you-know-who.

She has a poison personality, and I feel that even I am susceptible to it. Every time there’s something mean to be said, everyone looks to her for a comment. Even the teachers. And I find myself stuck in those silences, with words on the venomous tip of my tongue. I see all the girls who aren’t dressed within the guidelines, and see how easy it would be to tear them all apart.

Is that a backpack that Lauren has on? I guess she’s acting like she’s in third grade until her chest fills in. And, oh my God, why is Felicity wearing those socks? Are those kittens? I thought only convicted child molesters were allowed to wear those. And Kendall’s top? I don’t think there’s anything sadder than an unsexy girl trying to dress sexy. We should have a fund-raiser for her, it’s so sad. Like, tornado victims would look at her and say, “No, really, we don’t need the money—give it to that unfortunate girl.”

I don’t want these thoughts anywhere near my mind. The weird thing is that when I withhold them, when I don’t let Vanessa say them out loud, I don’t sense relief from any of the people around me. I sense disappointment. They’re bored. And their boredom is the thing that the meanness feeds on.

Vanessa’s boyfriend, a jock named Jeff, thinks it’s her time of the month. Her best friend and number one acolyte, Cynthia, asks her if someone died. They know something’s off, but will never guess the real reason. They certainly won’t think she’s been taken over by the devil. If anything, they’re suspicious that the devil’s taken a day off.

I know it would be foolish of me to try to change her. I could run off this afternoon and sign her up to volunteer in a soup kitchen, but I’m sure when she arrived there tomorrow, she’d only make fun of the homeless people’s clothes, and the quality of the soup. The best I could probably do would be to get Vanessa into a compromising position that someone could blackmail her about. (Did you all see the video of Vanessa Martinez walking through the hallway in her thong underwear, singing songs from Sesame Street? And then she ran into the girls’ room and flushed her own head in a toilet?) But that would be stooping to her level, and I’m sure that using her own poison against her would cause at least a little of it to fall back inside me as well.

So I don’t try to change her. I simply halt her ire for a single day.

It’s exhausting, trying to make a bad person act good. You can see why it’s so much easier for them to be bad.

I want to tell Hanni all about it. Because when something happens, she’s the person I want to tell. The most basic indicator of love.

I have to resort to email, and email is not enough. I am starting to get tired of relying on words. They are full of meaning, yes, but they lack sensation. Writing to her is not the same as seeing her face as she listens. Hearing back from her is not the same as hearing her voice. I have always been grateful for technology, but now it feels as if there’s a little hitch of separation woven into any digital interaction. I want to be there, and this scares me. All my usual disconnected comforts are being taken away, now that I see the greater comfort of presence.

Haruto also emails me, as I knew he would.

You can’t leave now. I have more questions.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that’s the wrong way to think about the world. There will always be more questions. Every answer leads to more questions.

The only way to survive is to let some of them go.

Day 6018

The next day I am a boy named George, and I am only forty-five minutes away from Hanni. She emails me and says she’ll be able to leave school at lunch.

I, however, am going to have a harder time, because today I am homeschooled.

George’s mother and father are stay-at-home parents, and George and his two brothers stay at home with them each and every day. The room that in most homes would be called the rec room is instead called “the schoolhouse” by George’s family. The parents have even set up three desks for them, which seem to have been left over from a one-room schoolhouse at the turn of the last century.

There is no sleeping late here. We’re all woken at seven, and there’s a protocol about who showers when. I manage to sneak a few minutes at the computer to read Hanni’s message and send her one of my own, saying we’ll have to see how the day plays out. Then, at eight, we’re promptly at our desks, and while our father works at the other end of the house, our mother teaches us.

By accessing, I learn that George has never been in a classroom besides this one, because of a fight his parents had with his older brother’s kindergarten teacher about her methods. I can’t imagine what kindergarten methods would be shocking enough to pull a whole family out of school forever, but there’s no way to access information about this event—George has no idea. He’s only dealt with the repercussions.

I have been homeschooled before, by parents who were engaged and engaging, who made sure their kids had room to explore and grow. This is not the case here. George’s mother is made of stern, unyielding material, and she also happens to be the slowest speaker I’ve ever heard.

“Boys … we’re going to talk … about … the events … leading up … to … the Civil … War.”

The brothers are all resigned to this. They stare forward at all times, a pantomime of paying perfect attention.

“The president … of the … South … was … a man … named … Jefferson … Davis.”

I refuse to be held hostage like this—not when Hanni will soon be waiting for me. So after an hour, I decide to take a page from Nathan’s playbook.

I start asking questions.

What was the name of Jefferson Davis’s wife?

Which states were in the Union?

How many people actually died at Gettysburg?

Did Lincoln write the Gettysburg Address all by himself?

And about three dozen more.

My brothers look at me like I’m on cocaine, and my mother gets flustered with each question, since she has to look up each answer.

“Jefferson Davis … was married … twice. His first wife … Sarah … was the daughter of … President … Zachary Taylor. But Sarah … died … of malaria … three months after … they … were … married. He remarried …”

This goes on for another hour. Then I ask her if I can go to the library, to get some books on the subject.

She tells me yes, and offers to drop me off herself.

It’s the middle of a school day, so I’m the only kid in the library. The librarian knows me, though, and knows where I’m coming from. She is nice to me but abrupt with my mother, leading me to believe that the kindergarten teacher isn’t the only person in town who my mother thinks is not doing her job right.

I find a computer and email my location to Hanni. Then I take a copy of Feed off the shelves and try to remember where I left off reading, a number of bodies ago. I sit at a carrel by a window and keep being drawn to the traffic, even though I know it’s still a couple of hours until Hanni will show up.

I shed my borrowed life for an hour and put on the borrowed life of the book I’m reading. Hanni finds me like that, in the selfless reading space that the mind loans out. I don’t even notice her standing there at first.

“Ahem,” she says. “I figured you were the only kid in the building, so it had to be you.”

It’s too easy—I can’t resist.

“Excuse me?” I say somewhat abruptly.

“It’s you, right?”

I make George look as confused as possible. “Do I know you?”

Now she starts to doubt herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, am supposed to meet somebody.”

“What do they look like?”

“I don’t, um, know. It’s, like, an online thing.”

I grunt. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I can’t. There’s this really amazing girl I’m supposed to meet.”

She looks at me hard. “You jerk.”

“Sorry, it was just—”

“You jerky … jerk.”

She’s seriously pissed; I’ve seriously messed up.

I stand up from my carrel.

“Hanni, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not fair.” She is actually backing away from me.

“I will never do it again. I promise.”

“I can’t believe you just did that. Look me in the eyes and say it again. That you promise.”

I look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

It’s enough, but not really. “I believe you,” she says. “But you’re still a jerk until you prove otherwise.”

We wait until the librarian is distracted, then sneak out the door. I’m worried there’s some law about reporting homeschooled kids when they go AWOL. I know George’s mother is coming back in two hours, so we don’t have much time.

We head to a Chinese restaurant in town. If they think we should be in school, they keep it to themselves. Hanni tells me about her uneventful morning—Yunjin and Kazuha got into another fight, but then made up by second period—and I tell her about being in Vanessa’s body.

“I know so many girls like that,” Hanni says when I’m done. “The dangerous ones are the ones who are actually good at it.”

“I suspect she’s very good at it.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to meet her.”

But you didn’t get to see me, I think. I keep it to myself.

We press our knees together under the table. My hands find hers and we hold them there. We talk as if none of this is happening, as if we can’t feel life pulse through all the spots where we’re touching.

“I’m sorry for calling you a jerk,” she says. “I just—this is hard enough as it is. And I was so sure I was right.”

“I was a jerk. I’m taking for granted how normal this all feels.”

“Minji sometimes does that. Pretends I didn’t tell her something I just told her. Or makes up this whole story, then laughs when I fall for it. I hate that.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not like she was the first one. I guess there’s something about me that people love to fool. And I’d probably do it—fool people—if it ever occurred to me.”

I take all of the chopsticks out of their holder and put them on the table.

“What are you doing?” Hanni asks.

I use the chopsticks to outline the biggest heart possible. Then I use the Sweet’N Low packets to fill it in. I borrow some from two other tables when I run out.

When I’m done, I point to the heart on the table.

“This,” I say, “is only about one ninety-millionth of how I feel about you.”

She laughs.

“I’ll try not to take it personally,” she says.

“Take what personally?” I say. “You should take it very personally.”

“The fact that you used artificial sweetener?”

I take a Sweet’N Low packet and fling it at her.

“Not everything is a symbol!” I shout.

She picks up a chopstick and brandishes it as a sword. I pick up another chopstick in order to duel.

We are doing this when the food arrives. I’m distracted and she gets a good shot in at my chest.

“I die!” I proclaim.

“Who has the moo shu chicken?” the waiter asks.

The waiter continues to indulge us as we laugh and talk our way through lunch. He’s a real pro, the kind of waiter who refills your water glass when it’s half empty, without you noticing he’s doing it.

He delivers us our fortune cookies at the end of the meal. Hanni breaks hers neatly in half, checks out the slip of paper, and frowns.

“This isn’t a fortune,” she says, showing it to me.

YOU HAVE A NICE SMILE.

“No. You will have a nice smile—that would be a fortune,” I tell her.

“I’m going to send it back.”

I raise an eyebrow … or at least try to. I’m sure I look like I’m having a stroke.

“Do you often send back fortune cookies?”

“No. This is the first time. I mean, this is a Chinese restaurant—”

“Malpractice.”

“Exactly.”

Hanni flags the waiter down, explains the predicament, and gets a nod. When he returns to our table, he has a half dozen more fortune cookies for her.

“I only need one,” she tells him. “Wait one second.”

The waiter and I are both paying close attention as Hanni cracks open her second fortune cookie. This time, it gets a nice smile.

She shows it to both of us.

ADVENTURE IS AROUND THE CORNER.

“Well done, sir,” I tell the waiter.

Hanni prods me to open mine. I do, and find it’s the exact same fortune as hers.

I don’t send it back.

We return to the library with about a half hour to spare. The librarian catches us walking back in, but doesn’t say a word.

“So,” Hanni asks me, “what should I read next?”

I show her Feed. I tell her all about The Book Thief. I drag her to find Destroy All Cars and First Day on Earth. I explain to her that these have been my companions all these years, the constants from day to day, the stories I can always return to even if mine is always changing.

“What about you?” I ask her. “What do you think I should read next?”

She takes my hand and leads me to the children’s section. She looks around for a second, then heads over to a display at the front. I see a certain green book sitting there and panic.

“No! Not that one!” I say.

But she isn’t reaching for the green book. She’s reaching for Harold and the Purple Crayon.

“What could you possibly have against Harold and the Purple Crayon?” she asks.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were heading for The Giving Tree.”

Hanni looks at me like I’m an insane duck. “I absolutely HATE The Giving Tree.”

I am so relieved. “Thank goodness. That would’ve been the end of us, had that been your favorite book.”

“Here—take my arms! Take my legs!”

“Take my head! Take my shoulders!”

“Because that’s what love’s about!”

“That kid is, like, the jerk of the century,” I say, relieved that Hanni will know what I mean.

“The biggest jerk in the history of all literature,” Hanni ventures. Then she puts down Harold and moves closer to me.

“Love means never having to lose your limbs,” I tell her, moving in for a kiss.

“Exactly,” she murmurs, her lips soon on mine.

It’s an innocent kiss. We’re not about to start making out in the beanbag chairs offered by the children’s room. But that doesn’t stop the ice-water effect when George’s mother calls out his name, shocked and angry.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands. I assume she’s talking to me, but when she gets to us, she pummels right into Hanni. “I don’t know who your parents are, but I did not raise my son to hang out with whores.”

“Mom!” I shout. “Leave her alone.”

“Get in the car, George. Right this minute.”

I know I’m only making it worse for George, but I don’t care. I am not leaving Hanni alone with her.

“Just calm down,” I tell George’s mother, my voice squeaking a little as I do. Then I turn to Hanni and tell her I will talk to her later.

“You most certainly will not!” George’s mother proclaims. I take some satisfaction in the fact that I’m only under her supervision for another eight hours or so.

Hanni gives me a kiss goodbye and whispers that she’s going to figure out a way to run away for the weekend. George’s mother actually grabs him by the ear and pulls him outside.

I laugh, and that only makes things worse.

It’s like Cinderella in reverse. I’ve danced with the prince, and now I’m back home, cleaning the toilets. That is my punishment—every toilet, every tub, every garbage pail. This would be bad enough, but every few minutes, George’s mother stops in to give me a lecture about “the sins of the flesh.” I hope that George doesn’t internalize her scare tactics. I want to argue with her, tell her that “sins of the flesh” is just a control mechanism—if you demonize a person’s pleasure, then you can control his or her life. I can’t say how many times this tool has been wielded against me, in a variety of forms. But I see no sin in a kiss. I only see sin in the condemnation.

I don’t say any of this to George’s mother. If she were my full-time mother, I would. If I were the one who would shoulder the aftermath, I would. But I can’t do that to George. I’ve messed up his life already. Hopefully for the better, but maybe for the worse.

Emailing Hanni is out of the question. It will just have to wait until tomorrow.

After all the toil is done, after George’s father has weighed in with a speech of his own, seemingly dictated by his wife, I head to bed early, take advantage of having the silence of a room all to myself. If my time as Hanni is any proof, I can construct the memories that I will leave George with. So as I lie there in his bed, I conjure an alternate truth. He will remember heading to the library, and he will remember meeting a girl. She will be a stranger to town, dropped off at the library while her mother visited an old colleague. She asked him what he was reading, and a conversation began. They went for Chinese food together and had a good time. He was really into her. She was really into him. They went back to the library, had the same conversation about The Giving Tree, and moved in to kiss. That’s when his mother arrived. That’s what his mother disrupted. Something unexpected, but also something wonderful.

The girl disappeared. They never told each other their names. He has no idea where she lives. It was all there for a moment, and then the moment unraveled.

I am leaving him with longing. Which may be a cruel thing to do, but I’m hoping he will use his longing to get out of this small, small house.

#newjeans fanfic #newjeans #hanni #hanni x reader #Hanni pham #newjeans imagines

[choccyhearts]

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel // Steve Harrington x Reader

Note: When I hear this song I always think of Charlie and the Waitress from IASIP so I based the dynamic in this off of that <3

CW: Creepy/stalker!Steve (so please read with caution), Steve being persistent to date reader, fem!reader

Summary: "Steve just wants one date with the girl who doesn't care about him at all... (Steve pining hard)"

♡♡♡

"You could yell "Piss off! Won't you stay away!" It'll still be sweet talk to my ears"

♡♡♡

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Steve couldn't find the words to answer you. Usually, he was quick to spew out a flirty answer that would further annoy you, but for the life of him, he was frozen. Mind completely blank, empty.

Well, not completely.

He was focusing on how cute your eyebrows looked pressed so close together, how flushed the apples of your cheeks are, and how the fluorescent lights shined against your eyes.

"Just move!", you push him away from the knocked over display. You were fed up with Steve and his shenanigans. It was one thing to mess with you when you were out and about but another thing entirely to come to your job just to pester you.

"God, are you stalking me now?", you ask as you pick up the knocked over cans of food.

"N...no", he says slowly regaining his senses. He kneels down and begins helping you.

Today, he decided to visit you at the grocery store you worked at. Head over heels isn't strong enough to describe how infatuated Steve is with you. He felt a strong connection when he first met you at Family Video. He was lost for words and it was so bad Robin had to cut her break short to ring you up.

Ever since, Steve has done anything he can to try to get a date with you. However, he just doesn't realize this "connection" he feels is one-sided.

He's picked up more shifts just to wait and hope you come around, taken coincidental walks around your neighborhood, and found out where you work through Robin, who you've become friends with.

Robin warns him to cut the shit, and that he needs to accept you aren't going to reciprocate his feelings but he still has hope. She had to pry away the flowers he bought for you for Valentine's Day because she knew it was creepy.

"You two aren't even dating! Don't give her those!"

When you came into the store to rent a couple of movies for a night in by yourself he nearly jumped over the counter to get you to go on a date with him.

"A gorgeous girl like you shouldn't be alone on the most romantic day ever!" You proceeded to shove him away by the forehead.

When you spotted him at the store you tried to hide, hoping he wouldn't see you. He spent thirty minutes walking around until he caught you trying to quietly back out of an aisle.

"Hey! Funny seeing you here!"

You grimaced, slowly turning to face him.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?", you did your best to sound polite.

"Well, I'm just here to get a few of things -- choclates, sparkling wine, flowers, you." You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead.

"Steve, how many times do I need to reject you for you to understand?"

"I just want you. You're my dream girl, I know we're destined to be together", Steve reached for your hand and you pulled away.

You scoff, "Ha, no we aren't. You know nothing about me."

You walk to another aisle to try and shake him off. He, like the dumb lost puppy he is, followed.

"Just one date! Anywhere you want, however long you want! Let me prove myself to you! I can do so much for you!" He touches your shoulder and you jerk away.

You go into another aisle and he follows again.

"I'll do anything for you!"

"Then go away!"

"Please, I'll be the best boyfriend! And later, the best husband!"

You burst into a fit of giggles at the insanity coming out of his mouth. You turn and look at him. He smiles at you but slowly realizes you're laughing at him, not with him.

"Why don't you love me?", he says lowly.

"Steve, I don't even like you!"

He went to lean against a shelf and tripped, knocking over a display of canned food.

Your day was already not going well and your creepy stalker making your job harder was not what you needed. And that's when you went off on him...

He watches as you slowly start stacking the cans.

"I'm sorry...", his voice cracks.

"No you aren't."

"I am, I am sorry. I just don't want you to be mad at me."

You glare at him as he gives you puppy dog eyes.

"Why are you so obsessed with me?"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

"What do you love about me?"

Steve instantly perks up, handing you more cans.

"Well, your hair looks so soft and shiny, and it's always styled cutely. And, your eyes are pretty even when you roll them at me. And, your smile is so cute, I love seeing you giggle with Robin--"

Even though it's usually because you're making fun of him to Robin, you think.

"And your voice is so sweet, I could listen to it all day. And you're not afraid to speak your mind. Plus you're strong which is kinda cool, like all those times you push me away by my forehead."

You finish stacking the cans and stand up. Steve hurriedly stands and tries to brush off your clothes but you swat him away.

"Steve...", he looks at you with a smile. "You sound like an insane person. Now go home."

You cross your arms and stand your ground. He sighs and walks out, slumped over a bit with a pout on his lips.

When you get home after your shift you find a bouquet of flowers and a card sitting by your door. You already know who they're from but curiosity gets the better of you.

Once you're inside you read the card.

"Hello beautiful,

I'm sorry about our fight. Sometimes I'm just dumb. I really do love you. To make it up to you, how about a date this weekend? I know you have Saturday night off :)

- Steve"

You groan and toss the flowers and card into the trash.

(This fic went in such a different direction than I had planned and now I kind of want to make this an ongoing series because I have lots of ideas for this creepy/lovesick/stalker!steve...)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things

[offender42085]

Post 860

"You became evil, you went to the dark side."  -- Judge

Zachary Davis, Tennessee inmate 550305, born 1997, incarceration intake in 2015 at age 17, sentenced to life

Murder, Aggravated Arson

A Hendersonville teen convicted in April 2015 of first-degree murder in the 2012 bludgeoning death of his mother will spend at least 71 years in prison.

Zachary Davis, 17, received an automatic life sentence for first-degree murder following a four-day trial. Sumner County Judge Dee David Gay sentenced the teen to 20 years each for the additional charges of attempted first-degree murder and aggravated arson for also setting his house on fire while his older brother slept.

The range for each charge was 15 to 25 years. Gay ordered that those sentences be served concurrently, or at the same time. However, the judge ruled that those sentences should be served consecutive, or after, the life sentence. In Tennessee, a life sentence is 60 years with eligibility for parole after 51 years.

Davis' case garnered national attention when television show personality Dr. Phil McGraw aired a jailhouse interview with the teen on May 22. In that interview, conducted two months before his trial, Davis detailed killing his mother, Melanie Davis, with a sledgehammer. When asked why he struck her nearly 20 times, he said in his usual flat, monotone voice that he "wanted to make sure she was dead."

Davis' exaggerated head nods and laughing at inappropriate times were "common behaviors for disorders ranging from severe anxiety to schizophrenia," said McGraw.

"When I look in your eyes, I don't see evil, I see lost," he said.

But the judge, who watched the Dr. Phil interview in court on Friday, had a different take on Davis' mental state.

Although several mental health experts who testified during the teen's trial and competency hearing disagreed on a diagnosis, they did agree that he wasn't legally insane, in that he knew right from wrong, Gay said.

Gay directed most of his comments to Davis himself, who sat still and showed little emotion.

"The thing that bothers me is that you have shown no regrets, no remorse, in murdering your own mother at age 15," the judge said.

Gay said the evidence during trial showed the teen, who played violent video games and had recently read the Stephen King novel "Misery," was focused on death.

Judge: Teen 'went to the dark side'

Other evidence, according to the judge, included two phone apps the teen had – one having to do with serial killers and the other listing torture devices; a notebook with such quotes as "you can't spell laughter without slaughter;" and his statement to police that "I didn't feel anything when I killed her."

"You became evil, Mr. Davis; you went to the dark side. It's that plain and simple."

Earlier in the sentencing hearing, Davis' paternal grandmother, Gail Cron, asked for leniency and mercy.

She said that if her grandson, whose father died from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) when Zach was 9, been given proper mental health treatment, "this would not have happened."

"Every teacher, every guidance counselor should have to stand trial with Zach," she said. "Zach is not a monster. He's a child who made a horrible mistake."

In previous court testimony, Cron said that Melanie Davis cut off ties with her after the death of Zach's father and after the family moved to Hendersonville from Kentucky. She also said that Melanie Davis failed to get her son help when he was diagnosed with depression following his father's death.

"I would like for Zach not to be forgotten here today like he has for much of his life," Cron said.

3f

[mannatea]

Starting a new “thread” of these because the other is getting way too fucking long. You can read it here if you’re just finding this one. Starting at Ep242 “Learn to Fuse!/Gohan Revived—Kaoshin’s Secret Weapon!?”

I just have to admit that the sub voice for Boo is literally the most terrifying shit imaginable, like…the dub made him giggly and cutesy…which is also creepy but not nearly to the degree the sub Boo is. He’s honestly just horrifying lmfao.

Imagine being unfortunate enough to look even remotely like Trunks or Goten right now lmao.

“Everything can be brought back with the dragonballs.” Except Gohan and Vegeta I guess, because you guys just ignore them. What am I missing here. I mean, I get why they'd accept Vegeta's death but GOHAN? Am I insane.

I love how the first thing Gohan does upon waking us is accept that he’s dead and look for a halo LOL. I love him so much 😭

Sorry, Goten is the funniest character. When Trunks tells him it’s bad manners to talk at the table and not eat politely he just starts sippin his soup and ignoring everything to "be polite". What a fucking masterpiece.

Goku telling the boys to stop crying because there’s not time for it lmfao. Goku I am going to flick you back into the Other World with my middle finger, jfc man. Sorry they wouldn’t give a shit if you died, but they do care about Vegeta and Gohan lmao.

But also why is this continuing to be such a big deal when THE DRAGON BALLS SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT GOHAN BACK ANYWAY. They should be looking for him right now. And Shin too actually… wtf.

Goku doesn’t even give them a hug or any comfort or anything. I mean I know Goku’s like…a dummy but mannnnnnn they’re little kids. “You two, stop your endless sobbing!” My brother in christ I will kill you again myself. This is probably like 50% of the reason Gohan ended up so traumatized lol.

Honestly more people should feel badly for ChiChi, since they imagine she lost her son and husband now.

Poor Videl honestly. Imagine having to deal with all these weird people. They’re just like. Heard it from a friend whoooo heard it from a friendddd whoooo heard it from another that Gohan is deaaaadddddd. 🎵 No wonder she’s like WTfing all over the place. Nobody’s explained this ki shit to her to an extent where she would understand they literally can’t sense his lifeforce anymore so it has to sound absolutely bonkers that they’re just all believing it without even one shred of proof.

Krillin just giving her the most “oh, honey ☹” look that I’ve ever seen in my life HAHAH.

YOU GUYS LITERALLY WISHED EVERYONE BACK WHO DIED TODAY IS THIS A PLOT HOLE THAT EVERYONE IS SO STUPID OR WHAT. Like Vegeta not coming back makes sense: he’s definitely falling into the “bad guys” list of people not to bring back. BUT GOHAN? NO WAY LOL. I feel insane.

“I absolutely won’t believe such a thing!” Honestly Videl, you’re correct here…even though it’s weird for you to be that confident after you just saw what Boo is capable of and haven’t ever seen Gohan truly fight anyone lol. BUT ASLO AGAIN WHY ARE YOU NOT ASKING ABOUT THE DRAGONBALLS YOU JUST SAW THEM WISH EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE LMAO. WHY AREN'T YOU QUESTIONING THAT SPECIFICALLY.

I mean this is obviously a plot hole/something nobody thought through.

If the wish had been made much earlier (i.e., Bulma and Co. left to make the wish before Gohan had “died”) it would make sense that people were sad about him being dead—because he really would be dead. It doesn’t explain why nobody’s just like “eh, we’ll bring him back in four months” but at least in every other regard this would make a lot more sense.

They could have played around with the idea of Gohan being unable to come back thinking the manner in which he died might have been particularly horrific…or even that Gohan chose not to return, but all we have is this silly plot hole.

(I’m rolling my eyes because it makes all these characters just seem so incredibly stupid and NONE of them are that dumb.)

Something something everyone is like actively grieving and I’m not surprised more people don’t try to think of, say, Videl’s feelings, but man oh man with that plot hole staring me in the face it’s hard to take seriously.

ALSO ALSO they don’t HAVE four months to wait to revive Gohan anyway, so I’m sorta surprised nobody’s says that…or even just, “honey in five days we’re all going to join Gohan anyway soooo.”

I googled this shit because it was driving me insane, only to find a Reddit thread that pretty much told me that DBZ fans don’t possess even one grain of media literacy whatsoever. Fellas it’s called a plot hole; sometimes authors make mistakes just admit it and move on. LOL

Mr. Satan still not concerned about his daughter at all.

Krillin is actually the best, I love him so much.

SSJ3? Hideous. But that’s the price you pay for power.

Goku should just instant transmission himself and Buu to the sun. It'd save me a lot of time.

#dbz

[cantarella-s]

who’s bianca conchita

OKAY OKAY SO. HAVE YOU LISTENED TO DAUGHTER OF EVIL AND SERVANT OF EVIL? (PERHAPS REGRET MESSAGE TOO?)

BANICA IS FROM THE SAME UNIVERSE! I'll try to be brief here but since i dont trust myself ill put the rest under a cut <3

Content warning for a lot. And I mean a lot of Cannibalism. also mentions of weight. and eating stuff that really shouldn't be eaten

Evillious chronicles is based around the 7 deadly sins (lust, gluttony, pride, sloth, envy, greed, wrath) (the order i put those in is important i promise)

Rilliane's (The Rin from daughter of evil-servant of evil-regret message) (theres more songs to that arc but those are the most popular and. personally not a big fan of twiright prank sorry </3) arc is pride arc!

But today we'll be talking abt Banica, whose arc is gluttony. She's a Meiko module(? i think thats the word) and therefore very pretty <3

She has two songs as far as I remember, first of which takes place during Gluttony arc [Evil Food Eater Conchita] and the second of which takes place after in the. Limbo areas tbh I don't understand how the court and graveyard work </3 but this second song is called Master of the Graveyard

Only one other song from Gluttony arc is coming to mind [Drug of Gold] but i think there are a few more that are somewhat related? Like Hänsel and Gretel's songs mention their incarnations as Arte and Pollo

So! Now that that's out of the way, I'll start explaining her story to the best of my ability (<- went through evillious wikis religiously last year) (sorry vany if you're seeing this i went a little insane back then)

It starts off with people celebrating Banica's birth (she's a future duke! unless im misremembering she got the title of duke and not duchess) with a feast! But the baemu pig they ate happened to have the glass of conchita (vessel for gluttony) in it's system and ended up giving everyone that ate it The Disease™.

this disease (its called Gula) kills them if theyre not full all the time. so they end up eating a lot of fucked up shit (iirc cardboard was on that list?)

banica didnt have gula but her mom still made her eat the same portions as everyone else AND THEN BASICALLY EVERYONE DIES. at some point banica's mom tries eating the corpse of a dead servant when her dad shot her mom.

after the death of her mom banica locked herself up in the food storage basement thing of her mansion :( but a little while later two twin servants appeared, arte and pollo! (they are reincarnations of hänsel and gretel. basically the kind of people that rilliane and allen were supposed to be) she became close friends w the twins and stayed w them basically all the time <3

basically arte and pollo were introduced to banica by her dad or some other surviving servant. timeskip a lil and she's engaged to this guy called Carlos Marlon who's a prince. they spoke and she did make a good impression on his parents! yay!

and i dont rmb how true this is, but i do think i read somewhere that carlos commented on her being overweight? sorry i wasnt nearly as fixated on gluttony arc as some of the other arcs

over a bunch of months, they became close and warmed up to the idea of marriage. but like during this time she ate less than usual bc she was afraid carlos would dislike her if he found out what she was like

then another feast. but there was a wine glass. this brought all of banica's trauma relating to the glass of conchita back and she became fixated on the left overs before eating all the food on the table. this then led to her engagement getting cancelled :(

after her engagement was cancelled, she went back to the mansion and she decided to immerse herself in food and food culture. she gained the title of a gourmand in her country, beelzenia! (im p sure its based of spain :3)

she travelled to several other countries (arte and pollo in tow bc ofc <3) to improve beelzenia's food culture! girlboss! she learned abt many famous chefs, one of which was josef crim. unfortunately he's dead :(

copy pasting the next para from the wiki -

' Supported by Juno, Banica introduced her ideas to Beelzenia, greatly improving its food culture and adding to its cuisine, radically increasing the domestic foods in the empire as a result. During this period she began developing a new wine, dubbed "Blood Grave", with the cooperation of the local farmers. '

so yeah! things are going great for banica! she even got the formal title of "Noble Gourmand Banica" (gourmand from before was probably more of a nickname)

and then her dad died

sorry queen </3 just like when her engagement was broken off, she found solace in food. around this time is when she got the title of duke. she traveled some more bc she was still grieving her dad when she got the news that one of her loyal servants, Ron, went missing.

but she collapsed when she went back bc of organ abnormalities. when she got checked out by her doctor, they concluded it was bc of her overeating.

but arte and pollo, loyal servants as they are, had been keeping the glass of conchita (that housed the demon of gluttony) with them! and since their master might die soon, they decided it was the perfect time to use it. they kept it by her bedside and the demon started talking to banica.

it told her abt how she'd only eaten half of the world's food and theres sooo much more for her to consume <3<3 she should totally make a contract with it! she wouldnt die if she made the contract + she'd get to eat more and more of the food this beautiful world has to offer

she initially declined bc yknow all of that stuff happened that happened when she was young? she knows that her mom and the other servants died bc of the demon (or more specifically the disease which was caused by the demon)

the demon left but kept the wine glass and said that if she drank from it, the contract would be sealed. -> "The next morning she awoke and saw the glass, realizing it was full of baemu blood when smelling it. Consumed by her curiosity, Banica drank after minimal hesitation, making the contract." [copy pasted from the wiki]

after making the contract, she 'miraculously' made a full recovery! she also became thinner. with her new abilities, she decided to try eating stuff she's never tried.

she held a banquet with her, the duke, as the host. at the end, she asked her servants to bring dessert which included live insects and spiders. [sorry banica but thats kinda gross </3] the audience she had was pretty disgusted but she had fun at least?

some time passed after the banquet and she decided she wouldn't leave the mansion anymore and have arte and pollo manage the estate and her territories. she did it on accounts of her organ abnormalities :3

after denouncing the outside world she used the demon's powers to reanimate the dead bc yes! she reanimated the servants and created an undead army to guard her mansion. she also reanimated livestock to serve as her meals.

after that point she began hiring a bunch of chefs to make her food but she was always irritated at them bc they were disgusted by her appetite. so of course, she had arte and pollo kill and then cook them so she could eat their corpses. girl moment fr

after getting rid of one guy, she hired Josef Crim. but you might be wondering, isnt josef dead??? well. thats not josef. thats Carlos. her former fiance. so at one point she gets drunk and they fuck 👍 she's pregnant now

oh yeah the imperial family's kept sending letters to her but she ignored them like spam callers. so they sent an army! but she has an undead army WOOOOOO!! Carlos-Josef recognized Ron (guy from earlier) and banica told him how she now wants to devour the world <3

carlos was scared so he tried to escape. banica sent arte and pollo to catch him and he gave the excuse of trying to take a vacation but. he's not allowed vacations <3 banica is niceys tho so she didnt have him killed. yet.

a few days later, carlos served her poison soup (that he'd eat together bc dying together is pretty romantic. carlos really was onto smthn there) but she is a demon contractor and cannot die unless its at the hands of another contractor or vessel so. Only carlos died. a shame, really.

banica figured out what happened so since he's already dead, might as well have arte and pollo cook him. nothing like eating your lover <3

fast forward a few months, her baby is born! woooo!!! i dont really rmb what happens next but she does end up eating arte and pollo. in the words of leo, Oh kaito we're really in it now

banica ran out of food and servants. and since she's a contractor of gluttony, she's still hungry. fuck. oh shit her baby's crying. hey. the baby is food, right? she can eat that, right?

so she took a plate out and put the baby on it.

and she was going to eat it but after seeing the kid's face, she decided not to bc thats her kid.

the demon doesnt like that very much and tells her that hey, actually, yknow that poison that guy fed you? yeah it's actually one of the few things that *can* kill you and is actually do it!

basically the poison was shavings of the vessel of wrath (the golden key. hence. drug of gold) and it def can kill her. not sure if it would work as slowly as the demon is claiming, but it would most definitely kill her in larger amounts. and she ate carlos who also had a dose of the poison in him.

the demon said the kid is a 'vaccine' for that (bro thats. Not how vaccines work at all) but she still refused to eat her child. she began to see the demon take shape in her mind and it looks like a baemu pig with bat wings. yeah. sounds horrifyingly disgusting.

so she ate herself! wahoo <3 copy pasting the wiki again

' Exploiting her contract, Banica's consumption of her body allowed her to become a demon herself; gaining all of the demon's knowledge and power. '

so thats technically the end of gluttony arc but she does have more to her story (from Master of the Graveyard and i think a few other songs?) but i dont rmb most of that sorry </3

if you actually managed to read all of that. damn Thank you

#god that was so much longer than intended #i am so so sorry aurie </3