#it was written in the late 90s but posted i think like ten years ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gazetotheabyss · 7 months

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I read the words plain as day on my computer screen some weeks ago. With no context it might seem so entirely monotonous. Like the pop up anyone might see on any given shady ass website they come across while doom scrolling.

But I think I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name is Geri. I, like most people my age, grew up in this wild age of information. My parents from the generation who slaved away in times of the unknown, blessed by the ignorance of some harsh bouts of misinformation given to them by Aunt Agnes some odd years ago that they just didn't have any sort of measure to dispute. Or, and God forbid, having to go to the library. But us? All of us? It's all at the tips of our fingertips, isn't it? The age of rumor and myth was killed by the dawn of Snopes and Wikipedia, and for the most part that's okay.

God, I'm sorry.

Okay.

I'm not that type of person to go on long diatribes about nothing. At least I wasn't. It's all twisted in my head now. Where to start, where it's going to end. I'm committing to just writing as a train of thought, to make sure I get it all down for posterity. It's all a mess and jumbled in my head, so some things might be out of order, but this is all true. As much as I would have loved to have been making this up.

Blah blah blah, it was a normal day. Went to work. Came home. Do you really even care about those details? Reading about the sort of hot pocket me, a broke college student, picked on that monumental night? After finishing up a particularly grueling portion of a paper I was working on for the Lit class I'm taking I had to shut off my brain. You know, decompress? My brain was fried, I was tired, but I just couldn't bring myself to sleep. The thought of working so hard the whole day only to waste what little free time I had with sleeping just sounded so fucking miserable. So, doing what any of us do, I laid there. Practically catatonic under a mountain of blankets, cozy up, listening to whatever YouTube videos I could find to just play in the background, while just scrolling. Post to post, site to site. Not even really reading or processing. Just scrolling, hoping to feel something.

I thought I would fall asleep for a minute or two. I clicked some link, shady as it might have been, thinking by some measure it was a joke or something since I'd just been imbibing in some pseudo-deep meme content after a bit. I'm hesitating to type the name of it right now, because I really don't want to curse anyone with this, but just know it was very... I don't know, 90s Geocities. The top of the page read 'Library of Eternity' with some bad clipart of a book. It was all very bad and by all rights writing it off should have been what I did, but that late with so little brain power the curiosity is stronger than the will to click away. Clicked the little book and my screen went black. Fucking virus, right?

Honestly that's what I thought. All the furious clicking, slamming my fingers angrily on the keyboard, it really didn't seem to do shit. After about ten minutes of screaming to any higher power who would listen a window popped up.

Corny shit, right? I've written off my laptop at this point. Maybe I can cry to mom and dad and beg for them to help me pay off a new one? Maybe Klarna? I just thank anyone who would listen that I didn't have any important information on there, and that two-factor authentication was on for my email. I close the damn thing and toss it off my bed, and that should be the end of it. If I had any sense about me at the time maybe it would have been, maybe if I knew the things I knew now or could go back and stop myself.

I browse reddit a couple hours, play some stupid game I saw on a mobile ad because fuck I'm bored, and that's the night. I pass out, wake up with a sore nose and my phone on the floor after passing out while browsing.

Then comes the beloved day off. The holiest of days to those of us playing double time as college kids out here in the trenches. I'm pumped, at least once I drag myself out of bed after hours of '5 more minutes'. Now not exactly being a social butterfly, most of the time my days off consist of exactly what you'd expect from someone who goes to school, goes to work, and has most of their friends online. I dick around on my computer, doing exactly what I did the night before. Now my dumbass, completely forgetting most of what had just transpired, gears up to do the exact same thing. Getting all cozy under my blanket fort again, ready to stream some movies, or binge the same show I've watched about a hundred times. But I open my computer and that popup is still fucking there. Mood trashed. Life ruined. Day off totally and completely in the gutter.

Nothing better to do. No computer, nothing else on the docket. I really have nothing to lose. At least for foresight purposes. So, boom, I clicked yes. But all it does is open up another pop up.

Fucking.

Yes?

I clicked yes. How much more ready could I be?

Clicking yes again I'm ready for meat spin, surprise real life gore, or some other sort of stupid jump scare surprise. But no, nothing so fun. Just another goddamned window.

This 90s ass virus website just called me ignorant. A challenge I could never have backed down from. No one will ever call Geri Monaghan ignorant. I was not about to be challenged by some two-bit website probably programmed before I was born.

I’m ready.

At the time that was what I thought. Of course, I did. How the hell would anyone expect--

My screen went from black to white. Okay, not expected in the slightest. It started with one sentence, then another, and they just kept lining up one right after another like a typical word document. Eventually when it ran out of room on the screen they started overlapping. I shouldn’t have been able to read or understand any of it with how fast it was happening. I just stared blankly, reading and absorbing every fucking word. Even as my screen went black, blank from all the information overloading it, I was retaining every written word. It was torture. It felt like hours were going by. Days even. Stuck in that fucking trance lost to endless streams of eternal information pouring bit by bit into my brain.

No one ever tells you how loud silence can be. Staring into the blank void of my screen was like staring into entropy. All sound vacuumed from my room, all life void from my body. But trapped. I was still in there. Stuck frozen with my eyes open, unable to close them or even move as that information became more. Like eternity spread itself open before me, my consciousness was ripped away. I was at the start of it all.

No.

Sorry.

That’s not right.

It was before the start. The black void. Before life, before time, before existence. A place where things like us shouldn’t be. Like tendrils writhing and slithering, it probed my mind. The worst headache I’ve ever fucking had times a million. Drilling a half inch bit into my skull without me ever going into shock or going numb to the pain. Everything went white again. The page was clear, and I was sitting on my bed again. Laptop open. Screen still black. Not even a minute had gone by.

Staring into that empty screen. That digital fucking abyss. I still felt like I was floating in that vacant nothingness. Existing before anything.

I know there’s so many guys out there who pretend to be know-it-alls, or that they have all the answers...

My head.

Felt so heavy. Just to exist even now while I’m writing this it feels like I’m trudging through miles and miles of heavy sludge like thoughts to even get to the point. All this stuff sitting in my head. The real stories of how life and history happened. The beginning, the end, the swirling concepts of space and time that mankind has only scantly begun to get a grasp upon. Omniscience? But in a head not meant to keep it. Answers to every question, knowledge of every fact that could be, would be, or had been.

I took an aspirin and decided to go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air would help. Maybe I just fried my brain last night reading a bunch of random shit after reading hours and hours of random Wikipedia articles or know your meme pages blankly to just fill the gaps.

For a minute it did.

Lights felt brighter, sounds felt clearer. I didn’t even put on my glasses today and I could see just fine. Something I didn’t even bother questioning in the moment. Mom always told me to never question good things and I wasn’t about to start now.

It really wasn’t until later in the day I was hanging around with my only real-life friend at this school. I don’t know, we’ll call him Tom. Tom and I usually do the same shit I do at the apartment. Only sometimes we smoke weed too. Everyone does that with their friends, right? Sit pretending to actually hang out when you’re both independently browsing on your phones while some random shit plays on TV? He asked me some random question.

I’d tell you I don’t remember it, but I do. I remember every detail as it hit me at that moment. Piercing through whatever fog the day had put to haze over the vast span of eternity all of those eons and eons of information just struck. Being shot in the head wouldn’t have felt all that much different. I answered his question.

“Bro, do you think there’s life on other planets?”

“Not within our immediate solar system.”

Not stated as an opinion, but as a fact. I was on autopilot, like a fucking Alexa or Siri, just blindly answering the question in totality as I knew it. Like knew it. Subjects I’d studied for years and years on end. Tom stopped me about halfway through.

“Dude what the fuck are you talking about?”

It was fair. I think at some point I stopped speaking English, and it was more just guttural noises. Some foreign language? Alien. Obviously confused, I replied.

“You asked me if I thought there was life on other planets dude, I’m just telling you there is.”

“How can you possibly ‘know’ that?”

Going off in a trance again pretty much, I told him all about the Library. All the things it showed me. I tried for him to keep it vague. But he kept prodding me. Asking me for more. I couldn’t shut it off. Like the curse of knowing all of this stuff was more than just the knowledge itself but having to share it just as readily. Which sounds great. Like the benefit of knowledge to mankind.

I told him everything. I looked him dead in the eyes. Answered every petty or grand question that came to his mind. Ones I couldn’t possibly know the answer to or ones that had just been prying their way at his mind.

He asked.

Oh god he asked...

“Can you tell me everything?”

I told him no. Like I was being pedantic or something. Fucking possessed, not able to stop myself or control my own body I just grabbed hold of him.

“No, I can’t tell you everything. There’s no time. I can show you though.”

Both hands on either side of his head, staring into his eyes.

“Dude don’t be gay.”

Which was funny as hell coming from the gay dude, but I wish I could laugh. He just went silent. This wasn’t like a movie or anything. There weren’t bright flashing lights, or some orchestral song to demonstrate just what was happening. Just Tom’s face going from bright and lively to sinking. All the color drained from his face. Happiness turned to horror. Tom just started screaming.

He wouldn’t stop.

The loudest blood curdling scream I’d ever heard, and it’s haunted me ever since that night. Like all this information was attacking him. He was begging for me to stop but I felt my fingers furling on their own. I was squeezing him, holding him in place. My mission was to make sure he learned everything I had. By the end of it he had screamed himself down to a rasp. An hour or so passed while we were sitting there. When my hands finally let me let go of his head, he just sank. Tom sagged, his whole body wrinkling on the couch for a moment while he breathed ragged. I sat there. Feeling empty. Nothing. Then, all I could do was sit there on his couch and watch him while he calmly and slowly stood up. Take a minute or two to compose himself or process the information and then run at his window and just fucking leap.

Tom was gone. One of the few things I don’t know is what exactly Tom saw that drove him to do that. Whether it was a specific piece of information, or if it was just his mind trying to process everything. Like burning out a CPU by overworking it.

Cops came, because of course they did. A man just killed himself, and they come up the stairs, bust down his door, to find me just sitting there. The thousand-yard stare, locked in my body like a puppet while someone else moved me. Question after question came. I answered them all honestly. Their final one broke me out of my daze.

“Why do you think he did it?”

I started crying, because it was all my fault. I just told them I didn’t know. It was the only question I could think of where I didn’t actually know the answer.

That week after that was a blur. I sat in my room doing my best to avoid talking to anyone while the Uni excused me from my classes for a while. Something about it being the last of my worries, but sympathy expires. I know it does. The vast swathes of information that shifts and wriggles through my brain like a virus. Infecting every part of myself that had ever been. I know what I was like before. Who I was. I’m having trouble holding on to whether or not that’s who I still am. The perspective of every single thing I knew has been warped beyond belief and I can’t look at life the same way I did before.

What was the point? I asked myself aloud.

And then I knew.

Why were we here, then?

And then I knew.

So, our whole purpose in life, the meaning of everything we’ve ever done--

But I already knew.

Mankind wasn’t meant to. Knowledge is not a gift. So many people spend their entire lives trying to find the meaning behind action. Why are we here? Where do we come from?

Is there a higher power?

Questions people live and die trying and failing to answer, I knew in an instant. I knew how Tom’s mom felt getting the call from the school. Every agonizing thought. I knew immediately how Tom felt, overburdened and overwhelmed.

And I knew how burdensome I’d been to everyone around me. Every single negative weight on my consciousness about what everyone thought about me outweighed any single positive counterweight it had. The disappointment I’d been. When you’re alone in the dark, in the deafening silence of a room black as pitch is when you start whispering the worst questions to yourself. The ones you don’t really wanna know the answers to but muttering them just helps you feel better.

Looking out across my desk, passed the light of my laptop, now I can still see the darkness of the void. The nothingness that probed my mind and let me see everything I’d ever asked. I claw at my scalp until it bleeds, scream until my voice can’t even carry sound with it. I haven’t eaten anything in days. I know there’s no point. No reason. I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize the hollow shell of a person I’ve become. I just see... how tired I am. I’m so exhausted. Every time I sleep, more and more knowledge just floods into my head. For days I’ve felt like a balloon about to burst.

Maybe that’s what Tom saw.

Maybe he saw what would become of me, how it would feel.

Decided that he didn’t want to become this.

I looked up last night at my ceiling. Laid out flat on my bed, I asked to forget. If there was some way to unknow all of this. Could I go back to the way things were before? I remember very clearly the pop-up. As if the memory was spitting in my face.

Ignorance is bliss.

Humans weren’t meant to know this much.

The void, the ardent darkness lingering in a time before time. This morning, it called to me. Maybe it always did, but now it spoke and for the first time I understood. I can’t go back, can I? I’m trapped in this loop of suffering, with entropy pulling me apart from the inside.

There is no God listening.

No, that’s not true. There is no God answering our prayers. But it’s listening. Amusing itself on our suffering. It has fooled us into thinking there was ever any reason. There was ever good and evil but, in the end, there is only nothing. Nothing like there was before. Tom isn’t living it up in Heaven playing guitar and smoking weed in the afterlife. He’s not in Hell lamenting his sins or paying penance to some arbitrary rules. He’s gone. What I don’t know yet is if it’s the same for everyone, or if it’s my fault. If having this knowledge is what did it?

This whole thing to say I’m scared.

Or I was scared. Maybe this has been my way of working up the courage.

I’m so tired. I can’t sleep anymore. Every time I try, I just wake up more exhausted. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I tried. I tried to forget, I tried to make myself forget. I couldn’t talk to anyone else. I was afraid of what might happen if I did. What if they asked me like he did? It’s what it wants. I know it.

We weren’t meant to know. What we are meant to know isn’t even a full sentence on a page in a chapter in a single book in the endless library of eternity. We’re lucky to finish a word by the time we die. My head is pounding. It feels like any moment I’m just going to explode.

I can’t do this.

I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry everyone. If you read this, and then happen to come across that site?

Tom was right.

#short story #horror #existential dread #horror story #creepypasta #scary stories #creative writing #horror fiction

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heybeybey · 3 years

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Ai-Ai Gasa

Since seeing this post from @rivapetosprmcy, I keep thinking of a “sequel” of sorts where Levi catches Petra drawing the love umbrella.

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Genre: Romance

Summary:

What are those two up to now?

Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo but before he can even speak up, he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall.

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first.

---

Levi takes the last few coins, pocketing the change before nodding at the shopkeeper in thanks. Today’s their scheduled biweekly restocking day and as usual, his squad insisted that they all go together since it can be a “bonding moment” of sorts for the whole team.

Eld and Gunther went off to restock their alcohol, medicine and bandages while he, Petra and Oluo go for the groceries. He asked Oluo and Petra to wait outside as he wraps up and pays for their items, making sure they’re not forgetting anything.

Instead of seeing them just a few steps outside of the shop, Oluo and Petra are across the street. They were facing a wall as they discuss something.

What are those two up to now?

Petra started to write something on the wall.

Great.

He leaves his subordinates alone for a few minutes and now they’re fucking around and committing vandalism.

Instead of calling out to them, Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo. Before he can even speak up, he stops as he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall.

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first.

A triangle with a line in the middle. The words “Capt. Levi” and “Petra” written on each side. A heart above to top it all off.

He knows what that symbol means. Levi may be the oldest in their team but he’s not stupid.

“Ral. Bozado.” He sees the both of them freeze and if he was the type who’d laugh out loud, he’d be slapping his knee right now.

He retains his impassive face instead as Oluo immediately turns around.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo exclaimed, trying to shield the wall from him.

Petra, on the other hand, remains frozen on the spot.

“I believe I called you, Ral.”

Petra still refuses to face him and he notices how the hand holding the nail she drew the symbol with was starting to shake. He’s slightly concerned because it seems she stopped breathing too. Seeing that she won’t be turning around anytime soon, he steps forward instead, giving Oluo a pointed look to move away.

His eyes scans his and Petra’s names on the wall before turning his head towards said woman.

“You have good handwriting. Considering that you wrote this with a nail,” he says casually, as if they’re just discussing the weather and not a younger subordinate having a raging crush on her superior.

Her face is so red now, he’d think she got bitchslapped ten times.

“Captain, I’m sorry! It doesn’t mean anything. I swear!” she finally blurts out.

“Mhmm.”

“Oluo and I were just messing around, right Oluo?”

Oluo doesn’t answer. Most likely scared that he’ll get his butt kicked by the captain if he does join the conversation. Levi remains silent, assessing the situation, before speaking up to address his other subordinate.

“Oluo, go help Eld and Gunther. They’re doing a shit job for something as simple as shopping for medical supplies.”

Oluo hesitates for a moment, looking between Petra and Levi before saluting him and walking away.

“Captain, please don’t kick me out of the squad!” Petra exclaims once they’re both alone.

“Petra-”

“I’ll be on toilet duty for three months! Or! Paperwork maybe? Do you want me to do all your paperwork instead? Of course, you’ll still have to supervise but at least you don’t have to stay up late every night-

“Ral-”

“No, wait. I’ll buy all your cleaning supplies for a year straight or-or- I can pay for all your tea supplies-”

“My salary’s higher than yours, Ral.”

“There must be some way I can make up for this. Do you want me to shoulder the whole team’s chores instead? I didn’t mean to disrespect you captain-”

“Pet-”

“I promise I’ve never allowed my feelings to get in the way!”

“Feelings?” he replies in an almost amused tone. “I thought you said it doesn’t mean anything.”

She finally deflates. “Captain, I’m sorry...”

He watches her and it’s quite comical that the woman in front of him is the type who’d be brave enough to jump straight into a titan’s mouth and kill it from the inside out. By just (accidentally) revealing a crush, her whole body’s shaking and he just knows she’s about to cry.

He feels his chest tighten at that thought.

Awkward silence. Deep down, he knows he should shout at her to stop this shit at once. Romance and feelings shouldn’t have a place in the Scouts. Not when there’s a risk that they’ll die every month. Instead of listening to his better judgement, he allows his curiosity to get the best of him instead.

“Is this what you meant when you said that you wanted to devote yourself to me?”

Petra seems to realize that there’s no way out of his question. Lying will only get her in further trouble. Who knows what the commander would do if he finds out? Much more if he learns that she flat out lied to her direct commanding officer? “...yes, sir.”

“I see.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching Petra deflate further. It seems the woman may be thinking that she really will get kicked out of the Special Ops now.

Levi, for all his attempts to repress his sexual urges and feelings, does recognize the fact that his 24-year-old subordinate is beautiful. She’s also kind and skilled to boot. He’s seen the way Oluo looks at her and how even some Scout recruits try to find the guts to approach her and ask her for “tips” when really, it’s just a veiled attempt to get closer to her.

He never allows himself to explore feelings beyond friendship when it comes to Petra. He shouldn’t have even allowed friendship in the first place. How she wormed her way in, he still doesn’t know to this day.

Levi continues when he noticed that Petra’s emotions show just how her mind is starting to spiral downwards, his voice more quiet than before. “I’m not worth it, Petra.”

That causes her head to snap up. “Sir?”

“You’re better off with someone who’s not a grumpy midget.” He remembers how Hange can also get creative when describing people.

In his mind, it’s true. He’s a 34-year-old man who never had a girlfriend. He knows how to kill titans but he doesn’t even know how to romance a girl. He’s a former thug from the Underground and 90% of the women he’d met are taller than him. He knows that if not for his “Humanity’s Strongest” status, he’d be the last man most would choose to go out on a date with.

He actually heard it once, while he and Erwin were walking along a street in Sina. Two women were giggling and whispering to one another as Levi and Erwin passed by their table in front of a tea shop.

“Oh, I’d totally bang the commander. Just look at him! I wouldn’t be surprised if half the Scouts are crushing on him. Think we can invite him over for dinner one day?”

“How about the captain? They say he’s Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.”

“He’s alright, I guess.” The woman shrugs. “A bit on the short side for my taste though.”

“With how he’s always frowning, he actually reminds me of a gremlin,” the other answers in a whisper.

“Do you think he’d be into blindfolds? I mean, I bet he’d be good in bed with all that training he gets but... you know.”

The two nobles weren’t exactly discreet in their conversation and he remembers how Erwin gave him a sympathetic look.

Not that he cares.

Levi looks at Petra again. She’s been quiet for awhile but now, he sees that she’s now looking at him softly. His squad once noted how Petra’s huge eyes just highlights her emotions even more and this is the first time that he can actually agree. He feels captivated, staring back.

“Captain...” For all her persistence to deny her feelings awhile ago, the emotions behind this one word reveals just how much truth the love umbrella holds.

Levi doesn’t give her a chance to continue. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if this conversation actually goes somewhere. He breaks eye contact and turns away from her.

“Let’s go. We need to go back to base. Training’s in an hour.”

----

Two weeks later, they went back to the market. Since they only needed to restock a few things, they didn’t need to bring the whole squad for this week’s scheduled shopping day.

He and Petra were about to cross the street when the rain started to fall. Levi took it upon himself to open the umbrella to shield them both from the rain since he only had one bag in hand.

As they huddle closer together inside the umbrella, Levi remembers their conversation a few weeks ago, the illustrated umbrella with his and her name below the sharp triangle flashes in his mind, and he feels his heartbeat quicken at the thought.

It seems Petra is thinking of the same thing as he notes the soft blush on her cheeks.

#this is cheesy af #levi x petra #petra #petra ral #petra x levi #levi ackerman #rivetra #rivapeto #levitra #not v great with fluffy stories but i just wanna publish this idea so here u have it #petra rall #attack on titan #snk

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lululawrence · 4 years

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Fics I want to write but haven’t for various reasons

This is a super fun idea and i’m glad for it even if it makes me want all the fic ideas people have had and haven’t written yet. sigh. hahaha for this i was tagged by @absoloutenonsense, @evilovesyou, and @runaway-train-works!

footballer on train - this is an idea that @sadaveniren and i came up with... what... two years ago? i think that’s right lollll we both saw something on twitter i think it was, and it made us want a fic, but we had different ideas for how it would go. we decided we would both write our own versions of it and post them as like... a sort of like our own version of a remix. haha anyway, life got busy and someday i swear it’ll still happen

stacy’s mom au - i... ya know, let your imagination go wild cause all i’m gonna say was it was gonna be for niche fest if there was a second one ever done and it was gonna feature some pretty significant age difference and i’m just gonna leave it there for now lolllll

attention au - i swear one day i’ll write this. i have the entire fucking thing brainstormed and it’s based off of charlie puth’s attention and i love it cause you follow harry and louis entirely separately the entire fic and they only just meet each other at the very end. anyway. one day. lol

larried in vegas - it’s like... the hangover meets sus? haha basically ot4 meet up at the BBMAs, which they’re attending as winners for a radio contest, and two of them are major fanboys of zayn’s, who is performing there. they go out after the awards and get stupid drunk and the next morning wake up at zayn’s penthouse hotel room with no recollection of how they got there. they have to piece it all together only using the photos and videos on their phones as they also try to track down niall’s apparent spouse and figure out if harry and louis’ marriage is legally binding or not lmao

hallmark au - it would be based off of a movie from the hallmark channel last year that starred CMM. it would be pure cheese and fluff and everything i love about hallmark christmas movies. maybe it’ll be my advent fic next year

bnl one week tomlinshaw - that’s it. an entire tomlinshaw fic based off the barenaked ladies song one week. here’s one for the 90s kids like me lmao

how to lose a guy in ten days tomlinshaw - i mean... that’s basically it. a tomlinshaw based off that movie. i have done zero thinking past that basic idea. lol

garry fic - in 2018 i posted a long larry fic (for me). last year i posted a long tomlinshaw. this year i posted a longer grouis fic, so maybe 2021 is my year for a longer garry fic. i’d like to do it and see what i can come up with haha here’s hoping it can happen since i have NOTHING outside the pairing figured out

boom. that’s it. hahaha i’m impossible, i know. sigh. anyway, i now tag @londonfoginacup, @sadaveniren, @jaerie, @becomeawendybird, @dinosaursmate, @mediawhorefics, and anyone else who wants to do this. sorry if you’ve already been tagged, i’m always late to the party lmao

#mine #fic stuff #writing stuff

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eleanorbloom · 4 years

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Relighting the spark. Part 03.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Tesse Sterling)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: Bit of angst and cursing.

A/N: Hello darlings! A few weeks ago Chahnaz invited me to do a collaborative fic with her and Georgia, and after weeks working on it, I’m finally posting it! It’s cheeeeesy, a little self-indulgent amd maybe experimental, but I think I made justice to the previous work the girls did.

I hope you like it!

Part One was written by @brycelahelalover

Part Two was written by @lahamseiroshoe

Taglist: @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @aylamreads @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop

_____________

Tesse sat on the first bench she found in the locker room, feeling her stomach quivering. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that something that had hoped—dreamed— for years.

But there was only a way to find out.

She sauntered towards her locker, changed her scrubs into a pair of blue jeans, a peach shirt, and a caramel jacket on top. Her hands were trembling while she was zipping it up. Then, she exited to the main entry and waited a few feet away from the doors.

A couple of minutes after, she heard a "hey” behind her back.

“Hey”—Tesse answered, her voice barely a whisper.

“So, did you think about my plan?”

After the kiss, she felt confused and slightly regretful for being so weak, because there were so many things both had to say. And as if ten years hadn’t passed, he could read her like a book. He proposed her to go to his place to have a proper talk without noises and intromissions.

“Yeah, and I accept.”

“Your favorite dish is still luau stew?”

Tesse froze. The question had been thrown so out of the blue, and with such specific information that it took her a while to process it.

How he could remember that? she thought.

“Y… you still remember?”

“Yeah, practically the 90% of the time it reminds me of you, if it’s not always, but I don't want to brag.”

He gave her a charming smile that made Tesse melt more than she already was.

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes? No? I actually hate it now?”

“Oh, that.”—Her cheeks flushed—"Yes, it is still my favorite”

“Cool, because near my place there is a Hawaiian restaurant I wanna try.”

He pulled out his phone and after a few touches he took it to his ear

“Goodnight, I would like two luau stew… Takeout… Great. By any chance do you have strawberry mochi? Really? Cool. Yes, two, please. Bryce Lahela. Thank you. I’ll be there in twenty, good night.”

He pocketed his phone into the inner layer of his jacket.

“All settled. I hope you don’t mind I imposed my dinner election.”

“I don’t. I actually had been wondering if there were any good places here.”

“Yeah, me too. When I arrived last week, I tried one downtown. It was great but could’ve been better. Maybe I just got used to my favorite at Stanford.”

They took the train and chatted about their day, trying to avoid more uncomfortable topics. It still felt awkward. Tesse was having a hard time trying to accept that after years of wishing, Bryce was by his side, and would probably be back as she always dreamed.

“And how’s your family?”

“Fine, I think so. My dad’s applying for parole for good behavior, I think. Keiki is 15. But I haven’t been there since… a lot.”

“How much?”

Tesse saw how the tension invaded his whole body, as he started to scratch the back of his head.

“I don’t know, I…I’ve been busy with med school.”

“You haven’t seen her in all this time?”

He didn’t reply, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Bryce! She’s your sister, you can’t abandon her like that.”

His cheeks blushed and she could see the guilt in his eyes.

“This is our stop”—He announced, taking a few steps towards the door. Once the train stopped, they got off the train.

“Why you haven’t gone with your family? Your sister must be needing you, Bryce.”

“I’ll never forget my parents for what they did. They destroyed my life, Tesse. My life at school, even at college was a nightmare because of what they did. Hell, I left you because I wanted to protect you from that. I just can’t see them.”

“But Keiki has nothing to do with that, she was a kid, she is a teenager now, and must be living the same hell you lived, and you’re the only one who can understand her”

Bryce swallowed hard, his eyes sparkling. The thought of her suffering just like he did... It was too much for him.

“I’m sorry, I have no right to talk to you like that”

“That’s not true. You are the only one who has the right because you know how much she means to me, it’s just… I know what I’ve been doing it’s awfully shitty, but it’s different when somebody else says it.”

Tesse took his hand and caressed the back softly.

“I’m sorry, I know this is difficult for you.”

Bryce nodded and then they walked in silence, each one with their own demons, regrets, and questions.

After a few minutes, they got into the restaurant.

“Good night, takeout for two, please. Name’s Bryce Lahela”—He informed as they both reached the dispatch counter.

“Two Luau and mochi?”

“Correct”

The man behind the counter handed the bag to Tesse while Bryce took out his credit card. After a few seconds, the man handed him the receipt and Bryce folded it to put it in his wallet.

“Thank you, good night.”—Both Tesse and Bryce said before going back to the entry.

After a short walk, they entered the building. The façade showed a modern building, but it could be said it had been built about ten years ago.

“Heavens, nice place”—She said looking around the living room, decorated with a modern and sleek style, but it wasn't ostentatious.

“Make yourself comfortable” —He invited, taking off his jacket and shoes. Tesse did the same.

Then they sat in the table and started eating, sharing memories of the countless times they had luau stew for lunch at school, at his place, at hers… at their spot, even.

“Mmmhh this is so great!! It’s almost as good as the stew my tutu cooks”—She says, with satisfaction both in her words and her face. (A/N: Tutu: Grandma in Hawaiian)

“Yeah, it’s delicious. I would give it 4 out of 5 stars, anyway.”

After a few seconds, Tesse stared at him, smiling brightly, forcing herself to forget all the pain, all the rage she had feeling for a few hours, and just enjoy the moment with him, before she would be back to her senses.

“God. I missed you so much. I can’t believe fate put us together.”

Bryce slid his hand in the table to reach hers.

“Me neither. I wish it would have been sooner, though”—He let out a breath, melancholy in his eyes.

“Maybe, but you should know everything happens at the right time, Bryce.—She assured, now her taking his hand.—Maybe before this moment, we wouldn’t have been as ready or healed as now. If we really are, of course. We have a lot to talk about yet.

“Yeah.”—He looked at her, thoughtfully and then continued—“What I said earlier is true. I regret all the pain I caused, Tesse. I regret pushing you away because I knew you wanted to be there for me, but I thought I was protecting you.”

Tesse just listened to him quietly, assimilating all the words and gestures that would make her decide if he was really sorry and he was being honest and sincere about what had happened all these years.

“I realized too late that you were stronger than I thought. You were stronger than me even. I just ended up hurting you anyway, and maybe worse than what I was trying to protect you from.”

“Yes, because I never cared what people said, Bryce. I knew you, I knew you had nothing to do with what your father had done, and that was enough for me. People would always talk, but I only cared about you.”

“I know. Tesse, I’m so, so, sorry. There’s no day that I didn’t think about you and the pain I caused on you.”—He shook his head—"I… I tried to move on, but your memory always haunted me. No one was enough compared to what you gave me and how you made me feel.”

“It… It happened to me too. I never got interested in anyone after you. When you left it was like something inside me turned off. Like a bulb light had broken inside me. Some guys gave me a sparkle, a twinkle, but nothing more than that. Nothing like the light, the fire I felt with you. And… that I felt when I kissed you this afternoon.”

“Tesse...” — He whispered incredulous.

“Bryce, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you again. Seeing you here makes me forget everything that happened, but I know that someday, even in an hour or tomorrow, it will hit me again, and I don’t wanna hold grudges on you, feel resentment out of the blue, and ruin what we could have.”

“I know. I know this isn’t gonna be easy… But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have you back, Tesse. Whatever it takes.”

“I know this sounds kind of… torturing, but would you tell me how has been these years for you? The good, the bad…”

Bryce was nervous, but he had promised Tesse that he would do anything to have her back, and if she wanted him to tell her how the last ten years have been, he would give her that.

He started telling her that after he moved to California, he never returned home, and hadn’t been in touch with his parents for all the hell the put him through but he usually called Keiki for her birthday, but not more than that.

Bryce also told her that most people he met at Stanford knew he was the son of a criminal and had a hard time trying to not let it get under his skin. He accepted that everything would have been easier if he had had her, she would have found the exact words to make him feel better, and her presence would have been enough to ease his pain, but he had to live with his decision, his mistake.

He told her about some girls he met and dated, but even the coolest and greatest girls never made him feel like it was supposed he had to feel. It never felt the same as with Tesse. He felt empty all those years, always feeling something was missing but he couldn’t be sure if it was her who was missing or if it was just the guilt haunting him even after all these years.

The moment he saw her he knew it has always been her who he wanted.

Once Bryce told him about his last two years, they served the dessert on the couch, talking more calmly about what had happened in the last two days, how shocked both were, and how incredibly awkward is life giving second chances.

“Do you want some more?”—Tesse said playfully, with a strawberry mocchi on her hand, and bringing it to his mouth. He took a bite looking at her invitingly. His lips brushed her fingers and Tesse bite her lips at the feeling. That was the impulse he needed to took her by the waist and pulling her into his mouth and kiss her. Both had been wanting it since they met outside Edenbrook.

It was like the mochi had turned on the sweet mode because, after a few minutes, they started sharing sweet looks, soft smiles, and somehow they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“You have no idea how much I missed you”—He whispers in her ear, while Tesse had her arms locked around his torso, and Bryce was just stroking her hair, feeling the silkiness of her locks.

And Tesse was feeling so peaceful, she couldn’t ask for a better place to be at that moment.

Then they would stare at each other in silence, observing eyes, noses, freckles, lips, chins, as if trying to remember how they were and if all this was true.

But then, they realized that it wasn’t only about that. They were knowing each other again. As adults, not as the teenagers they were in Maui. Because their faces, bodies, minds and maybe hearts weren’t the same they knew once.

As Tesse changed through the years, so did he. Bryce wasn’t the boy with a timid smile and long hair, who wore leather jackets and rode a motorcycle.

He was a man with a styled haircut and highlights in his locks, giving his tanned skin an irresistible shine. And he was dressing like someone who never was a rebel in his youth. And his eyes, his dreamy eyes just showed all the pain and loneliness he had lived in all these years.

Important parts of their characters had been changed too. Some defined, others accentuated and some others were just part of their grown-up, but not part of them anymore. Bryce had confidence she never had seen in him. The hell he lived at college forced him to show the world how worthy he was, that no one could undermine him for what his parents had done. But knowing him as she knew him back in school, she new that sensitive Bryce was still there, and all the flirty, self-assured looks Bryce shows to the world was a shield to his scars.

The Bryce that didn’t talk about his feelings was still there, she could tell, even he had opened to her just know. She had mastered the art of making him open more than ten years ago. She had the key, and even after all these years, the lock was the same.

They had changed, but they were the same in the essence of their cores.

The same old innocence in her heart that made her stomach flutter every time he looked at her, every time she felt his lips on hers. The same sweetness in his heart, that made him look at her like she was heaven, and show her with gestures and caresses that she still was the one.

She still could make him feel an adrenaline rush every time she kissed him, and he still could steal the same silly laughs from her with his shenanigans.

They still had their own small world of tender looks, of amused smirks, of winks and funny faces where time hasn’t passed, and they would laugh just like when they were foolish teenagers in love.

Ten years had passed, but their hearts had saved all those treasured memories to keep them alive until they would meet again, when their hearts and minds would be open and understanding enough to accept each other back in their lives, despite the mistakes and the pain. Because it was true, no one ever hurt her as Bryce did, but no one could make her feel like him neither. Even if she tried to believe otherwise, she knew no one could love her as he did. And if he was willing to make her happy and never let her go again, all those years of suffering would worth it.

“How is possible to feel the same way as before, even if we are not the same people?” —She asked, lost in his amber eyes.

“Maybe our love never changed. Maybe love it’s like home. You could change, you could grow up, but every time you go there, it feels the same and it feels right.”

“But you… you never came back home, how could you know how that feels?”

“Because you are my home, Tesse. When I kissed you this afternoon I knew. I knew why I felt so hollow and never could do anything to change it.”

She felt a light getting warmer inside her, her core enlightened. But it wasn’t a twinkle like she felt before with other guys. She had her own floodlight inside her.

And that warmth is what lulled them in that moment. They stared at each other what it seemed an eternity, observing their features, their sparkling eyes, their lips until they met again in a sweet and comfortable kiss. One of many.

She woke up in the darkness, startled. Tesse didn’t know where she was. After a few moments, she remembered her last few conscious moments cuddled with Bryce on the couch, resting over his lap while he was stroking her hair gently and they were just chatting about everything and nothing, just like old times.

Was it true or was it a dream? She felt panic that it all had been a dream, and the reality was a nightmare where Bryce wasn’t back in her life.

Suddenly, all her fears were gone as she heard a deep breath a few inches from her ear and his arms were still secured around her.

After a few moments of hesitation, she tried to move slowly to get up from the couch.

“What are you doing, Tesse?”

“I… I should get home”

“You don’t have to go. Stay.”—He said in a raspy voice.

She felt stiff. For a moment she felt nervous that Bryce would want to try things she wasn’t ready to try yet. They were adults now. But if Bryce knew her like she used to, he would never push her to do something she didn’t want. Besides, there was nothing bad about wanting to sleep together. They did it countless times in their adolescence.

“Okay”—She finally muttered.

“Let’s get to the bed.”

Bryce guided her to his bedroom with a king-size bed and two nightstands; a desk full of medical books and two doors, the first one to a walk-in closet and the second one to the bathroom. The room was clean just as she thought it would.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom”—She said, sautering towards the second door, holding her purse on her hand.

She looked at the mirror while she was brushing her teeth, trying to comprehend all that had happened in the last hours. Bryce Lahela was back in her life. She could have him if she wanted, but it wasn’t a decision she could make now or in a few days, it would take weeks and even months before she would feel ready and free of grudges and pain to finally make a choice. And for that, she had to be brave, take a step forward and try. Maybe things in her life would finally be happy for her.

There was only one way to know.

By the time Tesse was back, Bryce was with shirt and bottoms on and had already opened the bed and turned off the lights, just a tenuous light over the nightstand was on.

“I thought you would want to change into something more comfy” — He said pointing out a par of bottoms and a shirt.

“Thank you”—She said, and then he went to the bathroom.

Tesse changed her clothes into the white shirt and a red bottoms. It looked bigger on her, just like ten years ago, or maybe bigger. Bryce was a bit taller and very muscled compared to what he used to be, so he probably was using one or two sizes bigger.

Then she just laid down in bed and waited anxiously for Bryce to come back to the room.

“Are you comfortable or do you need another pillow?” —He asked, standing in front of her.

“I’m okay, but I’ll be better when you’re here with me.”—Just that small gesture made all her anxiety go. He was the same Bryce Lahela she had fallen in love ten ywars ago. How that could be possible?

He chuckled, amused.

“You’re so cute, Tesse, you know that?”—He said, laying by her side and taking her in his arms.

“I think so, you used to tell me that a lot.”

“And I don’t plan it to be different now.”

“Aww”—She glanced up at him and brushed her lips into his. Then he locked his eyes into hers, smiling tenderly.

“I just want to hold you as much as possible, so I can believe this is real.”

“I hope all this is real. Would be a real nightmare if I wake up one day and you’re not here, and you’re not sorry and you never really cared after you left.”

“How could I not be sorry? How could I not care about you, Tesse?”

“You wouldn’t be the boy I loved. The man I love.”

“Precisely. I’m just an idiot who pulled you away, but I always cared.”

He rested his lips on her temple.

“Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“I really hope this works.”

“Me too, Tesse.”

And they would make their best to do so.

_____

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #bryce #open heart #open heart choices #playchoices #choices #oh choices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #Oh fanfic #fanfic #open heart fanfiction

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thegeminisage · 4 years

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the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus.

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust.

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR.

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch.

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks.

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE.

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one.

#personal #i guess #it's ok to rb if you want to though??? tbh i don't think most people will even get to the end lol #anyway here's my college lecture about the south it's not very good or college level actually lmao #this is AIRQUOTE FIELD STUDY AIRQUOTE #the experiences u have as a half-yank white person in the rural south are crazy #bc other white people think you're okay to listen to them say what they REALLY think #and then backtrack rapidly when they realize you aren't #now that i'm grown and woke i can't believe half-yankee is even a thing.#anyway this post brought to you by the maddening realization of how technologically far behind we are #WE DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CREEPY AMAZON VANS #the automated package sending...what i wouldn't give not to have to talk to people to mail stuff #rip. :/

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ezilyamuzed · 4 years

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Ten Years Gone- Chapter One

Description: Ten years ago, your world had changed. Ten years ago, you had met him, leading your life to never be the same again. Time is running out, but is it too late after all these years?

Word Count: 5963

Warnings: Language, angst, death (I think that’s about it)

A/N: The first chapter to a new series. If you haven’t read the prelude, you can HERE. This takes place at the end of season 1, beginning of season 2. I re-watch specific episodes to integrate the story in as much as I can into the real one (some things are bound to be reworked a bit!) This process takes lots of time, so please let me know what you think. Also I suggest a re-watch anyways because - come’on, they’re worth it!

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! Please leave a comment if you like it, it keeps me motivated to continue! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!

TEN YEARS GONE MASTERLIST

*Picture and lyrics used are not mine. Led Zeppelin is Amazing.

* Flashbacks are all BOLD and Italicized.

*Oh, do you know my name? Do I look the same. You know I'm the one you want. I must be the one you need.

You reached over and turned the knob of the radio up, getting lost in the rhythm of Zepplin while on your way to Bobby’s reminded you of old times; the good times when you would sit in the back seat while your Uncle Danny sung along while driving. Now it was just you and his ‘70 Chevelle, taking on the world one monster at a time.

You were still grimy from the last hunt, and the fact that there was no A/C on a 90 degree day left you a sweaty mess sticking to the seat, even with the windows rolled down. Your tank top was practically drenched and your shorts probably looked like you peed yourself, but that didn’t really matter. In a few minutes you’d be walking into the place you had called home for the better part of 9 years and honestly, Bobby had seen you in worse shape. Hell, he’s bandaged you more times than you’d like to admit.

Spending your birthday with him had become somewhat of a tradition. Each year that past was another one closer to countdown. At least you were never alone. You were early this year by almost a month, but only because your car needed fixing. And it was also nice to relax every once in a while, but you’d never tell Bobby that.

As you pulled up to the sweet sight of home, you noticed a different black car parked along the side- John Winchester’s unmistakable black impala. After shifting into park you sat in the car for a minute, contemplating whether you should or should not go in. It had been years since you had seen him and the last time, well, that was something that no one wanted to ever talk about. So what would he be doing here?

You exhaled deeply as you peeled yourself off of the seat, walking slowly to be greeted by your favorite living being in the world.

“Hey ya Rumsfeld,” you smiled as you crunched down and rubbed the aging Rottweiler behind his ears. “We got company huh?”

Rumsfeld turned his head towards the house and back to you, licking your cheek to show his affection.

“Missed you too boy,” you gave him another pat on his head as you stood. “Guess I’ll go see what’s going on.”

You walked through the back door to the kitchen and called out for Bobby. He yelled that he was in the living room and he would be right with you. You heard someone ask who Bobby was talking to, to which he didn’t respond. That was supposed to queue you to stay out of it, but curiosity got the best of you. It always did.

“Why does it look like John Winchester’s car is out there?” You asked as you walked into the living room.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw Bobby staring at you in disapproval as a young tall guy turned his head towards your direction. He looked like a green eyed god in a leather jacket. Your heart skipped a beat as he flashed a slight smile to you while he looked you up and down with widened eyes. He was smooth looking like James Dean. That’s when it hit you. Dean. No, it couldn’t be.

“Y/N,” Bobby spoke up. “You remember Dean and Sam.”

Dean. Dean fucking Winchester. Your first kiss. Hell your first love was standing there after so many years. The man who made you go all stupid so long ago.

“Wait, Y/N?” His eyes grew wider in surprise, almost like a disbelief.

“Wow,” you heard a voice from behind him. A tall, practically a giant to you, shaggy haired kid stood up from the desk with a huge smile on his face as he approached you. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace picking you up a little, knocking the breath right out of you. “It’s been a long time.”

“Sam?” You exhaled out as you realized that this was now post pubescent little Sammy cradling you in his arms like a rag doll. “Holy shit you’ve grown!”

“Yeah, I can kick Dean’s ass now,” he smiled as he dropped his arms and stepped back.

“You wish,” Dean snarked back, before turning to you with a sheepish grin. “Good to see you Y/N.”

“Yup,” you popped off your lips, really hoping that he didn’t think you were still pining over him for almost a decade.

“Did you lose all your clothes in a fight there Y/N?” Bobby spoke up again in that damn fatherly tone, making you realize that your outfit was practically nonexistent, especially when there was company around. No wonder Dean had looked at you that way.

“A/C is busted,” you shrugged. “While in town, I figured I could use the garage. Didn’t think there’d be company.”

“Took a liking to cars anyway huh?” Dean smiled, knowing that it would be your biggest complaint when he would suggest things to do.

“Anyways,” you turned your head to Sam. “What brings you here after all this time? Finally remembered the address?”

The barking of Rumsfeld stopped anyone from saying anything else. Bobby ran to the window with Dean as Sam looked over to you in panic, pushing you back to go to another room. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have enough time to question it as you heard the front door bust open with a woman’s voice now speaking.

You listened to them carefully, waiting to see if it was possible to stop whatever had come through that door. Whatever it was, they did a lot of monologuing for some colt. Wait, not THE Colt? You thought that was an urban legend, not real. And the Winchester’s had it? That could only mean one thing; the girl was a fucking demon. You listened as she talked, hearing her voice move through the room with the steady steps of someone else leading her further in the room.

“Good job Bobby,” you thought to yourself. “Get her into the trap.”

Hearing Dean’s voice inform her that they got her, you breathed out deeply after realizing that you had been holding it in. Fucking demons, the worst thing you’ve ever come across. Impossible to kill and impossible to predict.

“Bobby,” you moved from your hiding spot to the living room, only to see the demon in a young girl’s body, probably around your age. Poor thing, she was probably dead already.

“Salt. Windows. Now!” He instructed, making you jump to hit all the upstairs entrances in a hurry, a task you were all too familiar with.

As soon as you finished you went back down the stairs, witnessing Dean double fastening the knots on the rope he had tied around her. She looked at you with a grin, almost like she had known who you were.

“Y/N, you need to get out of here now,” Bobby stated as he walked past you.

“What’s happening Bobby?” You asked as you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“It’s John, he’s been taken,” he spoke clearly and firmly. “Now you need to go upstairs now.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now Y/N!” He growled as he shook off your grip, going back to the boys to inform them that everything had been salted.

You stood there for a second, wanting to protest Bobby’s directions, but you knew whatever was going on, it had to be big. Hell, if John and the boys were involved it most definitely was. You looked back towards them as you ascended the stairs, catching a glimpse of Dean looking at you with his jaw tightening and fury written all over his face. A look you had seen only one other person do before; his dad.

————-

You laid out on your bed, finishing up the last bit of a creative writing assignment; integrating Hamlet into the current year. That was easy enough. Your world was definitely not short of witches, ghosts, magic, and vengeance. Besides Bobby, it had been rather quiet weeks that followed after the boys had left. The last you had heard from your uncle Danny, he was onto something big. That was almost 3 weeks ago. You started feeling dread in the pit of your stomach, but Bobby would try to reassure you that he would be coming back, just sometimes it was a hard task to get a phone. That excuse made you roll your eyes every time he used it. He was trying to keep you safe, but unfortunately in this life you can’t always do that.

Hearing a rumble of an engine approaching you got up and looked out your window to the driveway. Kicking up the dusty ground you saw for the first time in months the sleek black Impala you had hoped to see again. Your heart was racing as you ran out of your room and bolted down the stairs. Flinging the door open, you ran outside with a bright smile, only for it to fade as you realized it only had one occupant.

“Y/N,” John stated as he walked around the car.

“Where’s Dean and Sam?” you asked while moving your head around him, hoping that somehow they would spring up from hiding.

“We need to talk,” his voice sounding grave and eerie.

You stopped and looked up at him, his face twisted in guilt, as if he was searching for the words to tell you the worst. That’s when the dread grew larger in the pit of your stomach, filling your throat with bile, and your eyes with tears as you managed to mumble out your question.

“How?”

“Demon,” he breathed out, as he looked you in the eyes, his filled with fury with his clenching jaw. “I’m sorry Y/N, but Danny is gone.”

——————

You sat with your knees up to your chest on top of the stairs, feeling like a kid again listening in on her parents when she should have been sleeping. They were exercising her out of the meat suit, at least attempting rather slowly to try and get answers out of her. Demons lie and they trick people into believing it’s real. That’s just what they do.

As you felt the house shake, you knew the exorcism was happening; sending the demon back to the hell from where it came. You slowly stood up, grasping the banister as you overheard Dean and Sam with the prodding questions to the girl that was clearly dying.

As Bobby moved to grab her water he stopped and just shook his head to you, signaling you to stay away and for once. You listened and sat yourself back down, hidden away from their sights.

You could hear the eerie gurgle of her last words, and the desperation in Dean’s voice making you feel your heart break for him. He had known loss, but this? No one ever gets used to this.

“You boys better get a move on before the paramedics get here,” Bobby instructed them, which was a blatant lie. No paramedics were coming. He knew and you knew what was going to happen before they did.

“What about Y/N?” Sam spoke up. “Is she okay?”

“Don’t you worry about her,” Bobby insisted as he led them out the door. “You just get back your dad and bring him back here.”

“Thanks Bobby,” you heard Dean say as they left out the door.

As soon as you heard the engine rive up, you finally descended down the stairs, already prepared for what was to happen next.

“Bury or burn,” you asked with a sigh to Bobby as you glimpse down at the young girls lifeless body.

“It’ll be dark soon. We will burn the body and bury her after,” he stated while taking off his signature hat and running his fingers through his hair.

“Bobby,” you spoke up again. “Those boys don’t know what they’re getting into. We should have gone with them. I could help. I-“

“No,” Bobby shook his head. “Whatever mess they’ve gotten themselves into, those boys will make it out.”

“They didn’t even know what they were doing. You're sending them in blind without backup.” You argued. “They barely knew how to do an exorcism.”

Bobby looked at you, giving his own disapproving glare that you would want to ever get involved with the Winchester’s and demons.

“They’ll be fine,” Bobby tried to reassure you. “They’re stronger than you think.”

“What about when they realize that John is dead?” You found yourself asking out loud.

Bobby exhaled deeply, shaking his head slowly to your words. A circumstance he didn’t want to admit was possible, but you knew better.

“Then we will be here for them after,” he responded with certainty. “Those boys, well like you, they are family. I know you don’t like this, but it’s for the best.”

You didn’t want to argue anymore since you knew there was no point in ever trying to change Bobby’s mind once it was made. You rolled your eyes and turned to the door.

“It’s almost dark, I’m going to set up everything for the fire, but after we’re done, I’m not sticking around to see whatever mess they come back as,” you stated as you opened the door, pausing for a moment before shutting it behind you. “If they come back.”

As the door shut behind you, you lifted your head to feel the dusk air turning cooler. You looked over to where Rumsfeld used to lay on the old truck now vacant. Your anger rose inside of you as you thought about how in less than 5 minutes upon your arrival at Bobby’s, demons had managed to come back into your life and of course Winchester’s were involved.

———

“His storage locker isn’t too much further away Y/N,” John stated to you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Everything he kept from his childhood, his life and my parents' lives before is in there,” you stated while leaning your head against the window of the passenger side. “I can’t just leave it there to collect dust and be forgotten.”

“Anything else-“ he paused to see your reaction before continuing. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t get into the wrong hands.”

“Take whatever you need,” you shook your head with a sigh. “I want nothing to do with that life, not when it’s taken everything from me already.”

John remained silent as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was subtly nodding in agreement.

“Bobby will take care of you,” he broke the silence after a few minutes. “You can live the normal life you deserve.”

“Normal. What’s that,” you asked yourself as you turned your head back to the scenery. After John had told you the news he offered to take you to collect items Danny had hidden in storage. It wasn’t a short trip, especially next to John Winchester. You had wished Dean and Sam were at least with you, but Bobby was on his way to pick them up at their latest school.

For once it wasn’t just trees galore you were looking at, but skyscrapers and buildings with luxurious architectural fixtures. Definitely different than your usual, which most certainly explained why Danny had chosen it.

The two of you stayed in silence until he pulled up to the storage place- Castle Storage. As he put the car in park you prepared yourself for whatever you were going to find in there. It wasn’t going to be easy looking at things that would remind you of what you had lost, but it had to be done.

‘Happy birthday to you’, you had thought as you followed John’s lead to inside the building, turning around corners until he finally stopped at a door. You watched as he unlocked it with a key that had hung on your uncle’s keyring, popping open the door and turning on the light to the side of him.

“Wait one second,” he advised as he held out his arm to stop you from moving. “Your uncle could be a paranoid SOB, so there may be traps.”

He glanced down by his feet, and crouched down low, seeing something you obviously did not.

“Tripwire,” he informed you as he stood back up. “Watch your step and follow my lead.”

You nodded as you watched him take a few steps in and followed him exactly. It was like an arsenal and a museum of fucked up shit all at once. His life, all collecting dust in a storage room to be forgotten. You glanced down at the floor, there was a weird star painted on it with markings all over.

“Devil’s trap,” John commented as he moved further in. “Stops demons from moving anywhere.”

You felt a sense of dread as you drew closer, every nerve in you telling you that this was a bad place.

“Can we hurry up? I don’t want to be here,” you stated as you drew your arms close to your chest.

“In and out,” he stated as he opened up a couple of cardboard boxes. “I think this is what we’re here for.”

You peaked inside, right on top was a collection of family photos. Your family photos. You reached in and gathered them up, taking a moment to remember your parents faces.

“He definitely had a collection. It’s going to take me awhile to get this all out of here,” John said, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Just keep it all here then,” you shrugged as you continued looking throughout the box that was filled with random papers at the bottom. “It’s not like anyone else is using it.”

“Maybe I will,” he stated while moving around some of the weapons that were carefully placed along a caged wall.

“Well, now. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

That voice. You knew that voice. It was your uncle Danny’s. John and you quickly turned your heads to it, your heart was racing out of your chest.

“Danny,” you breathed out in cry, about to move to him but John grabbed your arm before you could move.

“Y/N stop. That’s not Danny.”

—————

After scrubbing the foul stench of burned flesh and dirt of your skin, you made your way to the local pub. You didn’t want to argue with Bobby anymore about not helping Sam and Dean. Dean Winchester, after all these years he still made your heart ache just by thinking of his name, meaning you had to find a quick distraction for the night, so what better place to do it?

Some familiar faces gave you a nod as you sat down and ordered a double whiskey neat and a beer.

“I see trouble is back in town,” you heard behind you, making you turn your head to see the skeptical glare of the sheriff that had on more than one occasion threatened to arrest you for good, but nothing could ever stick.

“Sheriff Mills,” you grinned. “Isn’t it about time to retire?”

“Not if you’re still hanging around these parts. You and that old drunk Bobby.” She grinned back. “ So what are you doing back in town? It’s been almost a year.”

“Nice to see you miss me when I’m gone,” you scoffed back as you took a sip of your beer. “It’s my birthday in a couple weeks, so I’m just visiting the ‘ol man. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Stay out of trouble Y/N,” she warned. “You’re still young. I’d hate to see you throw away your life over something stupid.”

You let out a quick laugh as you shook your head.

“Have a good night Sheriff.”

You watched as she walked away before she let out that damn motherly sigh of disappointment. What did she know about anything anyways? You weren’t purposely throwing your life away, you were living it with the little time you had left.

“Hey there trouble, I see the Sheriff already gave you your yearly warning.”

You looked at the man behind the bar grinning back at you as he leaned back with his muscular arms crossing his equally muscular chest. Josh Adams, the local bartender that had been your on and off again distraction since high school when you came into town.

“Just the trouble I was looking to find,” you winked and smiled as you downed your shot. “How about another round?”

————————

John’s words rang in your head as you stared at the face of your uncle. How could it not be him?

“Aw John, why of course I am,” his eyes flashed bright yellow as he grinned and let out a manic laugh.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” John stated to say, making the yellow eyed fraud stop smiling and grow in anger.

“Enough of that John,” he snarled. “We don’t want things to get messy now do we.”

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,”John continued before the demon waved his hand and knocked him back hard enough to the ground to knock him out.

“That’s better,” he grinned again before looking at you.

The fear was growing inside of you the way that his eyes glared. The tears couldn’t stop flowing as you witnessed your uncle’s face twisting as he moved towards you. Your eyes moved down to the floor. The trap. You could get him in the trap until John woke up. Unfortunately your eyes gave it away, as he looked down and smiled as he stepped around it.

“What a pretty little girl you are,” he smirked.

“Wh..what do you want with me,” your voice quavering.

“You are just what I’ve been looking for,” he grinned as he drew closer. “I need someone with a little fire for my army.”

As you felt your breath catch in your chest while his eyes gleamed yellow at you again, you felt a hard metal object down by your right hand. Panic rose in you as you picked it up and smashed it up against the skull of your uncle’s body. It had taken him by surprise with you continuing in a frantic, pushing him closer to the demon trap. Before he crossed over he opened his mouth up wide and a cloud of black smoke filled the room, rushing towards John’s limp body until it cleared away. You went to rush over to him, but stopped dead in your tracks as his eyes sprung open, now bright yellow.

“I see spending time with hunters has turned you brave,” he smiled as he stood. “That’s good. It means that you’ll be strong enough for what will happen. You’re a fighter.”

“I will never agree to join you. I won’t do it!” You yelled out loud.

“How sweet. Do you think you have a choice? How about I change your mind,” he smiled as he pulled out a pearl handled gun from the waist of John’s pants and shot it right to where John’s heart should be, making you jump out of your skin as you heard the sound. “So what will it be Y/N? Your life or his?”

———————-

You had lied when you said you would be leaving again, and Bobby knew it but went along with it as you took your time finding your next hunt. You had to know what had happened, if they even survived. Six days had come and gone when Bobby got a call from Dean, letting him know what had happened. John was dead thanks to the yellow eyed demon that was still out there. Your demon. They had failed.

Bobby took one of his tow trucks to go get them, a couple days there and back. You stayed perched in his living room, flipping through books as you waited patiently for them to return. Anxiously waiting to see why the demon was so interested in them and if they even had the slightest plan.

You awoke to the sound of the heavy truck making its way down the gravel driveway. The slam of the doors made you look out the window as the three men stood there talking about something in the darkness. There was a solemn look on all their faces as the lights hit the mangled impala and their own matching bruises. You watched as they turned to the house to enter it, and for some reason instead of getting up, you shut your eyes tightly and pretended to still be sleeping.

“I see the couch is taken,” you heard Dean chuckle with sarcasm before hearing a wince or pain.

“Take a bed upstairs,” Bobby instructed them. “You need some sleep.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Sam muttered as you heard them ascend the stairs.

“They’re gone. You don’t have to pretend to be sleeping anymore,” Bobby stated after a few minutes, making you open your eyes.

“How’d you know?”

“I know you and how you’ve probably been sitting here since I left, waiting to see if everyone was alright.”

“What happened?”

Bobby shook his head as he picked up the near empty bottle next to you and downed it in a gulp.

“It’s only the beginning, isn’t it?” You found yourself asking the obvious.

He shook his head to confirm your words as he sat the empty bottle down and walked towards his desk to pull out another.

“I think it’s worse than what we know. Something bad is brewing and it’s no time to be hanging on the sidelines.”

You let out a little chuckle, knowing that was Bobby’s way of saying he was wrong and you were right. No time to sit out. You had work to do.

———————————

“So what’s your choice?”

Your mind raced as your breath quickened while you watched the blood pour from John’s chest. Sam and Dean. Their dad was going to die if you didn’t make up your mind right there. They were going to be alone in the world just like you.

“Tick tock goes the clock,” he teased. “He won’t have much blood left if you wait too long.”

Could you let this happen to them? How would you even live with yourself knowing you choose yourself over their dad; even if he wasn’t the father of the year. They would never forgive you.

“Yes,” you breathed out as tears rolled down your face as you claimed the position of the martyr.

“Yes what?” He grinned.

“My life for his,” you looked up to him through your tears.

“That’s a good girl,” he stated as he drew closer. “Now to make it official. Your life for his. You get 10 years and then you are mine. Standard deal of course.”

Ten years? You had expected him to kill you right there. Why wait so long?

“Oh the little fire pistol you’ll be when that day arrives. Oh yes, you will be useful to me then. Until then; a kiss to seal the deal,” he grinned. “Now be a good girl and give daddy a kiss.”

Your face twisted as you fought the sickness in your throat from coming up as you kissed John’s lips. Your second kiss and it was to promise your life away. You quickly pulled away and saw his eyes flash yellow once more before the cloud of black smoke rushed out of John’s mouth, making him fall down to the ground.

You dropped down to your knees, examining where the bullet had gone. There was nothing but smeared blood over the now healed spot. He was safe. He was alive.

John’s eyes fluttered open as he groaned.

“Y/N, what happened?” He demanded in a fierce rage.”What did you do?”

Happy birthday to you.

—————————-

The sun shining through the curtains awoke you, making you stretch out along the couch. As you stood up, you glanced at Bobby asleep on the desk. The fresh bottle from last night was now empty as well. You threw your hair up into a mess on top of your head as you made your way to the coffee pot. Caffeine was a necessity on most days and you were sure that was certainly true now especially after the couple days that the boys must have gone through.

After the coffee was done and you made some toast with jelly, you sat at the table with your legs nestled under you to read the latest obits online.

“Um, morning,” you heard Dean say as he entered, rubbing the mess of hair on his head, a healing gash bandaged across his forehead. “Didn’t know anyone would be up this early.”

“Coffee is fresh,” you stated back, trying not to look at him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he retrieved a cup of his own.

He took the seat next to you and sat in silence as he sipped his drink. You didn’t allow yourself to flinch as he started to tap his thumb off the table.

“So what are you looking-“

“Sorry to hear what happened,” you said cutting him off. He was trying to make small talk and you wanted to get down to business.

He let out a deep sigh before responding.

“Thanks,” he mumbled before taking another sip.

“So what’s your plan now?” You asked while finally looking up at him, his eyes now furrowing to you.

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly. “Fix my baby out there and who knows.”

You leaned your head to look out the window at the broken down Impala. It looked like a freaking parade of MAC trucks had a demolition derby on it.

“Scrap it,” you rolled your eyes.

“You shut your mouth,” Dean hissed with anger, making you look back in surprise.

“It’s just a car Dean.”

“Yeah and what would you do if that had happened to Danny’s car out there?”

You let out a sigh as you came to the agreement in your mind that you would murder anything for fucking with it. Hell, you have before.

“Touché,” you shrugged.

“So what are you looking at this early? Don’t you have a job or something to get to?”

“I’m looking for the next job,” you stated as you turned the computer screen to his view. “A couple outside of Toledo were found dead, drained of blood. Might be vampires.”

“You’re a Hunter?” He questioned with a gasp. “How the hell did that happen?”

“You know the standard dead parents, fucked up childhood, raised by an old drunk of a hunter kind of way,” you sassed back. “Limits the desire to sit behind a desk.”

“Touché,” he shook his head with a laugh. “I had hoped you had done something better with your life.”

“And who’s to say this isn’t something better than the pitfalls of being normal and ignorant to what’s really going on?”

“Says that scar I can see on your upper thigh, those dark circles under your eyes and the scent of last night’s bourbon on you.”

You looked down to see the reminder peeking out from your shorts from a run in with a wolf during a full moon. Bastard had got ya good, but he was now a rug somewhere.

“I’m just tired and you’re the one to talk for looking like shit.” You rolled your eyes before you realized that you had just taken a jab at the fact that he just went through hell and lost. “I-I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright,” he let out a breath. “We all have our scars and the stories to match ‘em.”

“Eventually they all heal right?”

———————

“How could you let this happen John?” You heard Bobby screaming from inside the house.

You sat outside by a worn down truck playing with the little puppy Bobby had surprised you with when you returned for your birthday. Rumsfeld. With everything that had happened, he wanted you to feel safe and loved, even if he couldn’t give it to you.

“They’re going to kill each other in there,” you heard Dean state as he sat next to you, giving Rummy a rub on his ear. “What happened anyways? Thought my dad was just taking you to pick up some stuff from your uncle?”

“He did,” you simply replied, not wanting to go into it.

“So why are they yelling at each other?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, lying directly to him. You knew exactly why. You had sold your soul for John’s life and 10 years. Definitely not something anyone should be happy about, but you couldn’t bear seeing the alternative. “Where’s Sam?”

“In the car,” Dean motioned around the corner. “Dad told us to wait for him in there, but I wanted to see what was up before we left. I don’t think we will be welcomed after this.”

“They’ll get over it eventually Dean,” you stated. “They have too. You’re all the family I have left.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek and as fast as it happened was just as fast as Dean moved to wipe it away. He then put his arms around you, giving you a deep hug as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Hey eventually it’ll get better, I promise.”

“It feels like I’ve been stabbed in my gut,” you softly stated, breaking away from his embrace.

“Look at this,” Dean pointed to the little scar on his chin. “When I was little I fell doing dumb stuff outside and my mom had to banged me up. Hurt like a bitch, but it healed. Even after all these years, the scar tissue can hurt, but it’s a reminder that I had someone who loved and cared for me. Scars heal Y/N, but the memories are what make us who we are. Don’t forget that.”

“You always know the right thing to say Winchester,” you smiled back.

“By the way, happy birthday,” his emerald eyes gleamed. “I know it’s a little late since it was yesterday, but you were gone. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you.”

The grin on your face spread as you looked over at him. He went to lean in, to give you that soft sweet kiss you wanted, not the harsh one from a demon you had gotten just yesterday.

The two of you jumped to your feet as you heard the door slap open hard. John was yelling for Dean and Bobby was yelling at John to get the hell out of his sight. Dean looked back at you and pressed his lips quickly on yours before running towards their direction. You followed behind to witness Bobby waving a shotgun at John, his face red with rage.

“Don’t you ever come back here you son of a bitch!”

As soon as Dean and John jumped in the car with a frightened Sam in the back, they peeled out of the driveway leaving a trail of dust behind.

“What the hell Bobby?” You screamed. “Why would you do that?”

“He had no business getting you mixed into this shit. Danny never wanted that and I’ll be damned if I allow it to happen,” he seethed. “I swear I will find a way out of this. Whatever it takes.”

The dust was settling down along the driveway, the impala nowhere in sight. You stood in your spot for what felt like forever, hoping to see them coming back. But they wouldn’t...not for a long time.

....to be continued....

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want added!) @snffbeebee@waywardnerd67 @waywardbaby @dean-winchesters-bacon @jaylarkson @ladywinchester1967 @wildefire @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @hobby27 @iamabeautifulperson18 @19agbrown @sonotalice @drakelover78 @aloneanddesperate @pisces-cutie @biawol @jamielea81 @fallininjapan @justkending

#ten years gone #supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #dean x reader #ezilyamuzed #supernatural season 2 #spn season 2

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vandorens-archive · 4 years

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ten questions tag | i was tagged by: @mshelleys, @emdrabbles, @pe-ersona, @evergrcen and @septemberliterature. thank you so much, and i’m so sorry i’m getting to this so late!

everything is under the cut!

@mshelleys

i. if you could change the genre of one of your wips, what would you change it to and how would the story/characters change?

So, trahison already features a ghost and a brief stay at a manor. have i considered turning it into a full fledged horror because of that? perhaps.

ii. do you think of your characters as actors playing a part in a movie or as people in history actually doing things that effect the future?

i think of them as actors playing in one long, crazy, unpredictable play.

iii. role swap your protagonist and antagonist but keep their personalities the same; how different would your story be?

honestly, not different at all, because when it comes to it, the subject of trahison’s antagonist (s) is pretty complex.

iv. are any of your characters based on you, family, friends, or someone else you know?

oh, absolutely. my characters range between self inserts, to characters i wish i was more like, to characters that are essentially walking, talking, breathing love letters to the people i care about.

v. how long have you had your main protagonist(s) of your wip(s)?

I’ve been working with marin, nate and ruby for years, long before they were even called that and were a part of a dystopian crime novel (don’t ask). antoine joined them soon after, followed a while later by beth and isadora, and miles was invented during the plotting stage.

vi. do you prefer to write chronologically or just make a bunch of scenes and order them after they’re written?

it depends on what i’m working on and how serious i am about it, but if we’re only talking about trahison, then chronologically!

vii. imagine the problem in your wip is sorted out, how would the protagonist recount the story to their children if they asked?

with a far away look in his eyes and an uncharacteristic fondness in his voice, marin would turn to his children, and tell them how extraordinary his friends were during his university years—their zeal, their inquisitiveness, and conveniently leaving out the uncomfortable loyalty they all had towards each other, until time and life’s commands separated them.

viii. favorite (non-spoilery) line(s) of your current wip(s)?

This small bit of description, albeit a little purple prose-y, is one that i’m very, very proud of.

“ The morning rain had made its grave in the dirt, the bittersweet smell—like exotic black tea—rising into the air. It was the night pluviophiles came to dance. If I think hard, I can still taste the ghost of the raindrops on my tongue and sense Beth’s radiating warmth beside me; its own ghost ” - trahison, chapter three

ix. if your wip was a movie, could you see it be done in the 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, or 2010s? why that decade in particular?

so, fun fact, i hadn’t decided when to set trahison (see: the big question mark in my plotting notebook) but i have recently made up my mind and decided to set it in the seventies! if it was a film, then i could see it being made in seventies france! very a la the dreamers.

x. are you able to just make up a story on the spot, or do you need help (plot generators or other outside influences)?

sometimes i’ll take the help of prompts or media, but otherwise i just come up with things on my own!

@emdrabbles

i. what do the names of your main characters mean? did you pick them for the meaning or another reason?

i picked the trahison characters’ names based on two things: how much it related to the character’s backstory or personality, and how pleasing it sounded out loud. here are the meanings of their names:

marin — of the sea

ruby — deep red; precious stone; behold a son

elizabeth — god is my oath

nathaniel — gift from god

antoine — priceless one; beyond praise

isadora — gift of Isis

ii. what book are you currently reading?

I’m currently reading the time machine by h.g wells!

iii. last sentence written?

“ When the end of the world comes — I’ll film it ” — copycat, or the one where i predict the future.

iv. who are some of your faceclaims?

i usually don’t use faceclaims, but if i had to choose:

marin van doren (trahison) — timor simakov

eloi hill (psychophantia) — maxence danet fauvel

cass parker (penny lane) — monica tomas

v. gimme some worldbuilding facts!!

alright, here’s one: in the world of psychophantia, not only is the magic system and your powers controlled by your morals, but so is your social ranking, your education, and any future you may have—to an extent.

vi. do you outline? if so, do you have a specific method?

i’m a plotter and only really work well with a solid outline, however, my outlines range from a series of messy, incoherent bullet points to meticulous scene-by-scene planning based around the three act structure. this post is my go to for plotting assistance!

vii. favourite author?

Like every tumblr user ever, i love donna tartt and maggie stiefvater, but i’m also a huge fan of f.scott fitzgerald, agatha christie and vera caspary!

viii. what is your oldest wip?

trahison! It went through many, many changes — from changes in genre to changes in character names, and there’s still a possibility that it could change even further.

ix. what is your favourite wip?

every wip i reblog under my #others. tag! You all are so damn talented!

x. where do you get your inspiration from?

everywhere around me! from conversations i have with people, from films and books i consume, from the music on the radio — i like that anything and everything can inspire me to create.

@pe-ersona

i. in one sentence, explain your current wip!

a group of secretive students attempt to become immortal, only to uncover the worst parts of themselves — and each other — as they do.

ii. was writing your main interest or did you have other interests?

although writing is my main interest (see: my social media bio on every platform ever), i also like to journal, sew, cook and make videos! my interests usually do have to do with the intention of creation.

iii. what’s your favorite genre to write? to read?

I love writing horror and mysteries. those are my favourite genres, but i also love reading a good contemporary romance!

iv. what is one goal you have for your wip this year? how’s that goal going?

to finish the first draft! so far, not so bad, though i do wish i could write more, but unfortunately, time constraints plus school restrict me from doing so.

v. how old is your wip? or when did you start writing your wip?

trahison is nearly three years old, but i only started writing the current version of it a year ago.

vii. what scene made you cry or laugh or both?

these lines made me laugh out loud the first time i wrote them:

“ Up the stairs stumbled Miles, my slovenly genius roommate. He grinned at the giggles and winked at the exasperated stares.

The gall of him!

I wanted to be him.

He managed to find his balance enough to reach our dorm. I immediately stepped back to let him in, and to make sure I was in no association with his uncomposed state. Nate gave a disapproving look at his back as he staggered in.

I took another step back, raised a pointed eyebrow, and closed the door ” — trahison, chapter three

vii. how many ocs does your wip have? who’s your favourite?

my main wip, trahison, has six main characters. out of the main six, my favourite has to be nathaniel. he is very much the epitome of pure, and sometimes i wonder how he ended up in the middle of such a dark plot.

vii. you have a brand new idea for a wip, what do you do?

brainstorm, brainstorm, brainstorm. scribble down whatever the hell pops up in my brain, attempt to link it together by a thin string of yarn, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

ix. you are having your first book-signing, where are you?

i’m in a small bookstore, nestled in a corner near the storage room. almost no one knows about this town, so the line is small but chatty, fans exchanging theories and analysing certain paragraphs. the sight of them makes me feel warm inside.

x. you have the ability to live in any book, publishing or not, what would it be?

would it be too cliche to say the harry potter universe? other than that, other worlds i would love to be a part of is the world in my novel penny lane, or in midst of a detective story.

@evergrcen / @septemberliterature

i. how did you come up with your wip’s title? what does it mean in relation to the story?

okay, so i discovered the word ‘trahison’ after hearing my french teacher say it, and immediately knew i had to use it for something. ‘trahison’ means betrayal or treason in french, which is one of the main themes in the novel.

ii. do you title your chapters? if so, what’s your favourite?

I don’t, but I would love to!!

iii. what’s a recent line you really like?

Not a very dramatic or noteworthy line, but here’s one from a poem i’m writing:

“ So the two of you get in the car, proceeding to have an argument with the radio ” — examples of easy solutions, or the one where the internet has no answers.

iv. are there any writing-related quotes you really like?

“i think a lot of art is trying to make someone love you” — keaton henson

v. do you have an idea for a cover design for your story?

A black background with serif text, that’s it. It’s simple. It’s mysterious. It’s the type of vibe I want to exude.

vi. what sort of au can you imagine your story being?

...dark academia au anyone?

just kidding. in all seriousness, though, i can see a royalty/political au for trahison, or a medieval fantasy au!

vii. which oc would be the most angry with you as the writer?

eloi. i really need to give that poor boy a break.

viii. if you had to tell the story from a different pov, which character would you choose?

ruby! she’s the token enigma of trahison, so i think her point of view would be very interesting to see.

ix. what would be your oc’s taste in music if they lived in our world?

OKAY let’s see:

marin — classic rock, so the who, queen, def leppard.etc

ruby — that one person who you’re pretty sure only listens to classical music, but is actually very attuned to modern day music. she would mostly listen to female singer-songwriters, so take lorde, marina, lana del rey, and other such artists.

beth — take one look at her playlist, and you’ll see that ninety five percent of it is mitski, while the other five percent is bedroom pop. she would like very tender, calm, cry to in bed music.

Antoine — same as marin, but add other modern day music artists with eclectic sounds, such as twenty one pilots, arctic monkeys, that sort of thing.

nathaniel — classical music, instrumentals, and film soundtracks make up his playlist. if it has sung words, he won’t listen to it. has little to no understanding of modern day music and is too scared to find out more about it.

isadora — 2000’s diva pop plays in the background of her life. rihanna is her go to whenever she gets to control the party. Don’t be surprised if ‘rich girl’ by gwen stefani starts playing in your head at the sight of her.

x. what’s one personal goal you want to achieve by the end of the story?

finishing it with pride!

#( FINALLY i've caught up with everything i've been tagged in ahhh )#games.#long post

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mechanicalinertia · 4 years

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Some thoughts on re-reading Snow Crash

Sorry if you expected me to have a new update on the RPG. I’ve been all over the place mentally lately. Anyway, since I last read Snow Crash like ten years ago, and probably didn’t understand most of what was going on, I’ve been re-reading it, which is something I almost never do. Here’s some thoughts on what the book does, what it gets right, what it doesn’t, etc.

1. You can draw a pretty straight line from the Neal Stephenson who wrote The Diamond Age and the one who wrote the other books of his I’ve read, the Mongoliad, SevenEves, and Fall: Dodge In Hell. It’s something in the way his prose is written, the way it unfolds. His books have gotten progressively longer, progressively more serious, progressively more weird and less weird at the same time. I will say this much: I never finished SevenEves or Fall. They’re just so fucking long, and so dull, so exposition-y. Moreover, they kinda lack the exciting stuff that Snow Crash is saturated with - dudes with katanas, Japanese rap-stars with glowing afros, gatling railguns, Mafia pizza delivery, nuclear motorcycle sidecars. Christ, if it weren’t for the book’s obsession with really interesting Sumerian linguistic shit, I’d almost say that Snow Crash and all Stephenson’s other books were written by different people.

2. While we’re on the topic of linguistic stuff, religion as a virus, etc, it amazes me that when Stephenson was doing his research about Sumerian and Babel and how Snow Crash would spread, he didn’t come across Julian Jaynes’ The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. I say this because Jaynes’ work has a similar hypothesis - namely, ancient man was not conscious in the sense we are conscious, and that the Late Bronze Age Collapse triggered a revolution in the invention of the self and the conscious mind - and, of course, that religion is a desire to revert to that more primitive state where something higher, something separate, the literal words of the gods, tells you what to do. It’s not exactly about viruses, or hackers, and it seems to pin the sea change in mind and language much later than Stephenson, but god damn. Both authors’ sets of evidence are based on not neurophysiological evidence (for how could you? You’d need millennia-old brains to compare!) so much as they are based on linguistics, archaeology, all sorts of evidence that may not seem as hard to modern readers but which is still interesting stuff.

Which reminds me. I first learned about the bicameral mind theory in context with an essay about the Aztecs in this book. Freshman year of high school and our history teacher gave us that, wherein Kunstler proposes that the Aztecs turned to human sacrifice as a way to traumatize their own society to reverting back to bicameralism. It’s an interesting theory, I’m just not sure it matches up with archaeological evidence - I remember vaguely that it was suggested that the whole delusion that Cortes was God was likely a Spanish invention, likewise the human sacrifice was a fabrication. I gotta look this up. (If you want to really dig a rabbit hole, lemme just say that the historical account of how Cortes and company brought down the Aztec empire would make a truly excellent HBO miniseries.)

(I just realized there’s a plot hole - Civilization arose independently, at several different river valleys - the Sumerians might have been the first, and their descendants might have hacked out all of Abrahamic religion, but the Yangtze, the Indus, the Amazon, the Nile - there’s no reason to assume they were under the same Babelian thrall that the Sumerians were. So the whole idea of Babel being real, of having an impact on every living person, is a little shaky. Whatever.)

3. Stephenson’s cyberpunk isn’t as urbane as Gibson’s or Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. If anything, it describes an un-urban future, balkanized into ‘burbclaves’, sovereign microstates linked by megacorporate franchises. Which is - interesting? If one exaggerated everything about the 90′s, the Post Cold War Capitalism, then yeah, the idea of dissolving state sovereignty itself is pretty sensible. Gibson did the same thing in his Bridge Trilogy, now that I think about it. And Malka Older, much more recently, did a similar thing in Infomocracy (which is a truly excellent book, though it feels weirdly outdated in the wake of Trump’s election). I’m not sure what, exactly, the urban density of the future will look like, especially knowing that a) climate change will fuck up large parts of the world, and b) more sprawl = more human-wild interfaces = more bugs jumping from wild animals to humans and causing economy-wrecking pandemics (see: COVID-19). One would hope we’d try building denser cities, ones with less climate-impacting sprawl, be more sensible about our design choices, but capitalism is probably going to do what capitalism always does, which is make retarded decisions about the direction of humanity. (See: Fossil Fuel Lobbies).

4. Some say that Snow Crash, then, is a reaction to cyberpunk tropes, the ones so engrained in the popular consciousness at that point, that they just had to be taken apart, deconstructed with a satirist’s eye. I mean, c’mon. Hiro Protagonist, master hacker and ninja swordsman? He’s like if Gibson’s Case mixed with Bruce Lee. Corporations so powerful they’re states unto themselves? Rich dudes buying entire aircraft carriers? Guns, sex, drugs, rock n’ roll? You get the idea.

I’m not so sure, though. The Metaverse feels like a pretty novel take on Gibson’s Matrix, but it’s one that updates the idea of a global information network, not pokes fun at it. I mean, this was the era that cyberpunk entered the mainstream, when it sold out and was eaten alive by Hollywood, culminating in the Wachowski’s The Matrix, which is at once the height and the death of cyberpunk as a legitimate genre (or maybe CP2077 will be, it’s hard to say). This is a book that could have been much nastier towards the Gibson-Sterling conception of cyberpunk, could have marked it all up as nasty people with too many guns in trenchcoats and shades. I say that because that’s a criticism a lot of cyberpunk fiction has had to deal with (and indeed, those critics may be right for the pop-culture image of cyberpunk, the one propagated by Shadowrun and CP2020). But I don’t think it is.

5. This is a fun book to read. It’s right up there in my mind with Hardwired, another cyberpunk ‘classic’ (because the genre is old enough to have classics, now, I guess). You should read it.

#snow crash #cyberpunk

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thenightling · 4 years

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My top thirteen favorite individual Sandman issues (Opinion)

Keep reading below...

Warning: Contains some spoilers.

13. The Sandman Special 1: Song of Orpheus.

The Song of Orpheus is a backstory revealing Morpheus’ falling out with his son Orpheus and the slight revisions Neil Gaiman made to the classic Greek myth of Orpheus visiting The Underworld to try to retrieve his wife.

In The Sandman, Morpheus is Orpheus’ estranged father. I love the character of Morpheus but I’ll put it bluntly right here and now. He used to be an asshole. He may have even been easy to brand as a villain during his backstory.

Much of The Sandman is Morpheus’s redemption, setting right the terrible wrongs of his past. And in Brief lives he is forced to face the sins of his past in regard to how he treated his son. But here is where we get that tragic backstory and a raw, cold taste of what a jerk Morpheus used to be as a contrast to how much he grows later.

12. Sound of her Wings (The Sandman issue 8)

The Sound of Her wings is the issue of The Sandman that introduces us to Death of The Endless, Dream’s older sister (though she looks younger). Today she is the official living embodiment of Death for all of DC comics. Though I have to confess the main reason I like this one is how adorkable Morpheus is when he’s feeding birds. And that happy expression on his face at the end of the issue. You don’t see that too often with him.

11. Calliope (The Sandman Issue 17)

Just as Song of Orpheus shows us the assholary of Morpheus’ past, Calliope shows us just how much he has changed. The story is brutal and difficult to read but you also get to see Morpheus as an avenging angel figure, saving his ex-wife from an abusive master who sees her as something less than human.

Poor Calliope was captured and enslaved by mortals who have abused her in the most sadistic and insidious ways. It’s not just a man abusing a woman (that’s bad enough) but you also see a dehumanization. The writer currently exploiting and abusing poor Calliope has thought processes along the lines of “It would be wrong if she was a real woman.”

The fact that she is a muse- a supernatural entity- causes him to treat her as something less than a human being. This is actually a recurrence in The Sandman as we also saw how inhumanely Morpheus’ own captors treated him.

What happens to Calliope is a chilling display of the inhumanity that could also be an allegory for casual misogyny and to a certain extent, even racism. The cruelty is such that it’s hard to feel sympathy when Morpheus unleashes his anger on Calliope’s abuser.

This is also the first time we almost see Morpheus apologize to someone for his previous behavior but he doesn’t actually start doing that until The Season of Mists.

10. Soft Places (The Sandman Issue 39)

Soft Places is a story that can be read at nearly any point in The Sandman. What I like most about this issue is if you pay careful attention you realize that when Morpheus makes his appearance in this story he is actually between issues 1 and 2 of The Sandman. He was on his way back to the castle, weakened from his long captivity. And Marco Polo (lost in time and space) shows him pity and compassion and offers him his water. For this reason Morpheus helps him to get back home.

Morpheus sacrifices the last of his own strength to do this, leaving himself at the indefinite mercy of The Soft Place. Thankfully Gregory (the rather dog-like Gargoyle) finds him and takes him home to his master, Cain at The House of Mystery.

Not only did this give a satisfying story between the first two issues but also teased an what was yet to come and what was happening “Off camera” after the events of A Game of you.

9. The Wake: Epilogue: Sunday Morning (The Sandman issue 73)

I always liked Hob Gadling (Morpheus’ immortal / formerly human) friend. Here we get a brief story about Robert “Hob” Gadling. He also tells about a dream he had and he is given the chance to die but (as always) chooses against it.

Hob’s indefinite life may have actually secured Morpheus’ own posthumous existence as a Dream Entity. The dream Hob had in this story was of Morpheus (after his death) and Destruction of The Endless. Here’s the thing though. At the time Hob had this dream Destruction really was visiting The Dreaming. And Hob had no idea what connection Destruction had with his deceased friend. He only knew Destruction as a street artist he had seen once.

The implication I get here is that Daniel brought Morpheus back as a dream entity. And with someone like Hob there to potentially dream of him eternally that secures Morpheus’ post-humous existance and freedom from having to be Dream of The Endless for all eternity. This is how I choose to interpret it. Call me a dreamer. ;-)

The artwork is also gorgeous in all of The Wake.

8. Midsummer Night’s Dream (The Sandman issue 19)

A Midsummer Night’s Dream happens to be my favorite Shakespearean play so this was a real treat. We got a fun story and a dark yet also delightfully wicked version of Robin Goodfellow (Puck). And we got a loving nod to Shakespearean history.

Morpheus has Shakspeare perform the A Midsummer Night’s Dream play for the real faery court. And all sort of things happen as well.

If you pay attention you notice Titania tempts Shakespeare’s little son. She also lures him to eat faery fruit. And anyone who knows faery lore knows what that mean. She has laid claim to the boy. He will become a faery and belong to her. And that is a nice, bitter-sweet way of addressing the loss of Shakespeare’s little boy.

The story also has one of the most unforgettable Sandman quotes. “Tales and dreams are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ash, and forgot.”

7. Overture Part 6 (The Sandman Overture Part 6)

I love The Sandman: Overture with all my heart. And it was difficult to pick a specific issue of it to be a favorite. I chose part 6 because this is the moment where Dream, Desire, and Hope save the universe. The metaphor is brilliantly obvious.

The artwork is gorgeous. And we get to see both Dream and Desire be heroes (”just for one day.”)

You also get to see exactly what happened to Morpheus right before his capture in The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes.

6. The Doll’s House Part 4: Men of Good Fortune. (The Sandman issue 13)

I mentioned before that I love Hob Gadling. This is the story that introduced us to him. Not only do we get the backstory of Morpheus’ immortal friend but we also get to see our proud antagonist finally swallow his pride and admit that yes, he has a friend. It’s one of the sweetest issues of The Sandman while also showing how people (in general) don’t really change. Individuals might but human beings are still human beings and the complaints of the thirteenth century are eerily similar to the complaints of the late twentieth century. This story is also the first time (I think) we see Morpheus say his indignant “You dare?”

5. The Parliament of Rooks (The Sandman Issue 40)

This is a fun issue. Baby Daniel lucid dreams his way to The House of Secrets where Eve, Cain, and Abel tell stories to him. Eve tells her own “three-in-one” tale and Abel introduces us to the concept of “Lil Endless.”

4. Season of Mists Part 2. (The Sandman issue 23)

This was a great issue. After all the build up of Morpheus planning to return to Hell to rescue Nada (whom he wrongfully left there ten-thousand-years before) and the fear and dread involved with going back there we find out that Lucifer has quit.

Lucifer explains to Morpheus why he’s shutting down Hell (Dialogue adapted by the Lucifer TV series for a conversation between Lucifer and Linda). He the asks Morpheus to help him cut off his own wings and finally Lucifer leave Morpheus with the key to Hell.

Now poor Morpheus must figure out what to do with the abandoned dimension and deal with the various Gods, goddesses and creatures of mythology and folklore who have come to try to lay claim to it.

3. Sleep of The Just (The Sandman issue 1)

This is the very first issue of The Sandman and it was very different from the first issue of any other comic book I had ever read before. A LOT happened here. Where most comic book writers would have taken this story told in this issue and stretched it out for twelve issues, this was concise and brilliantly written.

The Order of Ancient Mysteries, lead by Roderick Burgess, summon and trap Morpheus AKA Dream of The Endless. They were trying to summon his sister, Death, but got him by mistake. He is held prisoner for seventy-two-years before finally escaping and seeking revenge on his captor.

What I like most about this issue is that the story really ropes you in and the internal artwork reminds me of a classic horror comic, something I really appreciated.

2. A hope in Hell (The Sandman Issue 4)

This is The Sandman issue where I truly realized I was reading something utterly different. When I first started reading The Sandman it was mostly to learn Lucifer’s comic book back story but I fast got hooked on THIS story and forgot all about Luci.

I must confess that though I am a life-long comic book reader I have a habit of skimming or out right skipping most combat scenes. I find them boring and often over the top. (I was a teenager in the 90s and early 2000s and got burnt out on over-the-top action scenes a long time ago). So I fully anticipated having to skim over certain parts of The Sandman.

However...

It was when I got to “the battle” in A Hope in Hell that I finally let my guard down and realized this was something completely different. This was never going to be like any other comic I had ever read. There would be no giant factory explosions or characters punching each other on busy center-fold pages full of sound effects and fire.

When I got the line “I am hope.” I finally let my guard down and understood the real magick in what I was reading. That was the moment I fell in love with The Sandman.

Also I love David Bowie.

1. Imperfect Hosts (The Sandman issue 2).

As you may have guessed A hope in Hell PROBABLY should be at number 1 on this list but I have a soft spot for Imperfect Hosts for what a delightful surprise it was for me.

I love Gothic Horror. I grew up loving anthology horror like Tales from the crypt. Imagine my surprise to discover The Sandman’s minion “Nightmares” entailed old school horror hosts. Even Destiny of The Endless, the mad mod witch (The Fashion Thing) ,The Hecatae, and Lucien The Librarian were all old horror hosts.

To see someone like the Crypt Keeper-esque Cain taking care of the weakened Dream Lord was a treat for me. I also noticed the loving homages to horror comics artist Bernie Wrightson.

Bernie Wrightson holds a special place in my heart because many years ago my mother gave me a large coloring book signed by Bernie Wrightson. I didn’t recongize the name but she recongized his style as something I like. And she was right. It turned out I already had several books that had been drawn by him but had never checked the name. I have long since lost that coloring book... and my mother... But Bernie was a reminder of how well she sometimes knew me. And this issue reminded me of Bernie Wrightson and so reminded me of her. So Imperfect Hosts had to take the number 1 spot.

It also introduced us to the adorable baby Goldie.

#Neil Gaiman's The Sandman #The Sandman #Neil Gaiman

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samirant · 4 years

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10 fanfiction questions

Tagged by @dame-lazarus Thank you! Tagging: You. Allll of you.

1. what’s your favorite genre to write? Romance seems to be my number one thing, when it comes to reading and writing. Perhaps I should give more gen fics a try, but... love. I love reading about love.

2. do you pull inspiration from real life, or do you pull things from other books/fanfiction you’ve read? I think it’s mostly that I’ll come up with a bonkers scenario, or read someone else’s story and think, well, you went down Path A, but what if something happened that made that impossible - what then? Then I pull a lot from my life and experience to round it out (i.e. medical career for alright, outta sight and my relationship with grief for freely given). Because I was late to the GOT game and haven’t read the books, 90% of my characterization comes from what I’ve ready in other stories, balanced against with what feels right to me from what I’ve seen.

3. do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things? It’s a mixed bag at the moment. Before FG, the longest I’d written was in the 30k range and I was sure that was the longest thing I’d ever write. I can say it’s almost impossible for me to write anything less than 2k, my brain just won’t allow it, it’s too chatty. I’ve only succeeded at it... twice? Yeah, twice, a ficlet here on tumblr and my Chuck story.

4. do you prefer to write description or dialogue? I have to reeeeeach for description, so much of what I do is dialogue and emotions/reactions and I have to remind myself to break it up with actual observation of what’s going on around the characters.

5. favorite fic/book of all time? I will recommend it to everyone and anyone: the Run ‘Verse (We’ll Run Like We’re Awesome) by @themonkeycabal I’ve loved it for years and I’ll love it forever.

6. favorite trope? I’m a sucker for any and all loving from afar/what? you love me? stories.

7. are you the kind of person to work on more than one WIP? I tend to focus on one story at a time. If I get stuck with one, I’ll move onto another until inspiration hits again. If I start posting, that one gets my full attention until it’s done because I’m terrified of losing momentum.

8. how long have you been writing for? I tried my hand at it maybe... twenty years ago? Dropped it for a while, picked it back up, dropped it for ten years and now I’m back. Combined, I’d say about 4-5 years of active writing in that time.

9. do you tend to write more during the morning, afternoon, or evening? Evening is when I really hit my stride.

10. do you prefer to post and update your WIP chapter by chapter, or do you prefer to wait until your WIP is 100% finished before sharing it? I’ll make sure to have an outline, a couple chapters in the bag and an end point planned/bare bones written out before posting. I try to avoid posting something when I can’t see a clear end because I’ve learned from experience I’m less likely to finish it at all.

#taggity tag #writer meme

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vinylexams · 5 years

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INTERVIEW with Brian Cook of SUMAC, Russian Circles, Botch, These Arms are Snakes, and Roy

Brian Cook of the MANY gnarly bands listed above took time to answer a bunch of questions that had been burning a hole in my mind for years earlier today. Did you know that aside from playing bass in some of the heaviest bands currently in existence, Brian is also an avid record collector and he also runs a very similar page where he posts all of his records and writes up a bit of history and personal context with each one? A man after my own heart! I’ve dropped a link to his Tumblr below and you’d be a fool not to go check it out and follow his work there.

https://bubblesandgutz.tumblr.com⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I really appreciated having a chance to talk to a very talented musician who also places a LOT of importance on physical medium and the recording process. All too often I get submissions from bands who either don’t know the in’s and out’s of the vinyl format or they took a lot of shortcuts and deprive their art a chance to really shine in the ways that vinyl allows. I picked Brian’s brain about his approach to creation of physical musical media as well as his history as a collector (and even tried to convince him to get These Arms are Snakes play my big gay wedding reception!). Thanks for taking the time to tell your story to us, Brian!

You've been a member of several incredible bands over the past few decades (Botch, Sumac, Russian Circles, These Arms Are Snakes), all of which have released pretty much everything they've recorded on vinyl. How important is the vinyl medium for you as a musician and creator?

Thanks for the kind words. It's really important to me for my music to have some sort of physical format. I realize that mode of thinking might seem sort of old school or outdated, but i've always been enamored by music as a kind of historical artifact. When I was younger, that meant it was important for me to have an actual Dead Kennedys cassette as opposed to a dubbed version from my friend. It was like the difference between owning a painting versus owning a xerox of a painting. When I became a musician, it was a sign of validation. By having a record with my name on it, I had created something that would potentially outlive me. And now in the digital age we've convinced ourselves that everything lives forever on the internet, but it's not true. Myspace just lost all their music. I've written for a lot of online music outlets that have closed shop or simply deleted old posts. Meanwhile, I have a trunk full of old zines that outlived the supposed permanence of blogs. So while the digital age is great for convenience and scope, creating a physical recording is really the more reliable way to make sure something exists for more than five to ten years, or however long it takes for the newest technological fad to become obsolete. Vinyl seems to be the longest lasting format, so it's my preferred medium. But if my music exists on tape or CD, that's fine too.

Do you approach your recording and production processes with specific formats like vinyl in mind? If so, what do you do differently? Absolutely. The main concern is that we're dealing with the time constraints of vinyl. For bands like Russian Circles and SUMAC who have really long songs, it means we have to be careful how we sequence our records because we can easily exceed the 22-minutes-per-side rule. We've also been told by pressing plants that it's better to have long drones in the middle of an album side than at the beginning or end because there tends to be more surface noise at the beginning of a side and more warble at the end, and drones don't do much to mask these imperfections. But while one can complain about the limitations of vinyl, there are also issues with digital formats that can alter the way an album is put together. For example, the digital version of Empros has a longer drone at the end of "Batu" than the LP version, partially because of vinyl's limitations, but also because digital outlets like iTunes don't recognize records with long songs as full albums unless at least one track is longer than ten minutes. So we stretched it out on the digital version so that we'd be compensated appropriately for our work, but condensed it on vinyl so that we didn't compromise the sound quality.

Of all of the albums you've contributed to, which one stands out to you as the one you feel most connected to?

Probably Geneva by Russian Circles, if I had to pick one. We wrote that record over the span of several months at a house in rural Wisconsin. It was one of those ideal scenarios I'd always dreamed of---hunkering down in some isolated retreat and just immersing ourselves in the writing process. I've never walked away from an album feeling as accomplished as I did with that one. It just felt like we'd achieved something that had previously been out of my level of expertise. I think we've made better records since then, but I don't think I've ever felt as successful in making the sounds in my head translate to the recording. With regards to my other bands, I feel that way about Botch's We Are The Romans, These Arms Are Snakes' Easter, Roy's Killed John Train, and SUMAC's What One Becomes. But Geneva will always hold a special place.

How did you get into vinyl collecting and how does it play a part in your life?

I started buying vinyl around '92 because it was cheap. My first LP was Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet's Savvy Show Stoppers. I bought it for $2. Then I discovered 7"s, which was the dominant format for hardcore and punk bands at the time. Throughout high school, I mainly bought 7"s because i could buy 3 or 4 a week on my allowance. And let's be honest... most hardcore bands in the '90s had better 7"s than full albums. But vinyl was so dead at the time that you could also go to thrift stores and scoop up the entire Creedence Clearwater Revival discography for the cost of one CD. Even new vinyl was cheaper than their CD counterpart back then. So it's a bit of a drag now considering that vinyl is currently the most expensive format, but I still get a thrill from going to record stores, digging through crates, and coming home with a new LP. I can't say I buy that many 7"s anymore though.

What do you think about the relatively recent resurgence of large-scale vinyl production and collection?

It certainly has its advantages and disadvantages. I buy a lot of reissues just so I can have a clean, good-sounding copy, so I appreciate the resurgence in that regard. At the same time, the vinyl boom has made used record shopping a bit more of a drag. I don't know how many copies of Neil Young's Harvest I saw in used bins throughout the '90s and '00s, and then when I finally decided to buy a copy five years ago, it seemed like they'd all been snagged and the reissue was going for $50. When the Zeppelin discography got reissued a few years back, I mentioned wanting a new copy of Physical Graffiti to my husband. He went to our local indie record store in Brooklyn and asked the owner if they carried it and he totally balked at the question. "Why would we carry a reissue when you can buy a used copy of that in any record store for $5?" he said. My husband was like "every used Zeppelin record you carry is beat to shit and goes for at least $20... what the fuck are you even talking about?"

If you had to pare down your entire collection to no more than three albums, which would you keep?

What's the broader context? Like, are those the only three records I can listen to for the rest of my life? Or is it just a matter of only being allowed to own three records? If it's the former, I'd probably choose Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, Miles Davis' In a Silent Way, and a Can album... either Ege Bamyasi or Soon Over Babaluma. Ask me tomorrow and I'd probably list off a different three. If it's the latter... like, if i'm merely holding onto records because the actual artifact means a lot to me but I can still listen to music in some other capacity, then I'd probably go with the His Hero Is Gone / Union of Uranus split LP, Undertow's At Both Ends, and Sticks & Stones Theme Songs For Nothing, just because those seem like a pain in the ass to replace and they're important records to me. I have records that are worth way more money, but I'm not someone who buys records because they're valuable.

Do you have a "white whale" record you still haven't found?

Not really. For ages I resisted the urge to buy used records online, but I've since relented. The record that finally broke my ordering embargo was Hack's The Rotten World Around Us. They were a band from Adelaide, South Australia in the late '80/ early '90s who sounded like a grungier version of the first couple Swans records. Super heavy and scary. I got turned onto them through a 7" on Alternative Tentacles, but the LP was never available stateside. The first few times I toured Australia i went to every record store I could find in hopes of finding a copy. No one had ever heard of Hack. The singer was in another band called Grong Grong, and members of that band had gone on to be in King Snake Roost, Lubricated Goat, and Tumor Circus (with Jello Biafra on vocals), but no one had heard of them either. In my mind there was this rich underground of Australian noise rock from that time period that was still vital and valid, but the reality is that it was largely ignored and forgotten. I eventually found a copy online and bought it for $20. A year later i found a used copy in Boise. Oh well. I'd love to find Acme's To Reduce The Choir..., or an original copy of Popol Vuh's second album, or the Neu! 7", or the Greenlandic prog band Sume's Sumut album.

Hypothetically how much money would I need to raise to get These Arms Are Snakes to reunite to play my wedding reception? My family will hate it but my partner and I will be very happy, etc.

We still talk about doing some proper "farewell shows" since we bailed on doing them back in 2009/2010. Granted, now they'd be reunion shows, but in our hearts they'd be our proper goodbye. We're putting together a vinyl release of various odds and ends for next year, so maybe that'll give us an excuse to finally book something.

#vinylexams #vinyl #vinyljunkie #onmyturntable #nowspinning #sumac #botch #thesearmsaresnakes #seattle #taas #roy #russiancircles #briancook

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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gingerjab replied to your post “ANYWAY. The petition/prayer circle for Michael Trevino to be cast as...”

I’m forever an asshole obsessed with fire/ice ships so Thunderbird or Sunfire, fuck the inhumans one off and St. John. Also, Rahul Kohli as Neal Shaara/Thunderbird/Agni. Also I’m sposed to be asleep so ignore if this is a shit idea.

For the record, I actually kinda like the Inhuman guy, cuz I mean, its not his fault he’s part of a trash franchise. I think it probably helps that I’ve only ever read one issue with him, so as to render it absolutely impossible for his writing to piss me off. I like to just close my eyes and pretend he’s a mutant. Y’know. Like I do with Kamala!

Who is obviously a mutant.

(And like.....let’s be real. The dude is a pyrokinetic with a demon form, the codename INFERNO, and his REAL name is DANTE Pertuz. DANTE. INFERNO. Like, that’s the on-the-nose-fuck-your-subtlety-we-came-here-to-be-pretentious-as-fuck-with-our-literary-references-look-how-dignified-it-makes-our-character balls to the wall character concept I am HERE for. I’m like OH HAI I SEE WHAT U DID THAR. And they’re like “oh yeah? You got it? Hahaha, we were worried nobody would, phew, good job tho. Totally adds to the character right? Pretty clever of us.” And then I’d be like Hahahaha no, not even a little bit, but ‘scool, I like him anyway cuz I’m easy like that. I put out for puns.” And then they’d be like awwwww, dammit, we worked so hard on that. And I’d be like....well, that doesn’t speak highly of your abilities, I mean it was a super obvious joke. And then I stopped making up conversations with hypothetical people in my head.)

Also, in defense of comic book St. John Allerdyce and absolutely NO OTHER VERSIONS EVER because agreed, they all suck....

Comic book St. John is a snarky Australian asshole who in between acts of mutant mass destruction, has a side career as a successful romance novelist under a pen name.

(I’m not even joking. Comic book St. John, in canon, writes romance novels in his spare time as a hobby. LOLOLOL c’mon, how is that not a great character beat for a supervillain slash occasional kinda-if-you-squint-superhero).

Anyway.

I too am also trash for fire/ice ships because SCREW SUBTLETY, WE SHIP THEMATICALLY. But like, its gotta be the RIGHT fire/ice ship. I weirdly have standards with my fire/ice ships? Probably just because I’m obsessed with Bobby Drake but whatever, who cares, how is that relevant.

I mean, OBVIOUSLY, you have your proto-fire/ice ship, the one, the original, the Word I came out of the womb prepared to preach and ship and like, spread to the masses....Bobby Drake/Johnny Storm. Because like. They are elemental dorks whose competitiveness is only matched by their dumbness, how can you not love them, I DEFY YOU TO SAY.

I’m kinda meh on Iceman/Pyro, because like, original comic book Pyro and Bobby never even interacted I think? And in cartoons they’re always totally different generations/age groups, and in the movies they’re like....boring and stale and not even all that attractive and also did I mention boring, omg no offense to whomever wrote them, but I tried reading Bobby/Pyro movie fanfic years ago because like, that’s the only movie Bobby fic there is, unless you want to read about him being an asshole to Rogue and/or cheating with Kitty and just generally driving Rogue into the arms of the much (much much much much, like ewww) older Logan or Gambit. Because srsly, so appealing. So obviously, I caved and tried reading Bobby/Pyro fics because like, they had the word ‘Bobby’ in them, and the bar is too low in my X-Men fic reading habits. And omg I fell asleep. I just. It was all just the standard m/m cookie cutter generic ‘good boy plus bad boy uwu yaoi-zowey’ bleh starring two not at all deeply written or well-acted meh-looking white dudes, and just. Why.

But that’s what I mean when I say I’m wary of fire/ice ships, because sometimes with powered characters like, authors think oh hey, LOOK ONE IS FIRE AND ONE IS ICE, THIS TOTALLY COUNTS AS THEM HAVING OPPOSITES ATTRACT PERSONALITIES AND THUS I DONT NEED TO GIVE THEM A PERSONALITY, RIGHT? Like. They’re just very boring and unimaginative in execution, just because they expect the basic premise of fire and ice/’obvious opposites attract, obviously’ to do all the work for them.

(Katey if you’re reading this I’m super for sure not talking about YOUR superpowered romances, because you are wonderful and GOOD at writing and imaginative, and thus none of this applies to you. Requisite disclaimer.)

So, when they did this random Bobby/’New Pyro Dude like where did he even come from I still dont know’ hook-up, I was prepared to like, yawn endlessly, because I figured it would be more boring imaginationless ‘ooh look what an obvious pair they are and yet still praise me for how clever I am for pairing them’ crap.

And I was absolutely right!

(But I mean, it was written by Marc Guggenheim, the odds of it sucking were totally in my favor. Betting against them being well-written under his pen might feasibly be construed as cheating. Whatever).

And also, the art did them ZERO favors, like I know they’re both generic blond dudes in their twenties, but I LITERALLY COULD NOT TELL WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WHICH in any of the panels that they were like, in bed together or dressing or talking or literally anything until they started using their powers to fight bad guys. It was soooooooo bad. Like the art just manifested every ‘look at the white gay date his mirror reflection lol what is variety even’ cliche and beat you over the head with it.

(Also Bobby is supposed to have brown hair, which at least would’ve helped a LITTLE bit. Meh. Still was gonna suck because like, nobody had any intention of WRITING them together, like, developing their characters and laying the groundwork for a possible relationship. It was just ‘oh look, the fire and ice dude got drunk at a wedding and hooked up, cool deal, now on with the story.’)

Anyway, the ONLY redeeming potential for a Bobby/Simon relationship in my opinion is ENTIRELY due to a fic I read with them. Its probably the only fic written about Simon ever, lmfao, so its not like the writer’s characterization of him has any competition among either canon or other fans’ renditions of him. But it was pretty well written, I actually liked their portrayal of Bobby, which I’m SUPER picky about in fanfics, and they actually invested time in developing Simon and his POV and giving him an actual personality and shit, that wasn’t half bad. So if Simon was written like that in the comics and their relationship progressed in similar ways, I could feasibly be on board with them.

But it won’t, so I’m not. Meh. Anyway.

I actually really REALLY like both Shiro AND Neal, with the caveat that I hate Neal’s stupid offensive-ass codename, I know Claremont only named him Thunderbird because he introduced him in an anniversary issue that was supposed to be a call-back to the original Giant Size lineup, and he needed a stand-in for John Proudstar, but like....wtf Claremont, just use your brain and save Neal to introduce a whole issue later and stick Jamie in John’s place the way everyone else does. He literally went by Thunderbird in the comics already in his Hellion days, which YOU wrote, so why the fuck did you feel the need to be stupidly offensive and act like Native American people and traditions are interchangeable with those of a guy from India? Ugh he’s so....gah.

Anyway. So I actually like both Shiro and Neal, though pretty much only when people other than Claremont are writing them, lololol. Which is admittedly...rare. Because of all his pet characters, they’re both at the top of the list of ones nobody else has any interest in touching. Bizarrely, my favorite run involving Shiro was when he was randomly shoe-horned into that Alpha Flight relaunch in the late 90s, that only lasted a couple years? Dunno if you know what I’m talking about, the team with Radius, Flex, Murmur, Heather as Vindicator and Mac was a robot or some weird shit.

I have no real thoughts on either of them with Bobby though, for a fire and ice pairing. Tbh I can’t really see Bobby/Shiro like, at ALL lmfao. For one, Shiro’s always felt written as though he’s a good ten years older than Bobby at least. Like they’re not really compatible dialogue-wise lol. And he’s pretty much never had any patience for Bobby in the comics, which has a lot to do with most of their interactions being written by Claremont himself, and Claremont infamously haaaaaaates Bobby’s character and trashes him any chance he gets, aka the few times editorial makes him actually use Bobby in a script. But I also think even under other writers, like....Shiro honestly is not the type to have any patience for Bobby’s antics or brand of humor, like.....he’s like JP but without the superficial crush JP used in canon to view Bobby’s idiosyncrasies as endearing instead of migraine inducing. I don’t think any readers would buy someone of JP or Shiro’s personality-type crushing on Bobby twice, lololol.

I DO however kinda like the idea of Neal/Bobby? If someone ever actually brought Neal back and gave him a new codename and stuck him on a team with Bobby? They’ve also barely interacted in canon, and the only time I can think of, Neal was super rude and dismissive of Bobby, because like, Claremont was writing it of course, so it made total sense for him to have the dude who’s literally been an X-Man for two issues talk down to the X-Man of several decades like the latter had no clue what he was doing, lol. Oops, still slightly salty there.

But honestly, I doubt anyone who didn’t have hyperfixation fueled grudges on a fictional fave’s behalf would ever even remember that one canon interaction, and tbh Neal’s pretty much a blank slate character wise. His only defining traits from what little he’s been used are that he’s fairly young, in his early to mid-twenties, from a wealthy family, a little full of himself but in a ‘really wants to impress people and prove himself’ kinda way instead of an overly entitled ‘i genuinely believe I am superior to all you buffoons’ kinda way. And he was always endearingly enthusiastic and eager about new stuff he encountered from being with the X-Men.

(He was also randomly obsessed with Psylocke, but I truly think Claremont was like, well I’m just gonna write him like I would Warren Worthington because why not. So yeah, obvsly he’s super obsessed with Betsy. Duh.)

Anyway - I would like someone to do something interesting with Neal, and I think his and Bobby’s chemistry has a lot of potential and they could bounce off each other well.

Also, I like Rahul, but I was randomly fancasting some of the more obscure X-Men awhile back for Reasons (I forget what they were tbh, but I’m sure I had them. I usually do). I came across this Indian actor named Karan Tacker and was like ohhhhhhh he totally looks like he could be Neal Shaara.

I mean, I’ve literally never seen him act, so who knows what his acting is like, but since we’ve established Neal’s character is essentially whatever the person to actually use him next wants it to be, I don’t think that’s a big deal lol.

So this is totally superficially based casting, like I think this guy looks and ‘feels’ the way Neal’s typically been drawn and the kinda vibe he gives off.

Also, incidentally, having absolutely nothing to do with anything, let alone my selection process, by pure coincidence the dude just so happens to have abs for daaaaaaays.

But I mean. Like I said, that is neither here nor there. Obviously.

Of no relevance whatsoever. I didn’t even notice, tbh. Don’t even know who hijacked my body and ghost wrote these last few sentences, quick, call an exorcist.

....oh noes, is this one of the consequences of being an ‘anti’? IS THIS MY COMEUPPANCE? *flees*

#gingerjab

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cindylouwho-2 · 5 years

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