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grogwrites · 9 days ago

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Stranger - O.P. 81

Part Three - Final Part

part one • part two • part three

Summary: When someone returns to Oscar’s life after years apart, he has a hard time finding common ground with her to reconcile the feud between them. That is, until she signs on as a driver for the upcoming F1 season. Then he can’t seem to get her out of his mind.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC

CW: Dual POV series. Please take my warnings seriously before continuing on. This series is not for everyone, as consistent depictions of mental health struggles are conveyed in the writing, primarily PTSD and loss of a loved one. angst (shocker), swearing, depictions of PTSD, mentions of death and car crashes, crying/anxiety attacks, Lando’s a twat at first, slight suggestive content, some making out, FINALLY SOME FLUFF (only took us three parts to get there, right gang?)

A/N: THE FINAL PART! 🥹🩵 thank you all for the love you’ve shown to Claire and Oscar. I may do a little epilogue part if it has enough interest shown towards it. I’ve loved writing this, though, and I hope you all have loved it as well 🫶🏻

Word Count: 3.5k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

She didn’t necessarily remember how the argument started, but she was surprised how quickly things escalated. Fire and ice. Claire absolutely hated how Oscar clocked her shit like that. Then again, he always seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

She stared back at Lando—the image was like a stand off: the two of them on either side of his living room, trying to think of the next word or phrase to leave their mouths. Her dad’s voice was echoing through her head as she tried to calm herself down before her anger managed to boil over. Breathe, Claire. Breathe.

“You used me,” He finally accused, taking a few steps closer. His voice was quiet, calculated. She countered his movement by backing herself into the wall, distancing herself from him.

“We used each other,” she barked in response. “You know we did. We agreed to keep things surface level, so you can’t come at me and—“

“No, because I can,” he dug his phone out of his pocket, before flashing her a text conversation between himself and Edith. So much for being friends. Claire was about at the point of shutting everyone out again, just like she did in Seoul. She could almost laugh at how Edith was so quick to backstab her in such a manner. Claire had done nothing but stick up for her, and here she was now: throwing Claire under the bus for the opportunity to suck Lando’s dick. “She said you research your competition—you find their weakness so you can try to drag them down.”

“I do,” Claire retorted as she quickly met his gaze. It was slightly a lie, but she was too pissed at him to try and correct the accusation. Her chest was burning up with anger. “It’s a damn good strategy, too. I do what I can to win.”

“You haven’t even started in F1 yet,” Lando scoffed as he put his phone away. “What do you know about winning?”

Lando was talking about racing, she knew that. But yet…his words seemed to cut deeper inside of her—winning. She felt her shoulders slump. Sure, she was one hell of a race car driver, but in other aspects of her life, she failed. She failed with Oscar…she failed with keeping her dad alive…she failed with maintaining relationships, platonic or romantic. And now here she was, failing at her own fucking strategy that has helped her win over the course of her life. She wasn’t a winner—she was quite the opposite. But racing? That was the only thing she seemed to get right—the only thing she was confident in…or used to be, anyways. Driving used to be muscle memory to her. Her dad made her into a machine on the track, so she was going to make sure she did anything to continue to make him proud—to try and erase what happened the day they got into the crash.

It was all why she started looking into the weaknesses of her competition, anyways—why she made it her go-to racing strategy. One mistake, and things could turn fatal. If she could pinpoint someone’s flaw on track and avoid it at all costs, then she would be safe. She didn’t notice the other driver hydroplaning when she crashed into them…when she ultimately killed her dad. She met Lando’s gaze again as the fire in her chest continued to scorch and disintegrate any possible bit of calm she had left.

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” she sneered at the Brit, gritting her teeth as she spoke. She took a few steps closer to him, gaining her confidence again with each step. “You choke under pressure. You lack confidence in your driving. Just because you’ve won a race, doesn’t mean you know anything about winning, either.” Lando’s next words drove the pre-existing stake in her heart in even deeper.

“Go to hell.”

She pushed past him, leaving his apartment before anymore words could be spewed between them. She knew her decision to sleep with him was reckless, and all she’s done since leaving Melbourne was seemingly ruin her own life. The tears ran rapidly down her face as she fumbled with her keys to get into her apartment. She couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at Lando as much as she wanted to, because she was the one who brought this onto herself. As Claire shut her front door, she pressed her back to it and slid down to the floor.

The feeling was overwhelming—like everything was crashing into her at once: all the way back from when her dad died, leading up until now. Every decision she had ever made, every bridge she had burned to get to where she was…and for the first time in a long time, she felt regret. She regretted the life she built for herself, and she regretted the person she turned herself into. Claire regretted pushing Oscar away, moving to Monaco, sleeping with Lando…everything was a deep rooted seed of regret. She had spent all these years building a guard around her heart, when it only seemed to make everything worse than it already was.

The only person she wanted to talk to right now was Oscar, but she wasn’t sure if they were in that threshold again in their relationship. The reconciliation at the club the other night was definitely a stepping stone, but hardly a big enough step to validate visiting him at three in the morning. Would he push her away? Would he even answer his door? Claire was wagering to guess that he might be mad—he used to be a bit of a grouch when they were kids if someone woke him up. On the other hand, however, circumstances have changed between them. For better or for worse, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Claire played with the hem of her t-shirt as she gambled with the idea of going to see him. Her tears had slowed, and her demeanor was calmer. If she had any shot of regaining control of her life and mending the mistakes she made, then there couldn’t be any harm in trying to see him—she had to at least try. She inhaled deeply before pushing herself to her feet, and leaving her apartment once more.

Claire was the last person Oscar was expecting at his door this late at night. It was a miracle he even woke up when she knocked, but perhaps the universe was working overtime at bringing their lives back together. Ever since he saw her at the club two nights ago, he’s felt…strange. He couldn’t decide if he was excited to potentially have her back, or weary. As he looked back at her now, he noticed how red her eyes were…how puffy her cheeks were.

“You answered,” she observed, equally as surprised as Oscar felt. He smiled sleepily towards her, then leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“Don’t be,” he responded groggily. “Is everything okay?” Her arms were around him in a matter of seconds, further catching him off guard. When he felt her sporadic breathing against his chest, he realized she was definitely not okay. He wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close. He closed his eyes as she nuzzled her face into his chest. His chin rested on the top of her head, as he sat in silence, letting her work through whatever had just happened.

“Lando and I ended things,” she managed to say between sobs.

Oscar wasn’t exactly expecting the news to hit him as hard as it did. Was he…happy? He felt a bit like an ass at feeling relieved when she said it—he cared about Claire and Lando both so much. But this was Claire—his Claire. He pulled away from the embrace, then used his hands to wipe away her tears.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You want to come in?” Claire nodded lazily, and Oscar wasted no time helping her into the small confines of his apartment.

He was silently grateful he cleaned today. He hung up a few family photos around the place, trying to decorate it more so it felt more like a home. Oscar enjoyed feeling comfortable in his environment, and now that he was living away from Melbourne, he wanted the place to feel as warm and welcoming as possible. He watched Claire take in everything, when her eyes landed on one picture in particular: the first Piastri Christmas that her and Simon came to.

“Oh my god,” her voice was barely a whisper. She brought her hand up to the photo, slowly tracing the image as if to instill it into her memory. Oscar’s heart ached for her. Claire had told him at the club how broken she felt, but now was the first time he could really see it. She didn’t look well. Her already fair skin was even more pale than usual, and her eyes were void of any kind of life. “Things were so…different.” She looked back at him with a hint of a smile playing on her somber expression. Oscar smiled softly in return, making his way over to her.

“I never threw away any pictures,” he admitted sheepishly as he faced the photo with her. He chuckled softly at the sight of her puffy, red Christmas dress she wore in it. They were holding the remote control cars, each grinning ear to ear. Things were so simple back then. “I still have the cars, you know.” He heard a small gasp from Claire before he turned his attention down to her. She looked up at him in return.

“No way,” she responded. “God, those were so fun.” Oscar shifted his weight slightly, feeling his curiosity get the better of him. He wondered what happened between her and Lando—just a few days ago, Lando was talking about how well things were going.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “Do you…want to talk about what happened?”

“With Lando?” She asked. He nodded. He watched as she drew in a deep breath, thinking of what to say. “Um, Oscar, I haven’t become the best person since I moved. I want to start by saying that—“

“I don’t care,” Oscar quickly interjected, trying to reassure her. “I can promise you, nothing you say will make me hate you again. You can’t get rid of me again that easily.”

“I was using Lando,” she stated simply. “After the accident I, um, developed this sort of plan…I wanted to know every other driver’s flaw or weakness while they drove so that—“

“—you could anticipate it before it happened?” Oscar finished for her, now picking up on where she was leading with this. She had talked about the accident only briefly with him, but he didn’t know much detail. He didn’t need to, really, to put the pieces together.

She was driving the car the day they crashed. Someone driving in the lane next to them hydroplaned on the water in the road, and crashed into them—killing Simon on impact. He knew Claire well enough to know that she started implementing this ‘plan’ because she blamed herself for the accident—she probably was trying to avoid any other potential accident as to if try and reverse what happened that day. But that was the fucked up thing in life—you couldn’t change the past.

“I knew Lando was self conscious,” she continued, clearly shifting uncomfortably under Oscar’s gaze. “I figured if I slept with him, I could find how, exactly, that interfered with his driving. He chokes under pressure…he tends to bomb his race starts if he is near the front of the grid. He lacks confidence.” Oscar couldn’t help but raise his eyes in surprise at how much she knew about Lando. It was spot on, too.

“Claire,” he started gently, “the accident wasn’t your fault.”

“It could’ve been prevented if I noticed the guy swerving,” she argued, as if she could change Oscar’s mind. He knew she was trying to paint herself as a villain, but he saw her as anything but. He just saw her for what she was—broken.

“You wouldn’t have noticed him, Bear,” he whispered as he took both of her hands in his. “The rain was coming down too fast and too hard. It made it hard to see anything in those conditions.” He knew she heard truth in his words as she shifted her weight, leaning towards him ever so slightly. Her head bowed, as she looked down at her feet.

“I miss him so much, Osc.”

He missed Simon, too. More than words could ever express. Hearing the exhausted desperation in her voice could’ve been equivalent to getting punched, Oscar thought.

“I miss him, too,” he used one of his hands to lightly grab her chin, and guide her to look at him again. Her eyes were misty, still. “Bear, you can’t change the past. You can’t continue to worry about the things out of your control. The most you can do is look towards the future—and how proud Simon would be to see you racing in Formula 1.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting her to kiss him, but when her lips collided against his, he was quick to melt into her touch. He could feel her tears as they rolled off of her cheeks, and on to his hand. It felt like fireworks in his stomach, as a warm, low buzz echoed through this body. Claire. He was kissing Claire. A small hum sounded in his throat, as he instinctively pulled her closer to him—his hands landing on her waist. She grabbed ahold of his t-shirt, sending a swarm of butterflies through his chest.

Oscar swiftly lifted her, as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso. Both of them refused to break the kiss, as he stumbled his way through the living area before laying her on the couch. With each breath of air, the kiss deepened as though they were trying to make up for lost time. Oscar’s hands eagerly wandered her body, trying helplessly to memorize every curve. His mind whispered her name repeatedly like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. Claire. His Claire. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned softly against his lips. It was enough for his legs to give out under him. She was intoxicating—she was addictive. He never wanted to let her go—he couldn’t make that mistake again.

“I love you,” she whispered into the kiss. Oscar pulled away momentarily, allowing the depth of the words to fall between them. As he stared down at her, all twelve years of their relationship seemed to flood over him. Love. His heart swelled as the word—the feeling—dripped upon him like a profound epiphany.

“I love you, too,” he finally said. “I love you so much, Bear.”

7 MONTHS LATER - Melbourne, Australia

Stolen glances were what Oscar thrived on. Each time he caught Claire staring at him in the paddock, he swore his breath caught in his throat. They’d each smile, maybe laugh a little, then continue on with their commitments. He felt like a damn teenager again; it was pathetic. After the summer break ended, they had made it a point to text and call constantly. But being here—the first race of the season—it felt…different. Lando, however, seemingly caught on quickly to their behavior. Unbeknownst to Oscar, he had been watching them intently since Claire and him ended things. Oscar tried to care; he really did. But all Oscar could think about was the next time he got to hold her—the next time he got to kiss her.

“Claire is a better driver than I thought,” Lando grumbled in the McLaren trailer after Qualifying finished. Claire managed to take the shitty Alpine car to an impressive finish in P5. Oscar could hardly control the smile on his face when he found out. Right now, though, he was biting the insides of his cheeks. He didn’t want to piss Lando off even more—especially considering he finished below Claire.

“Yeah, she’s decent,” he managed. Oscar shook his helmet hair out, then ran a hand through it. “Tomorrow should be an interesting first race.”

Lando was quiet, presumably thinking about what to say to Oscar next. It had been like this since the weekend started, and Oscar knew it was because of Claire. He knew they needed to hash it out, but neither of them really knew where to start with the conversation. Lando had begun suspecting that they already knew each other since that first day in Monaco, so when their late night rendezvous officially ended and Oscar began taking more suspicious phone calls, it basically confirmed it for him.

“Oscar?” The Brit turned, leaning against the table that they were standing next to. “We’re, um…we’re friends, yeah?” Oscar glanced at Lando to find him staring back at him intently.

“Yeah, of course,” Oscar reassured him quickly. He wanted to be honest with Lando, but he just hadn’t found the right opportunity to bring it up yet. If he could clear the air, he’d feel so much better. He didn’t like lying, especially to people he cared about. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, um,” Lando sighed. “Is there something going on between you and Claire? Like, romantically?”

“Yes,” Oscar wasted no time. He wanted the tension between them to leave, so he didn’t think beating around the bush would serve either of them any good. “Um, it kind of started unexpectedly. I just didn’t know how to tell you—“

“She’s using you,” Lando quickly interrupted. “She does that, mate. Her friend told me that she researched her competition and—“

“I know,” Oscar now cut Lando off, not wanting to hear him talk about it. It was a complicated situation that Lando didn’t understand, and didn’t need to know the details of, quite frankly. Claire’s trauma wasn’t his business to share or to hash out. “I mean, not about her using me—but I know she researches drivers.”

“You don’t care?” Lando scoffed, as a smile of pure disbelief took over his expression.

“Lando, I’ve known Claire for twelve years,” Oscar explained, keeping his tone calm as to not escalate the situation. There were still camera crews around, and he definitely didn’t need this plastered across Netflix or Sky Sports. “She…does that because of some trauma she’s got. It’s complicated—“

“So, not only are you dating my ex,” Lando’s tone was wavering on the edge of anger and pure mania, “but you lied to me about knowing her?”

“I know how that looks,” Oscar carded a hand through his hair, quickly growing flustered. He hated the attention—he hated confrontation. “But I honestly wasn’t on speaking terms with her that first day. We hated each other back then.”

“And now you’re here, excusing her actions because of some bullshit excuse—“

“Hey,” Oscar surprised himself at the sudden shortness to his voice, but he couldn’t sit here and let Lando continue to drag Claire through the mud without knowing the full story. “I’m not excusing her actions. Regardless of what she went through, she shouldn’t have done it. But you can’t diminish someone’s trauma just because you don’t know or understand what they went through.”

“Okay, so help me understand,” Lando argued, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Help me understand what exactly happened to turn her into a bitch?” Before Oscar could act on his anger, Claire’s familiar, gentle voice rang from behind the two drivers.

“My dad died.”

The two boys turned, watching as she slowly made her way over to them. She was still wearing her Alpine team kit, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Loose strands of hair hung around her face from wearing her helmet earlier that day.

“I was driving us to visit my mom’s grave,” she continued to explain. Her voice was calm, collected—it perfectly evened out Lando’s aggressive demeanor. “It was raining. The road was ponding. I didn’t see the car next to us hydroplane and swerve. It hit us, and my dad died on impact.” In Oscar’s peripheral vision, he saw Lando’s jaw clench. He knew that he felt sorry for her, but his pride wasn’t allowing him to cave and apologize. Claire extended her hand towards Lando, as if to offer an olive branch of sorts.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” she smiled weakly. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I do think you’re a rather good driver—I just wish you could see it for yourself.” Finally, Lando took her hand in his—accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled, as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry about your dad.” Claire dropped Lando’s hand, then shrugged.

“It’s in the past,” her gaze flickered to Oscar, causing his heart to skip a beat. “It’s time I focus on the future.”

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

Taglist:

@leclercdream @martygraciesversion381 @henna006 @fortunapre @urlocalcemetery

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 fic #op81 #mclaren formula 1

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 10 months ago

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Ruby: Hey, Jaune, I know we've met your sister's and all, but what about Extended Family?

Jaune: Well, About that ...

~~~~~

Jaune: Hi Aunt Cynthia! It's been a while hasn't it!

(Champion) Cynthia: Indeed it has Jaune. Your sister's keeping you busy?

Jaune: Don't you know it. How's being Champion?

Cynthia: Tiring some days, detracts from my time to search ruins and hunt for relics and myths- Though i wouldn't change it for the world.

Cynthia: You've got a lot stronger at Beacon, huh? Let's test your skills in battle!

~~~~~

Darkness: You really must grow a spine cousin! You're the only Man in your Family, and you should act like it!

Jaune: I- I know Darkness ...

Darkness: Hold yourself High, Speak Clearly and With confidence and Teach those Girl where they Belong, Beneath Your Heel!

Jaune: Well, They're my friends-

Darkness: Grinding it down in the back of their heads, Pushing Their Faces into the D-Dirt!

Darkness: Making them clean it with their tongues, perfectly subservient to your whims or else they'll be punished~

Jaune: ... Darkness?

Darkness: *Holding herself, Shivering* And Gods that Strength~ Leaving Marks, throwing them around as Ragdolls~ Hmm~ The P-perfect Man~ To use them at your Leisure~

Jaune: ... This is why I don't talk to you about leading people.

~~~~~

Jaune: And Pyrrha's nice and helpful, teaching me how to fight.

Link: *Pouring Honey over Salmon*

Jaune: She reminds of your old friend Mipha in a way ... Kind, powerful, but too shy for her own good.

Link: *Pauses at Mipha's name, resumes*

Jaune: People think there's mutual respect, when really She's too scared to not be Pyrrha Nikos, Four Time Regional Champion and Argus's Sweetheart, and call them out on their BS. She's tired of the Fame. I just hope I can be the person she's not scared of being herself around.

Link: *Puts Fish in Oven, Turns to Jaune, Signing* I wish I could help you be that ... It's really a matter of time, and proving your reliability and the respect you have for her. Lords know that's what it took for Zelda to see me as her Anchor, not her Leash. Something to rely on in a storm, not fight against.

Link: After all, the most important thing we can give another is our Time. Don't squander yours.

~~~~~

Jaune: Aunt Sam-

Samus Aran: No you can't take apart my ship.

Jaune: I'm Jaune, Not Claire.

Samus: Right, I get all you confused.

Jaune: You seem stressed.

Samus: I'm always Stressed.

Jaune: More Stressed. You're Molting.

Samus: *Pulling loose feathers out* Yes, and it's stressing me out, Now if you don't know how to help me fix my armor, Shoo.

Jaune: *Hugs her* Take a breath Aunt Sammy.

Samus: *Shaking*

Samus: *Sinks to the Floor, Crying* I- I miss them.

Jaune: I know. I know.

~~~~~

Jaune: I just washed the walls and ceiling, could you please not walk on them?

Gwen Stacy: I dunno ... It's pretty Fun!

Jaune: Gwen, Please.

Gwen: Fine. *She Falls to the floor, landing in three point*

Jaune: Why do you do that everytime you're over.

Gwen: To get a rise out of you. *She slings a chair beneath her* It's pretty fun.

Jaune: *Sigh* Why am I always the target- Go mess with, what's his name? Kilometer? Whatever your boyfriends Name- HMM!

Gwen: *Webbing jaune's mouth, Blushing* he's not- We're not- Shut UP!

Jaune: *Smug, Mouth still covered in Web*

~~~~~

Jaune: ... And that's not even a sixth of them.

Ruby: ... That's all on your mom's side?

Jaune: Yeah, I only got Uncle on My Dad's side.

~~~~~

Mama Arc: HELLMOND BIORACY ANGEL! YOU ARE MY BROTHER IN LAW, AND YOU WILL TEACH MY SON ON HOW TO GET ME GRANDBABIES!

The Helltaker: *Scared for his life* Yes Ma'am!

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #the arc family #the extended arc family #crossover #rwby shitpost

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judasisgayriot · 8 months ago

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it’s your friendly neighborhood heroes anon! you seem to maybe kinda like the petrellis, so i’ll give you a fun ask about them.

what do you think peter and nathan were like with each other growing up? i’ve seen a bunch of different headcannons from people. in some they’re only like 8 years apart and in others it’s 14. some people think nathan was seen as more of a ‘cool cousin that gets you booze’ type by peter and they never really saw each other much, but when they did it was a fun time. but then in other fics nathan and peter are basically conjoined at the hip even after nathan graduates.

it’s all a big mess, and i don’t know who to believe lol. your thoughts? don’t be afraid to ramble on and on (and on)

Hi!!! I love to talk about the Petrellis haha so here goessss 💖💖

Ooh so first of all, I don’t rly know anything abt the supplemental stuff like the comics lol but not many ppl do anyway lmao

And secondly, in regards to their age gap we can roughly work it out from a few things: s1-s4 take place over roughly ~2 years (for instance Claire is 15-16 in s1 and 18/going to college in s4). Peter was born in December 1979 and is 26 in s1 (stated in canon), Nathan is similarly stated to be 40 in s4 (so ~38 in s1). So I’ve always interpreted them as being 12 years apart. Which yes, is a pretty sizeable age gap and means they wouldn’t have hung out in the same way that siblings of closer ages/in similar life stages would have. Peter and/or Nathan would be away at fancy boarding school, Nathan was in the military for parts of Peter’s childhood.

Their childhood is not super filled in by canon so a lot of this is my personal headcanon/interpretation (be warned for subjectivity/filling in the gaps) but I think their clinging to each other/closeness did start very young regardless of the age gap. Their father was terrifying and emotionally abusive as fuck, controlling to Nathan and at best dismissive and neglectful to Peter, Angela at least loves them in her own way but isn’t much better as a parent and is actively manipulative/gaslighting them all the time lmao and they live in an insane household that forced them together due to this (no wonder they’re Like That).

I think Nathan’s always been protective of Peter and wanted to be there for him/stand in front of him to shield him (though I think he’s later a little resentful about it, similarly Peter sometimes sees Nathan as too much of a puppet to their parents and doesn’t get why he didn’t stand up for himself more/gets frustrated with him, but Nathan was literally moulded from birth to be their obedient little attack dog who’d do whatever they wanted him to. Nathan in s3 saying his evil mind-controlling dad chose his career and even the person he married was picked out for him. There’s a reason that he seems so spineless.) but Nathan’s exception has always been Peter - the one thing he’ll defy his parents for. In s1 he goes along with what he’s meant to do until it comes time for him to pick The Plan or Peter, and he sacrifices himself for Peter. I think Angela never even considered that Nathan would choose Peter over her plan for him, which was the flaw in her machinations lol.

Peter also mentions in s4 that Nathan would rearrange his military leave to be there for Peter’s birthday, etc. i think that they were really happy to see each other every time they got to, it gave them some escape with someone who wasn’t their parents, who understood what it was like to grow up in that family. They’re hugely different people, but in part because Peter was allowed that freedom to be himself and have his own opinions that Nathan simply didn’t have, and again I think Nathan at once kind of resents this and also fiercely wanted that for Peter and is proud of him, despite the way he’s mean to him sometimes lol.

Of course I’d be remiss not to mention the infamous s2 deleted scene, where Nathan says that he and Peter used to steal Arthur’s scotch and go out to the treehouse and he ‘got him drunk for the first time’ up there. Not sure exactly when but this has to have been when Peter was a teenager, and… whew. The way Nathan delivers this with such anguish (‘why did I go back there…’) says so much about how intensely he feels about this whole thing, like, whatever really happened in that treehouse was a LOT and he’s having a LOT of feelings about it. I think when Peter was a teenager their closeness started becoming TOO much and too intense and it scared Nathan a bit as much as he wanted to hold onto Peter. But aaaaanyway….

I just love me some codependent brothers lmao so I’ve probably coloured it more towards that in my own perception. But basically I do think they were close regardless of the age gap!

#heroes anon #asks #heroes ramblings #oh u petrellis #thank u I enjoyed rambling about this!!!!

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kaerimichirami · 1 year ago

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Inkling (2023 Halloween Special Short Story)

“C’mon, I’d love it if you came along!”

“I don’t know… how will they look at our relationship? A-and I’m not good with young people!”

“Pfff… you wouldn’t have pulled me if you weren’t.” That wasn’t true, as Liv was mostly like a tired salary man in his fifties. “It’s just a six-year gap, five for Maddie! Besiiiiides, it’s my first trip since dad’s passing… I want you to be there if I end up breaking down or something.” Well, in that case… Liv was really close to her late dad, and they would often go on trips together. He was a sweet father, but had been battling depression after a succession of bad happenings in his life. One day, he abruptly ended all of it, by hanging himself. Liv and I were dating for only a few months, and I remember how many nights I hugged her so tightly as it was borderline unbearable. If going meant I was going to be there for her, then…

“Okay… I’ll go.”

“Thank you, Claire. It will be so cool! Cece got us a minibus and everything!” It was rare for Liv to be that excited about something, so I didn’t feel like disappointing her.

Over a week passed, and we were getting in the minibus. I needed to check with Liv their names, of course. I didn’t want to mess up. Maddie was the oldest, who was dating Cece’s twin brother, Darius. Let’s say he ‘fit in well with the girls’ and that Cecelia was so much more masculine than him. Maddie… didn’t seem to notice. It was almost like a twin event, Cece’s girlfriend being Aurora, Aurelia’s sister. They were identical. I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart if Aurelia didn’t have shorter hair, shaved eyebrows and many, many body piercings. She was a little scary…? No, not for her looks. She was just scary. Then, there was Jen and Sophie. Jen had so many tattoos, but she was hilarious and light. I also managed to have some deeper talks with her. Sophie was one year younger than the rest of them, and she was deaf, so I managed to learn a few signs to communicate with her. As the sweet girl she was, she got so happy with that.

When I met Liv, she always talked about Sophie. Deep down, I thought there was something between them. Turns out they just had a really deep sister-like bond, as both of them had lost their moms when they were younger, and Liv simply sympathized a lot and learned ASL to talk to Sophie properly. As Liv had rather a hard shell, Sophie seemed to be one of the few people to get to know her truly. Also, Sophie was down baaaad for Jen. Bad.

As for Cecelia, she was the jokester, the troublemaker, and lacked a little of respect and know-your-placeness. She was an extremely rich kid, so I never wondered why she was like that. Liv claimed she was in fact a good person and was really special, deep inside. I had trouble understanding that, though…

Going camping, in the mountains, with these folks, let’s say it didn’t sound like an amazing thing, you know? Camping was a hard no for me, I hated insects, sleeping in tents… but I couldn’t resist Liv’s begging, so there I was. We got in the minibus, and, wow, it wasn’t mini. In fact, it was huge and it even had a bathroom. Yes. With a shower. That was more like an RV, right?

We would take turns driving, except for Sophie who didn’t have a license, and Cece who “couldn’t be trusted driving”, Maddie’s words. She was supposedly the oldest, but she lacked much personality. I hated to perceive her that way, but she was a big-boobed straight girl with a gay boyfriend. Nothing but that. Ugh… I felt bad being surrounded by people between 18 and 20 years of age. It was fine, really, but it also felt a little weird. Liv searched for my hand, and it felt quite reassuring.

Over an hour in, and we were really getting along. Darius was an annoying piece of shit, and neither Maddie nor Aurora had much to their character, but Aurelia and Jen were really fun people. Sophie was seemingly in her own world, even though she wore hearing aids, they often didn’t make her justice. But Liv told me it was always like that, and she didn’t mind. Aside from her, Jen also knew ASL, so they had their own private conversations sometimes. I looked at them, and I wondered if they were flirting? But the signs I knew couldn’t answer that doubt.

We had superb snacks, and we were just having a nice time. I wondered what it would be like. Liv told me we would sleep in cabins, so we would have rooms. That would be nice, right? Not having to sleep inside tents.

It was my turn to drive, and it felt very easy. Well, it was late at night, and the road was basically empty… I wasn’t the best driver, but my only obstacle here was to not fall asleep. Liv sat beside me, and her loud laugh in response to her friend’s telling stories was keeping me pretty awake. She would often caress my thigh when it felt right, and you know, give me her little looks. After about an hour, the timer they set ran out and the brother took charge. Liv brought me to the back, and said she wanted to talk. We went to the bathroom, that was quite spacious. I mean, if you consider it was a bus. Also, it didn’t smell or felt weird (despite Maddie’s sickness from earlier).

Instead of words, she just gave me a kiss.

“Sorry. I just wanted to kiss you.” So, that meant they didn’t know. In fact, I was Liv’s professor from College. I had just graduated, and I was a mere substitute. But I was still older, and it was still quite immoral, despite Liv not being underage. Still, I wanted to kiss her, too… they would know, right? That we were making out. The fact we were taking so long, and the fact we would look all messed up when we came back… but she was so captivating, her lips were so sweet, honey-like, and her hands on my back just felt so right. Liv was much taller than me, so it always felt a little unfair when I would top her most of the time. I mean… I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, right? We… we were just kissing, nothing else. As we were dizzy and sopping, we ran out of breath and separated. She gave me a sweet smile before opening the door and leaving, and I followed her right after. They didn’t seem to mind, although Cece looked at us with a smirk. I knew she knew, but my face still got red.

“Wait… I don’t think that’s the right way.” Jen said. Darius replied, saying he had only followed the GPS, nothing else. Besides, there was no turning he reminded of taking. Just going forward, and forward. I wondered what happened…? It was dark outside, as it was, as I checked, two in the morning. But the streets looked eerie, in a sense, the trees seemed so old and, well, not exactly withered, but… dying.

They fought over it for a moment, when they decided to stop the engine. There was a sign next to us, and it didn’t look like English. In fact, I knew many writing systems, and I couldn’t recall that. I tried picking up my phone to use some photo reverse search to find what it was, when I found out we had no signal. Uh-oh. The GPS also seemed to not be working properly. I asked them if they had signal, but no one else had. What was really fun for a few hours soon got to be a little stressing.

Aurelia didn’t seem to mind, but I could see a little panic in Sophie’s eyes. Liv and I looked at each other, but neither of us knew what was happening. There was some sudden fog outside, and I couldn’t see much. I wondered what the sign meant? I told Liv, but we couldn’t read it anymore.

Even Cece was getting a little scared, because it was so sudden. Well, we had food for a few days, right? We could just turn around and make our way back. I suggested it, and they seemed to agree. Miles back, there was a hotel. We could stay there and continue our trip the next day, or we could just sleep in the bus, in a safer location.

Darius tried starting the bus many times, but it would always die. He tried, over and over again. Then Jen tried, then I tried… nothing worked. As I was trying for the third time, I heard that Bossa Nova tune Liv kept as her ringtone. So, we had signal. I was going to say something like “Wow, I’m so glad”, when I saw the dread in my dear Olivia’s eyes as she looked at the phone.

“W-what’s wrong?” She was in utter shock, and she barely managed to mumble:

“I-it’s my… dad…” As she showed the phone to us. That could be a joke, right? Also, that could just be someone with the old number. No… he had died four months ago and Liv didn’t cancel the plan, she kept paying it and put the SIM card in an old phone, so she could use it as an emergency one. Trembling, as we all heard that cheerful-but-sad Brazilian melody, she picked it up and put it on speakerphone.

“H-Hello?” But no one would reply a thing. It was just an eerie sound, like a scary video game BGM. We thought no one would say anything, until, we heard voices. Many voices. Like a chorus, who sang “come with us, come with us.” That could only be a prank, right? That’s what we all chose to believe. We were sticking to that, and trying to make the bus work again, when we heard a knocking on the door.

“Do not open it.” Jen said, and we all nodded. All the curtains were on, but there was still the front of the bus, right? The old man… no, the thing… it kept knocking, and knocking. Its eyes were empty, I could see it so well as it was right in front of me. It smiled at us. It looked friendly, as if it was inviting us to a local party.

Suddenly, Sophie fell to the ground. She started screaming, as she covered her ears. I didn’t know what was happening, but she took off her aids, and it seemed to cease. Our phones were all glitching, and Darius’ smartwatch, too. We put all the electronics aside, but it was distressing for Sophie. She now relied on Jen and Liv, so Jen offered herself to intertwine her arms with hers. This way, she would feel safer.

The thing… it kept looking, and knocking. I couldn’t see much because of the fog, but I could hear more knocking, from various sides of the bus. Knocking, and knocking… it was some kind of rhythm. I slowly realized it was the same tune from the Bossa Nova from earlier. Liv must have noticed it too, and she started crying. That was her dad’s favorite song.

“Whoever’s doing this, it’s not fun!” Liv cried, and I hugged her. It seemed like it wasn’t a joke. Cece, who could be the only person to do something like this, was on the verge of tears herself. Even the twin, who didn’t care much about stuff, was scared. We were surrounded by a cult. And they were probably not human. We had nowhere to go, and we could only hope daylight would save us. But it didn’t.

“I… need to go to the bathroom.” Aurora said. Two minutes later, we heard her scream from the small room. It was locked, and we couldn’t get to her. She wouldn’t reply, just that loud noise, and then nothing. Cece was crying, and crying, and banging on the door, trying to open it. After a couple of minutes of extreme insistence, we managed to do it.

We found her bleeding, with a hole in her chest. There was no gunshot sound, there was no sign of someone breaking in. She was alone there, and now she was losing blood and unconscious. Liv looked so terrified and done. Sophie shared the same face.

“That’s how her mom died. Someone shot her, right there.” That’s right. The twins were actually adopted, after losing both of their parents. We didn’t know if we were losing Aurora or not. There was a first aid kit, but how could it help with that? There was no bullet. No damn bullet. There was no gun. There was no killer. There was just us. Cece was yelling almost incomprehensible things to her girlfriend, trying to keep her alive. Then, suddenly, she started convulsing. Her body shook and shook on the ground. It was violent. Cruel. Suddenly, she stopped. We checked both of their pulses, and they were dead. Liv and I did CPR, but it didn’t work. It was hopeless. The remaining siblings, who never talked, just looked at each other. None said a word. None cried. They couldn’t cry. It was that horrible.

Suddenly, Sophie seemed in pain again. She looked at us extremely confused, and it seemed like she had no idea where she was. We managed to have her sit down, and we tried calming her, but she replied to our every word, and she said the noise was too loud. What was that place, even? Now Sophie could hear? What the hell was happening? What killed those girls?

Darius remembered about an uncle of theirs, that had a stroke and died. He was really close to Cece, as she learned all of her tricks and jokes with him. Then… I looked at Liv… if we were bound to die like people in our family did, it only meant…

Before we could do anything, Maddie’s body jerked forward. She started to bleed heavily from her belly, as if there was a deep cut. She involuntarily got on her knees and was throwing up blood. We were face to face, and I saw her as she cried, trying to mutter something. She fell completely silent to the ground, defeated.

Liv looked at me with so much horror in her face. It wasn’t my sweet Liv. It’s like she had been through several wars. Then, I recalled. It wasn’t just her friend dying. She had told Liv just three days ago, she was pregnant. It was a shock, obviously. Did Darius know? They didn’t talk about a baby or anything. But he was so done, so terrified, too. We were just waiting for the other one to die. It was a matter of time.

The knocking still wouldn’t stop. It never stopped. The people were still there, as we looked from the windows. Then, I received a call. Unknown number. But the area code… I knew that well, it was from my hometown. I didn’t pick up, but I tried calling the police, thinking there could be a signal. Dumb me… as I unlocked my phone, it died, and I couldn’t turn it back up. I kept thinking about the area code... I couldn’t recall someone close to me who died, except for one… I had a little cousin, when I was five years old, she was a few months older. We only played together during the summer, as she lived in another town. One day, though, we were playing in the water and were both drowning. An older cousin thought I was the only one there, so he saw me struggling and got me out of the water. He had to give me CPR, but I couldn’t say she was still there. When he realized, it was too late. So that was it? I was going to die like that?

We all knew something was soon happening. It was just… so horrible. I wanted to cry. In fact, I was crying. As I hugged Liv, we cried our hearts out. The bodies gave me so much pain, and the knocking was making me go insane. But, overall, Sophie seemed to have it worse. It was unbearable for her. The knocking got only more intense, as the bus started to vibrate. I looked at Sophie, Jen was holding for dear life onto her, while her ears started bleeding. No… not only her ears… Her eyes and mouth started bleeding. She was the sweetest-looking girl, with her chubby cheeks… and then she looked like a monster, a suffering monster. She started coughing up that blood, and as she moved forward we saw that, to the back of her head, there was a huge cut. As if there was an axe wound. But there was no actual weapon. Jen was trembling to the point she couldn’t hold her anymore, and Sophie’s body just fell to the ground. We all looked at her, with so much sadness in our eyes.

Darius, who was trying to keep his cool, finally weakened. As the knocking grew louder and a chanting, like the one from the phone, started. He started screaming, and breaking things. It was just a matter of time for us to die, right? He looked like a beast. When, suddenly, he got calmer, and slowly descended to the ground. As if… he had received some kind of injection? There was a small bleeding coming from his arm. Upon checking, there was no breathing or pulse.

So, the remaining were Aurelia, Jen, Liv and me. I had my cousin, Liv had her father, Aurelia had her dad that died alongside her mother, but Jen didn’t know about her family. She was given away as a baby, and grew up in an orphanage, passing through many foster families. We tried asking her if there was anyone dear to her that could have died. But before she could reply, we started to smell something weird. It was… burning? Soon, I saw Jen’s face, her hair was falling apart, her skin, covered in bruises. It wasn’t hot near her. But she was on fire, somehow. There was once a fire in an orphanage in that city, I knew. That was the worst thing I have ever seen. I thought Maddie’s death was brutal, but Jen’s… she agonized, and agonized, and we couldn’t do anything.

At the same time, we heard a semi-scream coming from Aurelia. Her sister was shot on the chest, but hers… was right on her face. She looked at us for a few seconds, then fell to the ground, just like the others. The bus was so cramped with all of the corpses, and the knocking just got louder and louder, and the chanting just got louder and louder, and my fear just got worse and worse, and I held onto Liv and didn’t want to let her go.

I was happy that Jen finally seemed to die. Her agonized, melting, liquified face was too much for me to bear. I looked at Liv one more time, and I kissed her deeply. That would be our last kiss, I knew.

“I’m so sorry for bringing you here, Claire, I’m really sorry. I love you so mu-” I was crying listening to her words, that were soon interrupted. She was asphyxiating. Right… I couldn’t stand that. But I held her hands, and I repeated “I love you too” so many times. I saw her face turn bluish, then almost purple. She finally gave in, as her lifeless body fell into my arms. There was only me left, right? That meant… I would die. I closed my eyes, preparing myself.

But it wouldn’t come. It just wouldn’t come. I thought I would also feel the same thing, but it just wouldn’t happen. Then, it hit me. I had died. My cousin had saved me that time. So I wouldn’t die a creepy, senseless death without an author. I was the one that was being saved for last. I was the main dish.

The knocking stopped. And that was a terrible sign. They started breaking in. Through the windows, through the door. It was too many of them, and just me. I tried fighting back, of course I did, but I couldn’t do much. Their chanting never stopped, and it was indeed terrible. It messed up with my senses, I was extremely overwhelmed.

It would be terrifying to live after that. I saw every single one of them die. I saw my dear Liv die. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it. As I thought that, they stopped advancing over me. One by one, they left. It was just in time for sunrise, too. The street wasn’t foggy, and the sign was clear English. They disappeared in the horizon, leaving me free and alone. I looked around… all the bodies were still on the ground. The smell of vomit, blood and guts was making me so sick. I looked at my lovely Olivia in my arms, her closed eyes, growing colder each second. I had no will to live. I didn’t want it anymore. It felt suffocating. As if I was drowning. The phone rang again, and I looked at it. Trembling, I picked it up. A childlike voice answered it:

“So, Claire, tell me… how does it feel to be the one who’s chosen to live?”

(End)

Author's comment: this is my second attempt at horror. Hm, okay, when I was 14 I wrote some stuff, but nothing nearly like this. I know this isn't, like, extremely original and amazingly written, but I got some chills. Of course I had to put that "fate" thing into it. I can't do just pure horror where people die for reasons. Do I think any of them deserved to die? Nope. It's unfair. Extremely unfair. And that's how life feels most of the time. Sometimes, you just want to write some psychological horror and a little gore. I think Maddie's death is a bit too much, right? Because there's a baby there. Well... sorry. Well, about Darius is that he died like their family dog who got euthanized, I hope that made sense. Unlike my other stories, there's no message here. It's just for the thrills. You could think Aurora died from lack of serving or that Darius was a jerk, or that Claire and Liv's relationship was wrong and they should die for it. But no. I mean, maybe they weren't the best people on Earth, but it was just me being mean this time. I loved writing most of these characters, honestly. Also, I pictured Jen as a transfem but I couldn't put it in a nice way in the story (despite me being trans myself). I don't know if Claire knew that. I'll use that as my excuse, as it is her POV. Also, I don't really think it's her cousin called, but more something like... her guilt, that took a monster form in the underworld. Yes. We can think that. All of these characters felt some kind of guilt for the death of their loved ones. I never explain the background for Maddie and Sophie, but you can understand that it's people from their families, right? I didn't think too much. So, maybe there is a message here. Kill your guilt before it kills you. If you worry that much, it's probably not your fault and even if there is, you regret it, right? So let's move on before we get calls from people who died.

#horror #halloween #psychological horror #gore #body horror #supernatural #literature #sasoris #glancing my way back home

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phoenixes-and-wizards · 4 years ago

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little things i never want to forget about the hargreeves:

all of them used to defy their father, sneak out to griddy’s, and in five’s own words “eat donuts until we puked. simpler times, eh?”

luther wrote poetry while he was on the moon, especially about comets

tom hopper and the UA crew have said that the scratches all over luther’s body were made by him. he couldn’t stand the loneliness, especially during that first year, and would often resort to harming himself as a way to vent his frustration

it’s also pretty likely that he's had body dysmorphia at one point or another

he also has a habit of stress eating

diego almost became a detective, but he dropped out because he wasn't good at following orders. he even went to police academy!!!

diego has the cross stitch grace made specifically for him on the wall of his basement apartment, and in a frame no less

he’s also a big-ass momma’s boy

and he’s the only one grace calls “silly” as a term of endearment

and he has a fear of needles due to getting that tattoo when they were kids (y’all know which one i’m talking about)

plus his stutter only comes out when he's under extreme emotional stress

and a close rewatch of 1X03 shows that his bedroom had an overflowing abundance of books so what if him and ben used to bond over that😭

allison speaks seven languages

she told her daughter about her siblings, and claire obviously knew them well enough that she was calling them "uncle” and “aunty,” and that last one is especially heartwarming because this was around the time that vanya’s book had just come out, and yet, allison--who has the option of never telling claire about her--still does, and even explains why she wasn’t allowed to go on missions

klaus was smoking blunts at fourteen

klaus was clutching dave’s dogtags right before five teleported all of them to the past

and i’ve noticed that he has a habit of doing that in general in season 2, especially when he’s feeling kind-of low, but sometimes it’s also an unconscious habit and that’s cute, too

klaus would write the things the dead would say to him, all over his bedroom wall

klaus has a habit of going barefoot whenever he’s at home

five was the only person vanya felt comfortable enough with to present new violin pieces to

five outright says that everything he’s done so far was to get back to his family and keep them safe

@me-evil-never wrote in the tags: “five has watched his family die/be dead like 3 times if i’m counting correctly (YES YOU ARE AND IT’S A PAINFUL FACT WE MUST ALL LIVE WITH), plus all he has ever done in his life since age 13 was to get back to them so he could spend time safely with them” and YES I AGREE why would you hide such an excellent point in the tags because, sometimes, even i forget that it’s only been two weeks for him, and they’re probably the roughest he’s had since being stuck in the apocalypse as an actual child, and idk about you guys, but i just really want to give five a big hug because lord knows he deserves needs it

allison used to paint klaus' nails during meals

and was apparently a daddy’s girl, though how one could become a “daddy’s girl” if the father in question was reginald hargreeves is beyond my capacity to understand

ben was reading chekhov as early as 14

ben was a bookworm, both in life and death

vanya had the smallest room

vanya openly called ben the kindest of their siblings in her book, and said that when he died, none of them had any more reason to stay

before he left, diego gave reggie a piece of his mind

all of them know how to dance

they all know how to speak and read greek (ancient fucking greek, as one of you oh-so-eloquently put it)

vanya knows how to speak russian and god knows how many other languages

(by this point i'm really convinced they're all multilingual and there just hasn't been an opportunity for them to utilize that yet)

she also has a mr. snuggles teddy bear

according to klaus, vanya used to cry when the others would step on ants as kids

klaus is pansexual

he also dated twins once (though i’m not sure if he dated one then the other or both at the exact same time)

and has mild claustrophobia from being locked up in mausoleums all the time as a child

diego swore a pinky promise with lila and called it “the pinkiest promise” he’d ever make, and even though he’s a hard-ass who won’t hesitate to cut anybody in half, he’s still at his gentlest when he’s around her and he doesn’t even try to hide it

off her meds, vanya got first chair and a solo on her first try (as a violinist in a professional orchestra, lemme tell you that this is no easy feat to do)

she also seemed to have an affinity for bach (again--not easy!!)

even though he was barely starting puberty, ben was smart enough to reprogram allison's teddy bear to say "luther smells dad's underwear."

upon possessing klaus for a few minutes in season 2, ben could be seen clutching various flowers and smelling them repeatedly

klaus can actually levitate in the comics

according to @valkerymillenia, ghost!ben once saved klaus' life in the comics after he overdosed on heroin yet again

both klaus and diego repeatedly tried to open the lock to vanya's old anechoic chamber and were absolutely furious when luther wouldn't let them

diego called elliott "one of ours" despite knowing him for all of a week and a half

he also calls herb “herbie,” calmed him down after accidentally drawing a weapon on him, and created a secret handshake with him, all within two hours tops of meeting him

if one really thinks about it, diego is actually good with people? and that makes sense because he left the academy as early as seventeen, and he would’ve had to talk to a lot of people just to make ends meet that first year alone, and even though reggie tried to squash that part of him down, he’s still a good person at heart, you go prince of pointy things, make us all proud

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isabeljkim · 4 years ago

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LN: Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation Of The Self

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE READ THE STORY HERE.

People assume that Homecoming is autobiographical or reflects my emotions in that the main character’s perspective is my own. I think this happens a lot when someone writes Immigrant Narratives, and I have a hard time saying “hey people shouldn’t do that” because I also think that a lot of time the application of the self into the story is true. But when people have talked to me about Homecoming, they’ve assumed a specific background/state of mind for me which isn’t necessarily accurate.

It’s a pretty personal story for me in that I dropped a lot of cosmetic details about my history into the story, but not a personal story for me in that I don’t think it reflects any sort of immigrant angst that I feel, only sort of a clean desire to explain to those who have non-diaspora lives that diaspora is complicated and people don’t always feel the way you think they should feel about it. My goal with the story was to really just drive home the thesis that diaspora is messy, you don’t get to choose who you become, the line between foreigner and homeland is thin, America is like a worm that gets into your brain, please experience being uncomfortable for 6000 words, I am not here to play.

I feel a weird need to disclose that I’m not technically an immigrant. Everyone who reads this assumes I am, but I was born in NJ, and my parents lived in the states for 20 years before they had me��but I spent a lot of my childhood in Korea because my dad got a job in Korea right before I was born. I spent the first ten years of my life shuttling between California and Korea because he was a professor at universities in both countries, though I went to school in Korea. I call myself 1.5 gen, haha. I’m an edge case.

This story was one of those cases where I wrote something kind of sad and I thought “this isn’t that sad” and everyone I showed it to was like “dude this is sad as shit” and I was like “oh is it sad?” because I considered the story more about the tension between the decisions about your life that you get to choose, versus the ones that are chosen for you, and I didn’t feel that was particularly sad as much as it is one of the clean realities of life: a lot of the choices that create who you are get made for you.

I wrote this story because I felt that I hadn’t read any immigrant/second generation narratives that talked about the tension between the fact that we live in a global world and it’s not hard anymore to return places, held against the fact that you can never actually return to somewhere you last left, and the compounding fact the person you are has changed in the intervening time so that they would be unrecognizable to the self you left behind.

I felt that there wasn’t a story for Guys Like Me, who went to Korea most summers after moving to the states until they stopped and then eventually realized that they had turned into someone who can confidently say “I’m from New Jersey” rather than tentatively say “I’m from New Jersey?” and what that means about loss and change.

I also wrote this story because I thought “haha wouldn’t it be fucked up if immigration worked like github instancing?”

I don’t know if I’m going to write more things about Korea Stuff. This is my first bigboy publication (but check out my game at Sub-Q!! It’s good!!) and I don’t want to get pigeonholed as a diaspora writer/asian things specifically by the market. I am just some guy who likes wizards and lasers. I am kind of an ambivalent asian. i just go here. You just think I go here because I’ve got the eyes and hair and skin tone.

The folktale about the knife, fisherman, is a bastardized version of a folktale I heard in elementary school, which I couldn’t find online even though I searched for it quite a bit. There’s a lot of stories about “guy goes to the fae court under the sea, comes back, oh shit, time has passed,” but I made up all the stuff about the knife, the killing of the self, etc. Based on a real story though! That’s real!

I named Soyoung after my childhood best friend, who I’ve lost touch with for the last decade on account of her living in Korea and me moving permanently to the states. Don’t read too much into that. Claire Soyoung Ko if you’re out there…..

I accidentally named Jungwon after one of my cousins because I forgot it was his name because I always call him by his American name and now I can’t show him the story because it has his name in it. I swear this wasn’t on purpose.

In the first draft, Soyoung was bisexual, but I couldn’t fit that fact in the final draft. Know in your heart that this is true and canon, though.

The grandfather’s apartment, the Shinsegae department store basement, and the grandfather’s gravesite are all based on my actual human grandpa’s apartment/grave/places near it, and it was really just an exercise in nostalgic laziness that I described places I was pretty intimately familiar with. (If you want to know something meta that’s a little sad and strange related to the story: my family is talking about what to do with my grandfather’s grave now, because it’s too far from most of the family for them to visit. We’re trying to figure out where to take my grandparent’s ashes. I learned about this a month after my story was published and felt some kind of way).

Homecoming really is the best example I’ve written of how a story is sad or happy depending on where you end it. I ended it at the saddest moment. Soyoung’s life ends up pretty good! Soyoung ends up happy mostly, in the way that happiness is a mutable state for most people.

I cannot stress enough that Dr. Crouton, best cat, does get sent for and Soyoung DOES get her cat back. This is fucking crucial.

I always think about doing more with this story, because I think it’s an interesting concept that says a lot about migration/diaspora/immigration stuff, but I hesitate because I don’t know if I’m the best writer to write a story about this.

#linernotes

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Troll In Luv: Part 2

Previous: Troll in Luv Pt. 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers; Non-Idol AU, Angst eventual Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Making Out, Kissing

Summary: Your hand is forced, and the only way to come out on top is to reckon with your ex and apologize for past transgressions... er tweets.

Note: This fic is dedicated to, written for, the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it it’s totally trash... jk. mostly.

This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange!

Banner by me.

Tag List (is this how you do it no ones ever asked before): @unicornbabylover

Thursday: Jimin’s Apartment

Jimin hadn’t just moved on up, he’s leveled up completely. Gone were the Ikea pieces that he’d spent hours assembling, only to realize they’d given him the wrong part and he’d had to trek back to the store to rectify it. Gone were the plastic plates and cups he’d collected from Penny Pitchers at the bar across campus. Gone were the free t-shirts and dance company sweats he’d torn or cut to make them more comfortable for practice.

In their place, Jimin had picked out custom fabrics to cover his chairs, found small batch glass plates and bowls to line his open kitchen shelves. He’d sourced a Persian rug from a little hole in the wall shop that had been in the neighborhood for seventy years and had runners made from their remnants. He’d curated his space, and his wardrobe, to fit the Jimin he’d always been. Each piece made up for the times that he could only hold onto cheap knock offs, embarrassed when someone noticed a shirt he was wearing from a bag they’d donated to Goodwill.

Stepping into his space, it was hard not to gawk. Every inch of this apartment screamed maturity, knocking you off your feet. Had you been missing out on this for years? This Jimin, adult Jimin, was far more impressive than you’d realized. It was hard not to feel your heart hurting, yearning for the years you had been together, the moments shared, the love that had blossomed in your youth.

This was going to be more devastating than you realized.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jimin asked. He took your jacket and purse, hanging them on the steampunk inspired coat rack.

“Um, water would be good, thanks,” You said, moving through the entry way to the kitchen. “How long have you lived here?”

“Uh, two years? But I just finished decorating maybe a month ago,”

“It’s incredible,”

“Thanks, how’s the magazine?”

“A fucking shit show,” You took the glass from his hands, careful not to let his fingers brush against yours.

“Hoseok mentioned that things have been getting more, challenging?”

“Yeah, that’s the nice way of putting it.”

“Hm,” Jimin hummed, sipping his own water.

“How’s your job? I don’t, I know Hoseok and Tae and Jungkook have told me about what you do, but, what do you do?” You phrased your question carefully, knowing precisely what he has been up to. You’ve seen his campaigns, his work on water bottles and stickers around the city, not to mention his designs being picked up by Target and thrown onto pillows, blankets and beach towels. He’d won an award last year for his artwork that had been picked up and used as the home screen on the most recent Mac Book, Mac Book Pro and Mac Book Air. He was being considered as a new graphic artist for Penguin Publishing, working on new book jackets as well as negotiating a seven-figure deal with Target, only to be outbid by Costco.

Jimin was everywhere, but he absolutely didn’t need to know that you knew that. He didn’t need to know how angry you were that neither of you actually ‘won’ your breakup.

“Well, I graduated with a degree in graphic design and a minor in dance. After I discovered I didn’t want to dance professionally, I got a job in graphics. I kept working on projects and three years ago started my own company. My work has been in a lot of different places, which, I’m sure you’ve seen,” Jimin sipped his water, pouted lips glistening as the liquid graced over them.

“Awfully cocky,” You smirked, long lasting Charlotte Tilbury, Glastonberry purple lipstick marking the glass.

“Or I know you well enough to know that you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Jimin had no need to be cocky, he knew he was right. All he had to do was be confident.

“That’s an awfully big assumption for you to make. But it’s cool, it explains why your apartment is Architectural Digest ready. Unless, you have a girlfriend with excellent taste who designed it all,” You were baiting him, and in the internal monologue that never shut the fuck up, you were beating yourself up over the fact that Erin had been correct.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you just ask if I’m seeing someone?”

“Now why would I be that direct?” You questioned.

“You’ve been sitting behind a computer screen, trolling me for years instead of just talking to me. I should’ve expected you to find some roundabout way to ask if I’m single,” Jimin set his glass on the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest, defiance brooding in his dark eyes.

“Look, I know it’s fucked up, that I’m fucked up. It is the sole purpose of me going to therapy,” You explained.

“I would hope so,” Jimin scoffed. He’d never been indifferent to you, but you supposed you couldn’t expect anything less than anger after years of unwarranted harassment. Mentally, you kicked yourself over the fact that Claire had been right.

“Jimin,” You sighed.

“What?” He snapped.

“I’m sorry,” You stared into his softening eyes, the ones you’d spent years trying to replace, burning the memories into your retinas once again.

“Sorry for what?”

“For everything,”

“Care to be more specific?” He moved towards you, gliding from the far side of the kitchen to stand opposite you, elbows leaning against the cool granite of the countertop he custom ordered.

“I have loved you since we were fifteen, okay? When you left, when I left,” You sighed, there was never going to be a poetic or graceful way to lay out your tumultuous feelings, but you owed it to yourself to try. “I never told you how much I loved you, or how much it hurt when you just, you moved on so quickly, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to break up, I didn’t want to fall into another cliché of high school sweethearts preemptively breaking each other into pieces because of college. I wanted us to be the cliché that lasted, that worked. But you just, I’ve been hurting for years and I didn’t think you’d care, because you didn’t back then, so why would you now?”

“So, you harassed me on the internet?” Jimin asked.

You rolled your eyes. “It didn’t start out that way,”

“How did it start?”

“Someone sent me a link to your profile, and I just, retweeted with a stupid comment and you responded. In my gut, I thought, I felt, that you knew it was me. Why else would you engage with it? You didn’t engage with anyone else,” Your rehearsed explanation made perfect sense, you’d spent years crafting it, tweaking the language, ensuring there were no loopholes.

“You checked?” Jimin’s smirk was back. Fuck him, it looked good against his angelic eyes.

“I’m a journalist, Jimin,”

“Still, you checked,”

“The point is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been needling you for years. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you how much I loved you, I’m sorry I’ve been a massive bitch, rivaling only Heather Chandler. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, and I’m sorry Claire wrapped you up in this stupid article that I am no longer participating in. I’m sorry that even after I changed my fucking Twitter handle and you knew it was me, that I kept being a mythic bitch. I’m sorry for being the villain in your life.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jimin rushed to say.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I was a coward back then, too scared by what Yoongi and Namjoon said about dating in college. I should’ve, I should’ve fought for us more than I did.” He admitted.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize the colossal mistake he had made, but by then Yoongi and Joon had planted the seeds in his mind that no one in their right mind makes it with their high school sweetheart. What a naïve notion, to stay with the same person you’ve loved since puberty.

“Remember when you came back for my dad’s wedding?” You asked.

“I regret that,” Jimin told you.

“I cried for two days,”

“I’m sorry,” He couldn’t look at you, his years of unsaid apologies waiting behind his pouting lips.

“It was such a dick move.”

Jimin smiled softly, he had missed the way you over exaggerated your speech, adding emphasis to superlatives, the slight way your eyes rolled when you were trying to make a point. A habit you’d developed in high school, he was glad to see you hadn’t replaced it with a new inane ritual. He still very much liked this one, found it endearing even after years of missing out on it.

“I know,” He conceded.

“I can only assume it was on purpose.”

“It, yeah, yeah, Hoseok said you were getting cozy with Seokjin,” He explained.

“I was,” You nodded.

“Was?”

“He broke my heart, sometime after you showed up to New Years with what’s her name on your arm and proceeded to make the after-hours dance party in Dirty Dancing look like the Russian Ballet. Oh, and can’t forget you nearly fucking her in the kitchen as the ball dropped, which Yoongi made a very dirty joke about it.”

You hadn’t kept a list of all his transgressions… but you had kept a list of all his transgressions, all his missteps, all his calculated moves, only to plan your own counterstrike. Erin had been right, you had started the Twitter battle, but Jimin had poisoned the blood between you long before you tweeted about it.

“I was drunk,” He excused.

“You did it on purpose,” You rolled your eyes, Jimin had forgotten how cute that was too.

“I did,” He conceded.

“I wasn’t fucking Seokjin on the dance floor for everyone to see,” You tossed back the rest of your water, eyes glancing at the living room where a framed photo remained. Prom, you in his arms, Hoseok beside you, Namjoon eyeing Caitlin Anderson, his date that you had made a point to not allow in the photo. She wasn’t sticking around, why ruin your group pic? (Namjoon still was pissed about this, though he hadn’t spoken to her since he left for college.) You were all too preoccupied with rules to drink, do drugs or smoke, so while your classmates were getting wrecked, you went bowling until 2AM. Jimin had climbed into your bedroom, after supposedly dropping you off, and you’d promised each other the world.

It didn’t last through summer.

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his bleached locks, tugging gently at the ends. “You weren’t.”

“You didn’t have anything to prove, Jimin. I had already gotten the message. Too fucking loud and too fucking clear.” Your voice became small, the heart of your hurt, the source of your pain, bubbling up to the surface.

“What was that message?” Jimin noted the change in your dynamic, your hand moving to play with the earring in your top hole, twirling it thoughtlessly as your eyes drug themselves from your prom photo back to him.

“That you didn’t want me,” You whispered.

Jimin let it sit in the air, the real reason you had harassed him, the real reason you were sitting in his kitchen, tears forming, lip trembling. This entire time, you had thought he didn’t want you anymore, didn’t love you, didn’t think you were his sun and moon.

“Is that why Seokjin broke up with you?” He asked.

“That he didn’t want me?” You questioned. He was toeing the line, danger signs would’ve been flashing, horns and sirens wailing telling Jimin to back the fuck off.

“No, that you still wanted me,” He clarified.

“Yeah, something like that,” You mumbled.

“I wanted you too,” Jimin admitted.

“Bullshit,”

“You think I would bring around random girls if I didn’t think you would be there? That I would parade around, embarrassing myself, just to show off whoever was on my arm? Do you really think that little of me?” Jimin demanded, his anger that he’d long thought he’d worked through coming back to the surface. He was no longer calm, no longer sympathetic to your puppy dog eyes.

“Jimin, I don’t know what to think of you! You broke my heart because of something Yoongi said, Yoongi, who doesn’t date let alone love anyone other than Jungkook, and then proceeded to what, listen to Namjoon?” Standing from your seat, you pushed the stool back under the immaculate white countertop. “What the fuck did they know about our relationship that I didn’t? Why were they making decisions about us, us, you and me, Jimin? Why did they have power and I had none?”

“I was, I was scared,” He admitted, his voice meek against your thunderous admissions.

“Bullshit! I was scared, you were cavalier.”

“You don’t meet your person when you’re fifteen!” He yelled, anger coming to a head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You’re yelling back, returning decibel for decibel. Stool pushed back, hand through your hair, blazer coming off to reveal the cheetah print blouse underneath. It was too hot in his apartment, too hot to have this conversation sober, too hot to be staring at him, the man who knew everything, everything, about you. It was too much for him to be confessing that he was a pussy.

“No, I’m not,”

“Park Jimin, you fucking asshole.”

“I’m so-

“No, no you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me, trying to pawn off your emotions as fodder in some naïve fallacy that says you can’t grow and mature with the person you love at fifteen. You are absolutely fucking unbelievable Jimin.” Untucking your shirt, you moved towards the living room and the open window.

“I’m so-

“Shut up! You don’t get it, do you?” You asked, the tears stinging your eyes begging to be released.

“Get what?” He muttered. You hear him plop down on the couch, and you know he’s slumped back, legs resting against the reclaimed wood coffee table, hands tucked behind his head, watching you.

“You, Jimin! Do you understand who you are?” You turned, the cool air soothing against your shoulders.

“I thought I did but apparently not, so enlighten me,” He requested.

“You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You crave love, you seek it out from your friends and family and yes, your girlfriends. You remember every detail, every expression, every glance carries weight in your eyes. You love the hardest, you hurt the deepest, and when you said you didn’t think we’d make it, what else was I supposed to do other than believe you?”

“I was an idiot! I was a child!” Jimin ran an unsteady hand through his locks, again, his nervous habit coming out in full force. “I was 18 and all I wanted was to elope, but I couldn’t because I had to make a name for myself. My parents demanded it from me, what was I to do, get lost in you? I was already drowning Y/N! All I breathed was you and fuck me if I wasn’t ready to commit to you but I knew you didn’t want to be the Topanga to my Cory so what could I do?”

“There are a lot of things you could’ve done! You could’ve said something to me. You could’ve been amicable. You could’ve shared your fears and your hopes with me, Jimin. You didn’t have to parade around with girlfriend after girlfriend and tell me you didn’t want us anymore!”

“I thought you were falling in love with someone else!” Jimin said.

“Why does it matter what I was doing? Whenever you saw me, did you see me flaunting my new relationship in your face? Why did you, why would you think that I was ever over you?”

“You were with Seokjin for two years,” Jimin answered, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Oh, so I have a stable relationship and you assume it’s okay to be a dick?” You quipped. Sitting on the couch, your body relishes in the ease with which you let off a little tension.

“No, you had someone else,” Jimin turned, arm propped on the back of the couch, body facing yours.

“Doesn’t mean you had the right to treat me the way you did,” You hadn’t been this close to him in years, his breath mingling with yours. You could see the crinkles near his eyes, from moments when his laughter was the only thing on his mind.

“I wanted to marry you,” Jimin reached his hand towards yours, intertwining your fingers, still a perfect fit.

“But you didn’t,” You remind him.

“I haven’t,” Jimin’s eyes were set your hand, your ring finger naked, heated gaze willing a diamond to be made out of the hair around you.

“Jimin,”

“We’ve been here for hours, we’ve rehashed the past, but not once have you said why you kept trolling me,” He turned his eyes back to yours, pleading softly for you to tell him that what he thinks you mean is truth, not willful thinking.

“Because, Jimin. You’re so fucking dense sometimes,” You rolled your eyes, how did he not get it?

“Because isn’t an-

“I love you! You fucking asshole. I love you. I keep tabs on you because I’m still harboring some insanely poetic, pathetic, sociopathic love for you, Jimin. My first love, my only love. I know I’ve been a massive twat, I know it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ruining the last five or so years of your life, I’m sorry for tweeting at you and about you. I’m sorry that I never said anything to you during college. I’m sorry I asked your mom not to tell you that we still talk. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to let you go. I’m sorry that I still love you.”

The tears fell freely, cascading down your cheeks and neck, path only interfered when Jimin brought your face into his hands, thumbs moving meticulously to wipe the falling droplets. He’d always loved cupping your cheeks, holding your face delicately between his hands. He loved the intimacy, the care, the inability to hide anything from each other.

“Marry me,” Jimin said, voice clear over your sobs.

“What?”

“Let’s go to city hall, get a license, let’s just, get married. Now, right now,”

“Jimin, we’ve hardly-

“I know my mom talks to you, she told me. She’s always told me. I still, I still talk to your dad, too. He texts me like once a week,” Jimin confessed.

“You do?” You couldn’t believe it, your parents knew too?

“I’ve always loved you, always. I knew-

“You asshole! You fucking suck! Why did you make me pour out my heart like this only to tell me you fucking knew? Was this a ruse? Oh my god, are you The Duke? Am I Daphne? Quick, make haste to the gallery wall in your hallway so we can stare at the photos of your years without me and pretend that our hands touching isn’t the sexiest thing to happen since Regé Jean Page boxed shirtless,” You rambled in between wiping your dripping nose against your blouse sleeve. Words spilled from you, tumbled out from your lips at a speed you hadn’t reached in years. Jimin always knew how to get you so worked up air seemed like a luxury.

Jimin stood to retrieve a tissue box from the bathroom.

“This wasn’t a ruse; I didn’t know you’d come over to talk about our relationship, our past. I was going to reach out I just, I thought you hated me.”

He sat back down, this time closer, knee bumping against yours, leaning in to speak in docile tones.

“When have I ever hated you?” You questioned.

“I can think of at least one hundred occasions where you’ve said that you have,”

“Such an-

“And you keep calling me names,” Jimin rolled his eyes. You’ve always loved how he rolled his eyes, subtle and gentle, but deadly and effective.

“I love you means you don’t have to say you’re sorry, so I won’t say it again,” You countered. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips.

“But I’ll say it, because while you’ve been angrily tweeting me, a poor attempt at showing your feelings,” Jimin braced for the contact of your hand against his shoulder, a gentle hit, accompanied by your own eyeroll and scoff. “Listen, I too have been an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I do accept your apologies, and I do forgive you. I love you, always have,” Jimin had taken both your hands in his, and gently, he placed kisses on each of your knuckles.

“Jimin,” You murmured.

“What Y/N?”

“I accept your apologies. I love you, so much, and I’m sorry I wasted the last few years instead of just saying that I wanted us to try again.” You turned your hands over, mimicking his gesture by placing lingering kisses across the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us during college. I’m sorry I brought girlfriends to family events, I’m sorry my actions made you think I stopped loving you.”

“You didn’t, right?” You peered up at him, lips leaving the palm of his left hand.

“Never,” Jimin held your gaze, watching as you sat up.

“Even when you were dating skanky girl number three, with the nose ring and the summer house in Montauk? That you brought home for spring break and asked if you could bring to Namjoon’s parent’s anniversary?” You questioned.

“You really want to rehash everything, don’t you?” Jimin chuckled, your ridiculousness knew no bounds.

“I mean, we don’t have to right now we-

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin leaned forward, cherry lips finding purchase on the delicate flesh on the inside of your wrists, a sensation that specialized in making your toes curl.

“You think that’s wise?” Your voice, a breathy groan embarrassingly needy, seemed to belong to someone other than you. Someone who needed Jimin to toss them over his shoulder and fuck into his $2,000 sheets.

Jimin laughed, “You were my first kiss, my first time, my first everything. You think now, as adults, kissing is going to ruin us getting back together?”

“I just mean that, do we need to let this simmer before we, you know,” You bobbled your head, hair moving around to match the giddiness bubbling inside of you.

“We don’t have to have sex,”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “but don’t you like, really want to?”

“And you call yourself a journalist!”

“Shut up!”

“You’re being ridiculous! Of course, I want to,” Jimin’s docile laugh sent a shiver down your spine.

“I am being cautious, I need to know that you, that you want this,” You reiterated.

It hurt to have to ask Jimin to give you something he already had, to give you his love again, to give you his trust. But it wasn’t you who ended this relationship, it wasn’t you who thought your relationship wouldn’t last through college. You knew you could work through it all; it was Jimin that walked away shattering your heart and your trust. It was Jimin who was scared of being with you, Jimin who needed to prove he was going to make this work. Jimin who had lost it all and needed to fight for you again.

“You’re asking me if I want to have sex with the love of my life, after years of not being able to touch her, to kiss her, to love her the way she’s earned?” Jimin asked.

“Yes,”

“To borrow a phrase from you, fuck you for thinking either one of us has any self-control. Especially when it comes to each other. How many tweets have we exchanged? How many times have you asked Hoseok about me, or my mother?” Jimin cupped your cheeks again, eyes darting from you slightly parted, purple stained lips to your eyes. “I’m in this, for good, and I will tell you every day until you believe me again.”

“Me too, though you should know I’ve picked up a few new habits I’m sure Taehyung has told you about,” You leaned into his touch, cheek warming at the light callouses that remained from his overeager workouts, and mic twirls he mastered in too many nights singing karaoke with Jungkook.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve started wrapping my hair. And I’m also still allergic to kiwi,” You reminded him.

“Good, who needs a slimy green fruit with too many seeds?”

“Truly no one, except Australians,” You laughed and your pun.

“Remember that day before senior year, when we got smoothies, but they didn’t tell you that they’d put kiwi in it, and you had to go the emergency room?” Jimin’s hands have dropped from your face, instead clapping together, head tossing back as his laughter overtook his body.

“Or the time after watching Friends, Joon decided he wanted to make a kiwi-lime pie despite the fact we told him not to put kiwi, and he did anyway?” You laughed with him, head leaning against the arm that he had extended across the back of the couch.

“You wanted to kill him,” Jimin agreed.

“He forgot he had put it in! Then forced me to try it! I still hear his voice, ‘Y/N, please just a bite. Please, I worked really hard on it, come on, just a taste, please’. I swear to you, Sara Bareilles heard him and saved it for the Waitressmusical,” You laughed.

“I don’t remember who was more pissed, your mom or you,” Jimin added.

“He offered to pay for my hospital visit,”

“He paid it all off, didn’t he?”

“Before the month had ended, he didn’t even work out a payment plan, and bought me a new EpiPen,” You couldn’t stop laughing. Namjoon, the ever-lovable oaf, had never stopped apologizing for badgering you into eating his fucking pie. You couldn’t even tell if it was good, the minute the kiwi hit your tongue, your body reacted.

“He’s always been, responsible,” Jimin was calming down, high pitched squeaks on longer radiating off his vocal cords.

“To a fault,” You sighed. “My mom gave it all back to him, she saved it for the day he graduated college and got into med school.”

“Was he shocked?”

“Pleasantly so,”

Jimin hummed in agreement, his arm moving to drape across your shoulders, your body relaxing back into him. Your head found its way to his shoulder, and slowly you breathed in his scent. He’d changed colognes since the last time you’d been this close, this vulnerable with him. You liked it, fresh and crisp, with undertones of sandalwood and something that smelled like Kimchi, though you knew Jimin enough to know he’d probably eaten some for lunch. You liked it, his warmth pulling you to him, the safety of his embrace reminding you of all the days and nights you’d spent just like this.

“Jimin?”

“Yes?”

“Did you, after we broke up did you ever, fall in love again?” You craned your neck to try and catch his expression.

“No, I got close, but I never did. Did you fall in love with Seokjin?”

“It’s complicated. I loved him, I did, but I wasn’t in love with him,” You moved ever so slowly out of his grasp, trying to gage his expression.

“Did you think you’d get married?” Jimin leaned closer. His movement, calculated and timid, hatched the cocoons in your stomach into full butterflies, beating wings against your insides.

“No, well,�� You tilted your head, a habit from Hoseok, and licked your bottom lip. You should’ve remembered to put Aquaphor on your lips before leaving the cab. “One time I thought maybe we might work out, maybe we’d find a way through, well, you. But he never, he always kind of knew that my heart was still tied up with yours.”

Jimin watched as you wet your bottom lip, tongue gracefully moving to swipe across your flesh, hoping to take the place of your tongue with his own.

“Did he, did he bring me up when he-

“Dumped me?”

“Yeah,”

“Kind of,” You blinked quickly, eyes trying to discern if Jimin was in fact moving closer, or if your vision was playing tricks on you and trying to zoom in on him while he moved way.

“I’m sorry that I, that I was used against you. I’m -

“Jimin, as much as I would love to iron out the details of Seokjin dumping me, and I’m sure negotiating the terms of us getting back together, and naturally filling each other in on the last few years we’ve been apart…” You licked your lips again, “Your lips keep getting farther away from mine and I really, really need to kiss you.”

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice, and lunged forward, pinning you beneath him, hips pressing into yours, pressure of his body against you, holding you to him.

“I missed you,” Jimin said before closing the space between you, plump, soft and supple lips pressing aggressively against yours. You knew he’d be stained purple, the thought of him walking into whatever We-Work adjacent workspace his office was in, with purple tinted lips and bruised flesh, thrilled you.

Jimin had always been your favorite person to kiss. Tasting like nostalgia and 7/11 Slurpee’s that you’d split on summer days, half blue raspberry, half cherry, two large straws and a sugar hangover that almost always led to naps on the hammock in your mom’s backyard. Kissing adult Jimin, experienced Jimin, Jimin who had slept with other people besides you, was intoxicating. Skilled in the way he used his tongue against yours, nibbling your bottom lip before diving in, he’d learned a few new tricks that had you moaning underneath him.

“You know,” You started, his lips gnawing at the flesh of your neck, hot kisses and love bites decorating you a shade of purple you wished Charlotte Tilbury sold. “I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

Jimin laughed, “Oh so now you’re going to be direct?”

“When have I ever been subtle?”

“Clearly not in your Tw-

“Jimin,” You interrupted, index finger silencing his lips. “Just, take me to your bed and make love to me. I promise, I swear, I won’t troll you on the internet ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin couldn’t stop smiling as he stood, adjusted the waistband of his flat front chinos, and reached for your hand. “Come on, we’ve got five and a half years and a shit ton of tweets to make up for.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood, hand in his and followed him down the hallway, past the gallery wall and into his bedroom, where you clocked another photo from high school, this time just you and Jimin, his parents and brother, smiling at high school graduation. You turned to him, ready to comment but cut off by his lips again, hands pulling you towards him, arms wrapping you in his embrace.

As you drowned in Jimin, in the way his bare skin felt against yours, how his hands moved, tender and lovingly on your skin, relearning routes and maps he’d written many moons ago, it was easy to remember why you’d fallen love with him, and even easier to remember why you’d never gotten the love you shared. Jimin was attentive, passionate, loving, giving… he took his time with you, waited for you to be ready, brought out the best in you in every situation. With his voice in your ear, his sounds overriding the previous iteration you’d had on lock from your teen years, his hips grinding into yours, reclaiming what he had once lost, Jimin rewrote the future you hadn’t been able to imagine since he broke your heart.

In his ministrations on your body, his love personified in how he made your toes curl, your mind blank, your body his, Jimin vowed to love you, to stand by you, to hate who you hate and love who you love. To feed your every obsession and call you on your bullshit. He promised to protect you, to ensure you never eat kiwi, and to tell you he loves you at least three times every day, beyond earning your trust, beyond you believing him, beyond putting a ring on your finger and giving you his last name (if you wanted to take it). He vowed to never leave, not when it gets tough, not when he is scared, not when you spew that you hate him, which you inevitably will. In return, you promised to give him the world, which he admittedly had whenever you were with him.

Love was complicated and messy… and it pissed you off to no end to know that all it took was a few years of dragging Jimin on Twitter to get the love of your life back.

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petrichoravellichor · 4 years ago

Text

Rebar Not Included

Written for Day 11 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: hunting).

Summary: Jody and Donna help out the Winchesters by looking into an Ohio case involving masked vampires, and what do you know: not only do they manage to kill a certain side character from season 1 but they ALSO make it through without dying! Oh, and they kiss, just because they can.

(Read on Ao3)

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

Jody was just settling down with a book for the evening when her phone rang; she smiled at the name flashing across her screen and swiped left to accept the call. “Hey, Sam.”

“Jody, hi. How are you?”

“Alone, believe it or not. Alex is working the night shift, Claire and Kaia are still on that case down in Miami, and Patience is staying over at a friend’s. Got the whole house to myself.”

Sam chuckled. “That...honestly sounds kind of amazing right about now.”

“How’s Cas? Is he feeling any better?” she asked. It had been nearly a week since Sam and Dean had returned from the Empty with one bedraggled former angel in tow. Jody hadn’t pressed too hard for details at the time—Sam had sounded pretty exhausted when he’d called to tell her they’d made it back safely—but from what she’d gathered, Cas was human now, and his time in the Empty had left him very much in need of recuperation.

On the other end of the line, Sam groaned. “Uh...yeah, you could say that.” A beat, then: “He and Dean haven’t come out of Dean’s room since yesterday afternoon.”

Jody had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Huh. Well, how do you like that: they finally figured it out.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong; I’m really happy for them. I just wish the Men of Letters had invested in sound-proof walls. But anyway,” he said, changing tracks, “that’s not what I called you about.”

“What’s up?”

“So get this: last night, a family of four in Akron, Ohio, got attacked home-invasion style. Whatever it was killed the dad and drained his blood.”

Jody frowned. “Vampires?”

“I think so, but there’s more. I called and spoke with the police sergeant, and according to her, the attackers left the mom alive but ripped out her tongue, and they also took the two kids.”

Jody’s blood ran cold; she glanced at the photo of Alex, beaming and holding up her nursing degree, over on the mantle. “They’re taking blood slaves.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Sam paused, then: “The thing is, I don’t think this the first time they’ve done it. Back in ’86, our dad was looking into a string of kidnappings along Route 77, and it was the same thing: whatever it was took the kids and ripped the tongues out of any adult it didn’t drain. By the time Dad started digging around, though, the attacks stopped. Until now, anyway. Here, just a sec, I’m gonna text you something...”

A moment later, Jody’s phone chimed. She put Sam on speaker and tapped to open the message; it was a drawing of what resembled the front part of a skull. “What am I looking at?”

“The mom drew that, the one from the most recent attack; apparently, the perpetrators wore masks. Hang on, I’m sending you another picture. This one’s from our dad’s journal, back when he was working the case in the 80s.”

The second picture loaded, and Jody drew in a sharp breath: the resemblance between the two drawings was unmistakable. “It’s the same nest.”

“That’s what I’m guessing. They seem to always target the same type of home: outside town, isolated, kids between the ages of five and ten. If the pattern from last time holds, they’ll hit Canton next, then East Sparta.”

Jody swallowed. “You want me to look into it.”

“If you’re able to, yeah, that would be great. We’d go ourselves, but what with Cas still recovering and him and Dean...um…” Sam cleared his throat, then continued more smoothly, “I can call someone else if now’s not a good time.”

Jody chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. This felt personal. “No,” she replied, pushing herself off the couch and heading to pack a bag, “I’ll take care of it. Let me grab a few hours of sleep, and then I’ll head out.”

“Great, thank you. I’ll dig around online and text you a shortlist of properties around Canton that seem like likely targets.”

“Sounds good; thanks, Sam. Take care.” She smirked, adding, “And tell Dean and Cas I said hello. Whenever you see them, that is.”

Sam snorted. “Will do. Be safe, okay?”

“Always.” She ended the call, then typed out a quick message to Donna: Hey babe. Feel like teaming up to take down some vamps?

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

The following night, she and Donna were crouched in the shadows near an abandoned barn in Ohio. Sam’s intel about where the nest would hit next had proven accurate, and by the time a black van carrying two masked vampires had pulled up in front of a rural home outside Canton, Jody and Donna were waiting. They dispatched both vampires easily, sparing one just long enough to learn the location of the group’s nest; now, the only thing left to do was clear out the remaining vamps and free the children who’d been taken captive.

“Okie dokie,” Donna whispered, “our toothy friend back there said they keep the kiddos in a room off to one side. We go in through the side door, then you take right, I take left?”

Jody nodded. “Works for me. Come on,” she said, drawing her machete, “let’s go save some kids.”

They crept over to the barn and entered.

At first glance, the place seemed deserted. They fanned out along the walls, searching carefully for any sign of life, but other than the occasional spiderweb, there was nothing. Then, as Jody neared the back of the barn, she heard it: a quiet sniffling sound coming from behind a latched door. She raised her hand and signaled to Donna, who nodded and hurried over; then, while Donna watched her back, Jody opened the door and saw two small, scared-looking little boys peering back at her. The younger one couldn’t have been much older than her own son, Owen, had been when he’d died, and the realization made Jody’s stomach clench.

She lowered her machete and crouched down to the boys’ level. “Hey,” she whispered soothingly, “hey, it’s okay. You can come out; you're safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

No sooner had she ushered the two boys to her side, however, than she heard Donna’s warning: “Heads up, Jodes; we got company!”

Five figures were approaching slowly from the front of the barn, all armed with blades. Four of them, the two on either side of the central figure, wore masks similar to the drawings Jody had seen in Sam’s text messages. The fifth, however, was a maskless female vampire dressed in dark leather. As the group drew closer, she looked from Jody to Donna and back again with a scowl.

“You’re not the Winchesters,” she said, as though someone were playing a trick on her.

Donna flashed a grim smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Boys,” Jody said, low and urgent over her shoulder, “run.” She heard their frantic footfalls, followed by the slam of the side door. Good, she thought, hefting her machete as the vampires charged: she didn’t want them to see what happened next.

The first vampire lost its head the second it stepped in their space. Jody spun and slashed, Donna at her back, the clash of blades shattering the still air of the night. It was brutal work, bloody work, and Jody took no pleasure in it. Her only objective was to protect: the boys they’d freed, Donna, Sam and Dean. She had no idea what the vampires wanted with the Winchesters, and she didn’t care: whatever it was, she’d make sure they didn’t get it.

Jody had just relieved a second vampire of its head when something flashed on the edge of her vision; she pivoted, raising her weapon just in time. The female vampire’s blade crashed into her machete and sent a shockwave of pain up her arm, nearly causing her to cry out. There was no time for that, though: the vampire swung at her again and again, driving her back from the rest of the fight before rushing forward, barreling into Jody with the force of a tank.

Jody fell hard to the floor. Her machete flew from her hand, and she could only watch as a triumphant smile split her opponent’s face. The vampire raised her blade to deliver a final blow…and then her head flew off in a spray of red. Her body crumpled to the ground, revealing Donna, blood splattered and furious, machete still hovering at the end of its arc.

“Not my girlfriend, you bitch,” she panted, glowering down at the corpse as though sight alone could set it ablaze; then her gaze shifted to Jody, and all the rage seemed to drain out of her at once. “You okay, Jodes?”

Jody exhaled, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She peered past Donna, counting the bodies on the ground and sighing in relief when the total came to five. Donna reached out a hand, and Jody took it, allowing Donna to pull her up and into an embrace. They kissed then, slow, reverent, and it was several moments before Jody could bring herself to pull away.

“Come on,” she said quietly, brushing back a strand of Donna’s hair. “We should go find those boys, make sure they get home safely.”

Donna nodded, and they drew apart, then left the barn without looking back.

#dodio #jonna #jody mills x donna hanscum #donna hanscum x jody mills #spndbcc #spn femslash #spn ladies #jody mills #donna hanscum #wayward sisters #sheriff wives #spn 15x20 #spn spoilers #rebar not included #my writing

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 3 years ago

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Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

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theseourbodiesrp · 3 years ago

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Bring on Many Changes (end!verse fic ft Claire Novak)

@pantslessoptimism HATES HAPPINESS

end!verse, tw: drug use, tw: death, tw: violence, tw: suicide attempt

Claire was frozen to the cabin steps, eyes wide as she watched Dean holster his gun, watched Sophie’s body fall to the road. He didn’t look up at her, didn’t acknowledge her or glance down at Sophie’s body. He just strode on, turning to speak to his second in command and gesturing at Chuck to take care of it.

The former prophet glanced up at her, taking a breath and licking his lip. She didn’t move; her hands trembled and her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. He moved to do as he was bidden; Dean’s word was law at Chitaqua. If he said someone was infected, then that person was infected. Infection was a death sentence, of course. No one wanted a croat in camp, no one wanted to become one. Sophie had once asked Claire to kill her if she ever got infected, kill her before she turned so she could die being herself and not a monster. Dean had done no more than what Sophie would have wanted, but that didn’t alleviate the grief and anger building in Claire.

He didn’t care, was the thing. Infection was a threat, so he’d eliminated it. Sophie didn’t even factor in, not for Dean.

“Claire, don’t. She wouldn’t want this, you know that,” Chuck’s voice was in her ear, easy and soothing. It took her a moment to register the sound of someone sobbing, and then another moment to recognize it was her. She hadn’t realized she’d moved until Chuck spoke, but she was kneeling on the dirt road, Sophie in her arms, sobbing like a broken child. His hands were on her shoulders, trying to ease her away from her friend: they still weren’t sure if the infection could be transmitted postmortem. “Come on. Shh. Just shh. It’s all right.”

She shook her head but tried to get her sobs under control. Tried to pull herself together. She took a couple of hitching breaths, raising her hands, stained with Sophie’s blood, in surrender. Chuck’s men moved the body, murmuring condolences she didn’t hear. He pulled her to her feet, hugging her tight to him. She pressed her face to his chest, not crying anymore. Her heart ached, her whole body hurt from the loss, but she refused to cry. Chuck stroked her hair and she let him tell her it was going to be okay. She didn’t believe him, but he had a nice voice.

xxx

He didn’t let her out of his sight for days. He didn’t let her go back to the cabin she’d shared with Sophie, either. After Sophie’s funeral pyre, he’d made a pallet on the floor for himself and tucked her into his bed. he told her to rest. She didn’t sleep much, but every time she opened her eyes, he was there, bringing water or food or just talking. She would have been comforted if her loss hadn’t been so monumental.

“I want to die,” she told him one night in the dark.

“She wouldn’t want that,” he countered, voice gentle.

“I don’t care.”

“She loved you.”

“She wouldn’t want me to be alone. She wouldn’t want-”

“You’re not.” He came and sat on the bed, touching her shoulder briefly. “Can you see that? You’re important to someone else.” She shook her head: it wasn’t the same. She did appreciate everything he was doing for her, wished she could find the will to live. But without Sophie she couldn’t. Sophie was the only person who remembered her from before the world ended. Half of herself had died with her friend, so why not let the rest of herself go, too?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She murmured.

“I know.” She’s grateful that he’s not asking her to make promises she’s not going to keep. They’ve both seen enough death to know what it look like when it approaches. Sometimes it looks like cold green eyes narrowed behind a gun; sometimes it’s a blond head on a greying pillow, eyes blinking against tears in a familiar darkness.

xxx

She left Chuck’s cabin days or weeks ago. Maybe only hours, who knows. Who cares. There is a world of difference between drifting on the nothingness of loss, and drifting on the nothingness of Cas’s drugs.

The drugs are better.

“Claire?” His voice is far away, but she thinks he’s supposed to be near. She turns her head and blinks slowly. He is close, lying only a little ways from her. They are on the floor of his cabin, on a bed of blankets or pillows or something.

“Yes.”

“Just checking.” she contemplates that, Cas just checking on her. He never cared before, not when he took Jimmy and not when he came back and ripped their lives apart, and not when he let Dean Winchester ruin the world and not when Sophie-

“Do you know that you’re talking, or is that just a stream of semi-consciousness?” He asks. She blinks again; she’d been saying all that out loud? weird. She thinks for a moment, but then she feels warm and soft and she starts to drift again.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, Claire Bear. I know that.” He’s not mad. She thought he would be, but then that’s not the first time she’s told him that. His bitter laughter fills the room and she reaches out, finger tips brushing his wrist. He turns to look at her. “Do you want to die? I mean really die, not just existentially. We’re already all dead, existentially.”

“What’s, uh. Existentially?” She asks. The word tastes funny in her mouth, the vowels a little too round. he laughs again.

“You are. My own personal existential crisis.” The words are rueful, and he sits up. She tries to as well, but her limbs are heavy. Instead she just lays there and licks her lips. Breathes in and out and imagines Sophie’s laughter.

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes “would you wanna? Die, I mean. Without Dean.” There is no answer for a long time. She drifts.

“Yes,” he says finally. She doesn’t answer.

xxx

Chuck comes to check on her one night. She is laying on the floor, her nest of pillows and blankets around her. She’s half-sober, debating getting up or going back to sleep. She dreams about Sophie, is the thing. and when she’s high it’s easier to believe the dreams are real. It’s easier to believe when she wakes up, Sophie will be right there. It’s never true, but she’s not that interested in truth anymore.

“-can’t stay here, Cas. She’s just a kid.” Chuck says, his voice grim. “This is no place for her.”

“If you’re worried about my poor virgin eyes, he doesn’t have orgies anymore. Kinda awkward when your vessel’s kid is right here. right, Cas?” she says. Cas chuckles. They are starting to understand each other, in a way. He accepts all her comments about how he ruined her life and how much she hates him. He never mentions Sophie, or Jimmy and Amelia. It works for them.

“Listen. you can do whatever you want to yourself. And with or to any consenting adult in this camp. I’m not judging, you know that.” Chuck says, and there is a note of anger there that’s surprising. “But not her. She’s just a kid. Do you get that?” Cas nods, and Claire huffs, closing her eyes.

“Hey, Chuck? you’re not my real dad. Get it? Because my real dad... well. you know.” She grins, but judging from the stony silence, neither of them finds it as funny as she does. After a moment, Chuck speaks again, and his voice is lower, more raw.

“She’s what we’re fighting for, here. You get that, right?”

xxx

The grief of losing Sophie sits right next to her heart, and somehow swallows her whole. She doesn’t want to eat, but Chuck sits with her and gives her small pieces of bread and vegetables and whatever there is of fruit. Presses juice and tea on her, and she doesn’t have the heart to refuse.

Cas no longer lets her have any drugs, and she doesn’t trust any one else’s supply. He does still let her lay on his floor and tell him she hates him, though.

She’s laying on the floor and telling him a story about how one time Sophie decided pants were bullshit, so took hers off and went running around campus yelling about pantsless awesomeness. and how she, Claire, had to talk the campus cop out of arresting her. Cas chuckles at the right times, and it eases something in her just a little to share that much of Sophie. to say her name.

But then Dean walks in, and she stops talking. He glances at her, then turns to Cas.

“Resa’s making a supply run. you’re on the team,” he says. Glances at her again. “And her. Everyone’s gotta pull their weight, she can’t just mope about some dead croat for the rest of her life.” He’s gone before she can get to her feet and scream that Sophie wasn’t some dead croat, she was a person and a better person than Dean Winchester ever tried to be.

Cas catches her before she can go running after their fearless leader. He pulls her to him, trying to soothe her. But no, no. It feels like when Jimmy would comfort her for her little-girl tragedies, scraped knees and lost dolls and hurt feelings. She didn’t want to know if Cas’s heart beat in the same rhythm as Jimmy’s, so she pushed him away and ran out of the cabin.

“I hate him, Chuck,” she says, throwing herself at him. He manages to catch her and keep them both upright, no small feat when you have a small, angry blond hurling her entire bodyweight at you out of nowhere. “I’d kill him if I could.”

“Cas?” He asks, smoothing her hair back and rubbing her shoulder.

“Dean.” She buries her head on his shoulder, and he hugs her until she doesn’t feel like crying anymore. but the abyss around her heart, the absence of Sophie, burns through her until she thinks she’ll die from the lonliness.

xxx

She goes on the supply run, because you do not refuse a direct order from Dean Winchester. Cas insists that Claire stays with him. She goes where i go, Resa. Deal with it, and so that’s how they end up on croat patrol together.

It’d be easy, she thinks. She could drop her gun and walk up to the nearest croat. She’d probably get torn to shreds in minutes. And if not, at least she’d be infected, a death sentece of it’s own. She’d be able to find out of there’s an afterlife, and if Sophie’s waiting for her.

“You’re not the first,” Cas says, tone matter of fact. She glances at him; his eyes, too, are fixed on the road.

“First what?”

“To consider death by croat.” He tells her. “It’s a bad way to go. Painful and bloody. Only upside’s it’s a quicker death than waiting for Lucifer to make his final move.” She shrugs, heart squeezing tight.

“Not as quick as death by Dean Winhester,” she counters. Cas huffs, and she can’t tell if he’s amused or not.

xxx

A day or so later, she stops by Cas’s cabin to tell him she hates him. But he’s not there. Odd. She’s turning to leave when she thinks it’d be easy. He has so many drugs laying around, he’d never miss a handful of them. She’s moving before she can stop herself, taking a handful of the likliest looking pills. She goes to her and Sophie’s cabin, sprawls on the floor.

By the time all the pills are taken, she’s feeling heavy and the world is fuzzy around the edges. She smiles.

“Ice cream,” she murmurs. This is a game she and Sophie used to play, what they’d have or do if it was available. “Iced coffee. Anything with ice, really. A slushie.” She takes a breath, mouth popping open as another idea occurs to her. “Oh my god. slushie with ice cream.” Those’re called screamers where she’s from, and they are delicious. She tries to reach out for Sophie’s hand, another thing they used to do: hold hands in the dark together, because the world was fucked up and scary and all they had was each other.

Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes, and everything was soft and dark and she was so tired. “Or maybe... you. Just you, Soph.” and then there was nothing but soft, warm dark. She let it take her.

xxx

The light is too bright and her body feels like broken glass and her tongue is parched and if this is the after life, it sucks. She tries to move, but it’s a feeble attempt. It brought him to her side, however.

“Hey,” he, the says, smoothing hair back from her face. “don’t try to move. Here,” pressing a wet cloth to her lips. “We don’t have ice, so this’ll have to do.” she parts her lips, and a small trickle of water touches her tongue. It feels like heaven.

“you gave us a scare, Claire Bear.” Cas says. He takes the cloth away, dips it in more water. Presses it to her lips again. “We thought... i thought...” But she’s drifting again.

This goes on for a while, she doesn’t know how long. Sometimes it’s Chuck and sometimes it’s Cas when she wakes up. always the cloth to her lips, and then small sips from a cup. She drifts back out before she can ask any questions.

and then, finally, she’s lucid. It’s Cas by her bed; his eyes are closed, his hands pressed together in front of him. It looks like-

“Don’t tell me you’re praying,” she whispers. His eyes open, and she’s shocked by something in them she’s never seen before. Relief? The kind that settles in your soul, the kind you were certain would never come.

No. Humanity. He looks entirely human and vulnerable and almost broken, She closes her eyes.

“To whom would i pray?” He asks, but there’s no sarcasm or mocking there. “No, i was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Are you hungry?” He evades her question neatly,. She’s too tired to press the point. She turns her head away from him, but reaches out with one hand. He takes it; his hand is warm and callused. bigger than she’s used to anymore, too; Sophie’s hand was the same size as her own. and for a moment, she wished desperately that it was Sophie’s hand and not his.

But if his was what she had, she’d take it.

xxx

As soon as she was strong enough, she left Cas’s cabin and went back to Chuck’s. She didn’t talk to him much, but he didn’t mind. He got her her own cot, put up a privacy curtain for her. Gave her as much space as she needed, but still forced her to eat and drink enough to regain her strength. He started taking to her about the camp logistics, and as she recovered, she started helping him more and more.

It was so unfair. There was an absence of Sophie that ached through her almost constantly. and yet her heart kept beating and her lungs kept breathing and her body kept going. Every day without her best friend was a day she didn’t want to live in. And yet.

Yet. The logistical work was interesting. figuring out rations and distribution kept her occupied. And she was learning to enjoy Chuck’s quiet humor. To appreciate his silences and his rambling outbursts of story teling. They soon talked a lot, mostly about the camp. Or the stories Chuck wanted to write if he ever had the time.

She still went to Cas’s, to lay on the floor and tell him things. She hardly ever said she hated him, now. She mostly talked about Sophie. Amelia. Jimmy. And Cas listened. Sometimes he’d talk about his own family, his Heavenly family. All those siblings, from whom he was cut off for ever. She even taught him the game she and Sophie used to play, even though his answers were often weird and not the point of the game. Paradise, he said. The garrison. Aramaic, which he insisted was a beautiful language but couldn’t actually prove because he no longer had his divine memory.

“Dean,” he said one day. His voice was quiet, serious. He always tried to be sober in the early afternoon when she visited; she didn’t like him when he was high. “From before. You never met him-”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, Claire. You met him when he was in the midst of a battle. He was a different person when we weren’t fighting for our lives. He was a good man. One might even say, a righteous man.” There’s a hint of sarcasm there, and she grins bitterly because she knows what it means. She remembers from being Castiel’s vessel.

But she reaches her hand out. He takes it. She rests her fingers on his wrist. “You don’t know this, but he was funny. He and Sam.... they were good men. That’s what i would have, if I could. Dean, and Sam.” She doesn’t answer, just lets her hand rest in his. After a long silence, he asks, “What about you, Claire Bear? What would you have?”

She gives a sad, bleak laugh.

“Sophie. Just Sophie.” He squuezes her hand for a moment, but that’s all. She’s surprised that she can live with the absence of Sophie. It is not the same, and not ideal, and not even what she wants. It just is. She has not chosen survival, but if that’s what she has, she’ll take it.

#pantslessoptimism #abandonall hope; you've already abandoned me #end!verse #te: death #tw: violence #tw: drug use #tw: su*icide attempt #this uh. this did not go i the direction I planned #and it fucking hurts my heart omg #long fic #long post for ts

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gldngrl7 · 4 years ago

Text

Bridgerton - My Take

Words cannot express what it’s like to wait 20 years for to see something you never actually thought would get made and then have it turn out as wonderfully as it did. This is not spoiler free and these thoughts are just going to spill out as they come to me:

Casting is spot on. So happy! I did not find a single character disappointing, and when a character didn’t match my mental image from the book I usually like the show character better.

Costumes are amazing!

Francesca is STILL the forgotten Bridgerton! Where is Francesca??? Also apparently forgotten? Felicity Featherington, the youngest daughter of the Featherington clan. Maybe they’re keeping her locked in the nursery because she must be even younger than Hyacinth.

I hadn’t remembered Marina from TSPWL so having her marry Phillip was a twist I didn’t see coming. I hadn’t made the mental connection with her paramour, sir George, having the same surname. But as she drove away with him there was that dreadful feeling of knowing how that was all going to turn out, which made the trek at that much better.

My problem with the Marina/Phillip twist is that she was supposed to be a Bridgerton cousin and NOT a Featherington cousin. So, when she dies, Eloise is compelled to write her condolences to Phillip which sparks their correspondence. With the changes, I can’t see what impetus they’ll use to start their relationship. Eloise should feel no sadness at her loss since (a) theyre not related, (b) she never really befriended Marina and (c) Marina freaking tried to trap her brother into a deceptive marriage. I hope this isn’t a cross-that-bridge-when-we-get-to-it writer’s moment.

Why do the bullets get farther and farther apart every time I hit return?

Okay that’s better

Even I was surprised at the graphic level of sex. And I’ve watched Spartacus! 😂 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 and bravo for not making it all about tits and bush.

I didn’t have a problem with Anthony’s overprotectiveness, tbh. And didn’t see it as OOC. Since his father’s death he’s been the defacto father figure (he’s the only dad Hyacinth has ever known) but I think they wanted to demonstrate that he’s (a) taking his responsibility seriously but that (b) he’s way out of his depth and doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. Also there’s the irony that he will have to face off with Kate next season, who takes her responsibility of protecting her sister, Edwina, with all the same gusto — especially from him. So he’ll get to be on the other side of it. That tickled me a bit.

I tried to find the balance between empathizing with Siena while also not investing emotionally in that relationship. What an untenable position to be a woman without status amongst powerful men. How terrifying to have such an uncertain future. Even a society spinster would likely live to serve as a conpanion or chaperone to a richer relative and thus be taken care of — but an opera singer who’s value diminishes with each passing year...I can’t imagine.

Not a fan of how they demonized Nigel Berbrooke. They took a hapless, socially challenged but otherwise honorable man and turned him into a villain. Because he wasn’t written as a romantic hero perse, I never wanted him to end up with the heroine, but I was satisfied when I read that he eventually did find his match in the books. I never had anything against him.

Prince Freiderich should get his own season. Or book. Hate to see a handsome, gentle and kind man go to waste like that. Especially one that actually WANTS to marry and have kids.

Cressida Cowper, you twat. 🤣🤣 even regency period had their mean girls.

Phoebe Dyneover reminds me so much of Claire Foy in the first season of the Crown. Very similar speech patterns.

I’m not down for flipping the sexualities of any of the canon characters. But I am down with Ally-Benedict who learns to accept and empathize with his queer friends and even takes personal risks to help cover for them when necessary.

I loved that Colin asks Penelope to dance and NOT because Violet always forced him to, like she does in the first few books.

I would love for Sophie to be Asian/Indo-Pak. Casting director take note.

I almost wish they hadn’t named the show Bridgerton. Bridgerton of course has the name recognition all book fans clamor for, but if this show were to magically go on (and on) it leaves out the possibility of “How to Marry a Marquis” or “What Happens in London Stays in London”, etc... I want ALL the Julia Quinn. What’s so bad about that?

I kept my expectations low, tbh and tried to keep in mind that translating from page to screen often requires some finessing, so I’m not going to bitch about every little plot change they made to tell their story. I feel blessed that I got to see these characters brought to life.

Now for some likely unpopular opinions:

Here’s a fact: for better or for worse these books were not written for an lgbtq target audience. They just weren’t. So don’t expect more than the passing nod to the existence of gays or trans people living lives of quiet desperation in the ranks of regency society. Don’t expect them to turn Eloise and Penelope into secret lovers. They won’t. Because the people who have been steady fans, who have purchased these books every time a new cover comes out with their hard earned money, will not stand for their beloved characters suddenly diverging so far from canon. I think some divergence from canon is allowable but changing the core of the character and their romance story will likely not go well. Don’t suddenly expect Benedict to burst out of the closet just because he joins an artist colony.

Honestly, I can’t be bothered to get incensed by Daphne getting Simon to come inside of her. I just can’t. I’ll save my moral outrage for the idea that she was legally his property. That a husband could beat his wife with a cane and she would have no legal leg to stand on. That women were so uneducated about sex that men could so easily manipulate women to get what they want. That a man could toss his wife down a flight of stairs, call it an accident, be married again in a few months and the only consequence he’d face would be the whispers and side eyes from society. And, most of all, that in society’s eyes a woman’s only value was in her ability to conceive and bear children, and not even in whether or not she might live long enough to raise them!! So the fact that he couldn’t control his ejaculation long enough to throw off a woman he outweighed by easily fifty pounds...? Boo-fucking-hoo on your male privilege and vastly unbalanced power dynamic. Sorry, not sorry. She did what she thought she had to do to be of value in the society that raised her. She didn’t make the rules, she was just living by them. I’m not interested in a debate on this point. It’s my opinion and you’re entitled to keep your own - on your own blog.

How long do we have to wait to hear if we get a season 2?

#bridgerton #spoilers #netflix

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fortysevenswrites · 4 years ago

Note

SETHKATE and KASTLE and KIMBERLY/TOMMY

HAHA Emily, I had a feeling I’d get these from you (though pleasantly surprised at the inclusion of Tomberly!)

SethKate

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Seth, but Kate has been known to when she being patronizing, usually because Richie is right about something and Seth is not happy to have to acknowledge that

Gets jealous the most - Seth. 10000%. He knows how OUT OF HIS LEAGUE his tiny, vicious person is, and really does not like how she insists on being SO DAMN NICE AND GIVING THE COMPLETE WRONG IMPRESSION to anyone (any MAN) who comes into Jed’s.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Both. Usually Seth (especially when he gets caught up in his feelings), but then there are the nights where Kalinda convinces Kate to come out with the Jed’s staff and they all get full on shmammered.

Takes care of on sick days - Both. Seth gets really worried about Kate when she gets sick, like REALLY WORRIED, because of the whole...Amaru of it all, and is SUPER into taking care of her. But when Seth gets sick, he is a whiny, needy mess of a human person, and Kate basically has to cuddle him until he feels better (”has to” in HUGE quotes)

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Kate. Fuller. Full stop. Seth, for all that he wouldn’t shut up about El Rey, doesn’t actually like the beach all that much (Anakin Skywalker anti-sand vibes here), but he does let Kate drag him into the ocean whenever they go to the beach because she loves it. And also because she’s in a bikini and DUH.

Gives unprompted massages - Seth is the handsiest and cuddliest. Of course he would.

Drives/rides shotgun - Seth drives. Kate controls the music, and doesn’t always play music he can’t stand.

Brings the other lunch at work - Kate. Not that she slides into the homemaker role that her mother took with her family, but Kate knows that Seth gets distracted and forgets to eat, and when he remembers, he eats like shit, so she takes it upon herself that he has at least a meal or two a day that will help him maintain that six-pack for as long as possible.

Has the better parental relationship - Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Kate by default, even though....neither parental relationship is all that great? Jacob did lie to Kate, a lot. And Jennifer, well, she struggled with her own issues and that did put a strain on her relationship with Kate, especially since Kate didn’t KNOW what was going on behind the scenes.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - I actually don’t think either would. They get up to a LOT in bed, but Kate does not have it in her to role play, I don’t feel. And Seth goes along with what’s going to make Kate happy and not embarrassed, because an embarrassed Kate does not have sex.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Kate. She just gives no fucks, and once she starts drinking recreationally, she just likes to have fun. Seth thinks it’s fucking adorable.

Still cries watching Titanic - Seth. It’s a f i l m, and the man knows to appreciate a good movie. Kate just can’t understand why they couldn’t just share the door.

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Kate. Fuller. With backing from Richie. Seth hates it, but well, happy wife, happy life ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Seth. Gecko. Full stop. Kate never really saw a need for money growing up, what with her dad and that constant message of providing for your community, so she really doesn’t know what to do with the money she gets being part of Los Tres Geckos outside of some small splurges. Seth, on the other hand, sees things and doesn’t look at price tags because he loves her.

Makes the other eat breakfast - Both. Since they keep such weird hours while running an operation that is predominantly nocturnal, it’s really just whoever is up first and remembers to check that they need to eat.

Remembers anniversaries - Seth. The man forgets nothing, like, from the big things to the little things (it makes him more than a little petty, too, but hey, what can you do?). Kate remembers the big dates, but Seth seems to have an anniversary for every day of the week for the two of them, whether it’s the first time Kate successfully learned a trick of the trade from him, or the day he realized she was still alive, or any milestone time period after Matanzas, or when Kate learned how to bartend, or, of course, the day he and Richie kidnapped her and her family.

Brings up having kids - Seth. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but eventually, LONG into the future, Seth realizes he DOES want that with Kate, and it’s a very uncomfortable (for him) conversation because she’s still so much younger than he is and he doesn’t want to pressure her, but also he wants it all with her in a way he never eve thought he’d want with anyone.

Kastle and Tomberly under the cut!

Kastle

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Frank Castle, full stop. When he lets himself, he is v e r y affectionate. It comes to a surprise to Karen, but she gets used to it quick.

Gets jealous the most - Frank, because he feels guilty about the whole thing where he’s a criminal/vigilante and every man who breathes in Karen’s direction he feels could be her chance at a normal life. It takes a while for Karen to beat the stupid out of Frank in that regard, but does happen eventually.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Frank, every single time. Girls night with Sarah and Marci and Jones and Trish and Claire? Yeah. Frank plays DD more often than he ever imagined he would. Whenever he gets shitfaced off his ass, which is VERY rare, he usually bunks down wherever he is, which is always a controlled environment where he’s safe enough to let go.

Takes care of on sick days - Both. Frank is SUCH a family man, and can’t stand it when someone isn’t feeling well, and Karen is the QUEEN of overdoing it when she’s sick, so he has to make her rest. And the rare times where Frank is the one who’s sick? Karen has to force him to accept her help. That’s when she tends to comment under her breath about how exasperating he is, even though she knows he can hear her.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Karen. They don’t often do normal things like, “Hey, it’s beach day!” Because of the well, vigilante of it all, but when they do, it’s definitely Karen who has to drag him out from under the umbrella. The bikini helps a LOT with her case.

Gives unprompted massages - Frank. He knows Karen gets VERY stressed (he doesn’t blame her, working with Murdock and all), and she spends way more time than he things could possibly be healthy hunched over her computer, so shoulder massages are the norm in the Kastle apartment.

Drives/rides shotgun - Frank does most, if not all of the driving, which, of course, isn’t much when you live in NYC. Unless he’s been hurt and Karen has to cart him back home from wherever he was where he got his ass kicked (which, also, is rare.

Brings the other lunch at work - Frank, because A, he loves taking care of Karen, but also a little bit because Matt HATES when Frank stops by the office, and it scares the CRAP out of Foggy, which is endlessly entertaining.

Has the better parental relationship - Well, neither Frank nor Karen’s parents are in the picture, but it would have to be Frank by default, seeing as Karen’s mom is dead and Karen’s dad is a jerk.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - Neither. Frank is pretty straight-forward in bed, and it never occurs to Karen that she’d want to pretend they’re anything but Frank and Karen.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Karen. She doesn’t let loose often, but on girls night? Endless entertainment.

Still cries watching Titanic - Karen gets teary because she gets frustrated. Titanic is just…not a movie that Frank’s a fan of, but he humors Karen whenever she chooses to hate-watch something.

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Not that they really partake on Halloween much, but Karen would be the one most likely to come up with a couples themed costume. Frank would probably find any and every excuse to be busy on Halloween so he can avoid it.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - Neither really. Holidays are hard for Frank, and neither are very materialistic. They tend to just spend holidays with one another, or they go to the Lieberman’s, and most of their efforts center on getting nice gifts for the kids.

Makes the other eat breakfast - Frank. If Karen had it her way, she’s subsist on coffee and spite. Frank makes sure she gets enough caloric energy in her so she can instill fear in the unjust.

Remembers anniversaries - Both. Frank can’t forget any of his anniversaries and important dates with Maria and the kids, but also really can’t forget things like the day he met Karen at the hospital, the day at the hotel with Lewis, and of course, the day he pulled his head out of his ass and apologized for telling her to walk away. Karen also can’t forget the day she met Frank, when he used her as bait in the coffee shop, also the hotel, and when Frank totaled her car when she was being held hostage by Schoonover.

Brings up having kids - Frank, but only in the sense that he’s concerned that Karen doesn’t know what she’s getting into with him (yeah, right). Karen sets him straight that she really doesn’t want kids and also doesn’t want to think that she wants to replace Lisa and Frankie. They talk about it once and it never really comes up again.

Kimberly/Tommy

Gives nose/forehead kisses - Tommy. Because as much as Kimberly can hold her own in a fight, she is still is tiny and adorable girlfriend.

Gets jealous the most - Neither really (BECAUSE IN THIS UNIVERSE THERE WAS NO STUPID FUCKING LETTER). Yeah, long distance is hard, but they manage to keep things together pretty well while Kimberly competes internationally.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive - Tommy absolutely plays DD. When they’re old enough to drink, Kimberly absolutely enjoys letting loose and going to a party or two or…twelve.

Takes care of on sick days - Kimberly, because Tommy, being a leader and all, rarely lets anyone see him when he’s sick or struggling. He is very stubborn.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Kimberly. On days where the bad guys choose not to attack when the Rangers are out at the beach (or, well, the lake in Angel Grove, California, Canada), it’s Kimberly who pulls Tommy into the water with her, but also Tommy who pulls Kim back out with him when he gets bored of her lying around working on her tan.

Gives unprompted massages - Both. They’re both not just Rangers, but they’re athletes too, and they know how important it is to avoid muscle strain as much as possible.

Drives/rides shotgun - When they’re not teleporting to and from the Command Center, it’s Tommy who does most of the driving, so Kimberly can finish doing her makeup or filling him in on the latest school gossip.

Brings the other lunch at work - Neither. They’re both very self-sufficient, but will trade off who picks up their smoothies from Ernie up at the juice bar.

Has the better parental relationship - Neither. Kimberly’s parents are suuuuuuper MIA (like, if they weren’t, they’d probably figure out pretty quick that she’s, you know, A FUCKING POWER RANGER), and Tommy’s parents are also pretty…MIA. Like, really, do ANY Rangers have parents other than…Billy? It’s not that Zordon was looking for teenagers with attitude. It was attitude AND absentee parents.

Tries to start role-playing in bed - They are way too damn vanilla to even consider role play.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer - Tommy. Oliver. For all that he’s very good at fighting, it does NOT transfer to da club.

Still cries watching Titanic - Kimberly. She just gets emotional about how Jack sacrificed himself so Rose could live. Tommy wishes Kimberly would watch more movies with explosions. (And also wonders why the hell they couldn’t have just shared the door)

Firmly believes in couples costumes - Technically both, because Tommy is INTO Halloween and is happy to let Kimberly pick the costumes for them,

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas - I mean, they’re in high school and fighting a war, so I don’t think they really think much about presents (plus, they get pretty sick gets in terms of tech from Zordon), but as adults, definitely Tommy doting on Kim, who gets annoyed that he’s using his teacher salary on extravagant gifts (she’s the real moneymaker in the family as a world-famous gymnast and coach)

Makes the other eat breakfast - When they do live together, Kimberly does the meal making because she finds cooking therapeutic.

Remembers anniversaries - Both, but Tommy remembers some of the more obscure anniversaries, like the day Kim fainted when she saw him in the new White Ranger uniform.

Brings up having kids - Kimberly. She tells Tommy that she’s planning on retiring from competing and going to coaching full-time, and when Tommy asks why, Kimberly tells him that it’s really hard to do a side aerial off the balance beam while pregnant, since balance is…hard when there’s a bun in the oven.

#asked and answered #ship asks

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starwarsnonsense · 5 years ago

Text

Best Films of 2019 (So Far)

It’s that time of year again! As most of my followers probably know, I’m an avid cinema-goer beyond Star Wars. I also quite enjoy making lists, so what’s better than a combo of the two? Below, I run down my top 10 films of 2019 so far - please note that this list is based on UK cinema release dates, so some of these films were 2018 releases elsewhere.

What are your favourites so far from this year? Let me know in replies/asks!

Honourable mentions: Toy Story 4, Long Shot, Aladdin, Alita: Battle Angel & The Kid Who Would Be King

1. The Favourite, dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

This completely wowed me - it features a trio of magnificently compelling female characters (played by Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone) operating at the court of Queen Anne (Colman is Anne, Weisz and Stone are courtiers), and is focused solely on the shifting sands of the power dynamics between them. The script is savage without sacrificing poignancy, witty without ceasing to be genuine. And while I’ve seen some react to this film as a comedy (and it certainly has laughs, most of which are closely tied to shock), for me it was very clearly a drama about the inscrutable and complicated relationships that exist between women. Specifically, it is about how those relationships run the gamut from sincere affinity to ruthless manipulation. This is an amazing movie, and it also has the best use of an Elton John song in 2019 (sorry, Rocketman!).

2. Midsommar, dir. Ari Aster

I went into this film with reservations, since I wasn’t a huge fan of Hereditary (by the same director), which I found to have extraordinary moments but iffy execution overall. This movie, however, wowed me, and I am still uncertain as to whether this or The Favourite is my top film of 2019 so far (fortunately, this gives me a good excuse to watch Midsommar three or four times in cinemas). While marketed as a freaky cult horror film, the director has described it as a fairy tale, which is the level on which is spoke to me. Midsommar follows Dani (an incredible Florence Pugh), a young woman who has suffered a terrible loss, as she travels with her boyfriend and his friends to a pagan festival in the Swedish countryside. Dani is painfully isolated, and her grief is hers to shoulder alone since her boyfriend is un-receptive and distinctly unprepared to help her. Over the course of the film, destruction and creation are conflated in ways that are frequently beautiful and horrific at the same time - this film spoke to me on a profound level, and the way it ended gave me a sense of incredible catharsis. This won’t be for everyone, for I found it to be a deeply special film and I can’t recommend it enough.

3. One Cut of the Dead, dir. Shinichirou Ueda

While I went into The Favourite with high expectations given the talent involved, I went into this with no expectations whatsoever - and what a treat it was! One Cut of the Dead is easily one of the funniest movies I’ve seen in ears, taking what initially seems like a trite concept (a crew is filming a zombie movie at a desolate location ... only to discover that the zombies are real!) and twisting it in a truly ingenious way. The comedy is often of the broad variety, but it is consistently delightful and always manages to avoid becoming crass - the movie even has some really sweet family dynamics at the centre of it, which gives it some real emotional heft. The success of this film is heavily reliant on a major twist that occurs part-way through, so the best advice I can give you is to stay as far away from spoilers for this one as possible - go in blind, and you will be amply rewarded for your faith.

4. The Farewell, dir. Lulu Wang

I saw this following a wave of festival hype, so while I was excited I was also a bit apprehensive (since I have been burned by the aforementioned festival hype before). Thankfully, my doubts were blown away as this turned out to be just as wonderful as the early reviews had suggested. It’s a personal story about a young Asian-American woman (Awkwafina) struggling to reconcile her heritage with her current situation and values - specifically, she is tested when her grandmother is diagnosed with terminal cancer and the wider family make the decision to hide the truth from her. The Farewell does a fantastic job of generating empathy for all the different perspectives and positions in play, but it’s truly anchored by Awkwafina’s amazingly nuanced and tender performance - basically, anyone who’s ever loved a grandparent should leave this feeling incredibly moved and inspired. The themes of The Farewell are both specific to the Asian-American experience and general to anyone who has struggled with maintaining bonds over a vast distance, whether physical or cultural.

5. Booksmart, dir. Olivia Wilde

God, how I wish I’d had this movie as a teenager! While Booksmart has a cliched premise - two high-achieving teens decide to have one wild night before graduation - it tells the story in an incredibly charming and impressively creative way (I won’t spoil it, but let me just say this - that scene with the Barbies!). As someone who was an awkward nerd with no discernible social life in high school (as you Americans call it), I found this portrayal of that peculiar limbo period very sensitive and thoughtful - it doesn’t mock or shame its heroines for being studious, and it allows them to have limits and step back from situations that make them uncomfortable. It also serves as a beautifully honest portrait of a friendship, depicting the qualities that bring people together in friendship together in the first place, as well as the forces that can break people apart. This is a very accomplished debut from Wilde, and it makes me very excited to see where she goes next as a director.

6. A Private War, dir. Matthew Heineman

This was a very suspenseful and tightly focused film about an extraordinary woman, and the film soars on the strength of Rosamund Pike’s incredible performance as Marie Colvin. She provides piercing insights into the psyche of a person so driven to pursue truth and enact change that she loses all concern for her own wellbeing - it’s simultaneously a portrait of heroism and obsession, and it’s impressive for how it handles the ambiguity inherent in Colvin’s choices. She’s exceptionally brave, but the film is unflinching in depicting the costs of her bravery. It left me feeling inspired to learn more about Colvin’s life and work, and I still need to watch the documentary Under the Wire to get more insight into the real story behind the film.

7. Fighting With My Family, dir. Stephen Merchant

This is the year of Florence Pugh - she killed it in Midsommar, and she is just as fantastic here. If anything, Fighting With My Family and Midsommar make great complements as they serve as fantastic showcases for Pugh’s range as an actor. While her character in Midsommar is fragile and vulnerable, Fighting With My Family is a platform for her strength and comedic skill. As Paige, Pugh is instantly likable and compelling - I don’t give a damn about any form of wrestling, but this film (and Pugh specifically) did a fantastic job of drawing me in and making me root for Paige’s struggle to prove herself as a legitimate force in wrestling. This is a real underdog story, and Pugh did a wonderful job as the Cinderella of the WWE.

8. Apollo 11, dir. Todd Douglas Miller

My dad has always been crazy about the space program, but I hadn’t picked up the bug myself. That changed after I watched this extraordinary documentary, which brought the Apollo 11 mission to vivid life. The footage that’s used for this documentary is extraordinarily crisp, and some moments are vividly powerful - the crew getting into their spacesuits, the swirl of fire surrounding the moment of takeoff, and the journey of the spacecraft towards the moon. It left me feeling moved and touched by human potential, especially when you remember that this all happened 50 years ago when the available technologies were so fragile and primitive. I also loved how the footage was allowed to speak for itself, with no voiceover or exposition - it’s a must-see for anyone who’s ever looked up at the stars and wondered about reaching them.

9. High Life, dir. Claire Denis

This movie is second to only Midsommar in terms of how weird it is. I saw this in a Hungarian cinema while on holiday, which made for a disorientating experience in itself. While the meaning of the film is quite elusive and I’m sure that many people will find viewing it a uniquely frustrating experience, I appreciated how it created a hothouse environment that brought out some of the ugliest aspects of humanity. Robert Pattinson was great as what comes closest to amounting to our protagonist, though he is as inscrutable and inaccessible as the film itself. I can’t quite pin down why I liked this one so much, but I know I did and it made me want to seek out more of Claire Denis’ work.

10. Free Solo, dir. Jimmy Chin & Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi

It’s tragic that most people will only watch this documentary on a TV screen (or, so much worse, a laptop!). I was fortunate enough to see it in its full IMAX glory, and it’s rare to see any film - let alone a documentary - take such full advantage of the format. The woozy spectacle of this film is the real star, though the subject - mountain climber Alex Honnold - is also fascinating with his unnerving detachment from the magnitude of what he is setting out on. It is clearly a necessary detachment for him to be able to achieve what he achieves, but I appreciated how the filmmakers questioned it and explored its impact on his girlfriend. This is a compelling documentary, and is worth watching even if you’re not usually a fan of the genre.

#films #cinema #films 2019 #midsommar #florence pugh #the favourite #one cut of the dead #free solo #high life #apollo 11 #fighting with my family #a private war #the farewell #booksmart

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alphaternal · 4 years ago

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* MAISIE LOCKWOOD

Benjamin Lockwood’s only daughter had died in 1995, a little over two years after the incident which ultimately destroyed Jurassic Park. Devastated and desperate with grief, Lockwood did the unthinkable: he attempted to clone a human child from the DNA of his daughter. When they were young men, John Hammond and Benjamin Lockwood built a custom lab under Lockwood’s estate, which ultimately led to the founding of International Genetics Incorporated (InGen). He had all the resources at his disposal, and no authority to stop him. When Hammond had discovered what he was doing, their friendship was shattered, and Hammond had him removed from InGen entirely. But he did not stop Lockwood. Hammond had loved Maisie like she was his own family, empathizing with his friend. But he could no longer support him, in any capacity. Lockwood agreed to remove himself from InGen’s board of directors with very little compensation, under the condition that Hammond agreed not to speak of what he had done (and secretly continued to do).

Lockwood’s guilt over this gross breach of ethics is palpable, especially as he is dying from a terminal illness. He wants redemption. He wants to ‘save himself,’ as he had put it.

But why? What is so genuinely terrible about human cloning?

Animal cloning exists, and has existed for decades, commonly conducted through Somatic Cell Nuclear Transplantation. But primates have always been particularly difficult to clone, arguably more so than any other species on earth. Since the 1950s, when researchers successfully cloned a frog, scientists have cloned dozens of animal species since then, including mice, cats, sheep, pigs, cows... and, of course, dinosaurs. In each case, researchers encountered problems and complications that needed to be overcome with trial and error. It was not flawless, and certainly not always successful. Under Masrani Global, InGen had refined and perfected the cloning process for genetically engineered and gene-spliced animals, creating a seamless and patented transition. But Lockwood had no access to their resources or research, and was no longer welcomed by the company.

Maisie’s remains were never buried; her body was kept in cryostasis to provide ample samples for Benjamin’s obsessive research in human cloning. There were trials and there were errors. At first, he had used the wombs of living people, under the pretense of requiring a surrogate mother. Lockwood targeted several surrogate agencies, and made huge donations to their organizations, effectively discouraging suspicion. He would also pay the surrogate mothers the full price they requested, regardless if the embryos made it to full term or not. Artificial wombs were also utilized, engineered and refined over several decades; artificial wombs proved to work better, but were not completely successful. Overall, his research would constantly hit a wall. Deformities. Miscarriages. Trial, and error.

Until August 19, 2006; finally, a breakthrough. Using an enhanced artificial womb, Induced Pluripotent Stem Cells (iPSC), Extrauterine Fetal Incubation (EFI), and CRISPR-C9 gene editing technologies, Maisie Lockwood was born again.

But at what cost? The lies, the violation of ethics...

Maisie’s clone was homeschooled, isolated to the estate, and raised primarily by her governess Iris and Benjamin Lockwood himself, until he was diagnosed with spinal meningioma. As a child, she would naturally trust her caregivers, and learned very quickly that asking too many questions about her "mother" would upset her grandfather (at one point, he had even cried). She had no knowledge of her true origins, and was carefully deceived by her “grandfather” and governess. By all accounts, they raised her with the love and affection a child needed, but they did not allow her to leave the estate. As a result, Maisie is incredibly imaginative, and is known to pretend to go on safaris around the Lockwood mansion. She was the perfect physical replica of her original, and naturally curious, but wary of strangers (running away when Claire turned to look at her and caught her spying, and hiding from Wheaton as she spied on him, too). She also appears to have a photographic memory, after easily inputting a security code she had watched Eli use to enter the Lockwood’s underground lab. She can scale and climb Lockwood’s mansion, very likely because she had been doing this for a few years to escape her room and explore the grounds of the estate. Her behavior and her situation indicates that she very rarely left her home. In all her young life, she had never left Northern California.

The circumstances regarding Maise’s birth and how she had came to be born was something that Owen could not ignore. Genetic power had been unleashed; cataclysmic, man-made change. But Maisie Lockwood was just a child; that was all Owen saw. A child who needed help, needed protection, needed to recover from the tragedy of losing her grandfather and nearly being torn apart by a genetically engineered monster. She needed a safe environment.

Owen knew that Maisie’s future would be a series of traumatizing events if he didn’t actively interfere. Eli Mills was legally assigned to be her sole guardian after Lockwood died. Eli was dead. She had no birth records, no hospital records (Lockwood had a personal doctor that took house calls), and would ultimately be syphoned into the foster care system. Lockwood was also a wealthy man. If it is discovered that his death was unnatural, that he was murdered, Maisie’s origins would come into question. Owen knew it would only be a matter of time before people realized the truth... and what happens, then? Would she end up in a sterile lab, being poked and prodded, and made into someone else’s experiment? The whole world would gawk at the first successful human clone in history. Maisie would never be able to live a normal life.

So, he took her. Damned the consequences. He would go on to homeschool her, shelter her, and essentially make sure she lived a normal, healthy childhood, recovering from her trauma. Owen will eventually put her through public school, after making special arrangements to give her a new identity. When she is thirteen, they have a serious conversation in which Owen asks her if she would like to be adopted, if she’d like to call him dad. After everything Maisie had been through, she deserved to decide. She deserved to know that her consent was important, first and foremost.

#HC.#FALLEN KINGDOM.#long post

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jjdoggies-fanfics · 4 years ago

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Aaaaa hi if you’re ever in the mood what about a benya/ fiveya fic but it takes place within the sparrow academy universe 🙈💕 something about just sparrow!ben and vanya ( that maybe ends with a slightly jealous n protective five ) is so undeniably cute n I didn’t know I needed this until now 🔥✨💕

I hope you like it Anon!! And I hope I did it justice!!

~~ Isn’t What I Want ~~ Sparrow!Benya & Fiveya ~~

When they’d returned from 1963, narrowly avoiding another apocalypse, it is pretty safe to say they were not expecting this other version of Ben or the entirety of The Sparrow Academy in the place of The Umbrella Academy. Luther and Allison, soon after being told by their father, ex-father, that he didn’t want them in his house, split off on their own, leaving the house together. Allison saying she needed to see if Claire was in this version of the world or not.

Diego pulled Klaus out a bit later, when he wouldn’t stop pestering Sparrow Ben about how different he was from their Ben. Five had been talking with Reginald briefly, they’d been talking about what they’d do in this alternate timeline while Five worked out a way to get them to the right one, when he realized that the entirety of The Sparrow Academy and Vanya had disappeared on him.

Five quickly ended his talk with Reginald, already sick of hearing the old man go on about things he already knew about not fucking up the timeline. But it also wasn’t their timeline so, he really didn’t care. What he did care about, was finding Vanya, wherever the fuck she went. The longer he was in this new timeline his physical body seemed to be catching up to what it would’ve been in 2019 if he’d never jumped into the apocalypse like a dumbass.

As he searched through the many rooms of the house, each of them vaguely familiar but not quite the same, he was nearing the last sets of rooms in the house, being able to jump from room to room certainly helped in his search, all that was left were the rooms that were the furthest upstairs. Where his room was, or used to be.

He avoided the step that had always squeaked at the bottom, unsure if it would still squeak in this alternate world, as he made his way up the stairs. Five had already expended most of his energy with his earlier jumps and needed some more time to recover, especially without a snack. Once he reached the top of the stairs he heard a very familiar, yet slightly muffled, laugh. Vanya.

Following where he’d thought he’d heard the laughter coming from, his former room, he waited just outside of the door for a moment, listening. “Ben,” Vanya’s voice sighed, “why are you still here?”

Ben, Sparrow Ben, gave her a bit of a mocking laugh before returning, “Where else would I go?”

“Anywhere! Anywhere but here!” Vanya hissed back, “See the world? That was something you’d always wanted to do.”

“Vanya,” Her name falling from this Other Ben’s lips sounded, wrong, “that may have been what your Ben wanted to do, but I am perfectly content with staying here. With my family, so maybe it’s time you returned to yours.”

Five had been expecting one of the two to leave or storm out of the room by now, spot him and his now late teens body, yell at him or something. But that didn’t happen. Instead he heard Vanya huff in the room, imaging her rolling her eyes, arms crossed, nostrils flaring as they did when she got angry, “How can you be ‘content’ living with Dad? He’s an asshole.”

“That maybe so,” Ben replied, not sounding agitated in the slightest, instead he sounded enticed and a bit cocky, “but the world is full of assholes, so why bother with them?”

“You can’t generalize the entirety of the world based on the few assholes that unfortunately are there too!” Vanya snapped back.

Ben scoffed, “Why are you so passionate about this? Why do you care? What the hell do they mean to you?” his tone went from mocking to being far more aggressive with each question. Vanya tried to give him a reply, but only managed to stammer out a few syllables before Ben continued, “Maybe it’s because there’s something you want, but you can’t have. For whatever stupid reason you’ve conviced yourself of.” There was an audible thump before Ben continued, “I think, you’re still a scared little girl, desperately pinning after the attention of a boy, who will never give it to you.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Vanya muttered back, all the fire she’d had before gone.

Five was readying himself to storm in there when Ben sneered back, “You are an open book, wear your heart on your sleeve, and let every single person in your life walk all over you.” Vanya started to say something back to him but Ben steamrolled right over her, “You have never been made to grow up. You are still living in a fantasy world where everyone can get their happily ever after. But it’s time for you to grow the hell up Vanya.”

There were no other words Five could hear through the walls or cracked ever so slightly door, but there were still a few noises coming from the room. Deciding to risk it, Five pushed the door open more ever so slowly, and when he looked in he was shocked and angry. Ben had Vanya pinned to the bed, presumably Ben’s now, as he peppered kisses along her neck, jaw, cheeks, and lips while Vanya pushed against him a bit, but not as hard as she could, even without her powers.

Five jumped over to them and shoved Ben off of Vanya, Ben muttered several expletives after he hit the floor, before grabbing Vanya’s wrists and jumping with her to just outside The Sparrow Academy’s front door. “Are you okay?” Five asked, eyes roaming over her, looking for any injuries, “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“I’m fine Five.” Vanya hissed at him, pulling her wrists out of his grasp, “Ben didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not Ben. At least, not our Ben.” Five hissed back.

Vanya gave him a weird look, as if she was disgusted by him, “Why are you being so weird Five?”

“I am not the one being weird Vanya!” Five snapped, “At least I wasn’t making out with a Sparrow!”

Five internally winced at his obviously poor choice of words, timing, and just overall lack of sensibility. And Vanya, sensibly, glared at him before she began storming away from him. Five tried to jump in front of Vanya to stop her, but as fate would have it because the universe really just hated him today he was too tapped of energy to jump in front of her.

“Vanya wait!” Five yelled after her, trying to catch up with her, which was much easier now that he had adult sized legs instead of child sized ones. Five quickly caught up to and stepped in front of Vanya, effective stopping her, “Vanya, please listen to me.”

Vanya crossed her arms, looking quite angry at him, “Why should I Five?” she asked him, which, was quite fair.

“About what Ben said-” Five started.

“I thought you just said he wasn’t Ben.” Vanya hissed at him, sounding angrier than she’d ever sounded towards him that Five could remember, “So is he Ben or is he not Five?”

Five, a bit stunned by Vanya’s bitterness, especially towards him, stammered back, “I, well, um, he’s not, exactly, Ben, but he also, is, Ben. I don’t know Vanya. But listen, what that Ben said to you back there about the whole ‘open book’ thing-”

“You were listening?” Vanya asked, no anger in her voice now, just filled with hurt, “You were listening that whole time? What the hell Five? You have no right to eavesdrop on people!”

“That’s not the point Vanya!” Five snapped back at her, “That fucking idiot doesn’t know jack shit about you. It doesn’t matter if you were like that before, now we have the opportunity to be whoever the fuck we want to be in this world.”

Vanya’s gaze had been focused on the sidewalk but shifted up to him as she asked, “We?”

“We.” Five said, hesitantly taking hold of one of Vanya’s hands then the other, “We can be whoever we want to be and do whatever we want to do here, but we’ll do it together.”

“Together.” Vanya repeated with a small nod and a smile on her face. Five moved his hands from her hands to Vanya’s shoulders, pulling her toward him as he planted a kiss on her lips. There was a moment of fear that spread through Five when Vanya didn’t kiss him back, worrying that he’d messed up everything, but all his worries melted away when he felt Vanya’s lips pushing against his own with equal force.

Vanya threw her arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he picked her up before jumping them from the midst of the sidewalk to an empty storefront, windows completely boarded up. After another minute of kissing, the lack of oxygen burning their lungs they pulled apart. “Five,” Vanya sighed, still trying to catch her breath, “I love you.”

“I love you too Vanya.” Five replied, relishing in the smile and blush that spread across her face at his admission. And just like that Vanya was pressing her lips to his again, and he lifted her back up, intending to do whatever he needed to do to make her happy for as long as he lives.

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