#Jim Mason imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daresplaining · 9 months ago

Text

Mattea Murdock, the Daredevil Drummer of Philly

In celebration of the forthcoming new Spider-Punk: Arms Race series (not to mention Hobie stealing scenes in "Across the Spider-Verse" last year), I wanted to finally write up my long-overdue overview post on Mattea Murdock! If you haven't read her introductory run yet, check it out here.

Mattea truly stands on her own in the wide canon of alternate universe DDs. She is a female Daredevil, she is Latina, and she somehow managed to escape Marvel's NYC gravity and base herself in Philadelphia, where she defends its citizens from violence and exploitation. Hobie and his self-styled Spider-Band encounter her in Spider-Punk (2022) #3, when they make a detour to fix the busted Spider-Van. They are all immediately-- and correctly-- impressed.

Mattea: "Yo, Kam!" Hobie: "Wait, you know each other?!" Kamala: "Duh! You think I wouldn't know the Daredevil Drummer of Philly?" Hobie: "You're a drummer too?" Mattea: "Best in town." Hobie: "Oh man, my friend Gwen is a pretty dope drummer too. I think y'all would definitely get along." Mattea: "Hope they're ready to get outplayed by a pretty, blind girl." Spider-Punk vol. 1 #3 by Cody Ziglar, Justin Mason, Jim Charalampidis, and Travis Lanham

I talked a little about her killer character/costume design when she was first introduced (I was a fool; of course she's blind), and my love for her look has only grown. It's badass, distinctive, and it slots her beautifully into Hobie's punk rock world while still evoking that trademark Daredevil image (red, sticks, pointy bits...). Her irises are red, which is a visual choice I enjoy in more heightened, fantastical DD stories/art styles, and I think it works for Mattea. Heck, I could even imagine them being colored contact lenses she's chosen to wear for the aesthetic. Also, one detail that wasn't in the previews is the fun little laughing devil face on the back of her jacket (I'm not punk rock enough to get the reference if it is one, but it reminds me of Darkdevil):

Of course, always a big priority for me is Daredevil's power-set, and Mattea provides a quick primer on her unique perspective, mostly focused on hearing and the radar sense:

Mattea: "What? You think just 'cause I'm a blind girl, I can't see? Echolocation, my abuelas used to call it. But it's more intimate. Instinctual. Can hear a kick drum from ten blocks away. Can see it too. If I think hard enough, I can even see what the garage it's being played in looks like." Hobie: "Yo, are you doing it right now?" Riri: "She's definitely doing it right now."

This is not my favorite description of Daredevil's powers, nor-- to be honest-- a particularly informative one. She can gather spatial information through walls...from ten blocks away? I also never love an overuse of visual language in any explanation of these powers, especially as it's implied that Mattea, like Matt, is completely blind. Surprisingly, no direct mention is made here of the hypersenses as a whole, beyond the reference to hearing a kick drum from ten blocks away. Even her hearing doesn't receive that much attention in the story overall, which feels like a missed opportunity for such a musical character. Her blindness, too, is pretty much irrelevant to the story, and never comes up again. But I do LOVE that she uses the term "echolocation", though is still very clearly the radar sense, in all its vague, undefined, semi-magic glory.

And visually? This is great. I'm always a fan of the cross-hatching visual, especially against a black background, and artist Justin Mason doesn't go too overboard on the detail, which is another preference of mine. And thematically, I love the ways in which Mattea's drummer identity is tied into her superheroics-- not just for laying a beatdown on bad guys, but also for channelling and enhancing her echolocation/radar sense. One of my favorite scenes in the comic is when she plays a drum solo on a roof edge to scope out the Kingpin's lair. I'm willing, in that moment, to ignore any gripes about radar sense irregularities out of respect for the coolness and thematic heft of the concept. I mean, this rocks:

Mattea: "Come on, show me the good stuff."

At the end of the day, though, this is not a Daredevil comic and Mattea is not the main character. Plus, it's only five issues long, and introduces a bunch of other new characters as well. There was only ever going to be room for the creative team to offer a cursory introduction, hopefully generating enough interest to prompt these characters to appear again in other comics. In that, I think they fully succeeded with Mattea; we get a cursory sense of her powers (or at least, enough to show that they're the normal DD set), her personality (delightfully cocky, playful, tough, fearless), a few hints of her backstory, and some truly kickass fight scenes. There's a bit of suspension of disbelief required to believe she can use drumsticks as a stand-in for billy clubs (unless her drumsticks are made of something really hefty-- and hey, maybe they are), but this is Spider-Punk. Hobie killed Norman Osborn with a guitar--twice. It's not about realism, it's about style.

Mattea: "Been waiting for this for a long time, Fisk. Real long time." Fisk: "I'm going to break you, li'l girl--AWGGH!" Mattea: "Big, strong man who sends out his band of wackos to push over people too weak to fight back." Fisk: "Wouldn't get too cocky, girlie...you're not the only one who's fast! I'm gonna hurt ya. A lot. Then I'm gonna kill ya. And I'm gonna love every second of it. You know, this is the same look you had when I had your old band clapped a few years back. I like it. Brings out your eyes--GAAAH!" Mattea: "There's something you need to understand about me, papi. I'm not the kinda girl who goes down without a fight."

I can't wait to see more of Mattea and learn more about her, her world, her friends, and her enemies. In particular, she seems to have a history (possibly romantic?) with this world's Kamala Khan, and I would love to see more of that relationship. While Mattea Murdock clearly has a lot in common with Matt Murdock, she also seems happy to be a team player, unlike Matt, and I really enjoy that. Though I guess it's not that surprising a distinction. After all, every drummer needs a band.

#Spider-Punk vol. 1 #Daredevil #Mattea Murdock #Spider-Punk #Hobie Brown #Spider-Band #Commentary #ID in alt text

63 notes · View notes

hockybish · 11 months ago

Note

the lake house later that summer when Lola didn't show up for their weekend at the house and she had stopped responding to both he and Luke.

she didn’t respond to them because she was in a different state,not california and not Michigan

sort of. instead of going to Michigan after the season, she spent a week or so in Arizona with Matty and then moved on to see someone else (im sure who yet) and then went to Mason and stayed with him for a while

at this time she doesn't know why Jack did what he did, so she is going through with cutting him out of her life and by association the rest of her family. she did talk with her parents (mainly Jim) up until she didn't show up

the boys thought her non-contact thing was because they were all getting busy with playoffs and not because she was planning on leaving.

but can you imagine when she didn't show up at the airport and luke is freaking out because where is she and then they have to tell their parents she's missing?

#lola hughes #hughes!sister au #au thoughts #lola thoughts

32 notes · View notes

papichulo-com · 8 months ago

Text

Since we don't have any representations for the Covey's vocals other than Lucy Gray (Rachel Zegler) and Maude Ivory (Josie Hope Hall), here's what I think each Covey member sounds like.

I imagine Barb Azure sounding a little like Cass Elliot from The Mamas and The Papas. Nice, rich alto voice that's like borderline mezzo. Doesn't use vibrato much. Very simple but beautiful and classy.

Tam Amber, we kiiindaaaa know what he sorta sounds like from the beginning of "Nothin' You Can Take From Me", BUTTTT the singer isn't credited so imma create my own. I think he's a bass. Honestly, I can't think of a male singer who I can compare the voice that I have of him in my head. But I will say it's fairly similar to the one we do hear of him. The best way I can describe the way I hear is voice is light, soft, deep, and soulful. So...do what you will with that info lol.

Clerk Carmine I can see sounding like Mason Ramsey (yes the Walmart yodeling kid, shhh, his voice matured, people). A nice rasp to his voice ofc with that. I think he's a tenor all the way. (Listen to "Blue Over You" by Mason Ramsey and you'll see what I'm talking abt).

And now last and very much least, I think Billy Taupe is a baritone. Probably sounds something like Jim Morrison from The Doors. I'm sorry, don't ask me why. I don't wanna do good 'ol Jimbo the Lizard King like that, but...idk how else to explain his voice. Just imagine if Jim Morrison were a folk/country singer and...you'll have Billy. Womp womp. (Think "Riders on the Storm" but...a lot more bluegrassy 😭). But it's okay guys, cus that janky accordion of his drowns out most of his vocals >;)

That is all, thank you <3

#thoughts #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the covey #lucy gray baird #barb azure baird #tam amber #clerk carmine clade #billy taupe clade #maude ivory baird

6 notes · View notes

starbabyg · 2 years ago

Text

Who I write for;

Just to let anyone who wants to request any imagines and such, and for my masterlist here’s a list of who I write for. [You can always ask me to write for anyone who isn’t on this list, these are just my faves and people I really wanna write for].

Nhl Boys

Jack Hughes [New Jersey Devils]

Juraj Slafkovsky [Montreal Canadiens]

Mitch Marner [Toronto Maple Leafs]

Thomas Bordeleau [San Jose Sharks]

Quinn Hughes [Vancouver Canucks]

Luke’s Hughes [UMich]

Nico Hischier [New Jersey Devils]

Trevor Zegras [Anaheim Ducks]

Actors

Cody Fern

Timothee Chalamet

Evan Peters

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Finn Wolfhard

Jacob Elordi

Tom Holland

Musicians

Jesse Rutherford

Luke Hemmings

Calum Hood

Ashton Irwin

Michael Clifford

Rappers

Gucci Mane

A$ap Rocky

Young Slo Be

Yatta

EBK Bckdoe

Pimp Tobi

Tay K

NBA Youngboy

Travis Scott

Roddy Rich

G Herbo

Shootergang Jojo

LordeTheTopScore

A Boogie

Method Man

Ol Dirty Bastard

Television Characters

Carl Gallagher [Shameless]

Lip Gallagher [Shameless]

Gallavich [Shameless]

Ason Unique [Wutang Saga]

Bobby Diggs [Wutang Saga]

Shotgun/Method Man [Wutang Saga]

Dennis Cole/DLover [Wutang Saga]

Sha/Raekwon [Wutang Saga]

Divine Diggs [Wutang Saga]

Mike Wheeler [Stranger Things]

Michael Langdon [American Horror Story]

Xavier Plympton [American Horror Story]

Duncan Shepherd [House of Cards]

Movie Characters

Jim Mason [Tribes of Palos Verdes]

Tangerine [Bullet Train]

Dave Lizewski/Kick Ass [Kick Ass]

Nick Sheff [Beautiful Boy]

Kyle Scheible [Lady Bird]

Prince Hal [The King]

Peter Parker [Spiderman] (Both Tom and Andrew version)

Richie Tozier [IT]

Anime

Katsuki Bakugou [My Hero]

Shoto Todoroki [My Hero]

Izuku Midoriya [My Hero]

Eijiro Kirishima [My Hero]

Denki Kaminari [My Hero]

Hitoshi Shinso [My Hero]

Soma Yukihira [Food Wars]

Death The Kid [Soul Eater]

Soul Eater Evans [Soul Eater]

20 notes · View notes

historicsaranaclake · 11 months ago

Text

Dear friends,

With seasons greetings, I am sending along this essay, inspired by a favorite holiday movie. Many friends shared their memories to help me write this back in 2020 -- Chris Brescia, Jan Dudones, Jim Griebsch, Bunk Griffin, Howard Riley, Jim and Keela Rogers, and our dear friend, Natalie Leduc, who, on December 8, 2020 came to the end of her truly wonderful life. We still miss her.

Best wishes from all of us at Historic Saranac Lake.

Amy Catania

--------------------------------

It's a Wonderful Life, Tony Anderson by Amy Catania

"Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole.” — It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946

This is a good time of year to watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Bedford Falls brings to mind Saranac Lake, and George Bailey reminds us of the wonderful lives of Saranac Lakers from the past like Alton “Tony” Anderson.

Tony Anderson fell ill with tuberculosis while working as a toolmaker in Southington, Connecticut. As a member of the Masons, he received financial help to come to Saranac Lake for treatment in 1919.

“I came here to die,” Tony used to say. Facing death, Tony received a gift, a chance to imagine the world without him. He made his home here and dedicated his life to giving back. He served as village mayor for nine terms. He worked as a volunteer ambulance driver and a plane spotter on top of the Hotel Saranac during the war. He was a member of the Masonic Lodge, the Elks Club, the Rotary, the Boat and Waterway Club, the hospital board, and the blood bank.

Each afternoon, Tony went home to his modest house on South Hope Street and sat on his porch in a cure chair. “Best seat in the house,” he called it. After his afternoon rest, he would go back to the theater for the shows.

Saranac Lake in the 1950s was a picture postcard of Bedford Falls. Everyone knew each other. Kids played together outside through all seasons. Downtown shops bustled year-round. The Adirondack Daily Enterprise was five times thicker than it is today. The theater, the radio station, civic organizations, and places of worship knitted the community together. Like the shadow of death cast by tuberculosis, the horrors of WWII inspired an appreciation for life and a sense of civic responsibility.

But forces were afoot that were beginning to devastate small towns around the country. Everywhere, industry and manufacturing were closing up shop. In Saranac Lake, the TB business came to an end. Jobs dried up and families left. Across America, suburban development was eroding downtown retail. Television offered solitary entertainment that took the place of public activities like going to the movies.

By the late 1960s, Tony Anderson’s beloved theater had fallen on hard times. The impeccably dressed ushers were gone, and, much to Tony’s chagrin, on Wednesday nights the Pontiac was showing titillating foreign films that reflected changing social mores. It seemed that only the bars were prospering. More and more, town was looking like Pottersville, Bedford Falls’ evil twin in the movie. Then, on December 19, 1978, a massive fire devastated the Pontiac Theater. Three years after the fire, Saranac Lake’s longest serving mayor died at the age of 82.

It’s a sad ending to Tony’s story. Real life usually doesn’t get a Hollywood ending. Saranac Lake will always have plenty in common with Bedford Falls and Pottersville. And unlike George Bailey, most of us won’t ever meet our guardian angel.

But “It’s a Wonderful Life” reminds us that, even in the midst of regret and loss, we can find beauty and purpose in daily life. This is one of the most important things we do at Historic Saranac Lake, we honor the lives of the regular people who came before us. We pay attention to people like George, Ernie, Bert, Mary, Mr. Gower, Martini, Harry, the woman at the bank who asks for only $17.50, and even Mr. Potter. We remember Natalie Leduc, Mary Hotaling, Andy Rawdon, Jane and Walter Webb, and Tony Anderson.

Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan! Happy Holidays, Saranac Lake!

Saranac Lake students presented about Tony Anderson at his grave in Pine Ridge Cemetery in 2019, part of Historic Saranac Lake’s annual 5th grade history tour.

#local history #saranac lake #saranac lake history #museums #historic saranac lake #museum collections #history #adirondacks #historic photographs #tuberculosis #christmas #its a wonderful life #essays

1 note · View note

mirandamckenni1 · 1 year ago

Video

youtube

Liked on YouTube: What If Black Holes ARE Dark Energy? || https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGe5qvIzjTY || PBS Member Stations rely on viewers like you. To support your local station, go to:https://ift.tt/kEXxhwn Sign Up on Patreon to get access to the Space Time Discord! https://ift.tt/dlAeKf7 We tend to imagine there are connectings between things that we don’t understand. Quantum mechanics and consciousness, aliens and pyramids, black holes and dark matter, dark matter and dark energy, dark energy and black holes. Usually there’s no real relationship whatsoever, but this last pair—black holes and dark energy being the same thing—has received some recent hype in the press. Let’s see if it might actually be true. Episodes Referenced Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsPUh22kYmNAO4wmE0sua4zqcs0D7eqv7 Check out the Space Time Merch Store https://ift.tt/zBgyWHJ Sign up for the mailing list to get episode notifications and hear special announcements! https://ift.tt/RqN1UGx Search the Entire Space Time Library Here: https://ift.tt/3LitJlS Hosted by Matt O'Dowd Written by Matt O'Dowd Post Production by Leonardo Scholzer, Yago Ballarini, & Stephanie Faria Directed by Andrew Kornhaber Associate Producer: Bahar Gholipour Executive Producers: Eric Brown & Andrew Kornhaber Executive in Charge for PBS: Maribel Lopez Director of Programming for PBS: Gabrielle Ewing Assistant Director of Programming for PBS: John Campbell Spacetime is produced by Kornhaber Brown for PBS Digital Studios. This program is produced by Kornhaber Brown, which is solely responsible for its content. © 2023 PBS. All rights reserved. End Credits Music by J.R.S. Schattenberg: https://www.youtube.com/user/MultiDroideka Space Time Was Made Possible In Part By: Big Bang Sponsors Ian Jones Bryce Fort Peter Barrett David Neumann Sean Maddox Alexander Tamas Morgan Hough Juan Benet Vinnie Falco Fabrice Eap Mark Rosenthal Quasar Sponsors Glenn Sugden Alex Kern Ethan Cohen Stephen Wilcox Christina Oegren Mark Heising Hypernova Sponsors Ivari Tölp Vyce Ailour Zachary Wilson Kenneth See Gregory Forfa Kirk Honour Joe Moreira Bradley Voorhees Marc Armstrong Scott Gorlick Paul Stehr-Green Ben Delo Scott Gray John R. Slavik Donal Botkin John Pollock Edmund Fokschaner chuck zegar Jordan Young Daniel Muzquiz Gamma Ray Burst Sponsors Lucas Kazakevicius Massimiliano Pala Aaron Molina Thomas Nielson Joe Pavlovic Ryan McGaughy Mark West Chuck Lukaszewski Edward Hodapp Cole Combs Marc Forand Andrea Galvagni Jerry Thomas Nikhil Sharma Ryan Moser Jonathan Cordovano John Anderson David Giltinan Scott Hannum Paul Widden Bradley Ulis Craig Falls Kane Holbrook John Yaraee Ross Story teng guo Mason Dillon Matt Langford Harsh Khandhadia Thomas Tarler Susan Albee Frank Walker Matt Quinn Michael Lev Terje Vold James Trimmier Andre Stechert Paul Wood Kent Durham jim bartosh Ramon Nogueira Ellis Hall John H. Austin, Jr. Diana Poljar Faraz Khan Almog Cohen Alex Edwards Ádám Kettinger Endre Pech Daniel Jennings Cameron Sampson Russ Creech Jeremy Reed David Johnston Web Browser Michael Barton Andrew Mann Isaac Suttell Bleys Goodson Robert Walter Yury Kitaev Mirik Gogri Mark Delagasse Mark Daniel Cohen Nickolas Andrew Freeman Shane Calimlim Tybie Fitzhugh Robert Ilardi Eric Kiebler Craig Stonaha Graydon Goss Frederic Simon Dmitri McGuiness John Robinson Jim Hudson Alex Gan David Barnholdt David Neal John Funai Bradley Jenkins Cody Brumfield Thomas Dougherty Dan Warren Patrick Sutton John Griffith Dean Faulk

#IFTTT #YouTube

0 notes

bishopsbelova · 2 years ago

Note

Oh yeah totally, never saw them or never wanted them to marry in a church (I mean I'm not religious even less catholic so I'm glad lol), but a later spring/early summer wedding in the Carisi backyard or something sunnier and warmer than a courthouse I would have preferred. I mean yeah it kind of fit of them to marry in a courthouse they basically live there 😂, and it's christmas season, but at least a post wedding celebration outside would have been nice. I'm still hoping for a second ceremony with all the family during warmer seasons but I know the chances are veeeery slim lol.

I know you sent this like yesterday anon - but I got home from work yesterday and was hit with a migraine and was just down for the count for the rest of the evening.

Anon, I was raised around Catholics, Christians and Southern Baptists....and i cannot stand any of them.

We know she's at least a little bit religious - she did pray after she shot Esther and Billie (and I'm assuming Jesse) are baptized but like I've tried and tried; but I just cannot picture Amanda Rollins getting married in any church. Idk. She's always been the run to the courthouse in my mind kind of girl.

Though I do think that Amanda would have done the big church wedding for Carisi if that's what he wanted - but he never would have made her. So that's where the compromise in an early spring somewhere in Staten Island wedding would have come from.

In a perfect world (where Dick Wolf wasn't a well, Dick), I was hoping for a little Staten Island wedding with Fin and Liv and Noah, the girls, and Carisi's parents and sisters (and kids). I guess we can have Beth Anne so we can have Mason but Jim Fucking Rollins ain't invited. And I even had it imagined that either Fin would walk her down the aisle or she'd do it herself BUT then I thought about the image of Dominick Sr walking her down the aisle after watching Blue Bloods and seeing Frank walking Eddie down the aisle.

#answered asks #svu talk

1 note · View note

maria-akira · 4 years ago

Text

cody fern characters as food (as told by my brother)

—♡—

I was showing my brother some cody fern edits on my tiktok and yea this happened

im sorry if this is weird (lmk if yall want an evan peters version or a gotham version)

dont take this seriously i did this for fun

—♡—

hawthorne!michael as bavarian donuts

i thought that this was adorable

very great job kuya (older brother in filipino)

sojourn!michael as raw egg

?!?!?!?!?!?! what

really weird

this michael in red gloves as crab sticks

personally kinda dig it

i see this michael being obsessed w it

duncan shepherd, xavier plympton, and jim mason as boiled chicken

i asked him why boiled chicken

he said bc they look bland (im personally offended)

—♡—

once again i apologize: (IM TAGGING RANDOM PPL SORRY HDJDHD)

@kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs @hawtghostgirl @no-mercy-bby @deademobitch @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess

#cody fern imagines #ahs 8 #michael langdon imagines #duncan shepherd imagines #jim mason imagines #xavier plympton imagines #michael langdon #duncan shepherd #jim mason #xavier plympton #cody fern

70 notes · View notes

beautyiswithinchaos · 4 years ago

Text

Quiet Company

*** disclaimer: all new work is here @chaos-is-beautifvl ***

a/n: this is my first time writing for Jim and i think it’s one of my favorite works now

summary: sometimes quiet company is the best company...

warnings: mentions of drug use & alcohol use, mentally and emotionally abusive parents, so much angst (sorry not sorry)

word count: approx. 4K

Tagging you guys: @matildaofoz @prophecy-is-inevitable @rocketgirl2410

Palos Verdes. A town filled with plastic people, fancy clubs, and a never-ending ocean. Well, it wasn't never-ending, but boy did it stretch on for miles. If you could choose, this was the last place you wanted to be. Everyone here was so stereotypical but in the not so good way.

The only place you ever got any peace, quiet from the rest of this godforsaken town - was the beach. You didn't like the way the sand clung to your clothes or managed to get in your shoes and bag, but after a while, it became routine. You would go about your day and end your nights sitting on the sand, listening to the crashing of the salty waves as they collided with the rocks.

Your routine was the same today. You woke up, restless from getting little to no sleep, but that wasn't anything new. Everything else had followed suit per usual, and you found yourself back in your car, driving out to the beach. Stars filled the night sky, some shining more brightly than others. That's how it always was, in the sky, in the world, and especially in Palos Verdes. There were some people here who managed to outshine others, and it wasn't in an unsettling way. No, they were the stars that weren't like everyone else, conforming to their own rules.

Now, you sat on the sand, still warm from the harsh rays of the sun earlier in the day. You breathed in the salty air, inhaling it as a smoker would do with the smoke that infiltrated their lungs. Something was calming about it. Maybe it was the fact that it never changed - even if everyone changed, yourself included, this never would. The crash of the waves, grainy feel of the sand, all of it, it would never change. Maybe that's why it was comforting.

Someone came clambering down the slope, a curse leaving their lips when they stumbled. You sighed, your peace interrupted too early. You didn't move, though, keeping your eyes on the water as they settled down onto the sand.

The flick of a lighter sounded, and soon after, the smell of smoke reached your nose, making your face scrunch. "You know, smoking can kill you, right?"

You weren't sure why you said anything. When other people had disrupted your peaceful time, you stayed quiet, grabbing your things and leaving. Those people were the stars that shined too brightly, in a way that made you lose trust in the world.

"Well," they started, voice sluggish, "lucky day fo' me, isn't it? It's marijuana, not a cigarette."

You resisted the urge to turn to the person, "Still could kill you." Your response was simple, not needed, and probably not wanted by the person sitting next to you, but all in all, simple.

"Yeah, well, probably be doing everybody a favor."

---

The next morning, there was something different. You could feel it, but you weren't sure what it was. Throughout the day, that feeling crept around the back of your mind, plaguing your thoughts.

That feeling stayed with you as you settled down on the sand, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. The waves didn't have your focus as you laid your head on your knees.

The person came down the slope again, but this time, they didn't stumble. Well, not exactly. You caught a glimpse of brown hair as they came and sat next to you. When you didn't hear them flick the flighter or smell the smell of the marijuana burning, you spoke, "No drugs today?"

"Hey, now. Marijuana is not a drug, it's-" The brunette paused when you snorted, a soft laugh leaving your mouth.

"What's so funny?"

You shook your head, "Nothing."

---

The next few days were the same - you would be on the sand, watching the waves under the night sky, and down would come the brunette, whose name you learned to be Jim. You would quip a witty remark, and he would respond. After that, it would be silent. Neither of you saying anything.

Tonight, however, was different. You got to the beach later than usual due to a shift of plans that left you in a sour mood. Jim was already there, a dazed look on his face. He turned to you as he clambered up, stumbling like the first night you met. "Y/N, you're here. I was-" he hiccuped, "I was waiting for you."

You hummed, walking over to him, a vacant look on your face. Jim tilted his head, eyes cloudy from the drugs you knew he took. "What's- you look sad? Are you sad?"

"I don't know," you replied, honestly. Visits with your father never really bode well, but this visit was one of the worst. The words he said hissed at you before your mother made you leave reverberated in your mind, bouncing off every wall as the waves did with the rocks.

A laugh shook you from your thoughts. You looked up to Jim, his head thrown back as he let out a hearty laugh. You waited for his laughter to die down before speaking, "I don't see what's so funny about what I said."

He looked at you, a cheeky grin on his face, "It's just... you never know how you feel. I ask, and you say 'I don't know.'"

You mulled over that thought, and you realized that Jim was right. You never knew how you felt. You just went about the motions of the day without ever asking yourself how you were doing. Turning back to the brunette across you, you saw he was looking up at the stars, "How are you doing?"

"I don't know either."

---

That night, when you got home, you thought about what Jim had said. As usual, you didn't get much sleep, but this time, it wasn't because of the visit. No, it was because thoughts of the brunette with eyes like the ocean, who was always either high, drunk, or both, filled your head.

The next day, you got to the beach earlier. You didn't visit your father or your mother. You couldn't, not after what transpired the day before. Hours had passed, and while you weren't sure why, you missed the company of Jim. It was an odd feeling as you had never exactly missed anyone before. Well, that was a lie. You had missed people before, exactly four people. But only those four, well, now it was five.

With a heavy sigh, you grabbed your bag, brushing the sand off your clothes. You went up the slope when a yell caught your attention. Flipping your head in the direction of the noise, you saw someone bounding towards you. It was Jim. You knew that floppy brown hair from anywhere.

He came to a stop in front of you, a smile on his face. "Hey." You tried to hide your frown when his words came out sluggish, but luck wasn't in your favor. Jim's smile faltered, his bottom lip jutting out, "You look sad again."

"I'm fine, Jim." You looked down, biting down your lip, "I missed you over there." He looked over to your usual spot, one you now shared with him. "Sorry," he giggled out, "my friends - they wanted me to hang with them."

"Do drugs, you mean?" You weren't sure why you said that, and you regretted it once a frown replaced his half-pout. "I'm sorry. That was rude - god, what is wrong with me?"

He didn't reply, not that you expected him to. For some selfish reason, you wanted him to leave, to get mad, to call you a bitch. You didn't like the way he made you feel, and no, it wasn't that feeling people get when they fall in love with someone. It was the feeling that you could trust him, that you wanted to trust him.

"Come here. I want to show you something." He turned and started walking away from you. You faltered, unsure if you should go with him.

Walk away now, Y/N, you thought as you held onto your bag. It's easier to walk away now.

Jim looked at you over his shoulder, "Come on, Y/N. Live a little." Begrudgingly, you followed after him, pushing back the pessimistic thoughts that you would regret this to the back of your mind.

"You surf?" Jim asked as both of you stared out into the ocean. Your mind was like the ocean, a chaotic mess - something beautiful because of how disordered it was.

"Nope, but I'm assuming you do." Surfing wasn't for you as Palos Verdes wasn't for you. You didn't think it was for Jim, either. He was one of the better stars, the ones that shined more brightly than others in the best way.

"Yeah. Medina and I surf all the time, well, when we can. It's nice, you know? Being able to lose yourself in the waves."

You didn't know who Medina was, and you didn't ask. All Jim needed to be was quiet company, nothing more, nothing less. It was better that way. He didn't know much about you, and you didn't know much about him.

---

Two nights later, you found yourself back at the beach with Jim. It was routine, and you felt like you couldn't go without it. You were afraid of that, always afraid to get close to someone. You were even more afraid of getting too close to Jim.

You met him by the shore this time, right where the dry sand and the water met. It was a fine line, and it seemed as though you were crossing it. You knew that getting so close to him wasn't right, but just like drugs gave him a high, he gave you one.

"We should get in," he said when you came up beside him. You shook your head, laughing. "No, Jim. We are not getting in."

"Why? It's just water. Come on," he grabbed onto your wrist gently, and your breath hitched. It had been a long time since someone, anyone, had held you so gently.

"No, I can't, Jim." He didn't seem to understand, only tilting his head, "Why? Why not?"

"I can't swim," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. For some reason, you felt defensive. Good, you thought, it's better to keep my walls up.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Jim asked incredulously as if you had said something completely atrocious. "What do you mean by 'here'?"

He shook his head, spinning around with his arms wide open, "Here. In P.V."

"It's complicated," you stated, wanting the conversation to be over and done with. Jim wasn't up for it as he kicked at the sand, "That's what everyone says. They say it's complicated. But it never is. They just don't want you to know them."

You sighed, running a hand over your face, frustratedly, "You don't need to know me, Jim. And I don't need to know you. It's easier that way."

---

You were drawing shapes in the sand with your index finger as Jim laid beside you, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The smell of smoke filled your lungs like the first night you met, blending in the taste of the salty air. It was a weird combination, but it was comforting, something you had grown accustomed to.

"Do you live with your parents?" Jim had asked you personal questions before, and you had shut him down every time. It's easier this way. That's what you told yourself every time you pushed him away. But Jim was like the ocean, drawing you in and drowning you. He wasn't drowning you in a bad way, though. You realized then that Jim was an addiction, something you knew you shouldn't have but craved anyway.

This time, you gave in. "No, I don't live with them. Do you?"

"My dad is married now to Ava. She was our real estate agent. She and dad fell in love and boom." He brought the cigarette to his lips, "New family."

"We both have crappy families, huh?" Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to let Jim in.

"My sister is the best. Her name's Medina. You would like her."

---

You and Jim grew closer. Some nights you would talk for hours on end about anything and everything. Other nights, you would just sit together, listening to the crash of the waves.

One night, when you wanted to be completely free, you asked Jim to teach you to swim. You were nervous, but you trusted him more than you probably should have. But you were in too deep, out too far in the ocean.

Jim wasn't just your quiet company anymore. He was your anchor, keeping you above the surface and away from the strong currents. One day, though, you would have to let him go. You didn't want that, but you knew it was coming. It's like when you're surfing, not that you had before, but that moment when you feel a big wave coming, and even though you think you're ready, you're never really prepared.

---

You sat in your car, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You contemplated on whether or not you should get out. There were pros and cons to your decision - getting out had more cons, and staying in had more pros.

You decided on the former. Grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you adjusted it on your shoulder, a sigh leaving your mouth as you walked into the building. When you reached the door, you sighed again and prepared yourself for whatever insults or accusations might come your way. Raising your hand to the wood, you hesitated. Did you really want to do this? Subject yourself to pain - time and time again. The truth was you didn't, but you still knocked on the door, awaiting a reply.

The door swung open, and you sent a gentle smile to the nurse. You swore that she was the only sane one in that room. Your mother and father were quietly talking, stopping when you approached. Taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, you took your bag off and set it on the floor.

"Hi, mom, dad." Your father grumbled, eyes boring into you with disinterest. This, much like you getting little to no sleep, wasn't anything new.

"What are you doing here so late?" Your father spoke, voice gruff and harsh as if scolding a child. You weren't a child, though. You had stopped being one a long time ago when the reality of the world came crashing down.

"I'm not too late. I had to work a little later than-" Your father's scoff stopped you from continuing. You looked down, briefly shutting your eyes, relishing this small moment of peace before his tyrant of hurtful words left his mouth.

"You don't have to lie, Y/N." It was your mother this time who spoke. You scoffed, turning your attention to her. She held your father's hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. When you were younger, you thought it was one of the most intimate things, but as you got older, you realized that she was consoling him when he had done something wrong.

"I'm not lying, mom. If it's really a problem, and you don't believe me, then you can call my boss." And this is what you despised most about your visits. Your mother would defend your father when he would say something cruel or mean.

"Probably sleeping with him," your father grumbled yet again as he lifted his strawberry Jello cup to his mouth. From the corner of your eye, you saw the nurse, Julia, taking a step forward. You shook your head slightly, and with a defeated look, she went back to tending to the room.

"I don't do that. I would never-"

Yet again, your father cut you off, and you kept the tears filling your eyes at bay. "And you wonder why I'm like this." He gestured around the room. "I'm in here because of you! You and all your ways!" You flinched when his voice rose.

"Stop..." You shook your head, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. Your father acting this way wasn't new, but the way he yelled made your stomach churn.

"Do you know he thought about hurting himself because of you?" Your mother spoke, projecting her own guilt onto you. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. It was like the ocean, teetering over the edge of the jagged rocks without actually going over.

"I haven't done anything." Your voice was shaky, and you knew that at any moment, you would break. You were like a levee, too much pressure, too much pain, and it would give way. And you would be drowning in your pain, all alone.

"Why do you even come here?" Your mother asked, standing up, a stern glare set on her face. You tried to ignore the little smile on your father's face. Of course, he's fucking enjoying this, you thought as you tapped your fingers along your thigh in an attempt to calm yourself.

"If you're going to act this every time I come here, then I'll stop coming." You were tired - that was an understatement. You were exhausted and worn out. Your parents only cared about each other, always double-teaming you. It was never playful banter; it was harsh.

"Maybe that'd be better for everyone," Your father said, and that's when you shut down. The roar of your blood rushing in your ears reminded you of the ocean. It reminded you of the way the waves rolled over on each other.

They kept speaking, but you didn't say anything. Your parents threw insults and hurtful words your way, and all you could do was sit there and listen. At one point in time, it would have broken you, but now, you were numb.

You stood up quickly and grabbed your bag. You mumbled a quick 'bye' before rushing out of the room. Tears fell from your eyes and down your face as you threw open the driver's side door.

A broken sob left your mouth as you started the ignition and began driving. You didn't understand. What had you ever done wrong? The answer to that was nothing. You had nothing, but for some reason, your parents treated you as though you had.

No destination was on your mind as you drove. You just needed to get away, get away from your parents, away from the pain. It was sad, really, how your parents treated you. Instead of supporting you, they belittled you. Every time you thought things were getting better, they would turn around and prove you wrong.

You blinked away tears when you stopped the car. You were at the beach, but it was day time. You got out of the car and headed down to your regular spot, hoping no one was there.

Unknown to you, your nighttime friend was there, intoxicated by the drugs and alcohol he took. Everything in his vision was hazy, but you weren't. He was you clearly, tears in your eyes as you rushed down to your spot. Jim stood up and started walking after you when someone tugged on his jacket sleeve.

Rubbing his eyes, he turned to see Heather tugging him back to her, "Where are you going?" Jim shook his head, his vision not as clouded as before, "I gotta- I gotta go."

"Jim," Heather called, a pout on her face. "Stay."

Once again, Jim shook his head, shrugging her off of him and walking after you. He found you, your knees brought up to your chest as you watched the waves.

"Hi." You didn't turn but responded with a soft, "Hi, Jim."

He sat down next to you, closer than before, "What's wrong? You look sad." He always thought you looked sad. You didn't notice, but there was always a vacant look on your face along with a frown. It was as if though you couldn't be happy without unhappy thoughts filling your head.

You turned to him, tears in your eyes, "I'm tired, Jim. I'm so fucking tired." He stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh. You raised an eyebrow, and he patted it again, "Come 'ere."

You scooted closer to him and laid your head in his lap. It was comforting, not the waves, but the warmth radiating off of him. Even though the sun was out, you felt cold. It wasn't until then that you realized you were always cold, in constant need of having someone's touch.

"Jim?" He hummed, fingers ghosting over the side of your face. "Do you hate me?"

He looked down at you, wanting to meet your eyes, but your focus was on the tumbling waves. "I don't hate you. I don't think I could ever hate you." Jim mumbled the last part quietly, more so to himself than to you.

"Everyone hates me. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe that's why everyone leaves."

"Hey..." he said softly, gently turning your head so that you were looking at him. In a way, you were still looking into an ocean because you felt yourself getting lost in his eyes.

"It's a selfish thing to ask, but would you leave me?"

He shook his head, "No, I wouldn't leave you, but you might leave me." You laughed, and he smiled down at you, "What's funny?"

"You."

"It's nice," he said, trailing his fingers along the side of your face, making your eyes flutter close. "Hmm, what is?"

"You talking. You don't talk much, always quiet, always sad."

"Parents suck." Jim laughed, and you swore it was one of the most calming sounds you had ever heard. "Yeah, they do. They're sort of hypocrites, you know?"

You nodded, reaching a hand up and pushing a lock of hair away from his face. You had never taken the time to look at him, but now, you didn't know why you hadn't before.

"You're good company. Did you know that, Jim?" You memorized every detail on his face, every little mole, the shape of his mouth. You knew that one day he would leave, just as everyone else had, and that's what scared you. Jim was the first person in a long time who made you feel safe.

"You're one of the good stars," you said sadly, closing your eyes and listening to the roar of the waves.

Jim didn't say anything, only continuing to trail his fingers along the side of your face. In his drunken and high haze, he didn't know what you were talking about, and it became quiet.

Just as before, like the first night you two met, it was quiet, a warm and comforting quiet. There were no words that needed to be said as the two of you basked in each other's presence.

When you opened your eyes, Jim wasn't looking at you anymore. His eyes were on the water. You turned your head and looked in the same direction.

You were sad. You knew this wouldn't last forever. The two of you being free from the rest of the world. You and Jim were those stars - the ones that outshone the others. Jim had a chance, a chance to get away. He needed to. This town didn't deserve him, and you didn't think you did either. He was too special, too good for someone as broken and screwed up as you to have.

So, for now, you would cherish these moments because one day, it would all end, and you'd be alone, drowning in the ocean of your pain.

—

a/n: part 2? if so, i have ideas in mind

#my writing #Jim mason #Jim mason x reader #the tribes of palos verdes #Cody fern x reader #Cody fern #Jim mason imagines #Cody fern imagines #Michael Langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs #american horror story #xavier plympton #duncan shepherd

53 notes · View notes

langdxn · 4 years ago

Text

the night we met | jim mason x reader

WARNINGS: Expect tears, that’s all I’m saying.

A/N: I finished watching 13 Reasons Why recently and this is my way of getting out all those emotions without turning to actual 13RW fics that nobody would read. Thank you to the anon that suggested writing this with Jim, it suits him so well! Italicised lyrics from Lord Huron - The Night We Met.

youtube

Jim Mason left echoes wherever he went.

His unbridled laughter reverberated against the rocks in the bay, his ecstatic cheers bounced from every tiled roof, his beaming smile reflected in the sun rays gleaming on the shore.

Everywhere in Palos Verdes held a piece of him.

Some more painful than others.

———

“You’re the new girl,” a kind voice called above the hubbub of the house party, approaching you in your assumed position of safety in the kitchen. Steering yourself away from the established crowds of friendship groups and awkward first meetings, you anchored yourself beside the mountain of solo cups and the half-empty drinks chiller.

It almost worked. Almost.

I am not the only traveler

“Fascinating observation,” you replied with a disgruntled huff before turning to see the sun-bleached blonde standing behind you, tousled beach curls framing his tanned face. “I concede, I acquiesce to the mundane introduction of awkward teenage boy to equally uncomfortable teenage girl.”

“Way too many big words, babe,” he sighed before swooping beside you to grab a beer from the icy depths of the cooler. “I’m Jim, by the way.”

Who has not repaid his debt

“Nice to meet you, ‘Jim by the way,’” you proffered a sarcastic hand which he happily shook. “I’m ‘the new girl.’”

Jim’s brows furrowed, eyes widening as he slowly processed your wordplay.

“That’s a hell of a sense of humour you got there,” he chuckled nervously, cracking his beer open and taking a deep swig. “What brings you to PV?”

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

You leaned an elbow on the nearest kitchen counter as if settling down for a long drawn-out narrative to explain what brought you to this moment — your new house filled with total strangers, your new kitchen almost entirely destroyed by high school demolition drinking games, preppy kids wading past your cardboard boxes, varsity jacket-clad football players sneaking into your new bedroom and a particularly gorgeous surfer dude trying to chat you up.

This bizarre situation called for brutal honesty.

“My last boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend, I couldn’t face seeing them both every day so—“

Take me back to the night we met

“So you came to PV for a more complicated life?” Jim interjected, his warm smile lighting up the whole room. In an instant, it was as if you and he were the only two at the party. The commotion around you muffled to a dull roar as you gazed awkwardly down at your feet.

“I assume so,” you nodded, taking a gentle sip from your cup while maintaining eye contact with your new friend. “What’s so complicated about PV? Can’t be much worse than I went through in DC.”

And then I can tell myself

“Yeah, you say that,” Jim scratched his neck, his attempt at diverting an uncomfortable truth. “You haven’t met the Bay Boys yet.”

“The Bay Boys? Sounds like a horrendous tribute band,” you sighed through a subtle pout. “You’re not one of them?”

“Hell no,” Jim scoffed with a grin. “I’ve got a life, believe it or not—“

What the hell I'm supposed to do

“Jimmy!” A booming male voice swooped toward you before two big palms landed square on Jim’s shoulders. A stereotypical high school jock had just invited himself into your quiet conversation. “Who’s the hot chick?”

And then I can tell myself

“This is... the new girl,” Jim smiled that same innocent smile that captivated you not moments earlier. “New girl, this is Danny, king of the Bay Boys.”

The heat prickling at your cheeks wasn’t a response to meeting one of the supposedly fabled Bay Boys, nor to his reference to you as ‘the hot chick,’ but to Jim. The guy who sauntered into your life and actually gave you the time of day. The guy who smiled like the first rays of sun across the ocean in the morning.

“Come with me, babe,” Jim snapped you out of your daze, his fingers suddenly entwining with yours and pulling you across the room. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Not to ride along with you

———

“Come on, babe,” he pressed as you lay together on the beach, gazing up at the glistening stars in the PV night sky. A sharp elbow jabbing into your ribs indicated his impatience. “You know… you know I’ll look after you, just give me a chance?”

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

“Jim, you’re too drunk,” you sighed, a playful tap landing on his wetsuit-clad chest beside you. “Ask me when you’re sober.”

“I’ll be sober in the morning and you’ll still be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he smiled to himself, scooping an arm under your head and cinching you into his chest. “And the only one that understands me. Definitely the only one that would lay with me and watch the stars like this.”

Take me back to the night we met

“That was shockingly coherent for your state of inebriation, Mason.”

“Fuck me, that was one too many big words,” Jim chuckled heartily. “You’re still avoiding the question, princess. I’m not like your ex, you’ve known that since we first met last year. Why not just see whether we can be happy together?”

I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

You sighed wistfully, turning on your side to gaze at the beach-tousled blonde laying beside you, the moonlight bathing his features in an angelic glow.

“It’s just,” you stuttered. “What if we didn’t work out? What if we fought and fell out? I couldn’t lose you, Jim, I’d be a mess without you.”

Oh, take me back to the night we met

“You won’t lose me,” he cooed gently, drawing you in to plant a peck atop your hair. “I love you too much to let you go.”

Slowly pulling away, Jim’s gaze locked with yours. The sparkle in his eyes as the moonlight beamed down on you both, the sweet grin tugging at the corners of his lips, the hopeful hitch in his breath; his words held so much sincerity, so much meaning, that he hung on every syllable that left your tongue in response.

When the night was full of terrors

“Jim, please,” you pleaded reservedly, clenching your eyes shut as if to dismiss all thought of returning his affections. “Don’t say that unless you really mean it.”

He leaned in to hover his lips over yours.

“Baby, I’ve never meant anything more—“

And your eyes were filled with tears

Suddenly, frantic footfalls slipping on the sand approached from behind you, startling you both to attention.

“Mason, get your ass back up here,” called a male voice, no doubt one of the Bay Boys. “The party’s dying without you!”

When you had not touched me yet

Jim stuttered weakly, caught off-guard and unprepared to stand his ground for fear of looking flaky in front of you.

“Uh... yeah, sure,” he shouted back, nervously clearing his throat and weaving his hand from beneath your neck. “I’ll be right there.”

“Jim, wait—“

“Babe, I gotta go,” he insisted, staggering to his feet and helping you up to meet him, cupping your face in both trembling hands. “Look, I’ll tell you when I’m sober, just like you asked right?”

Oh, take me back to the night we met

You couldn’t conceal an eye roll as you nodded contentedly, swallowing hard as he turned to leave. A few paces across the sand, he turned to gaze at you once again.

“I’ll tell you when I’m sober!”

———

Not every echo recalled happy times.

“Jim, I’m worried about you,” you sighed, watching him sweep together another line on the bathroom counter.

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

“Well quit it, okay?” He hissed, a snarl skewing his once radiant smile as he looked at you in the mirror. “You’re not my mom, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Babe I know I’m not, I’m just trying to hel—“

“You’re not helping anybody! What is it with you, huh? You got a crush on me or something?!”

Take me back to the night we met

His hands balled into fists atop the counter, puffing furiously like a bull about to charge.

“You? I don’t even know who you are anymore, Jim,” you spat furiously through gritted teeth, arms gesticulating in the tense air between you. “You’re so out of your skull all the time, I don’t even recognise you.”

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

“Oh thanks very much, babe,” he mocked your tone, swinging around and pushing past you to leave the bathroom. “It’s nice to know how you felt about me this entire time, and it didn’t even come out with big ridiculous fucking words! That explains why you were so goddamn evasive whenever I tried to make a move on you.”

Racing behind him as he stormed through the bedroom, your vision clouded with hysteria, words you needed to say but couldn’t find, sentences you couldn’t bring yourself to form, phrases that pained you to produce into sounds.

Haunted by the ghost of you

“Jim, you only made a move on me when you were drunk or high on some fucking substance you shoved up your nose with the Bay Boys!”

“Yeah? Well you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” he paused at the front door, hand clasped around the doorknob and turning to face you. His face scrunched into a scowl, his bottom lip trembling frantically. “I’m done here, I’m done with PV and I’m fucking done with you.”

Take me back to the night we met

In a blink of an eye and a slam of the door, he was gone. Hours later, the beach sweeper found his body, face down in the sand where he once lay beside you.

———

Jim died thinking I hated him. He died not knowing I loved him.

I’m leaving Palos Verdes today.

Because Jim Mason left echoes wherever he went.

Some infinitely more painful than others.

#jim mason x reader #the tribes of palos verdes #cody fern fanfiction #jim mason fanfiction #jim mason imagines

68 notes · View notes