#third pic feels like a scene from a movie where ‘their eyes met and they fell in love’ or smth SHSNSNS

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; back 2 u (part two)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is part two of my series, back 2 u! read the previous part here!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: 3.1k

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention/usage, reader is drunk (So is Riwoo), overthinking and insecurity, mentions of fwb/unprotected sex, leehan is lowkey a dick, suggestive comments but nothing too crazy imo

a/n: gongfourz for cover pic bc.... MY MAN IS FINALLY HERE!!!!! also bc they look tew damn fine for me not to use this pic sry

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

Sungho and Riwoo led the way to the house, having been there on countless occasions. The excitement rushing through you is undeniable— It’s not that you aren’t used to going to parties, but you’ve never really had much of a reason to be feeling so…Full of adrenaline. As in, you’ve never had Han Taesan personally invite you to one of his on a random Thursday afternoon.

The scene in front of you is so stereotypically movie-like: Music blaring from speakers placed around the room, air stuffy from the sheer amount of people packed in a small place, concerningly sticky floor from (hopefully) spilled drinks, and the never-ending movement of bodies dancing against each other. The door is opened by a tall man, brunette hair falling almost-too-perfectly in front of his eyes as he greets your friends upon entering.

You’ve never met him personally before, but you recall having him in one of your past classes. Kim Leehan: Taesan’s roommate who ironically shares a similar reputation— a set of unforgettable good looks that’s known to do everything except commit. You feel his gaze follow you up and down as you follow closely behind Sungho, his sharp eyes intimidating you. “Who’s this pretty ‘lil thing you bought with you?” Leehan questions. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him.

Leehan closes the door behind you as you walk in, placing his arm above your head as he leans in to get a closer look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. Surely, you have some idea of who I am if you’re standing in front of me like this.” He winks, waiting for you to respond. Witnessing your interesting first interaction, Riwoo chuckles and pushes Leehan away from you. 

“Jeez, Leehan, do you hit on everyone who walks through these doors? You’re gonna scare the poor girl,” Riwoo puts his arm around you, bringing you closer to his side. “This is our dear Y/N!~ Sungho and I are going to be with her the whole night, so don’t try anything weird.” You know Riwoo is only half-joking, especially since the two of you are well aware of his notoriety amongst the other girls on campus, but you’re thankful he designates both himself and his roommate as your party buddies for the night.

“Ah, so this is Y/N… About time you came, then.” Leehan, now a respectable distance away from you, motions over to the alcohol in the corner. “Why don’t you two show her around our humble abode?And get some drinks while you’re at it, 'kay?”

He pushes the three of you in the direction of the kitchen, where people are crowding around for refills to their red solo cups. Sungho hands you a plastic cup, full of a liquid that you can’t exactly tell the color of because of the flickering LED lights above you. Soon after you’ve all finished your first (maybe second… and third…) rounds of drinks, you find yourself being dragged to what looks like the main area for dancing. 

Half-empty beverage in hand, you laugh as you dance along to the beat with the comfort of your trusted friends beside you. It was actually… really good music, especially for a college party. In the past, you and your friends have had to leave parties solely because the music was shitty, so you’re happy that isn’t the case tonight. Riwoo finds himself in the middle of the dance circle, absolutely loving the attention he’s currently getting from the people around him. Sungho bursts out laughing at the situation, and you quickly join him as you watch your friend dance.

Just as you bring your drink up to your lips to take another swig from it, you feel a cold pair of hands wrap around your waist. Startled and ready to yell at whoever’s currently invading your personal space, you turn your head to look at who the hands belong to— only to find yourself face to face with one of the few familiar faces in the house tonight. “You came,” Taesan’s breath is hot against your ear, making sure you can hear him amidst all the noise. His hands on your hips pull you closer to his body, and you swear there’s sparks where his skin meets yours. “I knew you would come see me. You look great.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink (or maybe you’re just using that as an excuse), but you boldly wrap your arms around the back of Taesan’s head once you turn around properly, creating an oddly intimate scene between you two as your bodies sway to the music. He’s more than happy to comply, mesmerized at the way you feel against him. “Taesanie…” Your words are slurred as you inch closer to his face, pushing yourself up by your tippy-toes.

“Thought I told you to call me Dongmin,” His tone is playful as he looks down on you, still shorter than him despite your attempts to reach his impressive height. “Something wrong, angel?” 

“Mmph, sorry... Dongminie…” Even in your drunken state, you maintain your eye contact with the man in front of you. Taesan suddenly finds himself flustered, shocked that he is the one to break it, looking away momentarily but keeping you steady against him. “Would you be mad if I said I really wanted to kiss you right now?” This isn’t something you’d normally say, but the effects of the alcohol and Taesan’s hands on your body fill you with confidence. 

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind, but… You’re drunk,” As much as Taesan also really wanted to kiss you, the last thing he’d want is to make any moves on you while you weren’t thinking straight. “Can’t wait ‘til you’re sober?” He sends you a cheeky grin. It’s amazing how he still manages to find a way to maintain his composure to tease you, even after you’d shamelessly confessed your desires.

“I can’t kiss you, Dongmin?” Out of nowhere, you grab his face with your hands, pouting at the denial of your request. “Why not?” Your actions paired with your words make Taesan’s heart race, everyone else around him suddenly vanishing; the only thing he has on his mind is you. He couldn’t tell you how much time has passed at this point, but he can’t stop looking at your lips.

“How much did you have to drink tonight?” His question is genuine and full of concern, once again making you rethink the rumors about him amidst your drunken haze. Something in you doesn’t want to accept the idea that the boy holding you so close is the type of person to break hearts so carelessly. 

“I can’t remember,” The hands on his face fall back down to their original place behind the back of his neck as you rest your head on his chest. “I don’t know what you want from me, then.” Your voice is small now, the combination of music and voices from the nearby partygoers making it hard for him to hear you. It felt weird to think that he’d reject the advances of someone coming onto him so strongly. You can’t deny that you’re disappointed, perhaps even slightly hurt, especially after showing up to the party fully expecting to wake up in Han Taesan’s bed the morning after. 

All of a sudden, the lights are making your head hurt, it’s feeling entirely too stuffy in there, and the outfit you’re wearing makes you want to rip off your skin. This is ridiculous. Why’re you so upset at being turned down? Now, you’re almost certain it’s the alcohol that’s making you feel this way when you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. Sensing something wrong, Taesan pulls you away from his chest, hand reaching down to your chin to tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes widen once he notices your tears threatening to spill, clearly shocked to see your sudden change in mood. 

“Hey, hey.. What’s wrong?” You pull your face out of his grasp, hating the vulnerability you’re currently feeling. It’s hard to maneuver away from him with the amount of people surrounding you; Taesan only pulls you closer when you don’t say anything. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, pretty. Don’t want you crying under my watch, now.” 

Even in your current state, you feel your heart flutter at his comment. Either Han Taesan is madly in love with you, or this is just his insane charm working its magic. Probably the latter. “Can we go somewhere else?” Your voice shakes as you speak— you're not even sure where you were asking him to go, but you didn’t want to be stuck in the center of the party a second longer. “Just… anywhere? Please?” 

Taesan takes your hand in his, using his free arm to shove through the crowd. The grip on your hand is tight; he doesn’t want to lose you. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you’re not in the right mindset to want to question it any further. “Taesan, there you are!” The two of you are forced to stop temporarily after being called out by his roommate. He’s leaning against a wall with a beer in hand and a beautiful woman practically wrapped around his arm. Leehan whistles at Taesan once he notices your interlocked fingers. “Looks like you finally found her. Use protection this time, yeah?” He smirks, making the girl he’s currently with giggle at his side as she peers at the you two, making it feel like she's judging you. 

The vulgar implications of Leehan’s comment followed by their snickering makes your face heat up. You feel… Gross. “Not the fucking time.” Taesan pushes past him in annoyance before bringing you to the entrance of what you assume to be his room. The change in environment seems to calm you down immediately. The door closes behind you with a gentle click, drowning out all the noise coming from behind it. It’s significantly cooler there than it was out in the main living area, giving you the chance to breathe properly and actually hear yourself think.

Taesan walks over to the corner of his room to turn on a lamp; a warm glow fills the area and allows you to properly take in its contents. It was obvious now to see that the space was without a doubt his— various band posters pasted haphazardly on the walls, clothes rack organized neatly by the door, and queen-sized bed made to perfection in the middle of the floor. “Uh, you can sit there, if you want. It’s comfier than sitting on the floor or something,” He points to the bed with his eyes, grabbing a bottle of water from the table beside the lamp he’d just turned on. 

You trip on your own feet slightly as you walk over to the bed, startling him slightly as he moves to help you sit. A newly-opened bottle of water is placed in your empty hands as you take a seat, which you gratefully take a much-needed drink from. The feeling in the room is awkward as you avoid his eye contact, finding the cute plushie laying on his pillows more interesting than the man in front of you. 

You’re playing with the plastic label on the bottle as you hear him clear his throat, prompting you to finally look at him for the first time since entering his room. “Thanks for bringing me here, and uh, the water.” The tension in the room slowly begins to sober you up as you’re the one to break the silence. “Sorry about all this. I think I just got a little overwhelmed out there, that's all.”

“Come on baby, don’t apologize. It’s all good, okay?” There he goes again with the pet names. “If this ever happens again at one of our parties, just find me, and I’ll take you back here." Yeah, if you muster up the courage to show your face at one of these ever again. You don’t think you’re capable of coming back to this house if it means you need to live through that whirlwind of emotions every time. You can feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but you don’t care to check it. 

1 new message from “Y/N’s bodyguards ♡”! Sungho: where are u Y/N?? party’s pretty much over now

“And disregard what that dumbass said earlier,” He’s talking about Leehan, letting out a frustrated scoff replaying the brief interaction in his head. “I wasn’t, er…” Taesan’s struggling to find an appropriate way to word what he’s trying to say. “...Planning? On doing that with you tonight.” 

Your hands fidget in your lap, feeling a bit insecure now. What are you supposed to say to someone who just said they wouldn’t have sex with you? “Oh, uh… Yeah, I get it.” You almost want to laugh out loud to cope with how uncomfortable your conversation currently is.

Taesan notices the discomfort on your face after realizing what his words might imply to you. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like… I'd never want to hook up, but…” He’s stumbling over his own words as he rambles on. It’s oddly endearing to see him so flustered, a complete 180 from his usual calm, collected demeanor.  “Y/N, I think you’re attractive, like, seriously hot. But shit gets messy when there’s alcohol involved, and I didn’t want to make a move if you didn’t really want to… But I swear I would’ve kissed you right then and there if—” 

There’s a knock on the door behind him, and Taesan mentally thanks the universe for saving him from the hole he just dug himself into. “Y/N, are you in there?” Although muffled, you’re quick to recognize Sungho’s voice. “Leehan told us Taesan brought you to his room… So uh, just… Finish up whatever you’re doing and come out when you’re done, I guess?” Your cheeks redden at your friend's suggestive words. Oh god. He definitely thinks Taesan brought you in here to fuck. 

Taesan also finds himself embarrassed, even more so than he already was at his poor recovery seconds ago, quickly moving to open the door to reveal your two friends standing behind it. You smile sheepishly at them as you grab your water bottle and make your way towards the door, feeling completely sober at this point. Riwoo and Sungho quickly glance back and forth between you and Taesan, letting out a small breath of relief once seeing that seemingly nothing too bad happened while you were in there. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving you all alone out there!” Riwoo engulfs you in a huge embrace, very obviously still drunk. “I promise, like really pinky promise, I won’t let you out of my sight next time!” 

“Alright you big baby, we need to go home.” Sungho pries your mutual friend off of you, patting him on the head once he successfully pulls him away. “You didn’t see any of our texts Y/N?” You send him a confused look, reaching into your pocket to find your phone, only to be greeted with a series of notifications upon unlocking it. 

8 unread messages from “Y/N’s bodyguards ♡”! [11:43] Riwoo: Y/N WE LSOT YOU I’M SO SSORRY [11:44] Riwoo: SUNGHO IS YELLIGN AT ME RN FOR MAKING THE DANCE CIRCLE TOO BIG 🙁…. my bad for being TOO good ig… [11:47] Sungho: YES bc Y/N and I got SEPARATED and look where we are NOW  [11:47] Sungho: you’re an adult so…. i trust you Y/N [11:50] Sungho: BUT text us if u need anything or if you want to go home  [11:51] Sungho: phone is on vibrate, i’ll feel it in my pocket [12:02] Riwoo: YA IAM READY TO LEAVE WHENEVER YOUU ARE OKAY I LVOE   YOU Y/NNNNNN BE SAFE  [1:35] Sungho: where are u Y/N?? party’s pretty much over now

“Ah… I guess I didn’t notice my phone going off earlier.” It’s only a partial lie, you knew you ignored his most recent message, but the rest of them were sent while you were too preoccupied with grinding back against Han Taesan on the dance floor; It’s only reasonable to think you weren’t going to check your phone then. “Guess I wasn’t paying attention,” Your gaze flickers to Taesan briefly, who’s still holding the door open as you explain to Sungho. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t worry you guys too much.” 

“Don’t worry, she was with me.” Taesan unexpectedly chimes in to the conversation from next to you. “As long as Y/N’s okay, right?” 

Looking past the doorway, you were shocked to see that the party actually was over. The previously crowded space was close to empty now, only a handful of partygoers lingering around the room. Looks like you lost track of time... How long were you with Taesan? Sungho’s holding Riwoo onto his shoulder as they begin staggering to the front door, you and Taesan trailing closely behind in silence. 

The awkward air between you two was short lived, however, as Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into his arms, similar to how you were earlier in the night. Your back is against his chest as he rests his chin atop your head, hugging you from behind. “Sorry for sounding like a douchebag in my room earlier. I really do think you’re gorgeous, though.” He twirls you around, taking your hand in his once more as he walks you to the door.

The brisk air from outside makes you shiver, your arms immediately wrapping around your torso. You didn’t notice how cold it was while the three of you were walking there, the alcohol from the pregame warming you up too much to feel the chill in the first place. Riwoo and Sungho are already a couple feet out the door, bickering over what kind of food they should pick up on the way back to the apartment. 

In front of you, Taesan shrugs the jacket he was wearing off his back, placing it around your shoulders. The sweet gesture alone makes you heat up; you’re thankful that even after everything that’s happened between you guys tonight, he’s a gentleman. “Thanks, Dongmin.” 

He waves his hand in front of him, as if to tell you it was no big deal. “My clothes look good on you, Y/N.” The hand he places on the side of your face is gentle as he brings your lips to his, giving you a short kiss. “That’s all you get for now. You’ll just have to wait ‘til next time to kiss me properly, hm?”

tags: @minwrlds @luna2nite @taesancore @cherrytaesan @helpsplease @taylorluvation @serejae @dimplewonie @nikiismyhb (send an ask or comment to be added!)

a/n: literally the longest thing i’ve ever written thus far sorry if there’s mistakes LMFAO i’m def editing it after i posted ... AWWWKKKK

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[hyunpic]

(c) pause play

[hookedonapirate]

Figure of Speech

Summary: Killian has been in love with Emma Swan ever since he was eleven and she was his babysitter. The last time he saw her was the day he kissed her, thinking they were having a special moment… right before she headed off to college with her boyfriend.

When their paths cross years later, he’s just happy she remembers him—because while he’s a talented, free-spirited journalist who takes risks and has a knack for finding trouble, Emma is an accomplished and sophisticated politician who’s planning to run for President of the United States. 

Sensing Killian Jones—the boy who once knew her and supported her long before she entered the soul-sucking world of politics—is the key to unlocking a part of herself that’s been dormant for so long, she hires him as her speechwriter. As she travels the world to launch her 2020 presidential campaign, he is by her side, helping Emma find her voice again. 

The attraction between them sizzles, but when they eventually give into it, will their relationship withstand the demands of the election and scrutiny of the public?

A/N: Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading and @onceuponaprincessworld​ for your help with this! Thank you @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for starting the event and everyone on discord for all your help!

Before you read, there are a few things I want to clarify.

First off, this story is heavily based on the movie, Long Shot, for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon, with some elements of OUAT weaved in. What I’m referring to mainly is that the president in this fic is in no way based on President Trump. In other words, I am not using this fic to bash the current U.S. president in any shape or form, or any other real-life president. So if you plan on going into this with that mindset, I beg you to hit the back button right now. This story in no way reflects my opinions or views, I mainly stuck to the plot of the movie.

Secondly, I hope that I have made it perfectly clear in the beginning scene of this chapter that Killian is not actually a white supremacist, he is only going undercover to get his story. Nor is he Jewish like Fred Flarsky is in the movie. He’s the Killian we all know and love. So please don’t send me hate messages accusing me of either being a racist or writing Killian as one. I was very torn whether to include this scene or not but I feel it is relevant to the plot and shows Killian’s character in this story as very passionate about what he believes in and is a big risktaker when getting his point across, so I decided to keep it.

Third of all, I know some of you are sick of hearing about politics, especially since the U.S. election is so close. But this is not a political movie, it’s a romance. There is of course some talk of politics, but I’ve tried my best to keep it to a minimum. So if you’re worried about that, please don’t be. The movie genre is a romantic comedy.

Writing this fic was a huge wake-up call for me because it’s the first one in a while that I’m not proud of, for lack of a better word, because I have not been able to spend much time on it. I have so many wips in my docs it’s not even funny and I think that has really impacted how this chapter turned out. But because of this fic, I decided to take some time and work on finishing some of my wips before posting them, with the exception of this one because today is my posting date.

With that said, because I’ve been pushing myself to finish my wips, I finished writing my first original novel after working on it for two years, and I will be publishing it soon. So be sure to look out for Follow My Lead, a romance about a former ballerina and a gym owner.

Okay, now I am done with my rant, so please enjoy!

AO3 FF.N

Rated: M

2018

“So you guys are fairly active on social media, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jaxon answers absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the cue ball as he lines up the shot.

“How many times a day would you say you Tweet on average?” 

Jaxon taps the ball, sends it into its pocket, and high-fives Marcus, ignoring the question.

“Hey Rogers, ready to get a Swastika tattoo?!” Richard calls from the other room as the tattoo artist is finishing up with him.

“No, that’s okay, I’m cool,” Killian replies nonchalantly through the large lump in his throat, glad his British accent didn’t leak out as he takes his turn.

“Oh, come on, man, we’ve all got ‘em!”

Killian gulps and looks around the room, all the members pulling up their shirts to show their tattoos on the left side of their chest. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he can sense Jaxon is already suspicious of his motives. He forces a small smile, pointing to himself with his free hand as he holds up the cue stick in the other one. “You want me to get a swastika tattoo?”

“Yeah!” the group chants in unison.

“Then I’ll get a swastika tattoo,” he agrees submissively, hoping the anxiety he feels isn’t clear in his voice. He removes his leather jacket, or rather the jacket he borrowed from Victor, depositing it in a chair before he walks into the adjacent room where the tattoo artist is waiting for him. He sits in the parlor chair, his stomach twisted in knots as he chooses his left bicep for the tattoo and cringes at the thought of getting it. He’s never gotten a tattoo before, and not only is he afraid of needles, but his beliefs don’t at all resemble anything a swastika symbol resembles. Tattoos are removable, though, right? 

When the needle pierces his skin, he pinches his eyelids shut and yelps, “Blo-ooooody he-eeeell!” He realizes his mistake immediately when the words screech out in his thick, British accent. Plus, bloody hell isn’t exactly an American phrase. 

He’s praying no one noticed, because if they did, they would know he’s lying about who he claims to be, but when he flips his eyelids open, everyone’s staring at him.

Fuck.

Jaxon, the leader of the group, enters the room with Killian’s jacket in one hand and wallet in the other, raising it for everyone to see Killian’s driver’s license. His heart flitters with panic. “Look at this. He’s been lying to us. His name isn’t John Rogers,” Jaxon announces angrily. Marcus appears next to him, holding up his laptop. On the screen is the Storybrooke Advocate website with Killian’s profile pic on the page. “It’s Killian Jones. He works for the Storybrooke Advocate! He’s a fucking journalist!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I can explain!” Killian pleads, raising his hands in surrender. 

The members circle him like sharks, and everything becomes a blur as they yank him from the chair and slam him against a table. 

“What are you doing, trying to fucking embarrass us, huh?!” Jaxon screams at him. “Who sent you?!”

“No one sent me!” Killian claims adamantly, fear and pain crippling him as he tries to think his way out of this. “I was just…”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marcus reaches into Killian’s jeans pocket as the others hold him down, and pulls out his phone. Which is currently recording everything. “He’s been recording us this entire time!”

Jaxon’s face is red with anger, steam practically emitting from his ears as he grits his teeth and fists Killian’s shirt in a vice-like grip, pulling him so close that Killian smells his wretched breath. “You infiltrated our group! You’re gonna fucking die!”

They say your life flashes before your eyes during your very last moments. They say it’s like reliving every moment that’s ever stuck with you—every moment that’s ever made an impression on you. Killian always thought when he was finally shuffled off to sleep with the fishes, his life would appear in sequence or at least in random order, featuring all the people who have played a vital role in his life—his parents, his brother, his best friend—but he never thought one person would stick in his mind. He never thought all the images flashing before his eyes would be of one person and one person only.  

The woman he’s been in love with since he was eleven years old.

Killian remembers when he first fell in love with her like it were yesterday. Or at least an eleven-year-old boy’s version of love. He remembers the song, It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday by Boyz II Men, was playing on the boombox. He remembers what day it was, what he was wearing and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He remembers thinking about one of his favorite movies, The Sandlot, how Squints tricked the lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, into kissing him and how she eventually married him even though she was older and way out of his league. 

Back then, a three or four year age gap seemed like a huge deal, but maybe because he was so young and she was… well she was so grown up and mature and very beautiful for her age. Not Wendy Peffercorn. Well, he supposes Wendy was too, but Killian had his real-life version of the movie character. His version of her was also blonde. She may not have been a lifeguard, but she was his next-door neighbor and also his babysitter ever since his brother left to join the Navy. Killian’s bedroom had an excellent view of her backyard and he would occasionally watch her sunbathing by the pool as she listened to music on her headphones or read a book in her bikini. Not only did she have a beautiful body, but she was wicked smart. She was passionate about the environment and the things she cared about. She was super nice to him—which went a long way with him—and had a ridiculously cute, dimpled smile. She was perfect. An angel.

Maybe that’s why, right before his death, she’s the only one he sees.

Before he met her, he never considered kissing a girl, or even liking one for that matter. He thought girls were gross and had cooties. But Emma was no girl. Not even at fifteen. She was a woman. 

Emma Swan was his Wendy Peffercorn.

She still is. Even as he’s being threatened by a group of angry white supremacists. 

She’s all he sees.

“Did you know that every year, the school throws away over five hundred tons of recyclable garbage? And no one cares!”

“Aye, it’s rubbish. But how do you get muppets to care about stuff they don’t care about?” 

Emma shrugs. “They’ll just…” She bites her bottom lip, hesitance etching her features, “they’ll just c-care because it’s the right thing to care about.” She may not have all the answers, but she’s the most inspiring person he knows.

He smiles and rests one elbow on the counter, his chin perched in his hand as he admires her passion for the environment. He admires how beautiful she is in simply a snug pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a picture of a buttercup on the front. He admires her waist-length, golden hair, how it glows radiantly in the sunlight cascading through the kitchen window and how it swishes from side to side when she turns around to grab a mitt and pull the pizza out of the oven. Delicious aromas of crisp, baked bread, melted mozzarella cheese and sweet tomato sauce waft through the kitchen, making his stomach growl. Licking his lips, he jumps off the stool and heads over to grab a slice from the pan.

She gently swats his hand away. “Don’t touch, kid, you’ll burn yourself. Let it cool, first.”

He frowns as he returns to his seat. He hates it when she calls him that. He doesn’t want her to think of him as a kid; he’s almost a teenager! Heeding her warning, he does his best to resist the temptation of getting up again and grabbing a slice, even though the gooey, golden cheese, colorful toppings and toasted crust look amazing. Instead, he places the hand she’d touched on his cheek. He never wants to wash his hand or his cheek ever again.

Emma continues the speech she’d prepared for her Student Council election. She’s running for president, and he is not only her biggest supporter, but he also came up with her campaign slogan, ‘Stay calm and vote for Swan’. He was quite proud of himself when she actually thought it was clever enough to use.

“I would definitely vote for you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killy,” she says, ruffling a hand through his hair.

Now that’s a better nickname. Though he hates when his brother calls him Killy, he never minds when Emma does. 

Once the pizza is cool enough to eat, Emma returns to the oven, using a pizza cutter on the pie. She plates two big slices, one for each of them, and brings them to the counter, sitting next to him. They eat their pizza in silence at first, besides the yummy food noises they make.

“Thanks for helping me. I know it’s probably boring hearing my speech over and over again.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all,” he mumbles through a mouth full of pizza. “I’m just happy to help,” he smiles. His hand pauses midair, still holding his half-eaten slice of pizza as he locks eyes with his beautiful babysitter. He wonders if she feels the same way he does, and normally he wouldn’t think it was possible, but the way she’s looking at him right now makes him rethink everything.

She reaches out to him, and he closes his eyes as she caresses his cheek. His heart slams against his chest and he loses all the air from his lungs. And that’s when he knows he’s totally and completely in love. Her hand feels so wonderfully warm, he wants to spend the rest of his life feeling her touch and immediately gets a chill when she pulls her hand away. 

“All better.”

His eyes flip open to see Emma wiping her hand with a napkin. She looks up at him and smiles. “You had some sauce on your face.”

He chuckles on the outside, but internally he’s berating himself for being foolish enough to think someone like Emma Swan could possibly like him. She’s way too good for him. 

Especially when he’s thirteen and has to wear glasses. As if hitting puberty isn’t bad enough, he also has to sport the most hideous pair of thick-framed glasses. By then, his father said he was too old to have a babysitter, so he didn’t get to see Emma as much. He mowed the Swans’ lawn occasionally, but she was gone most of the time with extracurricular activities and prepping for college. He convinced himself she could never be into someone like him. Someone who was nerdy and awkward and four years her junior. 

Until one day when he’s fourteen and she’s eighteen.

She’s leaving for college and he’s been in his room sulking while listening to It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye for two weeks, not looking forward to her departure. He’s afraid he’ll never see her again. But he’s also happy for her. She’s off to better and greater things, greener pastures as they say. She’s going to Harvard and leaving him in the dust.

He’s on the front porch, sitting on the top step, his chin in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees as he watches Emma and her parents packing up her things. He wants to offer his assistance, but this seems like a very important bonding moment for the three of them and he doesn’t wish to interrupt. He can tell Mr. and Mrs. Swan are both incredibly sad but also very proud of their daughter, and there are lots of hugs and tears by the time the car is packed. Then Emma says something to her parents and they wave at Killian. He smiles and waves back before they head inside.

Emma walks over to him, and he immediately stands up, making his way down the remaining steps.

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling at him.

“Hey,” he parrots, offering a small smile. “So, you’re all packed?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving soon.”

Nodding nervously, he scratches behind his ear as he looks away, not sure what to say.

“Look, I’m not a goodbye person, but — ”

“Let’s not say goodbye then,” he suggests and offers his hand. But instead of shaking it, she throws her arms around him. Killian’s stunned, and can’t even move at first, completely paralyzed in her embrace.

Emma’s hugging him.

He slowly molds into her body, his arms wrapping around her waist as she tightens her hold. Her hair smells like strawberries and cream as he buries his face there. He never wants to let her go.

“I’ll miss you, Killian,” she whispers in his ear.

His heart does a little somersault, and he whispers, “Not a day will go by when I won’t think of you.”

He feels her smile against his neck. “Good.”

That one simple word does something to him and he grins into her hair, holding her tighter. 

She breaks the hug long before he’s ready, and he’s still awestruck as she leans in to kiss him.

Bloody hell. 

Emma Swan leans in for a kiss as he springs forward to meet her halfway. Their lips finally connect like they had so many times in his dreams, but he doesn’t fail to miss how surprised she is when a gasp escapes against his mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but he knows he probably should after realizing she was actually going for his cheek. But her lips are so soft and warm and taste like cinnamon and cocoa, and he swears they move ever so slightly against his. He still has his arms around her, pressing her to him, and her center suddenly moves away from him. Forcing himself to break the kiss, he looks down and notices the very prominent and very hard erection tenting his pants.

Fuck.

His cheeks are on fire as he looks up, apology and embarrassment flushing his face. He’s expecting her to either slap him or storm away and never look back, but she stares down at his groin, her mouth agape. 

“Bloody hell, I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” Emma squeaks as her eyes snap up to his.

Just then, a ‘69 Ford Mustang pulls up in front of Emma’s house, the music booming through the speakers at an obnoxious volume.

He panics when Emma’s boyfriend gets out of the car and makes his way over to them. Killian forgot Neal was riding with Emma to Harvard, where he was certainly not attending. Neal could only get into a community college.

Killian quickly pulls off the backward baseball cap from his head and uses it to cover his obvious boner. 

“Hey, babe, ready to go?” 

She nods and looks at Killian, a small smile tilting her lips. 

“Bye, four-eyes,” Neal taunts with a condescending sneer as he wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

Really?

Killian bites his tongue as he rolls his eyes. That nickname really gets old. Can’t he think of something more original?

“Don’t call him that,” Emma scolds her boyfriend, swatting his chest. “He has a name.”

“Sorry, I mean Killian,” he says insincerely before turning around and pulling Emma with him.

As Killian watches them walk away, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with his finger, he would give anything to be the one with his arm around Emma, the one leaving with her instead of being the one she leaves. She cranes her neck to look at him as she walks away. He swears she’s looking at him longingly but he’s sure he’s only imagining it. She’s still gazing at him until her parents emerge from the house. Neal doesn’t even have the courtesy to open the door to her parents’ station wagon for her, and instead hurries into the back seat. 

Arsehole, Killian thinks bitterly as he watches the vehicle pull away from the curb. Emma stares at him through the passenger’s window, and their eyes connect. He flashes one last smile and waves. She smiles back at him and presses her palm to the window before she disappears down the road and out of his life, leaving a permanent gaping hole in his heart. 

He always thought not being able to see Emma anymore was the scariest thing he’s ever experienced. But that was before he was inked with part of a swastika tattoo so his cover wouldn’t be blown. That was before he fell from a two-story building and landed in a dumpster. Luckily the trash bags cushioned his fall and didn’t contain any glass or other sharp objects. He hadn’t really thought that through when he jumped. But then again, he didn’t really have time to do anything but run for his life while Marcus and Jaxon were busy trying to figure out how to stop Killian’s phone from recording. Killian took advantage of the distraction and plucked the phone from their hands, sprinting for the nearby window.

His phone.

Killian quickly lifts his hand to see that not only is his phone still in his hand but it’s still intact. He climbs out of the dumpster, his entire body sore, but he lands on his feet. He’d left his leather jacket up there, but it wasn’t even his. Killian doesn’t wear leather jackets, he’s content with his hoodies. He borrowed the jacket from his best friend, Victor. He’ll be pissed, but oh well, Killian will buy him a new one.

Three of the members are poking their heads out the window and Killian looks up at them, throwing the hand that’s still holding his phone in the air. He feels like Bennie in The Sandlot when he finally gets the baseball from the beast and hurdles the fence, still holding onto the ball. The difference is the beast chased Bennie down. The difference is the beast in the movie was not actually a beast at all. He can’t say the same about those white supremacists, though.

“We trusted you, man!” Richard calls out. He’s the one Killian had contacted through one of their social media groups. 

“Sorry, mate,” he says in his British accent, his words lacking any sort of apology as he spins around. “Peace!” he calls behind him trying to sound as American as he can, and instead of saluting the members with two fingers, which is not a peace sign for Brits, he flips them the bird as he goes. 

∞∞∞

“Tonight on Walsh News, we take an in-depth look at Emma Swan, a Rhodes Scholar, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a protégé of President Gold who tapped Swan two years ago to be the youngest Secretary of State in the history of this nation.”

As sore as Killian is from that jump out of a two-story window and as much as he hates that arsehole, Walsh, and everything the media mongrel represents, he lifts his eyes from his MacBook. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and manages a small smile when he sees Emma on the television screen. He knows what he’d done to write his article and expose the White Power group was worth it. He may have lost faith in humanity long ago, but Emma’s passion and ambition and hope have always stuck with him. He wants to believe the support he’d always shown her when they were young has always stuck with her too, but he doubts it. She doesn’t need his support. She never did. She was never a helpless duckling, and even after she lost the student council election to August Booth because of his stupid two prom platform, her wounds healed and she eventually spread her wings and soared high in the sky, leaving Storybooke in the dust. 

As Killian gazes at her wistfully at the screen, he sees the elegant swan he always knew she’d become. While everyone he knows had hopes and dreams they gave up on long ago, Emma is the one person who made hers come true. Well, not quite all of them. She always talked about saving the planet, but he knows her work isn’t nearly finished. She’s only thirty-seven, and even though they haven’t spoken to one another since the day he watched her ride away in her parents’ 1987 Pontiac Safari Station Wagon, he still believes in her. He’ll always believe in her.

∞∞∞

Emma sucks in a deep breath as she twists the knob and opens the thick, wooden door, entering the Oval Office with a little bit of forced enthusiasm. President Gold had been vague over the phone about what he’d wished to discuss with her, but his tone of voice indicated it might be something big. “Good morning Mr. President,” she greets with the smile she had practiced in her bedroom mirror repeatedly that morning. 

“Hello, Ms. Swan.” He rises from his chair and rounds the desk, gesturing to one of the couches. “Please, have a seat.”

She sits down and crosses her legs, folding her hands in her lap as he sits on the couch across from her and rests his elbows on his knees. “Ms. Swan…”

“Yes, sir?”

He blows out a long breath as if whatever he’s about to tell her has been weighing on his mind for quite some time. “I will not be seeking re-election.”

Emma’s sure the awestruck expression on her face doesn’t even come close to how surprised she actually is. “Really?” Did she hear him correctly?

He nods, clapping his hands together. “Look, I know how absurd it sounds seeing as I’m only halfway through my first term—”

“And you’re incredibly popular, sir.” But she knows most of his popularity stems from being a television star before he took office. He hosted the popular game show, Let’s Strike a Deal.

“And I’m going to use that popularity to transition into something more prestigious than the presidency. I wanna make it in the movies.”

Emma blinks, not believing what she’s hearing. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to process this. “Yoooouuuu… want to leave… the presidency… to be a movie star?”

“I know it’s tough to make the leap from television to film, but I think I’m going to give it a shot.”

After the initial shock washes over her, she sees this as an opportunity. She had planned on running for president in 2024, but with Gold leaving office at the end of his first term, perhaps she can use this to her advantage. And she knows just how to go about it. Gold may be good at convincing people—he is an actor after all—but Emma not only has far more education than him, her extensive political background has helped her greatly improve her cajolery tactics over the years. After she lost the Student Council election to August Booth in high school, she’s learned that in order to get ahead, sometimes you have to use a little sleight of hand to get there—give the people what they want, so to speak. Or, in this case, help Gold realize just how legendary his presidency could be.

“Mr. President, have you given any consideration as to whom you might endorse? I’m sure you’re probably thinking of Yang or Crowley. Sound choices,” she nods and purses her lips, averting her gaze, a look of contemplation on her face. “It’s so strange because I was considering a run in 2024, and I can’t stop wondering what…” she looks at Gold again, “what it would do for your legacy to endorse the first female president. I mean, wow. ” The word is breathy, almost a whisper. “Now that’s a legacy.”

Gold presses his joined hands to his lips and has a thoughtful expression embedded in his features, but she can’t discern what he’s thinking.

She looks at the floor between them while he ponders her words. 

“Emma?” he finally says after a moment.

“Hmm?” She reverts her eyes to him.

“I would like to endorse you to be the next President of the United States.” 

Her entire body is thrumming with excitement and her stomach is full of butterflies; she doesn’t even care he said it like it was his idea. She’ll even give him credit for it. Besides, trying to convince him otherwise would be like trying to teach a fish how to bark. She closes her eyes and refrains from jumping up and down on the couch. She opens her eyes again, trying to hide the excitement in her voice but fails, her tone coming out unusually high pitched. “I mean, if you think that’s a good idea, sir, I trust you completely. I’d be… I’d be honored.”

He reclines back, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll be pulling for Team Emma. Because you’ve been a great secretary.”

“Of State,” she adds.

“Whatever. You’ve done it well, Dearie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So stay focused. Don’t make any major screw-ups. Don’t kill anyone. That’s probably not a problem for you. I don’t know what you’re into. Whatever. And before you know it…” He rises from the couch and hums the US Presidential Anthem. 

“I like the sound of that,” Emma says with a jubilant smile as she stands up.

“Hey here she comes, it’s the first lady president,” he chants.

“Thank you, sir.” She heads for the door, Gold following behind her still singing. 

“Who can believe she is actually a woman. She’s got a big brain and a couple other assets.”

Emma opens the door and walks through, not even giving another thought to how incredibly sexist Gold is being. She’s floating high on a cloud as she sashays proudly down the hall and raises a subtle victory fist in the air, whispering to herself, “Yessss!”

∞∞∞

“You’re gonna love this,” Killian raves as he hands the piece to his boss. “I almost died for this.”

Sidney lowers the mug from his lips, swallowing his coffee down. He offers a tightlipped smile as he glances very briefly at the draft before looking up at Killian, a serious expression clouding his face. “Got a second?”

“Of course.” 

“Come with me.”

Killian follows Sydney into his office and sits across from him at the desk, setting his satchel on the floor.

Sydney sets down Killian’s article and his coffee mug, folding his hands together on the desk. “I have some great news, Killian. We’ve just been bought by Walsh Media.” 

Killian pales and his stomach drops. “What?!” Blood bubbles under his skin at the thought of the wanker buying the Storybrooke Advocate. The thought of him owning something Killian has literally put his blood, sweat and tears into. “Bloody hell. Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ever since he was a kid, he’s dreamed of being an investigative journalist, so he’s been nothing but loyal and dedicated to the company from day one. But in the blink of an eye, Walsh has managed to ruin all that for him.

“Look, I knew you would have a poor reaction—”

“A poor reaction?!”

“Killian, this is a good thing.”

“How?! That wanker represents everything we’ve been fighting against since day one. The whole point of this paper is to fight giant media conglomerates. Now we’ve been bought by a giant media conglomerate.”

“I see the irony,” Sydney nods.

“Irony?!” Killian stands from his chair, his voice growing louder with every word. “He’s going to turn us into a giant propaganda machine! And not the good kind!” Anger pulsates through him as he paces back and forth in front of Sidney’s desk; he’s never been this worked up before in his entire life. And that’s saying something for him.

“Killian, we’re running out of options. We’ve been running as long as we can on ads for weed doctors and escorts.”

Killian stops in his tracks and raises his hands in the air. “Then run penis enlargement ads or something!”

“Come on, Killian,” Sydney admonishes.

He sighs in exasperation, trying to calm down, his voice calmer. “This Walsh guy ran fake stories to get Gold elected.”

Sydney shakes his head and raises a finger at him. “No, they couldn’t prove that.”

“We proved it!” He holds up three fingers. “I wrote three articles about it. You published them!”

Sydney nods, lowering his face into the palm of his hand. “I did.”

“The shite that comes out of this guy’s mouth? He said same-sex marriage caused tornadoes! He represents everything that’s wrong with this country!”

“Killian, it’s done, alright?”

He freezes. “It’s done?!”

“They’re upstairs, finalizing the deal right now.” 

Killian presses the pads of his fingers to his temples and turns away from his boss as he tries to process this. 

Sydney stands and rounds his desk, sitting on the edge, pleading with him. “Look, we have to cut two-thirds of our staff.”

Killian turns around, devastation in his features. “Two-thirds?”

“Yes. But we want to keep you on. They want to keep you on. It’s just,” he blows out a hesitant breath, “you just have to tone it down a little bit.”

Killian furrows his brows in bewilderment. “I don’t know how I can tone things down any more than I’m toning them down, mate,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Okay look, Killian, you’re a brilliant writer…”

“Thank you.”

“You’re funny, you take risks, you connect with people…”

Killian’s brows pinch in suspicion. “Why am I sensing there’s a big but coming?”

“You have a distinct, authentic voice… but… ”

“And there it is…” he sighs.

“But, sometimes you’re a little too much.”

Killian is taken aback. “I don’t think I am too much. I actually think I’m the perfect portion,” he says defensively.

“Look, you have your job, so focus on that and just toe the line a little bit.”

Killian is enraged. Toe the line a little bit?! He’s not toeing any lines. “I quit.”

Sydney’s face twists with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Oh, come on, Killian…”

“You should quit, too. Everyone should bloody well quit.”

“No, I’m not quitting, I need my job.”

“I need my job too. I’m broke. But I can’t work for that tosser.”

Sydney sighs. “At least let me fire you so you can collect unemployment.”

Killian slices a hand through the air over his chest. “No bloody way! I want nothing from him. Besides, I want him to know I quit.”

“He’ll never know it, he’s never heard of you. You’re going to destroy your life to spite a guy who’s never heard of you?”

“Yes! You said it best! That’s exactly what I’m doing. Fuck this.” Killian grabs his satchel and walks out of Sydney’s office, closing the door behind him, announcing to all his former coworkers, “Journalism died today, people!”

∞∞∞

“So the headline is, you’re in great shape,” Mary Margaret, the polling team manager, points out as she displays the next presentation slide.

Emma’s sitting at the meeting table between her Chief of Staff, Regina Mills, and Deputy Chief of Staff, Robin Locksley, trying to follow along with the presentation, but it’s difficult for Emma to focus when her stomach is full of butterflies. She still can’t believe she persuaded Gold to endorse her. Her head is spinning.

“Ninety-two percent, that’s good,” Regina comments. 

“It’s very good,” Mary Margaret agrees exuberantly and moves on to the next slide, which shows Emma’s personality traits and how they were ranked. “Your sense of humor is eighty-two, which is solid.” Mary Margaret cocks her head to the side, as though she has to rethink that assessment. “It’s solid, but we wouldn’t mind seeing that number go up a few points… or more.”

Regina leans in to speak to Emma as she takes notes. “I’ll get some writing samples from some funny speechwriters.”

Emma sets her pen down and smiles. “Thanks, Regina.” She rests her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together as she reverts her attention to Mary Margaret and says, “But I’m really interested in knowing how people feel about my accomplishments.” 

“Right, so we don’t drill down on specific policies, and that’s only because people don’t seem to care.”

Well, that’s a blow to the gut.

“With that said, if you could broker a deal that gets you out there talking about something you feel strongly about, that would be really great.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” Emma says enthusiastically, sitting on the edge of her chair. “We’ve been looking for an opening to start a conversation about the environment.” 

“That sounds great,” Mary Margaret says with a grin, but Emma’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic and trying to hold back a laugh, or if she’s being sincere. “Now, if I may, onto your romantic life…” The brunette shows a photo of Emma and Graham Humbert smiling for the camera.

Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she rests her chin in her palm. She doesn’t have a romantic life. One make-out session with a world leader she barely knows doesn’t constitute a romance.

However, the way Mary Margaret gushes as she looks at the couple in the photo, one would think they were actually a couple. “Remember the stir online when you and the Canadian Prime Minister were seated next to each other at the Global Business Forum?”

Emma nods, wishing she were taking a nap right now. She doesn’t care about improving her personality traits or starting a romance that will raise her numbers and appease the public. Although she is quite proud of her two highest scores, elegance and charisma, both ranked at over ninety-five percent.

“A relationship like that,” Mary Margaret points to the photo of Emma and Graham, “could push you into the high nineties.”

“High nineties? Wow,” Regina murmurs to herself, making note of it.

“That brings us to…” Mary Margaret switches to the next slide, showing Emma’s wave.

She knits her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong with my wave?”

“That kind of elbow movement is um…” Mary Margaret purses her lips as though she’s trying to figure out how to put it delicately, but then gives up, “well, it stresses people out.”

“You know what? It’s just an area of improvement,” Robin assures Emma after sensing the offended tone in her voice.

She supposes the movement in her elbow is a bit too much. It makes her look like a robot actually. “Fine, I’ll work on the wave.”

∞∞∞

“I’m not going to a fancy rich person party,” Killian declares after Victor proposed going to the World Wildlife Fund benefit in Philly tonight. Killian had shared the details with Victor and now they’re walking down Main Street discussing their plans for the evening. But Killian thought Vic was trying to make him feel better. Going to a fancy, rich person party will only remind Killian how rich he is not. He had something else in mind, something involving the closest bar and lots and lots of rum. 

“Oh, come on, Jones. Don’t be so judgemental. There will be free booze and pandas and shit. People love pandas and shit.”

Killian shakes his head. “I just lost my job, I’m not really in the mood to mingle.”

“Fine, just sit at home and do nothing. Don’t hang out with your best friend and Boyz II Men.”

Killian’s ears perk up and he stops in his tracks. “Boyz II Men will be there?”

Victor stops walking and turns around, nodding. “Yep. They’re bringing their timeless blend of R&B and hip hop to the party. The fancy rich party doesn’t sound so bad after all, now does it?”

Not at all. He used to listen to Boyz II Men and other popular musicians in the nineties. But mostly Boyz II Men because it’s what he and Emma would listen to when she was over at his house babysitting him. He didn’t know Victor then; they met in college before Victor went off to medical school, but they have similar tastes in music. Which is how Victor knew exactly how to persuade Killian into going to a fancy, rich person party. “Okay, I’m in, mate.”

“That’s the spirit!” Victor pats Killian on the shoulder, and they walk again as Victor sings Motownphilly.

∞∞∞

“I’m starving. Why didn’t you power bar me?” Emma asks Robin as they make their way down the staircase, Regina and her Secret Service agents following behind them.

The Grand Room glitters like something out of a fairy tale, all candlelight and crystal chandeliers and gilt and sophisticated shine. The attendees glitter, the women dripping in diamonds and other precious stones and the men donning suits and black ties. 

“I tried to, but you pushed my hand away,” Robin chuckles.

“Hopefully they don’t have skewered foods. I can’t eat skewered foods gracefully; I always look like a fucking cavewoman.”

“And there are cameras everywhere.” Regina points at a dutiful photographer who’s unobtrusively circling the perimeter of the room, taking pictures of as many of the guests as he can. “That would hurt your elegance score.”

“That’s my best score.”

When they reach the buffet table, Emma’s relieved to find that not all the food is on skewers. But even so, she’s so hungry, she may still look like a cavewoman trying to stuff as much food into her mouth as she can. “Cover me?”

“Of course.”

Regina and Robin both stand behind her like walls as Emma makes her first selection, grabbing a saucy meatball on a toothpick and bringing it to her mouth, being careful not to drip any sauce on her black dress. 

“Oh my god, these meatballs are really good,” Emma mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Graham Humbert is approaching,” Regina warns her. “He’s about nine feet away.”

“Shit,” Emma whispers and shoves another meatball into her mouth before wiping her lips and chin with a napkin. After swallowing it down and discarding the napkin, she spins around, offering a bright smile. 

When Graham approaches her, giving her a once over, Regina and Robin disperse.

“Graham… how are you?”

“Good evening.” His lips twitch in a pleased smile as he takes Emma’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I am so sorry I missed you at the White House a few weeks ago,” he says in his thick, Irish brogue. He was born in Canada, but his parents are originally from Ireland, so naturally, he took on their Irish accent.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Emma waves off his apology with a flick of her hand. “Maybe next time?”

“Well, I—”

“If I may?” the photographer interrupts, holding up his camera.

“Aye, of course,” Graham turns toward him, and Emma relents, remembering what Mary Margaret said about how being seen with Graham would raise her score. She supposes if she’s going to be running for president, she must endure some things she may not like, in order to appease the public. Besides, it’s not like Graham is bad looking; in fact, he’s rather handsome with his curly brown hair and grey-blue eyes. But her hectic schedule doesn’t allow time for a romantic relationship. 

Graham wraps his arm around her as she places a tentative hand on his back. The camera flashes a few times as Emma and Graham hold their smiles.

“One more,” Graham says, just as Emma’s about to pull away. 

A few more successive shots are taken before Graham thanks the photographer and they break their pose, turning toward each other. 

He inches closer, speaking intimately in her ear. “What do you say we get out of here? Grab a drink somewhere a bit more… private?”

The music changes from something soft and elegant to something more familiar. Very familiar actually. 

Motownphilly.

Emma looks over Graham’s shoulder and her eyes light up when she sees Boyz II Men on stage. “Yeeeessss!”  

When Regina told her about the World Wildlife Fund benefit, she failed to mention Boyz II Men would be performing.

“Yeah?” Graham asks, a big smile spreading across his lips.

While he’s thinking she was saying yes to his invitation, Emma had forgotten his presence as soon as she heard the music. Not that she would’ve accepted his invitation anyway. But now she sees this as an opportunity to avoid the question altogether. “Oh my God!” Emma scurries over to the crowd that’s gathering around the entertainers of the evening.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright. Philly, make some noise. Make some noise!”

The crowd whistles and cheers, and Emma is taken back to when she was a kid again. She was ten when this song came out—when she bought their CD—and listened to it constantly throughout her teen years. 

Graham joins her on the dance floor as she moves to the music, not even caring about her elegance score. She literally hasn’t danced like this since high school, but she feels more carefree than she has in years and she hasn’t even had a sip of champagne. Stuffy music and champagne have never been her thing. But this… this is her music.

“Duty calls.” Graham’s deep voice in her ear makes her jump, and she spins around to look at him. “I’ll take a snow check on those drinks. Canadian for a rain check,” he winks.

“Okay,” Emma says, forcing a small laugh at his joke. 

“Good evening,” he bids her, slowly walking away.

∞∞∞

“I feel very underdressed,” Killian grumbles as he peers down at himself. He’d never thought to change out of his blue jeans, t-shirt and black hoody, and here he is drinking champagne in a room full of rich people who are wearing tuxes and formal dresses.

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” Victor says as they make their way through the crowd. 

Killian knows he’s just being nice though. Even Victor is wearing a dress shirt and blazer, but then again he blends in more with the other rich folk because unlike Killian, he’s not jobless or poor; he’s a doctor who makes more than a decent living.

Killian finishes his champagne and places the flute on a tray when a waiter approaches, and snatches another one, gulping it down like rum.

“Easy, buddy. You’re pounding those drinks pretty hard, don’t you think?” And that’s coming from Victor, who’s at the bar every night he’s not on call.

“I got fired today, mate.” 

“I thought you said you quit?”

Killian’s gaze moves across the room as he turns his head to look at Victor who is standing next to him. “I was forced to quit because—” His words die in his throat, his jaw dropping when his eyes land on a gorgeous blonde dancing.

But not just any blonde. Killian recognizes her. 

It’s the Secretary of State. It’s Emma Swan. His first crush. His first kiss. 

He hasn’t seen her in person since she was eighteen, but she’s even more stunning as a grown woman. And she’s even more stunning than she is on television. 

[kitauji-king]

‘Liz and the Blue Bird’ Recap Part 2

It’s another day and Mizore is back in the science lab feeding the blowfish. Does anyone know what the significance of the blowfish are? Is there a hidden metaphor or meaning that I’ve missed? Yes, there’s the connection with Liz feeding the animals, but why blowfish?

Niiyama-sensei askes Mizore if she has a second to talk about Squarespace.

Mizore is very familiar with the concept. She flashes back to her first year when she found out, indirectly, that Nozomi had quit the band.

Niiyama: 

Niiyama-sensei didn’t come here empty handed, she’s here to talk to Mizore about her future.

Through the window on the other side of the school, this time it’s Nozomi who catches a glimpse at Mizore being occupied with someone else.

Nozomi asks if she can feed the fish with her someday to which Mizore hastily agrees. Anything to spend more time with her favorite person.

Nozomi asks to take a look at the pamphlet Niiyama handed her.

She sees that it’s a pamphlet for a music college. At first intrigued and seconds later concerned?

The first time I watched this scene, it kinda flew over my head. Now after rewatching it who knows how many times, I see that this is the moment where we realize Nozomi isn’t actually as perfect as Mizore makes her out to be. This is the first instance where Nozomi begins realizing that her friend may be evolving before her very eyes, and she doesn’t know how to handle it.

In reality, Mizore hasn’t even made the decision to commit to music school yet, but Nozomi just assumes that she’s already made up her mind because it just makes too much sense. Mizore is an extremely skilled oboist as everyone knows, so it was only a matter of time before she considered the next step. Nozomi doesn’t wanna get left in the dust.

However, now that Nozomi’s decided to apply, Mizore is gung ho about applying. Nozomi’s decision is her decision. If she can stay Nozomi’s side then it doesn’t matter where she goes.

Y’all really gotta learn how to communicate :/

Natsuki, Yuuko, and Nozomi are doing band council business while Mizore is cranking away at the piano. What can’t she do?

We overhear Natsuki and Yuuko’s cheeky conversation about how the latter is ‘unintentionally’ applying to the same college as the former. Natsuki is just blatantly flirting with her at this point, and I’m not mad.

Speaking of college, Nozomi takes a moment to brag about her friend.

Natsuki remembered just the previous day overhearing about how Mizore had no idea what she wanted to do in her future, but now it seems that she’s figured it out, so she’s proud of her. For a second.

If Nozomi jumped off a cliff would you do it too? Actually, don’t answer that.

It’s one thing to want to apply to the same school as one of your friends, even Natsuki and Yuuko are doing that (unintentionally, as Yuuko would allege), but Mizore hasn’t given them any other reason to suggest that she actively wants to attend music school.

Nozomi claims that Mizore was just joking. If that’s the case, then she should really work on her delivery.

When pressed about it, Nozomi is wishy-washy about her answer. Suddenly she’s not so sure about the whole music school thing. It’s as if she only said would apply because she was in the heat of the moment.

Nozomi’s decision is her decision and that’s all that matters.

Mizore blindly agreeing with Nozomi about everything isn’t sitting right with Yuuko. Yuuko doesn’t have the type of personality to let something that bothers her just slide. We were well acquainted with this side of her personality back in season 1 of Hibike when she was determined to get Kaori to play the trumpet solo in the competition instead of Reina.

This is the content I want to see.

I have a couple theories about this exchange. Either Nozomi already knows the answer and is just asking Mizore out of courtesy, or now that she knows Mizore is beginning to evolve as a person, she worries that there’s a chance Mizore might’ve made a new friend and that makes Nozomi a bit jealous. I’m leaning more towards the second one because Nozomi sounds a bit too relieved when she says “is that so?” 

Also, here’s a pic of the Minami Quartet while they’re at the Agata Festival. This shot is from the next Hibike movie, Chikai no Finale, which takes place adjacently to this one.

Mizore’s been promoted to cute nickname status.

:)

Ah yes, the face of somebody in love with their best friend.

Mizore’s caught off guard by how persistent Ririka is being with her. This might be the first time someone’s been this forward with her since... well, since she met Nozomi.

Well, it wasn’t a flat-out no this time, so progress?

I’m surprised by how much I ended up liking Ririka. She’s really cute and she seems to genuinely care about getting Mizore to like her.

Mizore’s going to have one heck of a fine.

Me: *laser-like focus on Nozomi putting a hand on Mizore’s waist*

Nozomi looks after Mizore by standing up to the nagging library assistant for her sake.

Sounds a little funny coming from someone who didn’t turn their book in on time.

This whole scene makes me wanna question the people who doubt the validity of Mizore and Nozomi’s friendship and who even go as far as vilifying Nozomi. Are we watching the same movie?

Things are going well for the girls. The birds are flying side by side. For now.

Ririka walks in on her senpai scraping her own reed and threading it.

Mizore begins to open up to Ririka little by little. Ririka’s efforts at trying to befriend her haven’t gone unnoticed.

A series of images of Ririka being adorable.

Maybe Mizore could get used to having Ririka around, it is kinda nice to be looked up to after all.

A sudden mood swing. Ririka didn’t do well in her audition, so now won’t get a chance to play beside her senpai :’(

*looks at the camera like Jim from the office*

This rug texture looks like a jpeg.

So glad to see these two making a cameo.

As Mizore helps set up the room, she can’t help but eavesdrop on Hazuki and Midori’s conversation.

Hazuki: >:(

Midori is quite the con artist as it seems.

This is just a throwaway scene, it couldn’t possibly be referenced later on in the film for any possible reason...

Nozomi has a smile on her face for probably 90% of this movie, but it’s genuine probably not even half of the time. She hides behind a mask. Here, we see it slip off for a second until a girl walks in front of her, obscuring her face, and then after the jumpcut, she’s already recomposed herself.

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Something I’ve noticed is that Nozomi also has her own nervous habit: she shifts and shuffles her feet when she’s anxious.

Mizore ended up inviting Ririka with her to the pool and, by the looks of it, the other double reed girls too. Mizore’s face lights up after seeing how much Ririka appreciated being included.

Maybe having other friends besides Nozomi isn’t so bad.

Ririka gets her chance to play next to her senpai like she wanted, and a lone bird soars. Mizore is learning to fly independently from Nozomi.

I’m not sure how or why Ririka didn’t pass the audition, based on this duet she seems to be pretty good for a first year. They’re both playing in time and in tune with each other. Convenience for the plot, I guess?

Nozomi overhears the duet and the mask slips off for a second before quickly replacing it.

It’s another day of rehearsal and Taki-sensei is having them play through the Third Movement of Liz. He’s not satisfied with how the duet is being played. It’s too imbalanced on both sides.

Nothing ever slips by under Reina’s radar.

It’s almost like Taki-sensei is explicitly aware of the issues of their friendship.

Reina can’t let something go when it comes to the good of the band.

Mizore being a good senpai and looking after her kouhai by preparing a reed for her. That’s what we call growth.

I could ask the same to you, Mizore.

Called out.

You tell me. Is it weird to make a four-year commitment to something and get into so much debt solely because your friend is also doing it?

She couldn’t make it through the entire movie without getting involved in someone else’s drama at least once.

Reina has a brutal honesty that some people could only dream of having. She doesn’t see the point in sitting back and doing nothing or just complaining behind her back, because in the end that won’t accomplish anything. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and risk being made the “villain,” and I love her for that.

I love these first person shots, they always offer some interesting camera angles. Mizore wants to deny Reina’s claims, but she can’t do that without averting her gaze and fidget with the spool because, deep down, she knows that Reina is right.

Also I love every single time they use this gesture of Mizore running a hand over her hair. With KyoAni, true emotion is rarely shown by a character’s facial expression. In fact, facial expression is mostly being used to hide how a character is really feeling (mostly with Nozomi in this film). It’s the body language and gestures that give way more information about how Mizore is feeling than if they had just slapped on a super frowny face. It shows, rather than tells us.

Reina doesn’t hold her punches; her main concern is what is best for the good of the band. She would never hold back for someone else’s sake (see season 1), and she hates to see someone just as skilled as her do that.

And that’s why Mizore treasures every moment she has with Nozomi like it’s her last. She’s already abandoned her before, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

Mizore cannot bear the idea of having to be the one to push away the one she cares about most.

That might just be your jealousy talking.

Now Nozomi’s being the insecure one. Mizore’s been getting extra help from Niiyama-sensei and she’s been making new friends. This could just be speculation on my part, but I feel like Nozomi is one of those people who need to feel needed. Back in season 2, she was determined to rejoin her band just so she could help them out in any way toward the goal of winning gold in the competition. Now that Mizore is getting gradually more independent, Nozomi is worrying that eventually she won’t need her around anymore.

When your first and only friend randomly leaves you without a word, it’s a little hard to move on and forget about that.

The double reed girls make another attempt to get Mizo-senpai to hang out with them.

She never speaks her mind and you always wear a mask *shrugs*

Mizore finally agrees to hang out with them to their elation. Nozomi begins to think that maybe she doesn’t know Mizore as well as she thought she did and that worries her.

Yes, they’re both talented as individuals, but there’s still an imbalance when they are together. Nozomi needs to listen, and Mizore needs to speak out, as Taki said earlier.

This is where I have to question Nozomi’s self awareness, or really lack thereof. I don’t think Liz would appreciate it if the bluebird just came back and pretended like nothing happened. She treats her abandonment of Mizore during their first year like it was just a minor blip in their friendship, when to Mizore it was something much worse.

She does hate sad endings, after all.

I love Nozomi, and I’m completely against the people who vilify her, but god she’s pretty dense.

“Ganbarou!” Nozomi tells Mizore to do her best once again.

Hashimoto listens in, but he’s not impressed. Technically, all of the notes are being played correctly, but there’s still something missing.

At least pretend to be more enthusiastic?

If anything, this whole situation is Niiyama-sensei’s fault for playing favorites. Nozomi hadn’t filled out her career survey either, but she wasn’t even on Niiyama’s radar. She sees a greater potential in Mizore as a musician, and that finally sinks in for Nozomi.

Gotta love Hashimoto’s extensive collection of Hawaiian shirts.

Another day has passed and Mizore and Nozomi still haven’t been able to lockdown their duet.

Does Niiyama-sensei just hate Nozomi for some reason?

Nozomi sees Mizore receiving special assistance from Niiyama on her oboe solo. It’s just a little funny since both of them have important solos in Liz that could make or break their performance at the competition, but Nozomi is apparently chopped liver.

Scenes that physically hurt me #4.

Letting her jealousy get the better of her, she completely ignores Mizore’s greeting. 

Mizore finds Nozomi after rehearsal to talk to her about why she acted distantly toward her. Nozomi smiles as if nothing happened. She compliments Mizore on a good rehearsal before hurrying to leave. That is, until Mizore calls out to her again.

Immediately after this scene, Nozomi went and punched a hole in a wall.

Mizore is probably the last person Nozomi wants to see right now, but she is extremely attached to keeping her mask on and maintaining the illusion that she is this perfect, mature, kind and level-headed third year that her peers have made her out to be. So, she denies there being anything wrong at all.

Mizore resorts to the I Love You Hug as an attempt to reconcile their friendship. The seconds feel like hours as they stare each other down, neither one moving.

Scenes that physically hur-- ah, forget it.

Nozomi rejects the hug, only sparing Mizore a few words before she walks away. Mizore’s arms slowly droop down to her sides while reality begins to set in. Exactly what she feared would happen, is happening.

Part 1

Part 3

[frustratedpker]

Some thoughts and analysis on Clarabelle and Horace

I wanted to write this for a long time!

Buckle up guys, this is gonna be long!

As you probably know if you ‘re following my blog, I am a big fan of the series Pippo Reporter (Goofy reporter) written by Teresa Radice and illustrated by Stefano Turconi.

For those who are not familiar with the saga, it’s a series of stories that take place in 1930′s America revolving around the life of Goofy who works as a reporter with the narrative building up and leading to his first meeting with Mickey.

The stories feature the usual cast of characters but what I find fascinating is that not all relationships are established in the beginning of the story. (e.x Goofy and Mickey haven’t met yet, the Phantom Blot hasn’t become the Phantom yet...). I could even dare call it a prequel of the ‘cannon’ events.

Here’s where Claire and Horace come in! I ‘ll attempt to present a chronicle of their relationship, along with some analysis and the reasoning of why I find their ship so well written in this particular saga.

Let’s start with the first story!

In the first story “Cronista per caso” both characters are introduced seperately.

Horace is in this series the introverted mayor of the city and Minnie’s boss as she’s his secretary at the town hall.

Claire is a fortune teller, a friend of Minnie whose advice she seeks in tricky situations. In the first story Minnie particularly seeks her advice for a matter concerning Horace and her job and Claire is happy to assist her.

Now, disney fans usually know that these characters are in most stories portrayed as engaged or in a relationship, so in this scene it’s established that in this narrative they don’t know each other (yet).

But for readers not so familiar with the disney canon (as I was when I first read the story) who don’t know that Claire and Horace are meant to be together, this scene still establishes them as two individuals associated with the main characters.

In both cases though, a link is made subconsciously between Claire and Horace, forming a base on which their relationship will be built.

As concerning the plot, this is the moment when Claire first hears about Horace who -as he’s the mayor- undoubtedly has heard of before (if not voted for) and she has her first glimpse in his private life through Minnie’s sayings. It’s a nice starting point in this episode for their subplot to begin.

In the second story, “Vasetto sospetto’‘, Claire and Horace don’t appear at all so I won’t bother examine this one.

In the third story though, “Crociera con ghiaccio”, we have the next clue.

“ [Mickey] won’t be able to attend [the cruise], he is very busy with his work! Claire, a friend of Minnie, will replace him (...). I could have taken Horace with me but he’s the mayor and mayors always have many things to do”

Once again Claire and Horace don’t interact and once again a link is made between them by reffering to them in such a way.

Here we are presented with a motif which is very important in “Pippo reporter”. The motif of ‘failed meeting’ as I call it. It has been established in previous stories that main characters (mainly Mickey and Goofy) had had many chances to meet all of which failed in the last moment.

Some other examples:

The reader, knowing by experience that those meetings are the most important plot points and meant to be epic (everybody knows that Goofy is Mickey’s best friend) now applies the same motif to Horace and Claire, even if they are not familiar with them.

Progress is also made in the fourth story, “Finale di campionato”

Here we learn Horace’s fascination with baseball and the whole plot revolves around him looking almost identical to his favourite baseball player, practically being his clone.

Horace ends up taking his idol’s place in the championship after the athlete’s mysterious disappearence.

Where has this player gone to?

At Claire’s aunt’s farm in the countryside trying to escape his overwhelming life as a sports celebrity!

“And he’s not at all ugly, isn’t he?” rushes to comment Claire upon first setting eyes on him.

That’s what I call forshadowing!

And her physical attraction to him persists on the entirety of the story. The first solid base is set for her later meeting with Horace and her -now undoubtful- falling for him.  At this point, even for not disney connaisseurs, it becomes evident that Claire will be Horace’s love interest.

Their official meeting happens in the fifth story, “La perla del fiume”!

I think that all necessary setting up has been established from previous episodes and now we are finaly ready -and curious- to witness their meeting!

Goofy: Oh, I haven’t introduced you! Claire, this is...

Claire: Our first citizen, Horace Horse, so mysteriously intruguing!

Goofy: And she is...

Horace: Claire la Belle, fascinatingly charming woman and fortune teller!

The attraction is instant and evident! A “love at first sight” that is actually believable. Why that? Because proper setting up has preceeded. It’s not the sudden ‘‘love montage’‘ that we ‘d get form a disney movie (I’m not accusative, I actually love them).

I can’t actually find a scene from the saga that explains how Horace already had heard of her, but with some guessing and common logic, I can assume that either Minnie or Goofy (who by now are his close friends) would have surely mentioned Claire to him and her involvement in some of their previous adventures.

It’s really realistic how they came together, getting to know each other through mutual friends.

Hoarce: You have a lovely hand!

Claire: Yours isn’t quite bad either! Would you mind me reading it sooner or later?

Horace: I would also have you read me your phone number!

Claire: What a brilliant idea! I always loved giving numbers!

They’re meant to be! (poor Goofy third wheeling)

I love how from the first moment they can’t get their eyes from each other.

There’s no more to say! They are so cute!

And they soon, almost at once confess their feelings to their friends (tbh Horace does try but Goofy is kinda oblivious, Minnie on the other hand is much more in sync).

And there is obviously a ball which they attend together:

I really like how Turconi makes sure to make their love so evident throughout the story’s events, event at a paranoic degree, just to show how in love they are:

I ‘m sure someone’s getting their ears chopped off in that fight but they keep dancing serenely. And poor Goofy just ... exists there (I feel you fam)

Claire: They have stopped playing the music...

Horace: Does it matter? Your voice is music to my ears!

I don’t know the bodycount of that fight, but good for them!

Claire: May I have this last dance under the moonlight?

Also Claire: May I also have this last dance under the sunlight?

And that concludes the ball and starts their relationship (dating at this point to be precise)

I particularly find the story’s ending very touching:

Horace: *spotting the motorcycle* Would you mind ... ?

Claire: Are you kidding?

Claire: It’s so romantic!!!

At the very next story (”Un ombrello, un capello, un monello”)  they’re already a couple:

The romance reaches its peak in “La piuma d’ oro” in which they get officially engaged and have their first (shown) kiss. This is actually the core of the whole episode and their relationship is for the first time, not a sideplot, but the actual plot.

[     you will excuse me but I sadly don’t have any pics from this story

                            have this little heart instead --> <3    ]

Their sideplot may have already concluded in “La piuma d’ oro”, but them being a couple now gains a plot forwarding role.

Claire: But what are you doing?

Horace: Making your dream come true my treasure!

In “Quel faro sui monti del lago” the characters find themselves entangled in another adventure only because Horace takes them on vacation in the place where Claire dreams to go (get you a rich mayor for fiance ladies)

And it’s time for their relationship to have its first test! While on vacation they meet this beautiful German (who **spoiler** turns out to be a spy)

Instant dislike! (I still prefer Silvia Ziche’s designs of displaying jealousy but Turconi gave us this fashionably annoyed Clarabelle so I can’t argue)

It was about time for them to endure jealousy. As in real relationships after some while not everything is seen through rose tinted glasses.

Still, everything turns out okay, leading to their last appearence together in the saga in the final story, “ Il rustico cavallerizzo”.

Minnie: The mayor has just arrived in the box of honour!

Lady: Let me see! Let me see! Is he in sweet company?

That’s how we leave them, together, officialy a couple and happy!

In conclusion, I really liked how this series treated them. Radice took time to first develop them as individuals, give them distinct personalities that also work apart. She made also sure to make them compatible and discretely foreshadow their romance, so when it comes it doesn’t feel forced or rushed but expected and natural. They also remain consistent as side characters who don’t disappear after their sideplot is concluded. They continue making appearences, both together and individually, that also forward the plot. The relationship between them evolves gradually, passing through different levels and situations to arrive at the point of ‘‘cannon’‘ events (by which I mean the disney lore outside of the saga).

I think that I said all I wanted to say, perhaps even more that needed to be said. But as I really like those characters and as I am a great fan of Radice and Turconi’s work I couldn’t pass up this chance to talk about them!

Thank you for reading and coping with my blabbering!

[beardyallen]

8 Crazy Nights (Part 1) - Captain Marvel, Work, and Food

Not sure if you all saw, but I tried to write this on Saturday...It did not go well. And now it's two days later, more stuff has happened, and documenting everything seems just a million times more daunting.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

However, I'm learning from my past mistakes and posting this in several pieces. Hopefully this isn't being read out of order.

If memory serves, and my memory is sufficiently muddled after the celebrating yesterday, I left off on Thursday, March 7th. The next day, I spent a goodly portion of my day in my office, cracking away at my random pedigree generator algorithm. Super (duper) exciting stuff, I know.

But R showed up that night to go see Captain Marvel at the nearby mall! And, as is apparently tradition when you visit someone's apartment, she brought me a gift. And what sort of gift do you bring a guy like me, you ask? Authentic German beer, obviously! Oh, and mangos, as I had divulged that I've only ever had dried mangos and mango-flavored things. Sadly, the mangos are still sitting in my fridge because I'm not entirely sure how one is supposed to eat them. *shrug*

The mall itself is quite strange (from my limited perspective), and I don't think I've described it yet. In a standard American mall, the jewelry shops are always on corners; here, the jewelry shop (as well as several other shops) are posted up with no walls in the middle of an open space. And approximately 25% of the shops are bakeries or coffee shops. This place really knows how to entice your sweet tooth! R picked up some mini cheesecakes for the trip the next day!! Super (duper) yummy!!

One of the other interesting aspects of the first floor is the manner in which one would buy shoes (there are like...10 "shops" that sell shoes). Once again, the shops have no walls, so you just kind of wander over to a display, the attendants hover around you to see if they can help (presumably?), and after you've picked your shoe, they give you carbon paper with an order, you walk to a desk 5 shops over to pay, then carry the receipt back and attendant who was helping you wipes off the shoes again and exchanges them for the receipt. I suppose it keeps clutter down and eases the shopping experience if you're trying on shoes from different displays? When I bought shoes a few weeks ago, it was quite an ordeal given that I had no idea what the expectations were and we couldn't really communicate with anything other than hand signals, nods, and shrugs.

The second (of five) floors has the supermarket and a plethora of men's clothing shops, half of which are athletic-themed shops like New Balance, Adidas, or knock-off-Air-Jordan, and the other half are more "high-end" clothing shops. Nothing in between. Oh! And more than 80% of the models in the pictures and spreads on the walls are white. Not sure how effective that is when 95% of your clientele doesn't look like that. *shrug* There _does_ seem to be a strong desire here to appear Western, but still...

The third floor is mostly women's clothing, and the fourth floor is partially empty. But the fifth floor has the cinema and food court. One comment about the phrase "Chinese food"...It's immensely inadequate. I don't know how many different cultural regions there are in China, but there's for sure at least 6 unique cuisines, all tied to a particular region. And when I say 6 _unique_ cuisines, even my uneducated, narrow American perspective (and palette) can distinguish between them. That, to me, is probably the biggest problem with describing a restaurant in the States as serving "Chinese food." But hey, I'm just an ill-informed American, so my opinion probably doesn't carry much weight.

The cinema itself was quite impressive as well. You know how when you walk into a cinema in the States, and you get hit with that theater-popcorn smell? It's buttery and savory and only sometimes kind of stale? Well, that didn't happen here. And not because they don't have popcorn, or that they don't serve as much popcorn...I think it's mostly because, as seems to be the case with everything here, the popcorn isn't of the buttery, salty variety. No, this popcorn is green or pink or caramel covered. Drizzled with chocolate syrup or some other sort of confectionary (is confectionary a real word?).

Oh, and it's not just the popcorn that got a make-over. The nachos here are...borderline unrecognizable. And that's not the say that you wouldn't recognize what was placed in front of you, because I think you would, but you just wouldn't recognize it as "nachos." Instead of warm tortilla chips with a cup of hot, sometimes-mildly-spicy cheese sauce and jalapenos and other nacho toppings, here you get a bowl of...warmed up Doritos. That's it. Just Doritos. That have been sitting under a heat lamp. R ordered them and offered me some. I said thanks-but-no-thanks. It was a strange experience, watching someone happily munch on heated up Doritos.

Captain Marvel was exceptional, though! The classic Marvel opening was modified a bit for this film, and if you've seen the movie, you know what I mean. For sure shed some positive number of happy-sad tears. The actors were all exceptional, and I was thoroughly impressed to see how seamlessly the special effects made it look like Samuel L. Jackson was 25 years younger and had both eyes! Crazy!!! Also seeing Phil Coulson return to the big screen was dope, and I loved the post-credit scenes! The music was perfect, too! I just wish the theater had the volume high enough to trigger the strong emotional reactions I'm used to feeling in Marvel movies.

After the movie, I stopped by the beer shop across the street where I met The One to buy a couple bottles of Founders beer. I swear, I had ever intent of enjoying them on St. Patrick's Day...but one of the two was consumed a couple days later, and the other wasn't opened until I got back from the celebration yesterday...and I don't think I would have really been able to appreciate the KBS in that particular state. So I have that to look forward to when I finish teaching tonight!

The next day was spent traveling with my coworkers to the Great Wall, and this seems like a decent place to pause the narrative.

Actually, we'll skip the Great Wall for a minute, and I'll describe the past week. It wasn't terribly eventful, but there are a few mildly-interesting pics. My work week consisted mostly of prepping my students' first exam, along with a practice exam (which I don't like doing, especially at this level). In fact, on Friday, after I finished writing and testing my random pedigree generator, I spent a good portion of time trying to get the numbers of a particular probability problem to work out.

I totally don't look like a crazy math fanatic at all..

When I wasn't working, I spent much of my time reading or playing video games. There's a Communications grad student here who also plays Super Smash Bros. We intend to maintain the friendship State-side as he has a few gamer friends in Denver who play SSB as well. And who have guessed that Petey Piranha would actually be an entertaining fighter?! Like..he's a glorified potted plant, but his attacks are interesting, effective, and rather distinct (see: he's a potted plant). *shrug*

Several of those nights involved take-out from KFC...which just released a new item. Or at least new to me. You'll note some orange fibrous material on the top, some sort of white cream in the middle, and the base is a waffle. Cuz nothing says "Kentucky Fried" quite like whatever the hell that is...(Not that KFC can even call themselves Kentucky Fried, nor is their chicken even real chicken! Sorry guys, someone's gotta say it!! lol)

The waffle itself is quite sweet, as is the white cream. Not sure the intended flavor of the cream, but my best comparison is the sugary drizzle stuff you put on toaster streudels. Struedels? Strueueudels? Not sure how to spell that, and Googling it would require a smoothly operating VPN which I just don't have the patience to deal with right now. And the orange stuff on top? It's dried crab. Which I knew in advance as I'd had it on the hike to the underground river and caves. All-in-all, it surpassed my expectations, but I don't think I'll get it again...

Oh, and dinner on Friday night consisted of lamb spine. Yup. The spine. Of a lamb. Technically, it was lamb spine hot pot, but let's be real: the stand-out contributor isn't the heat or the pot or the brine. It's the spine.

You can see a bunch of vertebrae just boiling away in there. You still use chopsticks, but one of your hands has a plastic glove. Oh! And you can push your chopstick through the hollow center of the vertebra to get at some of the marrow and what we could only assume was part of the spinal cord. I ate mine, but the only other person who was lucky(?) enough to find one didn't partake.

Other than some rather standard beer, CB ordered us a bottle (half a fifth) of some sort of herbal liquor. E, another instructor, mentioned a commercial for the product which seemed to suggest that this was the perfect gift from a marrying-age girl's new fiance to her father upon their first meeting. "Made for the man!" It was somewhere between a whiskey and an amaretto, but the sweet taste was distinctly floral or herbal or something. It was pretty good! Definitely something you sip to enjoy.

I have one more food experience to share, but it fits better in a different part of the story, so I'll stop here and pick up with The Great Wall in my next post.

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen