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devilmademewriteit · 2 years ago

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Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

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Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

—

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pzychojinx · 7 days ago

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so, jinx in act one of season two. see, for three years i expected a full on descent into chaos and madness beyond any repair. i'd made peace with that, too. so i'm surprised - pleasantly, joyfully surprised.

very long analysis ahead on where they're taking her and how it speaks to me.

we first meet her again during silco's eulogy sequence - a beautiful sequence, halfway between dreamlike and real. "just like when vander shoved off", she says about his death. except it's not. after vander's death, after vi's perceived abandonment, everything jinx could feel was self-centered. she would say "she's not my sister anymore". she would devalue these people entirely. in fact, every single reaction to any action done by her loved ones would be self-centered and extreme. that is very much how her mental process works, how her trauma caused her to work. and more so: when silco would ask of her any work, any mission, she'd do the job purely for his sake, his affection, his approval, never caring about the cause.

in short, she was never able to get out of her own head for as much as a single minute. now, she starts the funeral off with "chembarons warring for control of the lanes. wannabe street thugs squabbling over scraps. just like when vander shoved off." and it's not about her abandonment anymore. it's not about being left alone. it's not about her. she's talking to silco about his city, his legacy, his world, his chembarons, his lanes. she's out of her own head, and it's the first time we ever see it.

"because someone put all those holes in you", she says then. and this is so interesting because there's obviously a dissociation here, as well as a very intense grief and sadness. we are obviously still dealing with someone who's deeply traumatized and unstable, but let's compare this with powder after the deaths of vander, mylo and claggor. powder had a full breakdown, both turned into a complete de-evaluation of vi as i was mentioning earlier and full desperation. "i only wanted to help, i only wanted to help, i only wanted to help".

this chaotic desperation is something jinx kept within herself throughout the entirety of s1 up until - the tea party. which i'm getting at, in a minute. point being, for now, that the jinx we see during silco's eulogy is grieving and lost and rootless and asking herself "what am i supposed to do with that?", but she lacks the chaotic full-on desperation that would lead her to acts of explosive destruction and/or self-destruction in s1. in fact, she's incredibly quieter. she's more grounded, more present in her movements, in the way she fights, in the way she talks.

in retrospect even her final action in s1, the infamous missile, already had the energy we're seeing now. it wasn't instinctive, driven by hallucinations or trauma or rage or an unrestrained trigger; it was silco's legacy and it was calculated. silco's death, i think now, left jinx as rootless as she's ever been, but it also left her with an acceptance of who she is. "don't cry, you're perfect". the tea party ends with her 'choosing' jinx and if you'd asked me before season two, i would have said with full certainty it meant she'd be going to be a loose cannon. entirely and with no possibility of ever being anything else. that's not what i think now.

i think she came to terms with who she is. i think now that the seat at the tea party wasn't a symbol of complete derailing, it was in a way a symbol of acceptance. "here's to the new us". she's fought her fight between powder and jinx and the tea party has permitted her to gain, in some way, a sense of closure. very importantly, having lost what she perceived as vi's acceptance, and having lost a father, she has also been able to shed the constant and desperate need to be in their favor.

during the 'sucker' sequence, we see her going through the lanes with a hood on her hair, very low-key. loose cannon jinx would have never, ever done that. loose cannon jinx would, quite simply, not have cared. she would have been extra, and explosive, and in everyone's faces. she's preserving herself not to be found, and that's new. again, i think she's still lost and rootless and grieving and really asking herself what she's supposed to do now that she's entirely autonomous and i also think there's definitely still a lot of bitterness and rage when it comes to vi which we obviously get to see during their fight and in no way is she magically ~healthy or anything like that - however.

she is still walking those streets in a way that indicates self-preservation. it would have been very, very easy for jinx to be captured by any of those goons and/or got herself killed. and for some reason, whether that be an apathetic, mourning state or mind, or whether that be some gained peace in who she is, or both - she didn't.

given all this, the new element that season two act one has introduced for her that truly moved me and made me feel... healed in a sort of way, is the introduction of human bonds for jinx that defy her historical, co-dependent mechanism of idolization and de-evaluation. ergo, sevika and isha. this is incredible for her and most of all, it's realistic. it's a chance at something, but it doesn't feel forced, nor fairytale-esque, nor does it resemble your usual ~redemption arc.

sevika and isha function as people who she's building some bond with, and since she's a little bit less in her own fucking head, and since she's not clinging to them as idealized protectors / saviours and neither is she refusing them as betrayers, and since she's not constantly fighting between what she perceives as her double identity anymore, she finally has the possibility to experience healthier bonds. sevika functions as somebody who still ties her to silco, possibly the closest thing she has right now to any root she might have left, and it works: reminiscing silco with her, gifting her the arm, doesn't leave her utterly alone but neither does it let her fall into the trap of clinging onto yet another figure from whom to fully depend.

and isha, very obviously, functions as the possibility of healing her inner child which is a goldmine for her storyline. her bond with isha could clearly have a narrative tie to jinx & silco, to jinx & vi, and most importantly to jinx and powder herself - this is all quite obvious but again, it's not executed in a way that feels like a forced 'redemption arc' or whatnot. the idea of this little street kid who just imprints on her like a lost little duckling, which is in no way jinx's decision, simply feels natural and heartwarming. does this mean i presume such healing of her inner child is going to come easy to her? no. but it's something. it's something very different from anything she's ever experienced before.

even through the loss, the rootlessness, the grief and confusion, the panic attack we see her experiencing through the lanes as a consequence of the moment she sees vi and caitlyn's enforcer squad, even through the brutality of the fight with vi, - and this is all to say, she's still a very traumatized individual, which is important because it would have just been senseless to have jinx somehow get fully stable like a switch had been flipped - we're seeing something new for jinx here. i've seen many posts related to "i'm glad it's you", and i might be unpopular here but while i do think jinx still has an element of suicidality, i also think she was at least half bluffing there. comparing her micro-expressions with the ones back on the bridge fight with ekko, i'm under the impression she was testing vi, at the very least partially. "poisoning us with gas?" is also an interesting line because even in her attack at her sister, she's less focused on her own trauma and more on something that we've hardly seen from her before - belonging to the lanes.

all of this to say, i'm loving the path they're taking for her. it's still very much jinx. it feels like jinx. but she's not just about to wreak senseless and desperate havoc in order to be seen by either her sister or her father, because there's no one to be seen by anymore. she's not fighting a desperate battle between her identities either, because she's accepted her place. she's not loud and erratic, she's quieter and coming to terms with herself. closure is truly the word that comes to mind, for me, in how i see her arc right now. closure, and unexpectedly, possibility.

#arcane meta #arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane season two #arcane season two spoilers #jinx #vi #silco #sevika #isha

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queenstarscream · 18 days ago

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Nah i need to talk about Earthspark Starscream for a sec.

I'm so, so so very angry about it btw. First, they gave us inplications that he could MAYBE change. Maybe not entirely good, but maybe not quite as evil as before. Not only that he had someone that tried to care about him genuinely, and still did.

Secondly, while it was tame- Megatron and Starscream still talked. It was so important. They should have gotten another chance.

I'm not saying Starscream in any universe has to forgive Megatron, but Earthspark could have made a really emotional and valuable scene between those two. They NEVER ever give a chance for Megatron to mourn or grieve the other Decepticons? Even if he hates Starscream still? Thats a lot of change for someone.

In season 2 they want Starscream to be the big bad and its just.. why? They could've done that but had him help in the end.

And then finally.. season 3. Where they tease us a lot- which i will admit i thought they wouldn't ever come back to him and just tease. And when they finally show him- he's "crazy", AND his supporter stabs him.

I'm sorry, what the actual fuck? As someone who is psychotic, and an abuse surviver, this is absolutely disgusting writing and i don't want to hear "they had limited time and new writers" as an excuse.

You know what you do? You have him help vaguely, and then he fucking leaves, if you can't be bothered to properly redeem him or anything else.

And since we are here, Earthspark s1 was good. Thats it. It focused too much on the humans ( which i DO appreciate and find it beautiful that the main humans are non-white. ) and not enough on the robots. I'm rewatching G1 and even though it spend a lot of time with humans- it still mainly focused on the robots.

Same with Transformers Prime and Animated.

I am so tired of series like this almost making me feel emotional and then its flat. Its like- Almost there, and then its like the producers are like "Oh remember this is a kids show and also only for kids. Btw this is a kids show. Dont be too emotional. Throw in a joke".

They could have had Megatron at least be the one to go get Starscream in the end to start that road of "i want to try to help you" PROPERLY.

The IMPACT of it all. The emotion it would have had. Not that Starscream is emotional nor is Megatron, but if they had written it right. They could have done it in a way where the abuser isn't forgiven, but they both help each other become better people within the moment. Or fuck- even a dangerous fight between the two ( worse than the first one ) with Starscream PROPERLY calling Megatron out with an audience of the terrans, Decepticons and autobots, maybe even Dottie.

Make it an emotional episode for lore and implications that are good enough for kids to understand ( see The Owl House ) and make it an episode about Growing as a person/bot and that its okay to be hurt, you don't have to forgive people that have hurt you + you don't have beat yourself up for being a bad person, you just keep working on yourself.

But also this has the Decepticons REALLY realize how bad it was, as well as the Autobots ( though i feel like Optimus and Elita already would know ), and Dottie could talk to the Terrans about it, and thats how it could've been "a kids show lesson" or whatever.

Sorry i rambled i am just so. We could have had it all.

#transformers #megatron #starscream #starscream chitters #transformers earthspark #Tfes #tf earthspark #Tfe #tfe starscream #tfe megatron

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itaehynz · 4 months ago

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two slow dancers.

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader.

genre: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst.

warnings: death, grieving, crying, acceptance.

summary: inspired by the movie, “20th Century Girl”: while trying to help your friend get a boy she likes, you meet your own love… a love you thought would last forever.

author’s note (please read): as the cancer season comes to an end, the leo season begins. not only my month starts but also huening’s so, i’ve decided to start this month with a special treat! it’s taken a lot out of me to write about things like this especially with the fact that i once lost someone who was very important to me and a huge factor in my life. but over time, i’ve learned that it’s okay to grieve and it’s definitely okay to not be okay. i hope you enjoy this fic. ♥︎

with strangers, friendship can grow. or the stranger can be a total jerk, let’s hope that’s not the case.

“y/n, pleeeeaaaseee!” your friend chae begs. you roll your eyes as you remember what she’s begging you for. she’s begging you to help her with her crush. you being you, you’re thinking of all the worst outcomes of this. you can probably mess up by accidentally walking up to the guy and he automatically shuts you down. or, you can just walk up to the wrong guy!

anywho, you agree. much to her surprise, actually. she was expecting you to say no, knowing how you are but instead of questioning it, she just cheers happily. you watch her cheer with a laugh and say, “okay, okay. where is he?”

she points over at him, making you look in the direction of where she’s directing you to and see two boys. as far as you know, their names are taehyun and huening kai. you were about to ask her which one but she tells you taehyun before you can even utter the words.

you know very few things about taehyun. one thing is that he prioritizes his studies over everything else. another thing is that, you rarely see him with anyone besides the boy with him at the moment. that’s all you know.

with no information besides what you already know, you decide to just go for it. you begin walking over to the two boys, seeing that they’re talking with each other and laughing amongst themselves.

finally reaching them, you look back to make sure that chae is still standing and for your sake, she still is. you clear your throat quietly as the two boys look at you with smiles and say hi, wondering why you’re there.

“hi! ummm, taehyun, right?” you ask, watching as he nods in response. you give him at tight lipped smile as you begin to tell him that your friend has taken a liking to him and that she’d like to try and get to know him, something along those lines.

both him and huening kai share a quick look before huening shrugs and smiles softly. taehyun agrees kindly and asks where your friend is so he can go over to her. you point over to her, seeing that she’s now seated at a table on her phone. he waves bye to huening kai and begins walking over with a warm smile.

you and huening watch as they begin talking and smile in happiness. “he’s never accepted a girl’s advances before,” you hear from behind you. you look back, seeing huening kai watch the two of them from afar, with a sappy smile on his face.

much to your surprise, you reciprocate his smile. not because of them but because of him. his smile is making you smile. his gummy smile is so cute, you think to yourself. you’re so in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that he’s staring back at you while his smile unconsciously widens.

you’re both admiring something about each other as you finally realize how long you’ve been staring and finally think about how creepy you look.

huening looks away as well, his smile not leaving but his stare fleeting. he musters up the courage to ask you, scared to ask you at first. “would you like to be friends, uhhh-” he pauses, realizing he doesn’t know your name. “y/n.” you say, you would ask his name but you already know it due to your friend’s infatuation with his best friend. “ah, y/n, would you like to be friends?” he asks again, this time with your name coming first.

“i’d love to be.”

—

with friendship, love can grow. romantically, platonically, love comes in every form and or shape.

with huening kai, it just so happened to be romantically. you’re not sure if he feels the same but what you are sure of is that he’s all you think about.

his beautiful smile, bringing such warmth to anyone who comes into contact with him. his way with words, he really knows how to make anyone feel loved by him. his perfect personality, the lovely mixture of funny, charm and kindness. he has all the assets of a great partner.

much to your disappointment, he’s brought up the fact that he has a crush on someone. you couldn’t possibly guess who as he doesn’t really interact with anyone besides you, taehyun and shockingly, chae.

not thinking too much of it, you finally bring yourself back down to earth and tune into the environment. you’re surrounded by tons of people filled with joy, excited to get on the rides. on the right of you, there’s chae. she seems to be getting impatient as she taps her foot every chance she gets and rolls her eyes at how long the line is. to the left of you, you have huening kai and taehyun, who’s now chae’s boyfriend.

taehyun taps you on the shoulder and asks if he could talk to chae, which you mindlessly agree to. now you’re next to kai, who’s immediately smiling from the sight of you. “you excited?” he asks, words filled with childlike energy.

you smile at him, “yeah, are you?” he half heartedly smiles at you, nodding his head with quickness. “yeah… totally excited…!” he says quickly before looking away. you’re caught off guard by his sudden change in attitude towards the ride and your eyes squint in confusion.

at the time, you would’ve thought he just didn’t want to get on the ride. but he did. he wanted to get on the ride, it was just that… he was scared of rollercoasters.

“kai, are you scared of roller coasters?” you question, causing him to whip his head in your direction. he looks around, trying to come up with an answer that won’t give away his obvious fear.

“of course not! it was just that slushy i had a while ago, i’m still a little shaky from it,” he says, trying to play it off with a nervous chuckle but you can see right through him.

you decide to brush it off yet, you can’t help but pity him. you don’t want him to feel forced to get on the ride because everyone else is, but if he wants to get on then so be it. chae and taehyun are hand in hand as the line moves quickly, you all now reaching the seats. the two in front of you rush to the back seats as you and huening are left with no option but to sit all the way in the front.

based on how everyone on the line avoided the front of the line, you’re guessing that this ride is no joke. you watch as huening fills with fear and you start feeling bad for him once again as he seats himself on the right side of the ride. you seat yourself next to him, waiting for the worker to come and strap you both in.

“kai, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” you ask, placing a hand on his thigh to give him some type of comfort. he grabs your hand tightly and simply says, “yeah.” before the worker comes around to you two and buckles you both in, giving the person at the start button a thumbs up and motioning everybody else to do so.

you raise your thumb up with eagerness and watch as huening raises his up slowly with his eyes closed tightly. you feel him grip at your hand tighter as the ride begins moving, showing a huge raise in the air as it prepares for the drop.

as the ride makes its way up, you hear huening gasp quickly. you look over at him, seeing if he’s okay before he starts saying, “y/n, if i die! i just want you to know! i’ve had a huge crush on you since day one! i always thought you were so nice and sweet and pretty cool! your smile! your laugh! your eyes! your heart! everything! i always talked to taehyun about it to the point that he would get tired of it and tell me to try speaking to you! i’ve really been your biggest fan and i hope that we could possibly end up together one day!”

you look at him with widened eyes as the ride begins to drop, watching him scream in terror while still having his eyes closed. you watch your hair fling back and forth as the ride blades through the wind, thinking about everything huening just said.

so, he did like you back.

—

with love, comes pain. unthinkable pain, pain that can be absolutely unbearable at times.

he’s going back to hawai’i. and he’s not coming back, is what he told you. at the time, you were filled with so much shock and anger that you didn’t even respond to him when he told you. you left him conflicted. he even considered staying for you, no matter how much his parents and siblings needed him back home.

you called him all types of names to chae, you told her that he was a terrible boyfriend, a horrible person and you told her that you hated him.

now here you are, running to the bus station hoping to catch him before he leaves. you’re running as fast as you can, running and bumping into everyone while trying to get there as fast as you can. trying to get to him.

as you run, your bag catches onto something and you struggle with it before finally getting it off of whatever it got stuck to. continuing with your pursuit, you try to remember the bus that was set to take the passengers on board to the boat for hawai’i. filled with fear at the fact that you might not make it, you start asking people if they know where that bus terminal might be. a lot of no’s are said and you feel a pit in your stomach.

you just want to see him one last time.

you go up to one more person, asking if they know where the bus might be. you’re met with a tall man, a man who’s about huening kai’s height, seems to have the same hair color and the same body type.

completely out of breath from all the running you did, you politely tap the man on the shoulder and ask him, panting in between each word.

“yeah! that’s the bus i’m heading for right no- y/n?” the man above you asks. your eyes widen as you look up to be met with a familiar face.

him.

“wha… what are you doing here?” he asks, clearly shocked to see you here. you continue panting as you reach for his hand, tears soon building up in your eyes.

“i’m sorry—for everything i didn’t say. i didn’t say anything when i should’ve told you that i loved you and i’m fine with long distance, i should’ve told you to be there for your family and do what you have to do. i should’ve told you that no matter how many hours away you are, my love for you will never change. ’m sorry for not saying that, kai.”

you finish as huening looks at you with a small smile, tapping your hand with his finger. as you look up, he catches your lips and kisses you with so much love and affection, like he’s been waiting to do this.

you waste no time kissing him back, embracing his torso with your arms as he holds your face in his large palms, deepening the kiss without any effort. a bus rushes past the both of you, causing both of your hair to flail in the air as if you were in a movie.

he slowly pulls his lips away from yours, connecting the both of your foreheads. he rubs your cheek with his eyes closed as he inhales deeply, breathing in your scent one last time.

he opens his eyes and he’s met with you looking up at him with tears in your eyes. his eyes begin to water as well as it finally dawns on him that this is actually the last time he’ll see you in person.

not even six months into your relationship and he’s already leaving you. he feels terrible but he can’t do anything about it, his family needs him back home and he can’t stay no matter how desperately he wants to. he dreamt of a future with you in it, you’re the only person he thinks about 24/7.

he chuckles sadly as you say, “promise me you’ll call when you can, please,” his smile fades away slowly as he nods his head. as he’s about to kiss you again, the terminal announcer calls for all passengers boarding for hawai’i.

he pulls from you quietly, picking up his bags before kissing you on the forehead softly as his bus pulls into the station.

you begin sobbing profusely as he takes his final steps away from you, watching as he begins crying as well with his head down. you’re both ugly crying and watching him board the bus doesn’t help but you can’t look away.

he steps onto the bus before turning around and mouthing the words, “i love you” before the door closes on him and the bus begins moving. you run with the vehicle, saying the words, “i love you more” way more than he said it.

your legs finally give out on you and you drop to your knees, with your head lowered toward the ground as you cry into the sad air. but you remember his promise:

he’ll call.

—

with distance, comes longing. longing to be in your partner’s arms, within the arms reach of them. longing for them.

it’s been almost 7 months since he’s left for hawai’i, and he’s called every other up until now. it’s been a month since he’s last called you and at this point, you’re thinking this was his way of breaking up with you.

you walk over to the call boxes as usual when you’re about to call him and you put in a few coins and type in the number he gave you. you wait a few seconds, hearing the phone ring and then say, “the number you have reached is not in service. please check the number and dial again.” you’re filled with so much rage and frustration that you don’t even hang up, you just start yelling into the phone.

“i’m gonna get over you for real now! not gonna wait anymore! it’s better to just think you’re dead,” you say, sobbing and sniffing softly, “and don’t call me later— that won’t work! you don’t have anymore chances!” you cry into the phone, “and i don’t miss you anymore— so have a nice life, you ungrateful bastard!” you add, dropping the phone, not even bothering to put it back on the dial.

you walk out of the box, sobbing into the sleeves of your shirt as you make your way back to your school campus.

—

2 YEARS LATER.

with loss, comes grievance. take the time to grieve for the things you have lost, or even the people you’ve lost.

as you walk into your old home, you get filled with nostalgia from the past, good and some bad. you look around and see a box with a card, reading, “to y/n l/n.”

you open it and read the containments, “come visit us, 9am ~ 6pm.” with a location at the top. seeing that it has your name you think nothing of it, you’re just confused.

pushing all of that aside, you decide to visit the location but you proceed with caution.

you drive to the location and you’re met with a place that holds viewings. viewings for those who’ve passed and some viewing held for art shows.

you read the card once again and go to the viewing it directs you to, as you enter the space you’re met with a screen showing a beautiful blossom tree. you smile in awe at how beautiful it is before looking over at the singular bench sitting under the tree.

there’s words on the bench, the words read,

“the eternal spring; remembering kai kamal huening (2002-2023).”

before you can get caught up in your head, you hear footsteps coming from the left side of you. you whip your head to the direction of the steps and you’re met with taehyun.

he stares at you for a while, seeing how much you’ve changed and slowly walks over to a bench in front of the screen. he motions to the seat next to him, asking you to sit down. as you walk over to him, he begins speaking.

“while i was moving away, i found a package that huening had hid. that was a while ago, probably even before he passed… i was surprised that he had hidden this, y’know but, it’s obvious that it was special.” he pauses for a second, allowing you to take in everything that he’s saying.

“i felt the need to send it. so, i decided to contact you and even go as far as to arrange this viewing. i’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or upset but i didn’t know what else to do, y/n.”

“it’s fine, thank you actually. i would’ve still been… angry. i would’ve been forever, if i didn’t know.” you say, staring at the floor as you speak. you hear him huff, wiping a hand through his hair.

“i was actually… upset with you for a moment.” he says, catching you off guard, you look over at him. “i was scared he’d… come back here for you.” he adds.

much to your surprise, you hear him laugh quietly.

“i was looking through the things he had filmed and that’s when i realized, you’re the person he truly wanted. and i felt the need to tell you just how alive— how alive he felt when he was with you, y/n. and how much he truly loved you.”

he says, leaving you heartbroken. you softly sniffle as he continues, “what i realized, while watching it— the film—that the happiest moments in his short lifetime, were when he was with you. you mattered to him.” he pauses, looking over at you. “so i want to thank you, for being there and for remembering him.”

you smile half heartedly, chuckling sadly, “how could i… ever— forget kai?” you say, smiling softly at taehyun as he mirrors your smile. he hands you a tape, before taking his leave and walking out to his car.

you follow suite and head back to your car as well, heading home to play the tape.

as you make it home, you take off your shoes at the door and walk to your room. looking in your closet for your vcr player, you grab it and blow it. watching years of collected dust fly off of it, you plug it in and set it up under your tv.

you pop in the tape, nowhere near ready for what’s about to come.

as the tape begins playing, you see taehyun singing and playing the piano. you smile at the memory and keep your eyes on the screen as you pop into the camera. it’s a video of you plucking flowers from the ground as huening records, his soft laughter filling the background of the video. you watch as the tape continues playing with different videos of you, that he recorded. videos of you dancing, playing around with him and recording the morning announcements from high school as his warm laughter and giggles fill the air of the video.

the tape cuts to static, causing you to have an internal panic as you believe your vcr’s stopped working, but no. the static cuts to a video of huening kai walking through tall grass and flowers as he hovers above it. he lets his hands cut through the flowers as the video cuts to his face, cutting to him adjusting the camera with a smile as he begins talking.

“good morning. it’s probably the new year! i got out of bed really early to show you this, it’s probably really late there. just wait for me a bit longer, i’ll come see you soon, y/n. it’ll be fun, in the new year— with you.” he finishes, smiling into the camera. you watch him say with a sad smile, knowing that he didn’t even make it to the new year. you know he would’ve loved to see you, in person.

—

with death, comes denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance.

acceptance is the most important part. you accept that ever after all that they’ve been through, they’re no longer in pain or suffering like they used to. you learn to accept that they’re better and it’s okay to miss them at times. they’re still with you, maybe not physically but they’re in your heart. forever.

it’s time to accept that he’s gone.

it’s okay.

perm taglist: @boba-beom, @kiokantalope, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @hyunimylove, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz . . .

networks: @k-labels . . .

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dollypopup · 6 months ago

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interesting that people are still saying that they need to see Colin humbled and criticizing him for being 'smug' in the first views we have of Season 3

almost like. . .they don't actually understand his character

almost like. . .they don't want to

Colin is a character who is consumed externally. Through other people's eyes. Through Marina's and Penelope's and Anthony's viewpoints, through the ton's viewpoint. And that makes him a character you have to dig into and *actively* consider his POV in order to properly grasp the extent of him, since he has been largely denied that POV by the narrative. And when you do that, when you consider his perspective, you realize that the 'smug' veneer people are criticizing? Yeah, that's not actually Colin. It is the view of him. It's the persona he wears. That he shows us. That we consume without question.

Because we? We are the ton. We are who Colin criticizes as only seeing him as an empty charmer. As a smug flirt. As a man with no substance.

Colin is *already* humbled, and his suave exterior is the protection of such, the armor to shield him from society, because when he didn't have it? He was hurt.

Colin loses his father at 12 years old. Colin is sent off to boarding school away from his family almost immediately after Edmund dies. Colin grieves alone. Colin is made fun of by his older brother. Colin is teased for being a virgin, for being earnest, for being a romantic. Colin's first foray into love ends with a public blowup of his engagement. Colin is humiliated to his entire community. Colin is depressed in Season 2. Colin tries finding escape in new places and drugs and letters. Colin is hardly even noticed by his own mother. Colin tries talking about his experiences and people roll their eyes at him, so he stops talking about it. Colin writes on his travels a second time and barely gets a response back. Colin is ghosted by his best friend with no explanation. Colin apologizes. Repeatedly. Wholeheartedly. To Penelope. To Will. To Marina. Colin is told off to his face and *accepts it*. Colin is accused of being a foolish boy caught up in fantasies and bows his head and says 'very well'. Colin is informed that he hurt Penelope and called cruel and immediately apologizes. Takes accountability for what he said with no excuses, praises her, and offers to help her achieve her goals.

When Colin says that charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. He was a sad, lonely young man in Season 2, he is playing a role in Season 3. That's the whole point. Colin *is already humble*.

But furthermore. . .so what if he is more confident in Season 3? What did he do exactly that was so horrible that we need him to be knocked down several pegs? When he is already overlooked even in his own family? And the answer is. . .he didn't love Penelope soon enough.

But that's also not true. Colin has loved Penelope more than anyone else, out loud, and unhesitatingly. It hasn't been romantic and sexual, but that doesn't mean he hasn't loved her. Who asks how Penelope is faring? Colin. Who is the only one in the sitting room in Season 1 to bid her a good day? Colin. Who is the one who is praising Penelope for being smart and sharp and witty and funny and warm and clever? Colin. Who is the one writing to her on the off season, keeping her company? Colin. Who is the one who looks to her home, no doubt wondering how she's doing? Colin.

This fandom has a grudge against him for increasingly infuriating reasons. This is the season he falls in love, and the grand majority of people don't want to understand him, his motivations or characterization. Going so far as to immediately think he's ignoring Penelope in the first 5 minute clip, when she is hiding in the bushes. When the entire family walked down the stairs and didn't notice her right in front of them. We will bend ourselves into pretzels to justify hating on him or insulting him or wanting to see him ground to nothing, and yet accept the most surface level reading of him possible. You can't do that with a character like Colin. His conflict is internal, and the narrative has not given us much glimpse of it. Regardless of whether or not it has gotten overt screentime, Colin is a complex, deep character.

We, however, are a shallow audience.

We are the ton.

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #media comprehension isn't dead y'all i swear i PROMISE #colin bridgerton my beloved #i will always love you #best bton character you can't change my mind

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 years ago

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REPLACED.

YANDERE! ROCKSTAR (FEROZE KHAN) x GN! MANAGER / PA ! READER x YANDERE! POP IDOL (JISOO HAN [EVE] )

FEROZE BELONGS TO MANAGER READER AND @moyazaika !! Just wanted to make a lil gift for my lovely moot 💋

[ Part 2 : REHEARSAL ]

You were absolutely terrified.

Lord knows how you were able to get the Feroze Khan to agree with collaborating, with a “goody two shoes” pop idol who flirted to hell and back with you, no less. But you just knew someone was going to get hurt by the end of this.

Eve used to be your client before you were dumped into the depths of hell. Aside from the flirtations and clinginess, he was a dream to work with as a manager. He never got into scandals, and he worked day and night to be the best in his craft. You never had to worry when it came to his career. You however, took that for granted and left him the moment you got a better deal. Getting to work with a junior idol vs a seasoned rockstar, the choice was obvious was it not?

Nope.

Eve making tons of songs about heartbreak only poured salt into the wound. You saw him as your little brother almost, it was hard seeing him grieve for your presence. You felt heartless. Guilt ate you up from the inside out. You were lucky he didn’t try contacting you after it all.

Until now.

heeeyyy there! beena while. you workin with Feroze at the moment right???

You squinted at the DM you received. As a manager you were used to dealing with all sorts of texts. Thirsty ones, death threats, collaboration requests. But none of them made your heart beat this quickly. Was it out of excitement, nervousness, or terror? You didn’t know.

I am.

short and straight to the point as always!! i’ve always loved that about you

∧,,,∧

( ̳• · • ̳)

/ づ♡

take my love, wontchu?

You covered your mouth and squealed.

“The fuck?” Feroze looked up from his guitar at the noise you made. He had to admit it was cute but it did ruin a recording of his.

“Sorry, I’ll go outside.”

“No, stay. I need you here.”

You simply nodded, already used to his obsession with you at this point.

annyyyywaysss i just wanted to ask if you could secure a collab with me n mr. khan?

been tryin to get ahold of him but all i got back was radio silence 🥶

but i know if it’s you, the bestest manager ever, i’ll be able to collab with the bestest rockstar in the world!!

i’ll be a good boy i promise!! pretty please with a cherry and me on top?

Somehow you doubted that. But as your own self appointed protocol states, you must report the matter to your client.

“Feroze, you’ve got another collab request.”

“Was it the person that got you squealing?”

Oh no, you did not like his tone. Jealous Feroze was a monster to deal with. “. . . Yes ? “

“Go for it.”

“What? D-don’t you want to hear about their music style and what not before you—“

“I just have one condition. They have to come to me.”

And, you were doomed.

“Right. I’ll schedule a meeting.”

You stand corrected. They got along well. A bit too well for your liking. You didn’t have to stand awkwardly there while Feroze glared (as he usually does) at his collaborator. In fact they were even conversating! And it wasn’t small talk…

“Mr. Khan! You’re even dreamier up close.”

Your employer even seemed to be amused by Eve’s personality. “I could say the same for you, Eve right? Like the biblical Eve? And please, call me Feroze.”

“Yeah! They thought it’d be a nice call back to my more . . . type of music.“

“Type of music you say. . .”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, you bet I am.”

Why do you have a feeling you were being replaced?

YOU RECEIVED A SPECIAL POSTER!

Check it out?

[ ✅ YES ]

[ PART 2: REHEARSAL ]

tempted to make a bl/mlm spin off of these two fr fr

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labbycakes · 23 days ago

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I genuinely grieved for this show because I thought we would get NOTHING after season 2, so my very first reaction to the news was sheer, utter RELIEF.

I guess because I already went through that grieving process, I don't feel so bummed. I never thought we'd even get to see their reunion, let alone 6 full episodes. I'm so proud and grateful to the people who fought for those 90 minutes. I'm cautiously optimistic that they'll give our boys the ending they deserve. At least the show's story isn't ending with, "I forgive you." "Don't bother."

For anyone who is grieving the loss of a full season, I support you and hope you continue to be a part of this fantastic fandom. Allow yourself to mourn, but don't allow it to kill your spark. We'll all get through this 💙

#good omens #good omens 3 #season 3

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rainbow-sunshine-unicorn · 1 month ago

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"While what Violet said was through a haze of grief and trauma, what Anthony heard, at a very vulnerable moment, was that his mother would rather die for her husband than live for her children. And it’s very hard to not take that sort of thing personally."

YES YES EXACTLY like I have all the empathy in the world for Violet as a mom with postpartum depression and just a depressed person in general when Edmund died but at the same time you just told your oldest flat out you have no reason to live for WHEN YOU HAVE EIGHT FUCKING KIDS AND ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. She just told her son they aren't her air and there is NOTHING left for her in this realm like... that SCARS A PERSON.

dont get me wrong I still enjoy Violet as a character no one is all good all bad but... I would assume that even if Anthony and Violet's relationship becomes less fraught Idk if he would ever get over that no matter how fulfilling his life is now

I think it’s super interesting how Violet is a very loving mother who obviously wants the world for her children yet is a flawed parent in many ways. It shows you that flawed mothers are not necessarily just those who are like Portia but also those like Violet, who are “good” people.

Not that I think Portia and Violet are the exact same, but it’s an interesting juxtaposition, because you may think that both of them are on opposite ends of the parenting spectrum but the closer you look, the more you see, that both of their actions are motivated by wanting to do what’s best for their children and that it is this that lies at the core of a lot of their bigger mistakes as mothers.

Also, I think that her relationship with Anthony was fundamentally changed by him witnessing her raw grief. Though I think the other children, besides Gregory, Hyacinth and perhaps Francesca, were aware of her grief and absence from their lives, and it impacted them in different ways, for example, Daphne singing to Eloise over Violet’s cries, none of them truly felt the weight of it like Anthony. And I think this altered the relationship not only from Anthony’s perspective but from Violet’s perspective.

This character study perfectly articulates exactly what I mean. It summarises Anthony’s character and motivations in such a succinct way, I believe everyone should watch it!!

But throughout season 1, we see her treat him as though he’s Edmund’s replacement falling short rather than her son while simultaneously wanting him to treat her like an authority figure. She demands he arrange something for Daphne with a friend like his father would have, then later, berates him to renege when she considers Simon a better match. Yes Anthony does many things wrong, but he is navigating it from a very lonely place of extreme pressure and absolutely no one to turn to for guidance.

She waffles like this throughout season 2 as well, like insisting that she knows what he wants deep down while also accusing him of thrusting his responsibility upon his siblings, which is simply not true, considering Colin doesn’t even seem to understand the importance of balancing accounts. It’s only in the very last episode of season 2 that she seems to realise how much she has hurt Anthony but even then she apologises for the hurting him while she was grieving and not the way she has treated him subsequently.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think Anthony will ever go back to being Violet’s oldest child rather than the half limbo state that they are in where he’s the head of the household and she’s his mother but also part of his household. And this is not because of a lack of love on either of their parts or because they are too different. Which is the tragedy of their relationship.

Anyways this is already too long, but Anthony’s last experience of unconditional parental love was when his father died, because the moment he did, in certain ways, he lost that from his mother.

I truly believe that the next time he experiences such unconditional love and affection is from Kate, who sees him at his worst, witnesses him make every mistake and still equally matches his feelings, his love and devotion and desire.

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zelaznyharper · 6 days ago

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And another thing!

Just because my brain is a self-destructive hamster wheel and can't stop re-visiting things even if they cause continuous psychic damage:

The 8x06 breakup doesn't make sense.

I'm not saying that isn't the story line they'll stick with, but it's just stupid in so many ways. I've already ranted plenty about how it's bad writing and nonsensical to the story they've already written. So here's a whole different reason it's stupid:

This may be the TV show version of meta-gaming, but 9-1-1 lone star got cancelled, and 9-1-1 season 9 hasn't been confirmed yet. 9-1-1 is one of the bigger draws (viewership wise) for ABC's prime-time line-up but it's been steadily losing viewership for years, so season 9 is likely, but not guaranteed.

I don't see Buddie happening. No shade to Buddie-fans. Within the show a Buddie ending could totally work. But from a corporate overlord perspective, it's not a viable option. Network shows generally want to have wide-demographic appeal. It makes more sense, from a 'TV Network perspective' not to have both thirst-trap leading men set to draw the same demographic. If both Eddie and Buck both have story-lines about discovering their latent sexual identities it limits the show's potential market appeal.

So, if a season 9 isn't guaranteed, and Buddie isn't endgame, why the flying fuck would you breakup a solid relationship with a season and a half of buildup? If you only have about 12 episodes guaranteed why would you break Buck's heart, and then try and squish time to grieve, time to rebound/maybe revert to Buck 1.0 (not cute at 33), and time to build a relationship that's a better endgame that the one you just spend 1.5 seasons building into the time remaining?

Genuinely, just dumb-fuckery.

#911 spoilers #911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz

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ananke-xiii · 2 months ago

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Talking about mommy issues... I'm not a 100% fan of Jack as the destiel son BUT it's important to me that going there means acknowleding that "archetypically" speaking Dean is The Mother while Cas is The Father*. And this isn't just because, when Sam accuses Dean of acting like their father, he replies with a Freudian slip if I've ever heard one ("I'm not his mother"), it's also why Chuck's myth-retelling doesn't work (Abraham is totally Cas and he and Jack subverted that myth) 'cause first he doesn't understand Dean and second he's not an astute storyteller and doesn't realize his story was already subverting the myth he wanted to re-enact. Therefore he should've created a situation where Jack (The Son) was forced to kill Cas (The Father) if he wanted to provoke Dean, this was Jack's original sin according to Dean, come on Chuck, it's been 14 seasons, everybody already knew Dean was not gonna kill Jack. He's totally fine with caging and entrapping his putative sons but he draws a line at killing them (insert that meme from Community). (I mean, I know Chuck wants Dean to do his bidding but after 14 years he had to get a little more creative than that. Maybe he should've listened to his editor Metatron, just saying. "maybe less about detail and more about balance") ((hello Becky and Metatron parallel)).

It would have also meant that Jack's story would've gone back to its genesis + the long tail of dead parental figures (not only Kelly and Cas but Nick/Lucifer and Mary and whoever else I'm forgetting lol).

By the end of s14 there is a short-circuits of symbols so it all had to go tits up, hence the rising of the dead etc. etc.

*This doesn't mean they are the Good Mother and the Good Father as they're clearly not but these are the primordial energies that they both channel to Jack. Also, obvs patriarchy in SPN is very much alive and well as demonstrated by the fact that the Good Mother and the Good Father are only the Dead Mother and the Dead Father and unfortunately for Jack this is what he got when he was born. He's not even born and he already lives in an ideal world with ideal figures compared to whom he'll always fall short.

Also, Jack's got the power to wake up from the Empty his putative father because his Mother (Dean) is grieving his death and he wants to please him: Jack is a total mama's boy.

#chuck coercing dean into the role of The Father is part of the reason why his story has never worked #this doesn't mean that dean doesn't uphold patriarchal values cause he clearly does #nurturing and caring are nice traits but they can also be unhealthy #it's quite telling that in the show about absent fathers dean never leaves and when he does is to follow other father-figures #and that is number one issue with cas is him leaving #which could mean nothing #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #jack kline #chuck shurley #spn s14 #super-m/Others

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desecrated-guacamole · 2 months ago

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I know I’m *checks watch* twelve years late coming to this realization, and two years late to talking about it when it would’ve been at all relevant, but godDAMN

Young Justice wastes NO time being good after season 1. The producers really just said “hey, y’know all the characters and relationships you’ve loved seeing develop for the past 26 episodes? Well actually, fuck that, fuck them, and fuck you! Everything’s different now, everyone’s developed in new ways that you won’t get to see, but not even in a way that makes sense for a FIVE YEAR TIME-JUMP!”

Take Robin for example; in the five years that take place offscreen, Dick becomes Nightwing, Batman recruits Jason Todd as the new Robin, Jason Todd gets killed, and Batman recruits Tim Drake as the new-new Robin (oh and also Barbara Gordon becomes Batgirl). I love the Batfamily, but I can barely call it the Batfamily when we don’t ever actually see them becoming a fucking family! We don’t get to see Dick struggle with his mentor’s legacy, we don’t see Jason struggle to live up to the Robin that came before, or Barbara picking up crime fighting despite what Bruce tells her to do because fuck that guy. We don’t get to see any of them grieve Jason, we don’t get to see Bruce go off the deep-end, only to be brought back by a young Tim Drake, who shows him what makes Batman, well, Batman; helping those in need, saving people.

INSTEAD, we’re introduced to two characters we knew that are now wildly different with ZERO explanation as to why, and one that we’ve never seen before and is (so far in my watch) severely underwritten, but because they’re the characters we love from the comics we’re supposed to love them here. It’s using the iconography of the characters to get us invested without putting in any of the actual work DEVELOPING them as people. It’d be one thing if this was the first time we met any of them, but we’ve already been introduced to Barbara, and we’ve spent an entire season with Dick, but now both of them have undergone massive development we aren’t made privy to.

I read an interview with Greg Weisman talking about the time jump, and he says this;

“We wanted a big time jump between the first two seasons to truly illustrate what our series was about, i.e. GROWING UP. After that, honestly, it’s more about what feels right. There are always things we want to skip, so that they become reveals.”

Man, I wonder if maybe allowing the audience to actually watch the characters grow and change might illustrate that growing up thing better than just skipping ahead so you can make it a reveal??? Imagine a show where we get to see these characters grow up together, maybe even grow apart, some leave, some stay, some are replaced, some come back. Like, imagine getting to see Dick reckon with the fact that Batman REPLACED HIM, only to watch that replacement die! Imagine getting to see Tim Drake come to Dick for advice, instead of just skipping ahead to the point that they’re already an established team. Imagine getting to see M’gann help Gar learn to use his powers for the first time. Imagine the team throwing a goodbye party for Wally and Artemis! Imagine seeing Wally and Artemis continue to develop their relationship instead of just jumping to them being fully moved in and together! WE WERE ROBBED!!

Like I’m still gonna watch it (not in the least because my roommate’s already seen it) but I need everyone to know I’m doing it under duress. I love these characters, and they did not deserve this lazy bullshit. I do not understand how Greg Weisman made Spectacular Spider-Man because HOLY SHIT the writing decisions made on this show are pissing me off, and don’t even get me STARTED ON CONNOR AND M’GANN BECAUSE WHAT THE FU

#young justice #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #dc robin #kaldur'ahm #aqualad #mgann morzz #miss martian #wally west #kid flash #connor kent #superboy #artemis crock #barbara gordon #batgirl #jason todd #tim drake #greg weisman

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 3 months ago

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question, have you written anything about ian's avoidant attachment?? i just dont really see anyone mention it even though its a big part of his character

i’ve said things about it off and on but i’ve never really talked about it in depth, but i’ve been wanting to post more so i’m gonna take this as an opportunity to:)

i do think it’s strange that nobody talks about it because as you said, it is SUCH a big and important part of his character. even in season one minor things like him running upstairs when people tried to help him with his broken nose or bigger things like running away from the chaos at home to go see mickey. the way fiona acted when he left also indicates it’s a common occurrence. ian always runs away. we even hear stories about him running away as a kid, specifically from his foster home with carl (there was probably abuse going on, but still, he runs away from conflict frequently and later on we see he can’t commit).

a lot of ian and mickey’s relationship early on wasn’t like how it ended up being, where ian runs. instead it was mickey always running, and we all know why- fear. i think he was trying so hard to keep mickey because he really was in love with him but also because he was so used to being left or being treated like garbage, and he didn’t want that. then obviously, season three he leaves, and the mania contributes for sure but i definitely think a big part of it is again, his tendency to run away. fiona even says, “he’ll be back when he’s back” (which i hated), but again it kind of proves he runs a lot. this time he just ran further and didn’t return for months.

anyway, ian’s avoidant attachment becomes more prevalent around the season five break up, which i could talk about for days because i feel like ian’s perspective isn’t talked about as often. but one of the reasons that he leaves is because they love each other and he doesn’t want mickey to be stuck with him, he can’t commit to this and he doesn’t want to drag mickey down with him. after this we see his struggles with commitment more often, visiting mickey in prison is a pretty good example, which is also something i’ll never really hate ian for. he tells svetlana that he doesn’t want to go because he’s done with that part of his life, he wants to leave everything behind him. when mickey shows him that he tattooed ian on his chest and asks him to wait years for him, it’s a big commitment, which ian is afraid of. he even states in season ten his parents contributed to this fear. he’s never known much about commitment, his parents could never commit to him, the men he fucked never commited to him, and mickey did, but it scares ian away.

season seven is pretty obvious, also. trevor wants a relationship and that also scares him away, and there were definitely other levels to it, but i’ve always viewed his hesitance for another relationship as a part of that. trevor wants commitment, ian isn’t good at that; and it shows when he runs off with mickey (after saying he’s staying and won’t do that). when ian and mickey talk while stargazing the night before mickey goes over the border, i could tell ian wasn’t going to go with him. mickey asks if ian ever thought of him, and ian says he did, but his demeanor to me always still seemed anxious. he realizes this is a big decision, and while he’s already made a lot of big commitments doing this whole thing with mickey, i feel like that’s when he realized. mickey’s leaving behind nothing, but ian’s leaving behind everything. his family, his job, trevor, probably even his stability. i don’t think i even need to talk about him leaving mickey at the border, because again, it was unsurprising and caused by fear and fear only. love was never a factor, and i think mickey must’ve known that.

there’s other examples within the next two seasons, like how he grieved, him hiding from the cops and running away after dyeing his hair black, but it’s always the most obvious when he’s in a relationship with mickey, because their attachment styles contradict each other. knowing he’s getting released on parole was a big thing, because to me, it was apparent he didn’t want to leave but also couldn’t wait to. his whole thing with mickey where he screams “i wanna be where you are!” and mickey responds with, “you don’t get to be.” was a big thing and showed a change in ian’s relationship with attachment. he was willing to throw his whole parole for mickey. it was growth. the marriage license is a whole other thing.

10x08/10x09 are pretty important episodes to me looking at it from ian’s perspective. he does love mickey and that should never be questioned, in fact, it irritates me when people imply he doesn’t, but he was afraid. the way his hand hovered over the paper was fear, and in 10x09 it all goes back to 5x12. ian’s bipolar, he doesn’t want mickey stuck with him. i think in the courthouse he did a good job of explaining why he didn’t want that. frank and monica had so many weddings and he’s watched so much shit go down, and he’s no stranger to being compared to monica. in season nine he states he doesn’t know who he is anymore, and i feel like he’s struggled with that for a while. he ends up marrying mickey, but there was so much trauma and fear he had to push past to do so. he asks mickey how he knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with ian and everything that comes with ian, and obviously mickey is fine with all of that, he loves ian, but ian isn’t sure. like i said, he’s been left so many times and he’s seen what his disorder did to his mother, he’s seen frank and monica’s relationship, and he’s scared. debbie even tells him this. that’s why i felt like his whole promise thing made sense, it symbolized commitment, he tells mickey he can commit, but mickey doesn’t buy it (and i don’t blame him). he learns he has to marry mickey, he has to commit, he has to say vows. and he does, and the whole monogamy conversation further proves he’s still learning and trying to overcome everything.

i dont know if i even answered that question or not and just rambled, lol, but i tried😭😭

#sorry if this makes no sense i’m tired and stoned rn LMAO but if i need to make another post explaining better lmk #and i did not read any of this i’m just posting it as it is lol #shameless #shameless meta #ian gallagher #gallavich #gallavich meta

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uselesseaweedbrain · 1 month ago

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Supercorptober - Leaves

Kara landed on Earth in autumn, on a carpet of crimson, dying leaves, creating a crater the size of which that forest had scarcely known.

Kara exited the pod then, making sure the air was breathable, even though the pod's system had assured her it would be.

The air was warm and fresh, the wind a slight breeze, and as she stood on wobbly legs, Kara relished in the caress of the wind on her skin for the first time in years, settling on this welcoming, healthy, foreign soil.

The trees had not yet lost all their foliage, and the sky was peppered with flashes of vibrant oranges, glowing yellows, poignant reds, interspersed with branches nearly bare.

Kara had arrived in autumn, at the end of a cycle that was culminating in ruddy orange and flaming red - colours once a reassurance and a manifestation of Rao, but no more.

Red, for Kara, then, had long since become a cruel and permanent reminder of a planet imploding.

****************************

When Kal-El happened, another let-down, another cutting disappointment, Kara had raged in anger and despair.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t, that Kal, Krypton’s last hope and final descendent, should be stolen from Kara before she'd even gotten to him.

But thus it was, Kal - Clark - had been moulded to earthly customs, never to be returned, unwilling to acknowledge his Kryptonian heritage or his Kryptonian cousin, and- there. Kara was well and truly alone - guilty of failing her only assigned task, guilty of having let Krypton die, guilty of being alive when so many others - all the others - were dead.

Of course. Kara had thought bitterly. Of course another thing in my care wilted and died. Krypton’s last hope, vanished into thin air, and now I am all we have left.

But Kara knew how heavy Krypton could be to bear, and-

Maybe it's a good thing I couldn't raise Kal. A good thing that I didn't touch him, didn't teach him, didn't contaminate him with our dying culture - my dying culture, Kara amends in her mind, mine - let him live free of my burden and Krypton's curse.

Kara was alone in her culture and alone in her family and alone on this planet, and all around, scarlet leaves rustled and dried.

********

When Jeremiah disappeared, never to be seen again, it was winter. The leaves were well and truly dead, decomposed, gone with the wind or burned on a pyre, the trees were bare and Kara found it fitting.

***********

When spring happened, and Alex softened, and Kara made a friend, finally finding her footing on this strange planet, Kara started believing again. In Rao. In the dance of the sun and the stars, in the push and pull of the tide, in the balance of life and death - the leaves had grown back.

Now Kara was surrounded with blooming life everywhere, glowing greens, dewy petals and burgeoning flowers, delicate and strong as they braved the wind and the rain to come out and live.

The plants lived without directions or agenda or specific care.

The flowers bloomed and blossomed because it was time, because the sun and the heat and the sap had ordered them to, and because they could, and Kara observed the phenomenon with desperate fascination.

*********

When Kara interviewed Lena Luthor in the fall, she'd already seen forty-eight earthly seasons. She had grieved, and grown through them, yet most of her relations to them remained unchanged.

Kara still fell into a meditative state during autumn, reciting prayers to Rao in her head, afraid to say them out loud and set them free, lest they never came back to her, and she lost yet another part of her decaying self.

She still despised winter, a stark reminder of death and loss and emptiness, her grief palpable and her guilt crushing.

The feeling of spring remained bittersweet, clad in awe but tied down with fear and resentment, that flowers would never bloom again on Krypton. That her people - her leaders, her parents - had made sure of that.

Summer was by far the easiest season of them all, comforting in its heat and nostalgic in its vermillion sunsets, still brimming with life as if holding its breath before the storm.

Summer, unlike fall, wasn't already shedding its dead weight, preparing to survive at all costs, doing exactly what it would take with no second thoughts.

Summer, unlike fall, wasn't calculating and pragmatic, utilitarian in its approach and cynical in its realisation.

Summer wasn't like spring, either, young and green and naive and too ready to live or die trying.

No. Summer was running on the edge of a cliff fast approaching, choosing not to look and believing it would make it.

Summer was reasonable hope and measured expectations, wrapped in exuberance for life and faith in the future.

When Kara followed Clark Kent in Lena Luthor's office, summer was ending. The trees were starting to shed, and Kara was slipping into her personal refuge, every year more afraid that her last remnants of Krypton would fade into dust and scatter.

When Kara walked in, trailing behind Clark, she was thinking of her suit and her life and her limits - and how long she would last if she were to give up the latter for the benefit of the first. How she was, once again, allowing higher-ups to dictate her calling and orient her actions, and how, soon, she would become her parents, too entwined in the web of power and duty to put their foot down.

Kara had seen aliens be roughed up and mistreated. She'd seen many, arrested for petty theft or clumsy property destruction, walk into a cell and never come out. She'd seen selective justice, and she'd seen Jeremiah walk out of their house into the DEO, and vanish without a trace.

Kara had seen and she had heard and she had executed orders still.

And now there she was, too, following her cousin in his reporter footsteps and investigating a woman who had done nothing but be her brother's sister.

And, Rao, how Kara knew about poisoned legacies and irreparable debts.

Lena Luthor walked ahead of them both, preceding them into the room with the rhythmic click-clack of her heels on the marble floors.

"There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why I wasn't aboard the Venture yesterday”, she dove in, and Kara was impressed by the steadiness of her voice, the firmness of her tone and the constant pace of her heart.

"It was an emergency, regarding planning for a ceremony I'm holding tomorrow. I'm renaming my family's company, and I had to cancel", she elaborated.

Her back was turned as she poured herself a glass from her water jug, carrying it back to her desk.

Clark looked skeptical and Lena seemed aware.

"Lucky", Clark called her.

Lena laughed and Kara wanted to laugh with her. She didn't believe in luck.

Neither did Clark, when it came to a Luthor.

"Lucky was Superman saving the day", Lena deflected, and Kara smirked internally.

Clark's fake laugh rung out for a few seconds.

"Not something one would expect a Luthor to say."

Kara didn't like the accusation - wanted, somehow, to deflect and protect this woman that she'd barely just met. But Kara hadn't ever been well-spoken or at ease on Earth, her confidence sapped by the need for secrecy and the initial language barrier.

So what she ended up saying was:

"Ah- uh- Supergirl was there too!"

Lena's attention was on her all of a sudden, and:

"And who are you exactly?”, she inquired with, maybe, a trace of genuine endearment.

"Um- I'm Kara Danvers." A second lie, a second half-truth, one more erasure of herself. "I'm not with the Daily Planet. I'm with CatCo magazine, sort of?"

An additional misstep, that Lena, of course, picked up on.

"That's a publication not known for its hard hitting journalism. More like 'high waisted jeans, yes or no'."

Kara shifted uneasily, and, thankfully, Lena didn't push further.

The CEO had sat down at her desk, and she was finally facing them.

"Can we just- speed this interview along? Just ask what you want to ask, Mr. Kent. Did I have anything to do with the Venture explosion."

"Did you?" Clark shot back.

"You wouldn't be asking me if my last name was Smith."

"Oh, but it's not. It's Luthor."

Kara recoiled at the barbed statement. Now Clark wanted to wield family ties as weapons? After giving up his Kryptonian legacy without a second thought? After dropping off his only living blood relative before even getting to know her?

Lena, unfazed, leaned back in her leather chair.

"Some steel under that Kansas tweed," she remarked playfully, a barely noticeable edge in her voice.

"It wasn't always." Lena stated next.

She looked at Kara, then. Not the way others had, with friendly condescension or lofty endearment.

No.

Lena, as she unraveled her family's history, her adoption, her attachment to Lex and her grief at his madness, her vow to rebuild her legacy as her own, Lena was staring at Kara and seeing her.

"I'm just a woman trying to make a name for herself outside of her family. Do you understand that?"

Lena's tone had switched from defensive to soft the second she'd laid her eyes on Kara, and-

"Yes." Kara responded reflexively.

Clark looked at her in shock.

But Lena had seen her and her office was clean and her lipstick was crimson and her eyes were the colour of spring.

And, right then, spring didn't seem so naive anymore.

********

#supercorp fanfic #supergirl #kara danvers #kara zor el #supergirledit #supercorp #supercorptober #leaves #supercorptober2024 #supercorptober 2024 #karlena #lena luthor #kara x lena

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