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alloutofgoddesses · 4 months

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PJO TV Thoughts

S1,E6

(There will be book mentions/spoilers)

Can’t lie to y’all im on my second week of this semester and already just so eepy

Okay the first line does tell you exactly what’s happening in this dream but I was so confused by it being Percy’s headmaster from Yancy

Anyway omg I swear you can see Luke in the reflection like it’s gonna be so obvious it’s not Clarisse on rewatches

WE GOT “Little Hero”

Cracker Barrel! What o would give to eat at a Restaurant rn

A SECOND SEAWEED BRAIN HAS HIT THE PERCABETH TOWERS

(I am aware others have made that joke)

Omg hi Luke

Good not being sus Luke

ARREST HER?!?! Percy wtf

Luke I’m positive you would know what Ares is like

OOP if Luke picks up on it IMMEDIATELY…

The episode is titled “A Zebra Takes Us To Vegas” AND WE INLY GET A SECOND OF A ZEBRA ON SCREEN?!?!

Anybody else see the Geia fashion billboard or just me

Way to be obvious about it

“I had a premonition that we fell into a rhythm/where the music don’t stop for life” I think that Levitating was chosen WITH INTENTION for these lyrics only

ODYSSEY MENTION

Graphic novels do count

ODYSSEUS MENTION

Oh besties… the lotus eaters have upgraded darlings

WISE GIRL WISE GIRL WEE WOO WEE WOO IT’S HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

The fact that they haven’t shown Grover eating garbage yet… cowards. COWARDS.

I do think that them knowing takes tension out of it but they think that it’s okay unless they eat something

CASTELLAN LORE ALREADY

A Saytr?? I’m saying that TV screen image is a sun so APOLLO MENTION

A gay satyr?!!! The subtext

Oh? I’m compelled certainly what kind of magic does the Lotus have to convince satyrs Pan is there

DREAM TALK

Like you can see extras wearing dated clothes but it’s just not the same

Also I’m waiting for others to find the di Angelos, I know I’m not gonna be able to find anything

(If they cut it out I will lose it)

Are the employees also under the spell? I would have to assume so

Uh oh Grover is forgetting

HE’S HERE

The way his face fell… I’m afraid LMM is eating as Hermes

BTW I saw someone say LMM was a bad choice as Hermes because canonically Hermes has the most children and they don’t think LMM is sexy enough for that… girlie do you not remember what happened when Hamilton came out be SO FOR REAL

At first I thought I wouldn’t be able to seperate actor from character but he’s doing such a good job that’s Hermes I’m sorry (no I’m not)

ORPHEUS MENTION (I’ve helped others [get into the Underworld] before)

Are the fields Italy? Once again folks I’m not gonna be able to find it so I’m reaching out to

Someone looks back I’m guessing

Oh babey the lore the tension

HEY WHAT WAS THAT

My guess is something to do with Gabe or as one brilliant Twitter user said, Percy’s first time at boarding school

YEAH ANNABETH MOVE BABY YOU DON’T DESERVE THAT

(Also how the fuck can Hermes do that)

Sure buddy see you next season

“This was all just a waste of time. We don’t have time to waste.” Oh Annabeth I’m so sorry for what you’re about to learn

I love all the helmets and stuff really lets you know what’s going on

Oh noooooo oh boy oh buddy oh wow that hurt

Sorry he’s making Hermes feel so empathetic which is exactly how he is in the books. He’s good!

OOP

Were those the di Angelos? They were brunette and small (still reaching)

Oh so that’s why they mentioned days earlier I see

HIS KEYS?

Are George and Martha on there are they wondering what’s happening

CENTRAL AIR BABEY

Oh no Percy’s forgetting too

Just rip him out and leave besties

Oh geez they’re never leaving at this rate

Damn there’s that fatal flaw again Percy

RIP Grover playing a human hunter game I will never forget you

Annabeth it was good it really was but you’re right. He is the god of thieves.

Oh boy now we know why they let him drive though

Me when I first started learning how to drive standard

Just in case you forgot Percy is a New Yorker

Oh NO bestie got distracted looking at the princess (his words not mine though I agree) next to him

NO DON’T TURN OFF THE LIGHT I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE ANYTHING

What did I just say. What is happening on screen

Oh boyyyyyy

He’s just three apples tall

Oh it’s so much worse underwater

SEAWEED HAIR

Wait… were AFTER the summer solstice? WHY

Exactly Percy you gotta finish it

YEEAHHHHHHH

Four?!?! What about ‘you will fail to save what matters most in the end?’ He better lose one I stg

Next ep trailer

Okay so who’s eye is in the credits what do we think

Crusty’s!

Desert and terrible forest?

Okay yeah he definitely loses one or uses one to trick someone or something he said said “you guys leave with my mom”

Oh wait what if he uses it on Crusty… Disney let Percy actually be violent

SWORD FIGHT NEXT EP? At least the beginning

HOLD FAST MOM OHHHHHHHHH OUCH

BONUS: Hermes in cat form

#if you scroll to the end there’s a surprise :)#it’s not spoilers I promise it’s just a cute pie #PJO tv #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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wisteriabookss · 3 years

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An Extensive Analysis of Eris

The recent excerpt from ACOSF has got this fandom spinning on it’s head because it includes a feral-smiling Eris waltzing with Nesta. As a result, people have now delved deeper into his character and whether or not he deserves a redemption arc (or an arc of any kind).

So naturally, he has been compared to Rhys, because Rhys also appeared to us in the beginning as a cruel, cunning person, who was eventually revealed to have a bigger heart, and a valid excuse (at least amongst the IC) for his behavior.

I made this post to mainly catalogue all that Eris has done, analyze his actions, see if he indeed can be compared to Rhys, and to determine whether or not he should have a redemption arc.

What We Know So Far

Our first mention of Eris is in ACOMAF, when Rhysand is explaining to Feyre what happened to Mor. I could put the quotes here, but just to save some time I’m gonna make a long story short.

Mor’s father, Keir, declared that she was to be sold in marriage to Eris. Eris is known for being cruel, and Mor begged Rhys to stop it. Rhys brought her to the Illyrian camp for a few days, and she decided to sleep with Cassian in order to ruin her “pure” image. Because she slept with Cassian, Eris refused to marry her. Said, “she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow.” Her family, although it’s not said explicitly, basically beat her, and then dumped her body on the Autumn court border with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem now. Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods.

Now, we’re going to look at what he exactly said during this event, given to us from Mor’s POV in ACOFAS:

“Don’t touch her.” Those steps stopped. It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.

“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.”

Cold, unfeeling words. “But—but they nailed a—”

“No one touches her.”

A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

Eris took a step away. Someone behind him blurted, “We can’t just leave her to—”

“We can, and we will,” Eris said simply, his pace unfaltering as he strode away.

“She chose to sully herself; her family chose to deal with her like garbage. I have already told them my decision in this matter.” A long pause, crueler than the rest. “And I am not in the habit of fucking Illyrian leftovers.”

Now that we have Mor’s side of the story, we’re going to look at what Eris has said about that fateful day during a discussion with the IC in ACOWAR:

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

. . . .

A frown at Mor as he drained his wine and set down the goblet. “I’m surprised you still can’t control yourself around him. You had every emotion written right on that pretty face of yours.”

“Watch it,” Azriel warned.

Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

A main takeaway from this is that there seems to be much more to story of what happened between Eris and Mor.

Does that mean him leaving her in the woods is excusable? No. Absolutely not. He didn’t try to take the nail out of her (which would’ve been the bare minimum), he didn’t alert Rhys that she was there, he didn’t do anything to help her. He started to make the situation even more traumatic by saying vile things to her. Whatever reason he gives for not helping her will be just that: a reason. But not an excuse. Those are two very different things.

Eris say’s that leaving her there is one of the few things he regrets. There’s something in that. I’m not saying under any circumstance that he should be forgiven because he feels guilty, thats stupid as hell, but it is showing that he’s not some apathetic, other-worldy evil person. There’s some semblance of a conscious in him.

He also say’s that one day he’ll tell them why he did it and what it cost him. By what it cost him, I’m guessing he’s talking about the cost of ending his betrothal to Mor, because I can’t think of what he lost by leaving her there.

I don’t think there’s been any mention of someone getting revenge on Eris because A.) Rhys told Feyre that, “Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.” and B) her family was obviously going to do nothing cause they’re the ones who hurt her.

I’m not going to try and theorize what cost Eris had to pay. It obviously is something (or someone) important to him.

But to me, one of the biggest things we got from this discussion is that it seems Eris knows Mor is gay. That secret smile of his that had Mor shrinking, the way he says he knows why she slept with Cassian, and that he gave Mor her freedom by ending the betrothal without giving a reason . . . he knows.

He knew she was gay, so he ended their engagement, no questions asked. And then Mor was dumped in his woods, and he did nothing to help.

Morally grey, indeed.

(P.S. To the person that posted something along the lines of, “I can’t wait to see Mor’s face when she see’s Eris dancing with Nesta,” . . . get help)

Another excerpt I wanna look at also happens during the recent discussion we’ve just seen, but it has to do with Feyre and Lucien.

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

That little hesitation before he says ‘brothers’. . . sus. That’s all imma say. (maybe there’s more than one illegitimate son in that family . . .)

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?”

Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

Silence.

“Indulge me,” was all I said.

Eris stared me down. I stared right back.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there— when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”

Where two of Eris’s brothers had been killed. By Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket. “Not all of us were so lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

We see another semblance of conscious here when Eris refuses to take part in the slaughtering of Jesminda. To even be in the same room as it. He then made sure that Lucien wasn’t going to die by making sure Tamlin was at his border.

I’m not putting these quotes here to say, “Look, he cares about stuff , so let’s excuse everything he’s done.” No. There is no excusing any of his actions. Just like we can’t excuse Rhysand’s behavior in the first two books, or Cassian’s, or Nesta’s, or even Feyre’s, etc. But what we can do is see the reasons for their actions, and try and understand why they acted the way they did. They have their reasons, and Eris has his. (P.S. I’m not trying to compare what they’ve done, I’m just noting that they all had reasons to do what they’ve done, and they all deserve to be heard out.)

Comparison To Rhys

As I said earlier, Eris has drawn a lot of comparisons to Rhys. I agree with most of them.

This fandom has catalogued all of Rhys’s questionable actions like . . .

*TRIGGER WARNING: words like sexually assaulted*

Rhys sexually assaulting Feyre three times in the first book by drugging her, and then compelling her to give him lap dances in front of the folks Under The Mountain. He then displayed Feyre again in a sexual manner in the second book in front of The Court of Nightmares as, and I quote, “The High Lords Whore.”

In both situations he could’ve done things so much differently. In the first book, he could’ve just, oh I don’t know, kept her in her cell? Or maybe brought her upstairs as a normal person?

And in the second one she literally could have been ANYTHING else. Everyone thinks she’s his prisoner, so why didn’t they go with that? Why couldn’t he have just dressed her in some raggedy-ass clothing, messed up her hair, and then tell her to act super stoic or frightened? Really Rhys, she just had to be your whore? (I know it was consensual but that doesn’t make her persona okay. He could’ve picked literally anything else)

Did he have his reasons for doing this? Yes. Does his reasons excuse what he did? No. You don’t have to make everyone else around you act a part just because you do.

So while we may not excuse Rhys’s actions, we can understand his reasons even if we don’t agree with them. Same with Eris. We know Eris has his reasons, and I doubt we’ll all agree with them, but he still has them.

Let’s also not forget that Rhysand made a deal with Eris and Keir that he would support Eris’s claim to the Autumn Court throne when Eris decides to kill his father for it. He also allowed Keir and his court to come into Velaris, and even though they’ll be turned away by every vendor, he still allowed them in. While he had his reasons for doing this (the Darkling army for ACOWAR) he still did it. It still hurt Mor.

Redemption Arc

My biggest hesitation in thinking Eris will get a redemption arc is wondering where it would fit in the books for him to have one. We don’t know how if his waltz with Nesta is just a one-time thing or if it’s a result of a friendship between the two. The second book is supposed to be centered around Elain, Azriel, and Lucien, so that could also be a spot where he get’s an arc, maybe through a relationship with Lucian or Azriel.

Either way, I’m not gonna bring down the hammer and say that he shouldn’t get a redemption arc. Tbh, the term ‘redemption arc’ kinda annoys me because it shouldn’t be about redeeming what was done in the past, but more about learning from past mistakes and taking the initiative to grow into a better person. That’s what I want for Eris. He’s not going to magically be revealed to be this super sweet fun-loving guy like Rhys. I don’t want him to be revealed like that either.

I just want to see more of his character, see why he is the way he is, and, like i’ve said a million times in this post, know his reasons for acting the way he does.

One last thing before I go. I’m not interested in seeing any relationship blossom between Eris and the IC, or Nesta, and I think it’s unlikely anyways. There’s a possibility for them to have an understanding, sure, but no friendship. I know there are some people who automatically adore Eris because they hate Mor and that’s just stupid. Mor isn’t my fav either, but I won’t cheer Eris on just because he hurt her.

That’s all I’ve got. If you’ve made it this far, I appreciate you. Really.

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sillyroyalty · 3 years

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Edit : reuploaded separately because I ended up attaching this to a reblog. I don’t want to inconvenience others viewing the comments with my long as paragraph so I thought it over

Note: oc for Sincerely Not, an absolutely amazing attention grabbing story by @saintobio . I recommend it anyone who’s 18 and over since it’s a mdni

My post is purely for fun and Yuuta simping because he is fine af in this fic and needs love 😌

This reminds me of the doodle I did in chemistry class instead of paying attention. I remembered that someone made and oc (I think they made a character that was the by blood sister of satoru? The white haired one?) And they provided facts about the character and how they would play out in the story. In the moment I had a thought and doodled out a concept. However this character while connecting to a character in SN isn’t necessarily invested in the affairs and family drama (she’s on the border of it though), instead she seeks out the affection and companionship of the Second Gogou son…Yuuta👀

Mona Zenin

Step 1 : concept art and plot

*the doodle I did behind my teachers back🙊 haha please excuse the scribbles I call sketches, I had to be sneaky

Mona Zenin (18-19 yrs old) the younger sister of our favorite manipulator Naoya Zenin. Just another child the sea of the Zenins. She has no clout sadly because Naoya is probably gonna inherit all the business shit if given the chance also there’s a long ass line before that happens. (Toji, Megumi, Maki,Mai,etc). In the end I’m terms of benefits for the family she’s useless. It doesn’t help the fact that this young lady has no sense of money and has not a damn clue how to run a business. Mona can’t tell you the state of the stock market but she can tell you that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell :D

Now as you’ve guessed useless = not exactly mommy or daddy’s favorite 😞

I mean they don’t hate her, nonono, they just try to keep her away from business partners and business info 🙃 because she blabs everything to Toji anyways

Step 2 : about Mona

Mona was born weak and was always a sickly child, spent most of her toddling days in the hospital or puking on expensive shit. The Zenins have maids specifically tasked to look after her. Now our Mona is mostly healthy but the house servants have grown attached, looks at the wittle Miss Mona eating and growing 🥺💓

Mona is dressed by the maids. Sadly they be out there dressing her in frills while her cousins ( Maki and Mai) and other rich kids are decked out in fashion. Mona feels awkward and out of place, the weird looks and whispers she gets are hurtful, all she’s known as is the ugly duckling of the Zenin clan.

That’s not to say Mona is actually useless…she’s creative and smart, does well at science and English, and loves to act on stage for school plays- but none of that is important to the Zenin clan now ?

To sum it up Mona has all the cons of being a Zenin but none of the pros.

Step 3: relationships with Sn cast ?

Yuuta: He’s sweet, adorable and well mannered, and compared to most socialites actually down to Earth. Talks to Mona during gatherings, invites her to hang out with her cousins and him. She feels happy with him. Mona hates herself quite a bit, she feels helpless and trapped but with Yuuta she feels as if they are in the same page. He dances with her at the balls when everyone else picks the elegant Maki and Mai. He indulges in the theatrics Mona does. Mona is dead ass in love, she holds a silver of hope that she’ll be able to marry him. Will Mr Gogo and Eula give his hand to her ? She maybe and outcast but nevertheless she is a ZENIN…. Mona hates sucking up to her parents and other rich snobs but to up her status so they’ll let her marry him…she’ll suck up to whoever and study all the business books in the world to be by his side and support him.

Naoya : She doesn’t really bother with him, she knows about the whole Eula thing- she’s not going to bring it up ever though…she hates Naoya, he’s annoying, spoiled, and unfaithful but he is a man and the apple of their parents eye. Mona will simply keep quiet but Naoya know quite a bit about her, it’s not like she can keep her mouth shut anyways. She’ll rant to him often and they have their occasional arguments over petty things ( ah siblings)

Naoya knows about Mona’s crush on Yuuta…he promised he’d slip in a good word about her to the Gogo clan so they’ll consider her for their younger son.

Well to be fair the entire Zenin family knows about her crush, they find it cute and funny.

Maki, Mai and Megumi will sometimes subtly make up excuses and set Yuuta and Mona up 😄

Toji even promised he’d introduce and get her in touch with Y/N L/N one day …maybe she’ll help Mona get a better dressing sense because this girl is dressed like a old time Victorian porcelain doll 😔

Mona feels lonely often but looking into her family’s actions more closely perhaps they aren’t ashamed of her after all 💙. But then again all of this could be wishful thinking…what they are just playing with her ? The fear that all his kindness is a joke for their amusement keeps Mona up often at night

Mona’s official character look : (thank you picrew for saving my ass) I’d draw her personally but my art style is garbage also my chemistry work is pending 😭

#series: sincerely not #sincerely not #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ocs

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fantasy2739 · 3 years

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Prompt jamie and Ted father/son bonding please. 🥺🥺 Whether playing video games, watching a movie idk just wholesome lol

Ted Jamie father son??? Sign me up!!

Also I am currently emotionally wrecked after 2x08 so if anyone needs me I will be crying over hug and phone call (iykyk)

Anyway, enjoy!!

Jamie isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing at Ted’s. Only that he’s there. He feels like he missed a trick somewhere. Maybe he was lured here. Like by one of them mermaids. Wait no, sirens. Yeah like a siren call. Point is, he’s here. In Ted’s flat. On the fucking couch. Ted’s pottering around the kitchen.

“Tea?” He calls.

“Nah, that’s an old person drink.” Jamie says. “It’s gross.” He refrains from cracking a comment about how much Roy drinks it. Fucking senior citizen.

“Finally, someone who understands.” Ted says. “Garbage water. Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Jamie agrees and a steaming mug is placed in front of him. Ted sinks into the chair next to him with his own mug. He’s smiling at Jamie, like he’s waiting for him to start talking. Jamie thinks he’d rather not. Because he’s got no clue what to say.

“Now I know you didn’t come all this way to enjoy my coffee.” Ted says when it’s clear Jamie isn’t going to say anything. Jamie shrugs. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Jamie admits.

“Should you talk about it?” Ted asks, which is oddly comforting. Jamie shakes his head in the negative.

“Can we just talk, do something else?” He asks, his voice coming out slightly cracked. Something in Ted’s face softens.

“Sure thing mr bling.” He says. He pulls a face. “Oh I do not like that. Hmmm. Thing. Thing. Sing? No that makes no sense. Ooh king, huh. Sugar king, little king?” Jamie snorts at that. Ted grins like it was his intention all along. Probably was the sly asshole. “Now let’s see, something to do, something to do. Hmmm ooo I have some board games. Y’all got Ludo over here?”

“With like the dice and meeple and shit?” Jamie asks. He realises that it might be a little vague given how many games include dice and shit. Ted’s understood though, and scarpered off to unearth the board. He places the board on his coffee table.

“Alright now we both know the rules?” He asks, all polite. Jamie just nods. “Good, but I should warn you I am a champ at this game. And I won’t go easy on you.” Jamie gives him a look that says ‘try it’ and it’s on.

Jamie’s always kind of sucked at board games. He never really played them, far too invested in sports, tv, dating. His mum had played a few with him, usually mercilessly wrecking him and telling him he was a sweetheart for letting an old gal like her win. It’s not that he doesn’t get the rules or anything, it’s just not something he’s invested a lot of time in. Or thought really. So sitting cross legged on Ted’s floor, eagerly leaning over the game of Jenga that Ted brought out, is a new kind of feeling. It’s a happy one. Ted had, as expected, beaten him at Ludo. He’d been super encouraging the whole time though.

“Uh I believe you touched that one.” Jamie points out, watching Ted like a hawk. “House rules.” Ted scrunches his nose but agrees and begins the task of trying to work out his best to pull the piece out. Ted closes one eye and manages, by some kind of miracle, to get the single piece neatly out of the Jenga tower.

“The laws of physics salute me.” Ted says with a grin. Jamie almost wants to grump but watching the tower drop neatly down was kind of fucking impressive. Jamie plays it safe. Taking a piece from a row that still has three.

“Go on then, dazzle us.” Jamie teases. Ted pulls of another insane move, leaving Jamie to feel the pressure. Unfortunately, he picks the wrong piece and the whole thing tumbles.

“Fuck!” Jamie yelps, more in surprise at the pieces flying everywhere than annoyance. Ted laughs a little.

“Alright, loser takes some punishment.” Ted says, still chortling. Jamie freezes slightly, because this was just meant to be fun. Fuck he hadn’t actually been bothered by losing. Fuck. “You ticklish Jamie?” Jamie stares at Ted like he just asked him streak around Richmond or something.

“What?” He asks.

“Ticklish.” Ted repeats. Jamie flushes slightly because he is. He’s just never really admitted to it because it’s embarrassing. Who the fuck wants to be ticklish? Ted raises his hands and waggles his fingers expectantly. Jamie’s off like a shot. They’re sprinting around Ted’s appartement, with Jamie at one point diving over the bed to escape. They’ve definitely pissed off Ted’s upstairs neighbour, Mrs Ship or whatever. They’re back in the living room and Jamie is leaning against the couch, moving side to side to avoid Ted like he’s got a fucking chainsaw.

“Can’t I just, do like a shot of cinnamon or something?” Jamie asks. Ted drops his hands, waggling fucks, and stares.

“No that’s disgusting. It’ll dry your mouth out faster than the Nevada desert.” He says.

“I could shot tea.” Jamie offers, raising one eyebrow and pointing at Ted. Ted thinks about it.

“Garbage water it is.” He agrees and Jamie sags in relief. He doesn’t hate tea and the cup Ted makes him is more sugar than tea.

“You trying to ruin my sexy body?” Jamie asks as he takes a sip.

“I figured it would taste better with more sugar.” Ted says. “Don’t all y’all kids like sugar.” Jamie shrugs like he doesn’t mind either way. Ted shrugs too, ambling off to tidy up the mess they made. Jamie sits back on the floor, sipping at his tea and grimacing. How the fuck Roy drinks this shit, he doesn’t know. Just as he sets the mug down a blanket appears at him. He flinches slightly but picks it up.

“What’s this for?” Jamie asks, like Ted’s handed him a fucking book again or some shit.

“It gets cold round this time.” Ted says simply. “C’mon now budge up, I’m thinking it’s time for a movie.” Jamie does as he’s told because when in Reno right? Ted’s moving back and forth between the kitchen and suddenly there’s popcorn, hula hoops and crisps. Ted grabs another blanket (fuck there’s a lot of blankets floating about) and settles down next to Jamie. Jamie tugs the blanket (Richmond fucking blue of course) and wraps it round himself. Ted’s talking and moving his hands, discussing the pros and cons of the movies on Netflix. Jamie settling his back against the couch and listens half heartedly. The control lands in his lap and he sort of stares at it. Ted’s smiling at him. Jamie has no clue what to watch.

So he sticks on fucking Toy Story.

At some point, he dozes. Maybe because he’s tired, or because he’s seen Toy Story a thousand times, or because he just feels like he can. He ends up smushed against Ted, eyes heavy, before his body just caves and he’s out. It’s warm and cosy, and there’s an arm reaching round him to cuddle. He’s almost missed cuddling. And most of the men he grew up around weren’t exactly… well they weren’t the cuddling type. Ted clearly is because he’s tugged Jamie close, soothingly rubbing his arm up and down.

He wakes up the next morning on the couch, wondering when the fuck that happened. He’s a light sleeper usually. He doesn’t have time to ponder it as Ted pops into view.

“Morning Jamie, cereal?” He asks, like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like players regularly crash on his couch.

As Jamie stretches and drags himself out of the makeshift bed he realises.

It feels right to him.

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meteorrogers · 3 years

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chocolate covered strawberries | r. d.

summary: a precious person like you was what had been missing in Ransom’s life.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: fluff only, language, implied smut maybe?, oh and beware of fucking soft!Ransom

word count: 3,479 (less or more)

a/n: well, i certainly didn’t expect it to be this long. anyway, this is a soft and ooc!Ransom fic, no spoilers because i follow practically nothing from the movie (at least i think). excuse my errors, please, and enjoy!!😊let me know what you think!!

Ransom is furious, driving home from another family gathering that couldn’t end any differently than with yelling, insults, and throwing things at each other. He has no idea why he‘s still going to these things, he always swears to himself that the next time will be the last time. Maybe somewhere deep inside of him, there’s still a sparkle of hope that one day he will have a normal conversation with his mom and dad.

He needs something to calm him down and while a drink and some bimbo he’d meet in a bar sound amazing, it is still early for that. On his way home, there is this bakery he‘s always liked to stop by because they have the best fresh-from-the-oven chocolate-filled croissants to ever exist. They are maybe even better than alcohol. Just maybe.

He leaves the coat in his car and heads towards the entrance. The bell above the door rings as he enters, taking his sunglasses off. The shop is quiet except for the soft chatter of the patrons that are occupying some of the seats. He doesn‘t even need to look at the display case with all the baked goods, he already knows what he’s having, so he heads directly to the counter to order.

After the cashier takes his order and disappears in the kitchen, Ransom slowly moves to the waiting counter where a young woman is chatting with the older man (Timmy, he thinks is his name) that owns the place together with his wife. The woman has a big genuine smile on her face and occasionally a beautiful laugh leaves her mouth when Timmy says something supposedly funny. Ransom has never seen her before. Maybe it’s not so early to charm his way into a woman’s bed after all. He gets closer and as Timmy hands her her order on a pink paper tray – two Halloween themed cupcakes, with white frosting, yellow and orange sprinkles and a little marzipan ghost sticking out – Ransom only hears their goodbyes.

You are still smiling, cheerful from the conversation you had with Timmy as you turn around, ready to leave, and enjoy the sweet treat on the way home. But you don‘t even have the time to react when you suddenly collide with a solid figure. You stumble a little, but strong hands on your shoulders steady you, which you don‘t even realize since your mind‘s only focus is on the mess you have caused. And just like that, your smile disappears.

“Oh my god,“ you gasp and your eyes widen as they scan the not-so-white-anymore cable-knit sweater covered in frosting and sprinkles. “Oh my god,” you repeat, a little louder this time. Panicking, you quickly dispose of the tray with crumbled cupcakes, taking an unnecessarily high number of napkins from the holder on the counter and trying your best to clean the beautiful cozy-looking piece of clothing.

You have yet to see the person’s face, either too embarrassed to look them in the eye or too concentrated on getting the crumbs out of the wool. Probably both.

“I am sorry.” You say, throwing the dirty napkins on the counter. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been looking where I was going. I was still so absorbed in the conversation that I didn’t notice you,” Oh, god, here comes the downpour of babbles… „And I didn’t even hear you come behind me or maybe I wasn’t paying attention, that’s prob–“

Your gibbering is interrupted by the stranger’s hand circling your wrist, also stopping your frantic movements.

“Would you calm down? It’s just a sweater. I can buy a new one.”

You finally look up, your eyes meeting ocean-blue ones with hints of green around the pupils. His voice sounded empty, emotionless and you aren‘t sure if he is upset or just doesn‘t care.

“Oh,” slipping your hand out of his hold, you break the eye contact, the situation too embarrassing for you. You look at the mess on the countertop, the paper tray still laying there, dirty napkins scattered across the surface and some of them even found their way to the ground.

Shaking your head, you grab all the garbage, bend down to pick up the ones on the floor and throw it into the trash can situated in the corner.

You turn back to the man, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Um… Can I at least pay the cleaning bill?”

“It’s fine, really.”

He still hasn’t cracked a smile.

“Well, let me buy you something sweet then. What’s your guilty pleasure?” you smile again and look over his shoulder, studying the selection of desserts.

“I said it’s alright,“ he bites. “Besides, I already ordered.”

You don‘t expect him to snap at you like that so it kind of shocks you. Better let sleeping dogs lie…

“Okay,” you nod. “I’m sorry again,” you stuff your hands in your coat pockets and head out.

Ransom stands there, looking at your leaving form and he sighs. Shit.

When you bumped into him, he was really pissed that you ruined his clothes at first, but then you started apologizing, cleaning him and rambling . That infuriated him even more. Why the hell did you even care? It wasn’t even your sweater!

You were annoyingly sweet, which Ransom isn‘t used to at all. Sure, women are nice to him, giving him that fake sugary smile just to get into his pants. He never complains, of course, it makes getting laid much easier when they’re trying to get his attention, not the other way around. But it was just an act. The smile you gave Timmy was genuine and so was the concern about his sweater. How was he supposed to react?

His thoughts are interrupted by the young employee who took his order, signalizing his croissant is ready. He takes it and turns to leave, his face still painted with… confusion?

“Fuck.” He curses silently. You can‘t be far. If he hurries, he can still catch up to you and… apologize? He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, except for one thing.

He faces the cashier again. “Hey, could you give me two of those Halloween cupcakes? With the ghosts. And wrap it up. Quickly,“ his voice is intimidating, arrogant and the boy doesn‘t have the balls to argue so he just does as he is told. Ransom snatches the covered tray from the boy’s hands and sprints out.

He looks around and luckily sees you not so far away from the shop so he decides to add a jog to his steps as he follows your direction.

“Hey!” he yells to catch your attention, which he successfully does. You turn around, brows furrowed, stopping when you notice the man from the bakery.

He runs up to you and when he reaches the place where you’re standing, you open your mouth again.

“Oh, did you change your mind?” Your hand makes a move to reach into your bag. “Just say how much and I’ll –”

“No.” He interrupts and confusion becomes evident on your face again. “As I said, it’s fine.” You expect him to continue, to tell you why he stopped you in the middle of a street. But he just stands there, looking at you as if he expects you to say something.

See, when Ransom spontaneously came up with this great plan, he didn’t think it all the way through. He seriously didn’t know what he was going to do, so now, he is just awkwardly shifting on his feet as he contemplates what to say.

“Here.” He shoves the mini tray into your hands. You look at it and then back at him, still confused. „It’s the cupcakes you bought before my sweater decided to have a taste.“

Really? That’s the smoothest thing you could think of? Jesus, what is wrong with you?

But you laugh. And god, is that a beautiful sound. Wait, what?

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” you smile and before Ransom can argue, you stick your free hand out. “I’m (Y/n).”

He closes his fingers over yours. “Hugh… I mean, Ransom.”

The smile doesn‘t leave your face. “Well, which is it?”

“Ransom, you can call me Ransom.”

“Nice to meet you, Ransom.”

You have known since the beginning that Ransom has some skeletons in the closet. Hence the rudeness when you first met and struggle of wording out an apology for his manners. He managed to apologize in his own way and that was okay with you. You know people who don’t even try, but Ransom? He did his best and for that, you gave him your number when he asked.

It didn’t take him long to call you and ask you out. You agreed.

When he asked you on a date, his plan was to take you out for a dinner in a luxurious restaurant, order some expensive wine to get you a little bit tipsy, and spend the night at your place. The next morning he would silently sneak out of your house, block your number and never see you again.

But you are here, sitting across from him, with that big smile on your face, wearing a lovely cream knee-length dress that shows just the right amount of skin which makes him horny and at the same time, he just wants to focus on not how hot, but how beautiful you look.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” you say after the waiter takes away the empty plates.

There is no way he will talk about how filthy rich he is, how his grandfather owns one of the most successful publishing companies and lives in a huge mansion in the rich part of town. No, he’ll save this information for the gold diggers.

“Well, you might know my granddad, Harlan Thrombey?” Okay, nevermind. “He owns Blood Like Wine?” In his defense, this is all he’s ever talked about with girls. He just needs practice.

You nod. “Oh my God, yeah, of course, I know him! I mean, not know know him, but I’ve read some of his books! Just don’t ask me about them, I’m not exactly a number one fan.” you scrunch your nose and his mind tells him how adorable that is. Shut up, brain.

“Okay, I won’t.” he laughs genuinely. He always fakes laugh when he is on a date if you can even call the ones he’s been on that. “Besides, you can’t be a number one fan even if you wanted to, because that place is mine.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything else. Are you close with your granddad?”

He averts his eyes for a second and clears his throat.

Instead of answering, he throws the question back at you, his voice defensive, maybe a little too harsh. “Are you close with your granddad?”

The corners of your mouth slightly falter and you look down for a second before facing him again, “I was. He died when I was 15.”

“Oh.” Ransom’s face softens.

“But I loved him. Every Halloween, I’d force him to tell me scary stories all day and all night.” you smile at the memories. “You know, I’m sure he and your granddad would get along. He did come up with some pretty amazing tales.”

And suddenly, he is intrigued. “What was your favorite?”

You tell him about the cursed toy factory, how every Halloween all toys come to life and they stuff all the employees with plush so they become these living toys, too, and from all the anger, they do the same to the future workers the following year.

He laughs at that, agreeing that your grandfathers would indeed be good friends.

“I’m not that close with my granddad,” he says after a few moments of silence. What surprises him is your hand carefully coming to take his which was laying on the table. His eyes focus on your thumb that is stroking his knuckles as he continues. “I’m not close with anyone from my family, actually.” Why is he telling you that? Fucking stop.

He clears his throat and withdraws his hand, scratching the back of his neck.

“You ready to go?” he asks and you just nod.

He isn‘t in the mood for sex anymore, so he drops you at your place and speeds home. God, what are you doing to him? There is something about you that makes him want to open up to you, spill all of his secrets, desires and dreams.

It felt kind of good to tell you about his family, but to be honest, he is scared. He doesn‘t want another person that’s just going to treat him like a worthless piece of shit in his life. I mean, he is, but it would just make him even more shitty.

He’s decided. He is not going to see you ever again.

Then his phone beeps.

(y/n): I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable but I had a great time! I’d definitely be up for doing it again! You can tell me more about your family:)

He scoffs. Why the hell would you want to hear about his family when he told you he’s not close to them?

Then the phone beeps again.

(y/n): Or not! I mean, we can talk about whatever you want! But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. That’s what I meant.

A smile involuntarily makes its way on Ransom‘s face. Maybe he will see you again.

Since you started spending a lot of time at Ransom’s house, he convinced you to bring some of your stuff. Some clothes, your favorite mug with a whale, saying mornings blow, books and a strawberry-scented shampoo which Ransom became to love.

Almost every morning you share a shower. Sometimes it escalates into a morning shower sex, but most of the time you try and fail to tame him, even though you remind him and yourself of all the times you’ve been late for school, which he doesn’t really care about, to be honest.

You head to the bathroom first, because it takes time for him to get out of bed. After a while, he joins you under the stream of water, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he kisses you where your neck meets your shoulder and licks the drops of water from your skin.

You sigh in contentment, putting your arms over his and enjoying the relaxing moment.

Seconds pass and you turn around, taking the bottle of your shampoo while doing so, squirting some into your palm, and the scent of strawberry fills your nostrils. As usual, you bring your hands into his hair, massaging the liquid into his skull and he closes his eyes in bliss, humming.

“You enjoying yourself?” you smirk.

He opens his eyes again and smiles, those butterflies in your stomach coming to life.

“You know I do.” He leans in to kiss you, your arms circling his neck. His hands slide to your butt, kneading the flesh before they grip the back of your thighs but when you are about to jump, he shrieks.

“Shit!” he backs up and his back hits the opposite wall.

You panic, not knowing what’s happened. “What?! Baby, what happened?” You come to him and his fingers are already rubbing at his eyes.

“My eyes! My eyes!” He screams. “I can’t see shit!”

You suppress a laugh, reaching up to remove the hair from his face and wipe away the suds. Then you reach for the detachable showerhead, turn down the temperature, and put it in his hand.

“Here, baby, you have to rinse them.”

He does just that, moans still leaving his mouth at the stinging.

After he finally manages to get all the chemicals out of his eyes, you can‘t hold it anymore. You burst out laughing, unable to stop and he just stares at you with a scowl, putting the showerhead back into its place.

When he turns to leave, you grab his wrists.

“Oh, baby, come on.” you wipe the mixture of water and tears from your eyes. “Don’t leave me here all alone.”

He frowns, his bottom lip sticking out just a little bit. “Might as well. I’m not gonna let you make fun of me.”

The grin is still on your face but you stand on your tiptoes and kiss his pout away. Ransom immediately reciprocates the kiss, pushing you against the wall.

“It hurt,” he says in between the touches of your lips.

“I know, baby,” you say. You pull away and smirk. “Is there a way I can make you feel better?” your suggestive tone hits his ears before you’re sliding down the wall to your knees.

Thank God he didn’t leave the shower.

It’s Friday night and you are watching TV this time in your apartment. Ransom still hasn’t come home from the mansion where he’s spent most of the day, as well as his family. He’s been working with Harlan for quite a while now which boosts up his confidence (not arrogance, there’s a difference) a little and it makes him feel better about himself, proud even, that he‘s finally useful. However, Walt has been giving him shit for it ever since Harlan gave Ransom a chance to be the Acquisitions Editor (of course, he has been pestering him long before that, but now it’s even worse).

Ransom can defend himself, you’re not worried about that, but his family brings out the worst in him, they push him into this dark place that is hard to find a way out of and sometimes you’re afraid that it will destroy him. That’s why you’ve promised yourself that you’re always going to be here for him, no matter what.

And as you expected, you hear your door being unlocked and then slammed shut with a force. He doesn’t even jokingly call out his honey, I’m home! which he never forgets to do. Uh-oh. Doesn’t look good. But again, you didn’t expect anything else.

He comes to the living room, strands of his hair sticking in every direction and falling over his forehead.

“Jesus, why’s it so hot in here?” he takes off his maroon sweater, revealing his plain white t-shirt underneath.

“It’s winter and cold. You expect me to have snow in here, too?”

He just shakes his head, coming to the back of the couch as you crane your head to give him an upside-down kiss. Then he heads to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something to eat, meanwhile, you turn off the television.

“There should be three croissants in the breadbox!” you say loudly enough for him to hear.

“You want one, too?”

You answer with a no and wait for him.

When he comes back to the living room, he sits next to you and leans his back on the armrest. You’re already looking at him, watching his every move, and trying to see a sign of any emotion he might be feeling. He gives you a knowing look and you shift so you are fully facing him, putting your hand gently on his bent knee and lightly stroking it in a comforting way.

“Three, huh?” he asks with his mouth full.

“Just in case it went really bad.” you give a nervous smile, waiting for him to either confirm or rebut.

Seeing the crumbs fall from his mouth, you reach for the plate that is on the coffee table and give it to him.

“Well... nothing I’m not used to.” he takes another bite of the chocolate pastry. Once he swallows, he takes your hand and kisses your palm. “I love you.”

You smile and lean towards him, supporting yourself by putting both hands on his thighs as you kiss him on the lips that now taste like cocoa.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his mouth.

After Ransom finishes the pastry, instead of going for more food, he lies down, putting his head in your lap. It‘s kind of a ritual now, every time he comes home (his or yours, wherever you are) after visiting his family, he satisfies his sweet tooth (sometimes it’s 1 croissant, sometimes it’s 5), then he sprawls his body on the couch and rests his head on your thighs, nuzzling his face into your stomach while you thread your fingers through his hair and read a book or watch the TV.

“You want to talk about it?” you ask softly.

You stroke his ear with your thumb. He stays quiet and then sighs.

“Later.”

You bend down as much as your position allows you to, placing a few kisses on his temple and across his cheek before you let him drift off to sleep.

You are Ransom’s safe place, just like he’s yours and always will be.

the end

a/n2: so, ehm... *crickets chirping* okay! i have a thing for fucked up guys who i believe can change if you show them a little bit of love, sue me! no but seriously, Ransom is an asshole and he would probably shove the rest of the cupcakes into my face but a girl can dream, right?

anyways, i do have some ideas for part 2 even if it looks like this doesn’t necessarily need a second part..? it could probably be read as a stand-alone but i’ll see if i even decide to post it lol.

thank you so much for reading, any kind of feedback will be appreciated!🥺❤️i love you, guys!!

oh and my other work can be found under #writer luci !!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale oneshot #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #knives out imagine #knives out fanfiction #knives out fanfic #writer luci

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st-just · 3 years

Text

Semi-coherent Thoughts on the Poppy War Series

(Because I really need to start forcing myself to write semi-consistently again)

So I’ll say outright that I actually liked the series quite a bit, which does mean I actually got engaged and invested enough to start turning it over and picking it apart in my head after I finished it. So, like, this is probably going to come across as more negative overall than my actual opinions of the books.

Anyway, first off I really do adore Rin as a protagonist (I’d say ‘heroine’, but, well, no). Now partially this is because I always love even minimally sympathetic morally grey (..grey like coal soot, in this case) protagonists. But she’s just also such a complete garbage fire of a person, it’s kind of endearing. Well, that’s a bit callous – her entire personality is more or less a conflict between different kinds of unhealthy responses to powerlessness and trauma. Be she’s also just such a mess, and when she really starts leaning into delusions of grandeur you can’t help but root for her and hope things do actually turn out okay, regardless of how many fivers of blood she’s currently fantasizing about creating.

A big part of that is just how thoroughly awful the entire setting is, and how terrible everyone in it are, of course. Like, there are basically exactly three developed character in the entire trilogy who are unambiguously at least mostly good people (Chen, probably Venka, specifically the amnesiac and semi-delusional version of Jiang, but that’s being generous), and the fact that they stick around with Rin right to the end kind of puts that into doubt, honestly. Beyond that – almost every family has negligent or abusive parents, and literally every political figure is a bloody-handed tyrant ruling through violence and fear. The Hesperians are racist imperialists convinced they have a divine mandate to conquer the world, the Mugenese are every horror story from the IJA during WW2 translated to a pre-industrial fantasy setting, the ruling elite of Nikara are so many racist, scheming, power-hungry snakes with no concerns except their own position....

And, part and parcel with how terrible the setting is, Kuang does an incredible job of making all the worst things Rin does (until the final act, anyway) incredibly cathartic and badass and fun-in-a-fucked-up-way to read. There’s a terrible sort of awe while she turns the main islands of not!Japan into a pyroclastic hellscape. And whenever she gets a chance to enact any of her numerous revenges on some of the many people who abused and betrayed her it’s always poetic, in a Count-of-Monte-Cristo sort of way, and so kind of sickly compelling, even beyond it being some of the only times Rin’s really hopeful and happy. (Also, there are fun villainous monologues and quippy post-murder one-liners!)

Also, all forms of love are a terrible idea 100% of the time and is only going to end in at least one of the parties dead, abused, or (more or less literally) killing themselves in order to keep up with the other/earn their approval/try to keep them together. (I mean, Rin mostly had horrible taste in men, but Chen wasn’t able to stay mad at her for longer than a few months even after the whole ‘genocide’ thing, which he’s just about the only person to react to with any horror whatsoever. And look at how that ended up working out for him, so-)

I’m sure comparing grimdark fantasy to A Song of Ice And Fire is thoroughly out of fashion by now, but the overall perspective really did strike me as incredibly similar to Martin’s, a lot of the time. ‘Legitimate’ power and ‘lawful’ authority are ultimately nothing but polite fictions maintained by violence, terror and brutal oppression. War is a hell suffered most keenly by civilians with the misfortune to live and die in the middle of it, and least of all by the people with the power who actually start and end them. A flawed and unequal peace is very often preferable to dragging everything to hell with you as you die for the sake of freedom. And so on.

Now, to start the nitpicking – this is entirely personal and aesthetic, but it was kind of annoying how each of the first two books ended in moments of megalomaniac grandeur and terrifying empowerment, and then the next book started with a timeskip of things having gone to shit and her back under someone else’s thumb, and then a solid majority of the text is spent getting manipulated, betrayed, and finally crawling and clawing her way back out to the same point (both emotionally and in terms of independence/vision) that she had been at the previous book’s climax.

This isn’t anything even close to unique to TPW, of course – everything going to shit between the end of one story and the start of the sequel is kind of endemic to a lot of genres, really. And it is frankly incredibly in character for Rin to go through cycles flipping between resentment at being manipulated and used, and desperately craving authority figures to tell her what she should do and give her validation as valuable or useful. Still a bit annoying to read, though.

I’m sure it’s more me than the books – not like they didn’t put in the effort – but I could just never get really invested in the whole enemies-to-almost-lovers-to-enemies-again-to-? Thing with Nezha. Like, he’s interesting in that you can do a 180 perspective flip and he’d clearly be just as suitable a protagonist as Rin is, and his life’s very sad and everything. But, like, we get a front row seat to Rin’s internal monologue, and she gets thirsty for plenty of terrible men (and one awful woman), the only thing that makes Nezha special is that he’s not at least twice her age. So I never really got nearly as emotionally invested in them as the books seemed to expect me to. Which does kind of hurt the whole final act of book three.

Speaking of – okay, the ending isn’t awful or anything, but it is kind of disappointing in being exactly what you would expect it to be, as far as Rin’s character arc goes? Which might be just because I was already primed to compare this to ASOIF and she just literally pulls a Daenerys (fire-aligned vengeance/justice character with revolutionary impulses and an autocratic sensibility is willing to burn down the world in the process of freeing it, goes mad with power and paranoia, needs to be put down for the good of the country), but still. Her reading Venka throwing her to the ground to avoid an assassination attempt as a betrayal and burning her to death before she realized what was happening was just really heavy handed, you know? Same with turning on Kitay, who at this point is her actual literal soulmate. (Also sad in a broader sense, because those two are like literally two of the only characters in the entire series I’d actually peg as worthy of/capable of being trusted with political power.)

The specifics aside, I’m a miserable enough person to appreciate how unsatisfying the actual resolution at the end of the book is – imperialism wins! Literally no choice but to sign those unequal treaties and hope you’re eventually able to grow strong enough to force them out! Everything is the same as before this forty-year cycle of wars except much, much worse! - but yeah, I really just don’t actually care about Nezha enough as a character for it to really land. Also Kitay and Venka deserved better, even if literally no one else did.

Anyway, yeah, good series. Would recommend if you like the genre and can stomach all the, well, everything.

#books #the poppy war #the dragon republic #the burning god #r. f. kuang #book review #in this essay I will #this is theoretically a writing blog

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detective-giggles · 3 years

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Simply Delicious

A Barisi ficlet for the Archive’s rule of three challenge. The prompt words are: stack of books, salted caramel sauce, pushing.

Barisi’s relationship told through food they share. Warnings: none; except for the food talk.

Word count: 1686

1. “Hey, Barba.” Sonny paused in the doorway, juggling two deli sandwich boxes and a cardboard carrier with two coffees. He had a messenger bag slung across his body and he was dressed down, in jeans and a hoodie. “I brought some dinner and caffeine reinforcements,” he explained needlessly, holding up the food.

Rafael watched in silence as Sonny crossed the room in half a dozen long strides, placing their dinner on the conference table, and then dropped his bag into the empty chair next to the one he was going to occupy. Rafael nodded absently, distracted by the detective. He was always surprised at how young Sonny looked when he was in casual clothes, despite the silvery strands of hair that threatened to betray him. “What? Did I spill?” Sonny looked down and brushed at the front of his sweatshirt.

“Huh? No, I, uh, sorry, I guess I just needed the break more than I thought.”

Sonny flashed a smile that was all dimples and Rafael wondered if his eyes always sparkled so blue. “Well get over here, then. We’ll eat and you can take a little break.” Sonny pushed both boxes over. “I didn’t know what you wanted, but you can pick which one you want and I can eat the other.”

Rafael paused in front of the sandwiches. “They both look good.”

Sonny laughed. “Good thing I had them cut in half then, huh?” Sonny took half of each sandwich, piling them on a napkin and Rafael did the same.

“How much do I owe you for dinner?”

Sonny waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, you’re doing me a favor.”

Rafael snorted. “You’re giving up your Friday night to help me research. For a case you weren’t even involved in. I think you’re doing me the favor.”

Sonny shrugged. “Yeah, well... law school.”

“How’s that going, anyway?” Rafael asked, taking a large bite from one of the sandwiches.

“Um, good. It’s harder than I thought, with work.” Sonny shrugged. “But it’s almost over.”

Rafael ate while Sonny talked and Rafael found himself intrigued by the younger man’s stories. Sonny’s voice was hypnotic, even with that accent. They talked long after the sandwiches were gone and Rafael actually found himself disappointed when Sonny tossed his garbage in the bin and reached across the table, pulling over the large stack of books so they could both reach.

“Do we have a plan?”

Rafael looked at the mound of motions wrapped in bright blue and rubbed his temple. “I suppose burning these and running away to Cabo is off the table?”

Sonny chuckled, “yeah, probably.”

“Teamwork, then?”

Sonny smiled, “I think that’ll work.”

2. “I’m not one to turn down coffee. Ever. But this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I’d buy you a drink to celebrate.” Rafael looked around the small, local coffee shop Sonny had suggested.

“Hey, Barba!” Sonny smiled brightly. “I, uh, actually I’m on call so I can’t drink tonight.”

“Okay, well first, we’re not at work, so you don’t have to call me ‘Barba’. And we could have done this a different night.”

“Nah. Then the excitement would have been gone.” Sonny bounced on his toes once, then again, but stopped abruptly when Rafael chuckled. Sonny usually had energy to burn anyway, but he’d been riding the high of the adrenaline rush since this morning when he found out he’d passed the bar. And then Rafael had suggested hanging out, just the two of them, to celebrate and Sonny thought he was going burst.

“Go grab the table over there and I’ll get your drink. What are you having?”

“Oh, uh, my usual. They’ll know.” Sonny waved a hand at the blonde behind the counter before hurrying over to the last open table in a corner of the shop.

Sonny spent a few minutes responding to texts, offering congratulations or condolences to classmates. Rafael joined him quickly, carrying two coffees, and a plate with a large slice of the shop’s specialty cheesecake, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a generous drizzle of salted caramel sauce.

“Thank you, Rafael.” Rafael handed him a fork and they each took a bite, marveling over how delicious the dessert was. It was rich and decadent - the perfect celebratory treat for Sonny’s victory.

“So, how does it feel?” Rafael took a sip of his coffee and leaned in, bracing his forearms on the table.

“Good! I mean, I can’t believe it. The past few months, all I have been able to think about are the questions I didn’t know. I still kind of feel like I’m dreaming, you know?”

Rafael laughed and reached out, gently pinching Sonny on his wrist. “Still think you’re dreaming?” He asked, his hand lingering, touching Sonny’s forearm.

Sonny looked down. Rafael’s hand was soft and warm, and Sonny ached to know how it would feel on the rest of his skin. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Kinda. This is, um, definitely too good to be true.”

Rafael rubbed the back of Sonny’s hand with his thumb. “Well, let’s just see about that.”

3. Rafael opened his eyes slowly and squinted against the bright sunlight, slightly disoriented. The sheets were rough on his bare skin and the mattress was slightly lumpy. It took a few moments for him to realize he was at Sonny’s place. This wasn’t the first time they had slept together, of course, but it was the first time they had spent the night together. It had been a long time since Rafael had shared a bed and slept tangled up in someone else - and he had to admit, he didn’t hate it.

Rafael rolled over, expecting to feel the firm body of the detective next to him, and was disappointed to realize he was alone. He flopped back onto his back and tucked his arm behind his head. He wanted to call Sonny back to bed so he could spend all day cocooned in the other man’s warmth. But he could smell bacon and, more importantly, coffee, so he knew Sonny wouldn’t be joining him anytime soon.

Rafael climbed out of bed, trying to find his clothes strewn about Sonny’s not-quite-messy bedroom. He located everything except his shirt, which he realized was probably still on Sonny’s couch, before heading into the bathroom. Sonny had left him a towel and toothbrush on the counter. Although he didn’t shower, he brushed his teeth and washed his face and headed out to join Sonny in the kitchen.

His shirt was where he expected and he grunted a quiet greeting as he slipped it over his head.

“Hey, Sleepyhead.”

“Are you always this cheery at seven in the morning?”

Sonny laughed, “Unfortunately yes. I grew up with three sisters and one bathroom. I learned very quickly that I needed to get in there first and the habit stuck. But here. Your own cup of cheer.” Sonny handed him a large mug of coffee and silently turned back to dicing his potatoes.

“Thanks.” Rafael sipped his drink, cradling the mug in both hands. He sat on a barstool, watching Sonny intently. He chopped efficiently, and Rafael marveled at the uniform cubes of starch, all perfectly bite-sized.

“Wanna help?” Sonny asked, rolling over another potato. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he added when Rafael hesitated. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, per se, it was just that he was a little clumsy with a knife and he didn’t want to spend his Saturday in the Emergency Room getting stitches.

“I shouldn’t handle anything sharp until after my second cup of coffee.” He murmured, sipping again.

Sonny chuckled as he scooped up a handful of potatoes and tossed them in the skillet. He pulled a batch of bacon out of the pan, laying the slices on a paper towel-covered plate before adding a few more slices to the pan.

“You’re really not a morning person, are you?” Sonny leaned on the counter and draped an arm across Rafael’s shoulders. Rafael grunted again and Sonny laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you what; stay awake a little longer, we’ll have breakfast and then we’ll go back to bed.”

“Back to bed?”

“Yes. We can stay there all day.” Rafael didn’t say anything, but he savored his coffee and smiled.

4. “Don’t. Sonny, please,” Rafael pleaded softly. “I’m begging you.”

Sonny just chuckled as he put one hand in his pocket and slipped the other around Rafael’s waist, pulling him in close. The pair smiled as they took their obligatory pictures behind their three-tiered monstrosity and then Rafael stepped back, shooting another desperate look at his husband. Of all the wedding traditions, this was shaping up to be Rafael’s least favorite.

Sonny grinned playfully and his eyes twinkled with mischief as he grabbed the knife off the table. Rafael rolled his eyes and sighed and put his hand over Sonny’s, helping him cut a neat slice of cake from the middle tier. Sonny put the cake on a plate and took half, pushing the plate towards Rafael. He turned and smiled for another picture, oblivious as Rafael scooped up an obscene amount of buttercream in his fingers.

Sonny turned back. “I love you,” he murmured, reaching out to offer Rafael his bite of cake. Rafael did the same, his hand hovering near his husband’s face. Sonny obediently dropped the cake in Rafael’s mouth, careful not to get any crumbs on his suit, then grinned. Of course, he had no intentions of smashing wedding cake in his husband's face, but the threat of it was too fun to ignore.

“I love you, too.” An almost wicked smile crossed Rafael’s face as Sonny leaned in for his bite. Rafael caught him off-guard and, before he could react, managed to smear frosting on Sonny’s nose, lips, and chin.

Sonny paused, stunned. “I should have seen that coming, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Rafael smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

“Sneaky, sneaky. Is that really how we’re starting our marriage?”

Rafael nodded and wiped at Sonny’s face with a napkin. “Happily ever after.”

Taglist: @itsjustmyfantasyroom @moderateshouting

#barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi jr #food #coffee...all the coffee #fluff #barisi archive challenge rule of three

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perhapsitmaybedragons · 4 years

Text

A Little Nudge

The world is garbage and I’m writing fluff so I don’t have to think about it. Good Omens one shot. Fluff. Very dialogue heavy, because I like writing Dialogue.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556994

Or you can keep reading below:

Crowley drummed his nails against the kitchen table as he watched Adam do his homework, periodically wondering which one of them was more bored and whether homework was an invention of Heaven or Hell. Crowley hadn't had a hand in it, that was all he was certain of. Seemed like something Aziraphale would approve of, though.

This had been a new Arrangement, and one Crowley had no designs in. But both he and the angel were certain Adam had retained some, if not all, of his powers. And both were convinced their sides were still up to something, so it made sense to keep an eye on the boy. But it hadn't been intended to be so closely. Just a little while after Crowley had started watching him, he started getting phone calls to come baby sit. Aziraphale, on the other hand, just came by every once in a while pretending to need to talk to the Youngs about mundane things like the weather.

Which just further proved Adam's powers were still there. How else had Mr. Young gotten Crowley's phone number? And how else could anyone explain that both Mr. and Mrs. Young always looked wary around Crowley, but still allowed him to watch their kid? Or that they both got a glazed over, bored look whenever they so much as caught sight of Aziraphale, but still always answered the door when they saw it was him?

Crowley could be patient when he needed to be, and he was wondering when the kid would break and admit why exactly he wanted Crowley to look after him. Especially when his parents had previously left him to his own devices. Adding in an authority figure didn't seem like the kind of thing Adam would decide to do.

But today he kept glancing up from his homework, apparently stealing himself for the favor he was about to ask. Crowley made a point of leaning back in his chair, trying to look relaxed. He was curious and also wanted to get it over with. His mind had gone over all the possibilities for why Crowley had been the one selected for babysitting duty, and none of the options seemed good.

It was unlikely, for example, that Adam wanted to know about his father – he made it very clear that Mr. Young was his father, and the biological one could go back right to where he came from, thank you very much. Possibly he wanted to know what hell was like. Or what the limits of his power were. Or how much trouble he could get into with his powers plus the help of a demon.

But what Crowley wasn't expecting was for Adam to put down his pencil, sit up straight, look Crowley in the eye and ask “Why aren't you and Mr. Aziraphale married yet?”

He folded his hands like he was a business man giving a performance review. Crowley crossed his arms. “And why would we be?”

“It isn't proper,” Adam insisted, “Mum says people in love get married. That's you two, and you've been in love for a while. Is it cause you're both blokes?” before Crowley could respond “I mean, you both look like guys but that's legal, and my dad says,” And here he adopted a gruffer voice, trying to mimic his dad, “'well, it's uh...it's not for me and I don't understand it but there's uh...there's nothing wrong with it'. And Pepper's mum says it's perfectly natural and ok for two guys to get married if that's what they want,” He paused for a moment and added, almost like an afterthought “Or two ladies. That's alright, too.”

“We're not technically male,” Crowley pointed out. “We're not human. Marriage is a human thing.”

Adam brushed it off, “But you're looking like us and acting like us. Wouldn't it help you blend in more?”

“I don't care if I blend in or not,” as though to make the point, Crowley whipped off his sunglasses so Adam could see his eyes. Adam had seen it before, but he always reacted the same way every time.

“Man, I wish my eyes looked like that,” he grumbled. And just like the last few times, his eyes would take on a snake like pupil for just a moment before flicking back to normal. “But you're trying to 'vade the question.”

“Evade?” Crowley suggested helpfully.

“Yeah, that. It's not right to be in love and not do anything about it when you can.”

“Why does a young boy like you care so much about what an old demon and angel are getting up to? Why do you want us to get married so badly?”

“Weddings can be all right. Wensleydale got to be a groomsmen in his cousin's wedding and he said he got a really big slice of a nice cake afterward.”

“You want us to get married so you can have cake?”

“No,” Adam said, pouting now, “I want you to get married because you love each other. And I want you to let me pick out the cake.”

Crowley chuckled in spite of himself. “That angel would probably never let you pick, he cares a lot about food. Probably already knows who the best caterer is in town for this sort of thing.”

“If you're not going to do it just say so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you love him or not? Cause I thought when two people love each other they get married. And you're talking about everything else except whether you love him or not. And when Mr. Aziraphale came to trade gardening tips with mum he looked worried and I think he thinks your side's going to attack soon.”

“You want us to get married to take his mind off of Apocalypse 2.0?”

“Ugh, no,” Adam was getting frustrated. To him, it was the most obvious thing in the world – if you're an adult and you love another adult, you get married. Unless you were married to other people, like in that show his mum watched sometimes. Apparently, then you murdered one of the spouses together and then ran off to Mexico.

But Aziraphale and Crowley weren't married to anyone, and Adam had thought it was obvious that they were in love. At first, he thought maybe it was that part of him that just knew things – the part that had lead to that scary day not that long ago where the world had almost ended. But then Pepper had asked him about them, and Brian and Wensleydale had backed her up. It seemed ludicrous that with everything that had happened, they would all end up focusing on the love lives of the demon and angel involved but well, here they were.

“And have you talked about this with the ang-- with Mr. Aziraphale?”

“No,” Adam said simply, “I think he wants you to make the first move.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow. Here some part of him thought he'd been doing nothing but making moves on that angel for the last few centuries. “You are aware we're not a couple, right? Even for humans, you usually don't go from being associates straight to getting married.”

“I think you are a couple.”

“Those weren't the terms of our Arrangement,” Crowley muttered.

“Doesn't matter. Everyone already can see it.”

“You do know that just because people want other people to be together doesn't make it so, right?” Crowley thought for a moment of calling Aziraphale and making him deal with this, but at the same time he wanted to see where this conversation would go. “And that even if we are in love, the way you seem to think we are, we wouldn't have to get married? Even if we were human, humans don't always get married.”

“Not always, but the tax benefits alone usually make it the better choice than just living together,” Adam said with the authority of a child who had overheard that exact argument said by an adult once and was now repeating it with only the slightest glimmer of understanding. “He does know you're in love with him, right?”

“I thought you said we both loved each other,” Crowley was annoyed by how irritated his voice sounded – there was a twinge of longing there that he would like to have been better at hiding.

“Yeah, but I think he needs you to spell it out for him. He knows, but he doesn't know that he knows.”

“I think your parents let you watch too much tv, you know that? I think I should tell them not to let you watch so much of it, and to keep an eye on what you're watching.”

Adam shrugged. “You can try. But I'll still ask you about when you're going to ask Mr. Aziraphale to marry you. I bet you could propose to him with a book – I don't think he'd like a ring. But maybe he would, cause it could match his halo.”

“So you want me to tell him I'm in love with him and then immediately propose to him? That's the long and short of it there, right?”

Adam nodded. “Dog can be your ring bearer. I think I saw that in a movie once. But the dog ran away with the ring and everyone got upset-”

“You just told me not to get him a ring, why would we need a ring bearer if we haven't got a ring?”

Adam thought it over for a moment, cocking his head to the side as he thought. “Ok. So he could be one of the groomsmen with me. And it's not fair to let Wensleydale be one, 'cause he got to be one this year already. But he can be one of those guys who shows people to their seats. And if you ask Pepper to be a flower girl she's going to think I told you to do it and then she's going to punch me, so maybe ask her to be a groomsperson, too?”

“Have you planned out my entire wedding?”

Adam gave a guilty smile that told Crowley everything. “I will take your concerns under advisement,” Crowley had invented so called 'office speak' and this, along with 'per my last e-mail' was one of his favorite responses. It didn't really promise any action, but people responded as though it did.

“You should probably do it now, cause he's on his way over.”

“For what? Your parents won't be back from the movies this soon and he always checked in with them.”

“I told him she'd need help today at 4 o'clock,” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the clock on the wall. It was almost 4 and Aziraphale would either be a little early or exactly on time.

“You lied to an angel. You realize that, right? Literal being from heaven and you lied right to his face.”

“Did not,” Adam shook his head, “I lied to him on the telephone. It's not as bad.”

While Crowley was pretty curious about that particular leap in logic, he didn't have time to get into it with Adam. Aziraphale was knocking at the front door and Adam had jumped up to answer it.

“Hello, Mr. Aziraphale! Crowley's here, too.” Crowley couldn't help notice that Aziraphale always got a “Mr” in front of his name from Adam, but he was always just “Crowley”. He wasn't sure which way he preferred it, to be honest.

“Oh, hello,” Aziraphale greeted him, but then immediately began to look about for the Youngs. “Adam, where are your parents? I thought your mother needed help with something in the house?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“But that's why you called me,” Aziraphale frowned. “Did you lie to me?”

“Yep!” Adam nodded enthusiastically. “I'm sorry.”

“Doesn't look sorry to me,” Crowley muttered.

“Well, dear boy, you're forgiven, but can I ask why you lied?”

“Needed you to come over so you could talk to Crowley!” Adam admitted, ushering Aziraphale in and practically throwing him into a chair at the kitchen table. The one right next to Crowley. Adam shut the front door.

“Crowley and I talk to each other all the time,” Aziraphale only looked more puzzled now. He gave a small wave of his hand and his coat moved from being on him to being hung up neatly on a coat rack (that hadn't been there when he came in).

“Adam has gotten it into his head that,” And here Crowley stopped. He wasn't embarrassed by the thought that he and Aziraphale were in love. Crowley knew exactly how he felt about that angel. But the idea he had been so obvious that a child had picked up on it was making him uncomfortable. And despite Adam's insistence, he wasn't completely certain where Aziraphale stood on the topic.

“Yes?” Aziraphale prompted Crowley to continue.

“I could leave?” Adam suggested. “Give you two alone time?”

“In your parents' house?” Crowley didn't say it, but he wanted to point out that it wasn't the most romantic of locales.

“I could go up to my room or something.”

“No, no,” Aziraphale shook his head, “It's your house and if it's so important to you that we both be here, we should discuss it. Is this, perhaps, about your uh...non-earthly father?”

Adam pulled a face. “That guy's not my dad.”

“True, very true,” The angel nodded his approval. “But then what did you want us both here for?” He shifted his attention back to Crowley. “I'm sure we'd both try to help, whatever it is. We're both in that unique predicament of no longer being on the side of who sent us, so the three of us are ..ship mates, if you will.”

“Mating's got something to do with it,” Crowley muttered so low that neither of them heard him.

“You're an angel, right?” Adam demanded.

“Well, yes, but-”

“So you're supposed to tell the truth, right?”

“I don't know what you're-”

“And you're in love with Crowley,” Adam finished, his eyes boring straight into Aziraphale's.

“I'm not certain this is an appropriate conversation for us to be having,” Aziraphale sat up, ram rod straight and started dusting at his already spotless pants. “Is there something else I could help with?”

“No,” Adam said stubbornly. “If you're an angel then you should do it right. You have to be honest – do you love him?”

Crowley's breath caught in his throat. It had never occurred to him to press Aziraphale in this manner, though he was pretty certain he wouldn't have, even if he had thought of it. Aziraphale was resolutely looking away from both of them, staring at the floor. He looked like he was having an internal debate with himself. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke up.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Wait,” Crowley jumped out of his seat and flung his glasses off so that he could look Aziraphale in the eye. “You're in love with me?”

“Well, yes...” he admitted. “But aren't you in love with me, too? I had thought you were. Did I misunderstand?”

“Did you misunderstand?! Did you misunderstand?” Crowley paced back and forth in the kitchen. Adam and Aziraphale exchanged glances, both confused about what was going through the demon's mind now. “I didn't bloody think you felt the same! This whole time! How long, angel?” he demanded.

“At least since Germany...possibly further back. I don't know.”

“And this isn't one of those things where you mean like a friend, right?”

“No. I mean, at first, yes, I loved you like a friend and then it ...it became more.”

“And you knew how I felt and you didn't say anything?!”

“I didn't think I needed to,” he shifted. “I thought you knew and that we didn't do anything because of ...well, you come from there and I come from the other side so I didn't see how it could possibly work.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Now what, he says!” Crowley threw up his hands and looked at Adam, giving a 'do you see what I've been dealing with all this time' look. “Now neither of us is with our original sides – heaven tried to kill you, hell tried to kill me and we were both tossed back here. Aziraphale,” Crowley put his hands on the other man's shoulders, “There is nothing holding us back anymore.”

“There's nothing holding us back,” Aziraphale repeated in wonder. “We could ...I could...”

Crowley pulled him up from his seat and immediately went in for the kiss. Adam looked away, trying not to intrude on their moment.

Aziraphale pulled away first. “There's a child present.”

“It's just a kiss,” Crowley muttered, “That kid's seen way worse on tv.”

“That's true, I have,” Adam admitted. “Neither of you has any secret spouse you're going to have to kill, right? I like you two, I don't want you to have to go off to Mexico.”

“What is he talking about?”

“No idea, angel,” Crowley had his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and seemed intent not to move it.

“So are you going to get married now?” Adam persisted. “Now that you know he feels the same?”

“But we aren't human-”

“Don't even start with him, it's a lost cause, trust me. Look, Adam, we are not getting married. ….at least not yet.”

“Do you think we should?” Aziraphale looked thoughtful. “If we end up moving in together it would seem more proper, don't you think?”

“And it will save you money on taxes,” Adam offered helpfully.

“We'll revisit the question,” Crowley insisted. “You and I have a lot of catching up to do. You'll be all right then, Adam?”

“Yeah, my homework's done. Will you still come sit with me sometimes?”

“Do I even have a choice in the matter?” Crowley pointed out. Adam gave a crooked half grin in response.

“We all have a choice. You just needed a little nudge this time.”

#Good Omens #Good Omens fanfic #Ineffable Husbands #Aziraphale #crowley #adam young #fluff #also there are some jokes

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

Like I said, this is a future/sequel post to that one Karate Kid-The Outsiders AU.

And this one took a very, VERY long time.

This is after Johnny's walk with Miyagi, where he asks Darry's help for Miyagi.

He agrees and goes over to Miyagi's house, even though Miyagi ignored him when he asked for help.

All the same, Darry starts working on Miyagi's roof, but the old man starts talking to him:

"You know Johnny-san?"

"Yeah. He's a friend of mine."

"He know your brothers."

"Well, yeah. We're a gang. We have to know each other. We're kind of all we got."

Miyagi hums in contemplation as he tries to catch a fly with chopsticks.

Darry keeps working on the roof, but does take notice.

"Johnny did that the other day. Did you teach him that too?"

Miyagi remains silent as Darry continues to work.

Neither talk until some Socs drive by and throw slurs at Miyagi and Darry, calling Darry "white trash" and "scum."

Although Darry ignores it, Miyagi still checks on him.

"You don't hear?"

"I'm not really afraid of them. We just need to be careful of when they're mouths stop going and the blades come out."

Miyagi hums at this as Darry climbs down to grab more roof tiles.

"You hate?"

Darry pauses from climbing on the ladder to look at Miyagi.

"What?"

"Them. You hate them?"

Darry looks at his hands, but remains silent, only shaking his head. "No. Not really, at least."

Miyagi hums and nods. "Good."

Just as Darry reaches the roof, Miyagi asks another interesting question:

"Your brother? Little one? Friend of Johnny-San?"

"Yeah? What about him?"

"He like you."

Darry gives Miyagi a very incredulous look because he and Ponyboy are practically night and day; Darry was a football player and Ponyboy is a track runner. If the gang had video game stats, Darry would be a strength based character while Pony would be a speed based character. Darry doesn't read that much, but it's rare to see Pony without a book in his hands. Darry is a beef-cake beanpole and Ponyboy is a pipsqueak.

Darry doesn't spell all of this out, but he simply says he doesn't get it.

Miyagi, now that he thinks about it, gets really confused about something. "Why you work? Work is for the Father, not child."

Darry deflates and climbs back down to sit on the bottom rung. "Yeah, they're... they're gone. Car crash. It's just me and my brothers now. And the gang, I guess. I mean, they're about as close as we can have to a family, but... I just..."

In Darry's silence, Miyagi puts together what he's trying to say, both with and without words.

"You miss them?"

Darry nods.

"That why you work?"

Darry nods again, hands shaking. "Soda and me... We're all Pony has. They're all I have. Sure we're in a gang, but we're staying out of trouble as much as we can. We can't get in any trouble with the cops. I can manage just fine, but they'll... they'll go to a boys home."

Darry trembles, but Miyagi puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Little one. Pony the Boy. He love parents. He love you."

Darry fights a head shake as he chuckles. "All we do is fight. Barely see eye to eye most of the time."

"Try. Then try harder. He your brother. He need you. You need him."

Darry takes these words to heart when he gets home and finds Ponyboy asleep on the kitchen table, surrounded by homework and some books. I should mention that homework is complete and he's working on an art project, a protrait of Darry with a smile on his face. He sees the lines from where Pony messed up drawing said smile in order to get it right.

With a small smile, Darry carries Ponyboy to bed, resting him next Sodapop, who's awake enough to joke that they should put an ice cube in the back of his shirt.

Darry shakes his head.

The next day, even though they have a disagreement, a misunderstanding about what their parents would want or Pony being out late because it's dark and he's tired, and Darry, rather than let his fear and panic get the better of him, takes a figurative and literal step back, sitting in the armchair.

Ponyboy, confused and on edge because this is usually when they start yelling, also sits down, on the floor, though so they're facing each other.

Darry explains he understands that it was an accident, all the same he wishes that Pony was just a little more careful. Like Soda said, they're all they've got, blood-wise, and Darry doesn't want to lose anymore of his family.

Ponyboy nods, saying he'll try to be more careful, especially with the time. He also hopes that Darry gets that he never means for things like arriving home late to happen. Socs are notorious for crossing into Greaser territory, and while he says he'll be careful on the streets and outside, he admits he can't really help it if a mustang of Socs drive by and call him garbage.

Plus, he never reacts anyway. He's got brains, but he's admittedly at a loss of words, if/when they jump him.

Darry chuckles at that before getting up and crouching in front of Ponyboy, pulling him into a slightly awkward hug.

He tells him he worries about Pony because he's the baby of the family. He knows Pony can hold his own, but he's still the youngest. He's fast, but a mustang's faster. He's smart, but words are useless against a group of Socs with blades.

In the house and in the gang, Pony's the baby and he's off limits to getting punched or beaten, especially in practice Rumbles.

On the streets, however, he's just a kid. The Socs don't see him the way the gang does. To them, he's just a Greaser, someone they can pick on, all the easier because he's small. He wants Ponyboy to be safe, and the only way that can possibly happen is if he listens and does what he's told. It can get annoying and ot might rub him wrong, but it's because Darry loves him and wants to keep him safe, regardless of how well he can manage himself.

Ponyboy hugs him back, saying he isn't exactly Sodapop, he will slip up and things will happen because it's his bad, but he will try to be more careful. Goodness knows he's already made Darry grow enough grey hairs.

They continue to hug and say they love each other, even though their pains in each other's asses sometimes.

Since the weekend's coming up, and he's a teenager and not in trouble or getting yelled at, Ponyboy asks if he can see a movie with Johnny. He promises he won't stay out late, and will be back before curfew.

Darry snickers and says for Ponyboy's next birthday, instead of a book, he's getting Pony a damn watch. He then stands up and helps up Ponyboy, saying he can go, but all his work has to be done.

And to capture his cheeks next time Pony draws him.

They have a small mini session and share a side hug before Ponyboy goes off to his room to finish up his work.

They start getting along easier after this moment😁

#the outsiders #karate kid au #darry curtis #darrel curtis #ponyboy curtis #feels #emotions #i hate arguing #brotherly bonding is more important than karate

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charlettebffxiv · 3 years

Text

Prompt #5 Persimmon (Extra Credit)

Picking fruit was not exactly tiring work. It’s not hard on the limbs, it does not ask much of your muscles, and it isn’t going to make you run malms upon malms. What it is, though, is time consuming. Little actions, over and over, in the heat of a summer sun for bells on end will wear anyone down. It does not matter how tall, how wide, how thick or how lithe you are. It will wear you down eventually. The grate of bark on your fingers will become cutting, the weight on the straps will pull down harder on your shoulders, the sensation of sweat trickling down your neck, back and between unmentionables will awaken a chafing you couldn’t imagine. This sun Charlette was reminded of that fact and the nostalgic shine of it would reveal itself to be almost completely untarnished by it. Almost.

“Twelve above, I could drown someone in the sweat collecting in my linens. Are persimmons really worth this much toil? Is old Lodden unwittingly guilty of torture and callous mistreatment of the young? Of child labour? You used to pick his crops when you were young, right Charlette?” Maxim’s whining had been noise in the background, another buzzing pair of wings to join the chorus of summer hatchlings finding their nectar. Hearing her name though, brought it roaring back into her ears sadly. “When I was young, Maxim? You are two twelvemoons older than me.” The Wildwood was leaning against the trunk of a particularly bent tree, lounging really, in the crook formed by the winding body of the old growth. He waved a hand at Charlette, swatting away her words like flies. “Yes, yes. You know what I meant. When you were a child! I bet you were a dhalmel back then already. Is that why Lodden took you on? Could you reach all the way to the top even in your tenth season?” Charlette tossed an over-ripe persimmon at him, it missed, hit the tree and squirted its fermented juices far enough to stain a sleeve. Maxim was quick to escape his perch, holding the drenched fabric from his arm and scowling at the stink now stuck to him. “Aww! C’mon! That’s going to stain! Not that it matters, but it smells too! And I was not even wrong, was I!” but Charlette had returned to her picking, not even paying him the slightest bit of attention. Well, not obviously. Fat, heavy, ripe Persimmons were being dropped into the woven baskets that sat at the base of each tree. Baskets that would be hauled back by chocobo cart once they reached this section. The fuller the collection, the more pride Charlette felt. It was simple work, and she felt drenched to the hind quarters, weary with the repetition, but just so simply satisfied with a visible measure of progress. It was so good, beholding the burgeoning baskets, for the moment it was allowed before Maxim whipped his sleeve against Charlette’s cheek. “Ack! Maxim!” “I’m sharing.” “It stinks! Oh- hurrk!” Charlette gagged, a hand shooting up to wipe the sticky leavings away. But nothing will remove that smell from the inside of her nose, nothing but time and retching. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. You’ve smelled worse in the green houses, hells you’ve probably tasted worse too! How does it compare to mite ichor?” The reminder of that only made her turn away, the dirty look she was shooting ruined by the sudden flex of her throat and loud “Guurh!” that escaped her. His reminder of that foul taste, and texture, only made the entire moment that much harder to handle. “Shut up! You deserved that.” “I don’t think so. I think you deserved that. To wear my new scent, ‘Essence of Orchid Garbage’. I think it’ll be big in Ishgard.” He struck a pose, hip cocked out, hand on waist, the other holding his stained sleeve out with a pinky raised. He looked cultured, in a stupid kind of way. She hated that it made her laugh, partly because she gagged in the middle and tasted acid in her mouth. Maxim took a deep sniff of his new cologne, noise raising up in such a lordly manner you’d think he was King of the Gabage Grove, and joined Charlette in her tortured choking. “Woof! Oh dear, huurp! That’s a stench! Hah!” His enjoyment of the process, though, irritated her. She was leaning on fence post and trying to pull in deep breaths of fresh, summer air when a voice called out. “Still can’t handle it, can she?” Charlette had not heard that tone in so long. The comforting pitch, the annoying confidence, the cocksure suggestion that it belonged to someone who just knew her, and knew what had happened to her. “Nope!” Maxim responded with far too much glee, the shit. “But she did ask for it, so don’t feel bad, or try to help. It’s not how penance is supposed to work. Instead, tell me how you’ve been Chloe.” Charlette’s sister was a few ilms shorter in height, white in hair, several shades darker in skin, and inhabited all the self-assured confidence someone needed to both be incredibly likable, and hateable, at the same time. Maxim had already draped his arm around her, Chloe equipped in her best picking overalls, which is to say she wore the same blue, worn, badly-fitting but sturdy kind that Charlette and Maxim did. Borrowed from Lodden, and smelling of one thing: farm. “Penance? Oh good, I’m glad the eldest still gets to spend time doing her favourite thing.” Charlette looked to Chloe, and made a hand-gesture that made Maxim gasp, and Chloe smile. It was very out of character. “I thought you weren’t going to make it this season. Weren’t you in Limsa? Or Doma?” She stepped to them and drew herself to full height, Charlette let the two shorter Elezen look up to her. No need for sharp words when she literally always had the high ground. “Yes! And I made a special effort to come through this season. I’d heard you were back home, and I missed you so very much I just had to come and see you again.” Maxim’s face turned between the two, his mouth drawn tight and remaining shut, a rarity for the man. “Mmhm. Well if you are done lying, we were about to start on the next tree. Come along.” and Charlette turned in a sweep, her nose held high in the air, long and determined steps carrying her away from the two. “She’s happy to see me.” Chloe said as she followed from behind. “That so? Did I just witness a pair of Bellamy’s hugging? Y’know, if I think about it, that makes sense. It’s very polite, cold enough to ice tea, and no one would have any idea it’d happened unless told.” A very fake scoff had left Chloe as she pantomimed offense. In all the years Charlette had known her sister, she knew she was incapable of two things: Shame, and seriousness. “How dare you! What you describe is far more intimate than a hug, to suggest my dear sister and I would embrace in such a way in public is positively scandalous.” Charlette glared back over her shoulder at the pair, but they couldn’t see it. Chloe and Maxim had started up a series of bows to each other. Maxim with one hand behind his back and bending low at the waist as far as he could while they walked. “My deepest apologies Lady Bellamy!” Chloe gripped the baggy edges of her overalls and pulled them out in a shallow curtsey. “Fret not Ser Flowerman, all is forgiven for such a gentleman of culture!” Maxim’s chuckle was loud, hearty, his smooth tone a little bit of a liar in its suggestion that he’s a smooth man. “Ser Flowerman, that’s going on my headstone when I pop off this mortal coil.” “You’re very welcome. It suits you.” They couldn’t reach that next tree soon enough. Charlette picked her harvest in silence while the other two continued to cajole each other into further impressions and comedic takes on, well, just about everything. It was very distracting, Charlette thought. But it was also very nice, as it reminded her of a similar time, out here in this old orchid. The three of them younger, nevermind what Maxim thinks. Only it was not with Maxim. No, back then it was Frederick who was helping distract Chloe and the others. Who was her sister’s companion in gently teasing her, or tossing the fallen, rotted persimmons at the others. He always managed to get poor Alistair on the back of the head, knew just when Brianne had him distracted enough to… “Charlette? Yoohoo, you there?” a charcoal-skinned hand waved in front of Charlette’s face, the sudden silence that had been lost on her came back. Maxim had stepped away, or perhaps been sent away? Why? Charlette looked down at Chloe’s face, which was suddenly serious. What a surprise. “I thought you couldn’t do that.” She asked. “Do what?” Chloe looked confused, perhaps even worried. How dare she. “Nothing. Did you need something?” “I asked if you are okay. You didn’t say anything, you were off with your books again I think. Dreaming of the library?” just a little curl of her lips came out. Hah! See, not a serious bone in Chloe’s body. Charlette looked at her little sister, perhaps staring for a bit too long. Then reached out, pulled her into a gentle hug that Chloe returned as easily as slipping into fresh sheets on a newly made bed. “No. No I’m not okay.” And just then, for the first time since Charlette had been pulled back home, it felt okay to be that way. Goodness, picking fruit was tiring work.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #ffxiv roleplay #duskwight #elezen

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itachi-with-a-chicken · 3 years

Text

Come be my teacher - a vhope fic pt. 1

I can't believe I'm doing this

Vope/vhope parent/teacher au

Jk is Hobi's baby but for real

Taetae is his teacher

Jiminie is JK friend and Namjoon little bro i don't even know if it's relevant but technically this is a side namjin

As. They are there. Maybe I'll talk about them. Maybe I'll never mention them anymore

Anyway, DISCLAIMER: I DON'T KNOW SHIT. This is not accurate, doesn't want to be accurate and mostly is only for my own enjoyment

Everything I'll write is just garbage and i love BTS all of them yes all of them

And I'll show my love by laughing at them as any mature piece of shit would do

But anyway

Jungkook has this teacher and he loves him the most

Has a father, and he also loves him the most

Jungkook believes that good people should be together

And he also has eyes. He's a seven years old, smarter than any of his peers and with a talent for discovering everything that could give his beloved father an headache

Hoseok is a 30-something editor of a local publishing company

Stable work, stable house, stable life, everything for his own beloved child, so that he'll never feel anything missing

Kim Taehyung loves kids and loves teaching them how to read, write and understand the world around them

He has friends, he has hobbies, he has his own world

And he may or may not have a crush, but that's a issue that he'll not dwell into

As he'll not dwell in the way his eyes linger every time he's waiting for the children to go out and being picked up from their parents, looking for a specific pair of eyes that never fail to acknowledge him and give a nod

He should not, it's unethical, and yet he can't help being mesmerized by the beautiful man

So it's already a precarious and difficult task he has on heart when Jung Jungkook decides to make it worst asking "so, do you like my dada?"

Taehyung felt every hunch of life leave him, leaving behind an empty cold shell of a man

"w-what"

"you like him, he's a cute man, right? You told us that some people like women and some like men and some like both, but honestly i really didn't unde-under-under---- get it. I mean how can anyone know if they like every men and every women, wouldn't be easier to just like one person at the time?"

The waterfall of words nearly overwhelms Tae, but he gets back at it quite fast

"you're right, Jungkook" he says, and smiles, hoping that the bells will save him

Almost like their role were reversed and he went back to ten years ago and he didn't study for the day

"So, you like my father, right? Hoseok, he's the brown hair nicely dressed man that comes to get me every day"

"I know your father" he manages to say " and he's a very distinguished man" he hopes it's enough to distract him

"what does it mean distinguished?"

Mission accomplished.

Or so he thinks

"DADA DADA HE SAID YOU'RE DISTILLATED"

The high pitch was higher than any of the voices it the little yard

Tae is super good at run inside the school pretending he has many important serious things ™ to do

He'll not be able to meet the man eyes for a while

Speaking of the man himself, Jung Hoseok

While he finds weird the abrupt departure of the teacher, who usually have the decency to be sure that all the kids went to the right parent and similia

Didn't think much of it. How could he, when the little hurricane he's rising literally threw himself at him yelling something

"wh-who-what? Slow down kookie"

"my teacher, Mr Taehyung-ssi" the kid was already buckled up in the back of the car

"who said what, brat" asks the voice in the front. Min Yoongi, Hoseok best friend and Jungkook other father figure.

Maybe granpa figure

"my teacher" Jungkook is tired of repeating himself. "He said dada is really distilled"

The words met a wall of silence. Yoongi fought back a laughter, while Hoseok waited until it was safe to stop before asking why, on earth, his teacher would say that about him

"because I asked him if he liked you" the "DUH" was implicit.

Of course.

I mean. Of course. Yes. Make sense. Hoseok is not at all shaken by the fact that the day after he was going to get to work later and apologize for whatever is going on in his child mind

Of course a child wouldn't know why all of that was totally inappropriate

Of course a child wouldn't know what "all of that" even is

But now Yoongi was laughing loudly and Jungkook as well because he was after all a precious child and Hoseok decided it was Yoongi fault

He drives Jungkook home to his babysitter, as per usual, and then back to the office, as per usual

(He ought to remember to leave Namjoon a bonus by the end of the month. It was December, after all)

No words about the weird teacher situation were spoken until Yoongi didn't decide to bring it up

"is the one always checking you up when you pick up the spawn of satan?"

Hoseok stared at him. His expression was enough to make Yoongi retreat. "Okay, not the spawn of Satan. The babiest of the babies that ever babied. But it's him right"

And boi it was him and okay, okay, Hoseok might have noticed that he's not exactly hideous

And being Jungkookie teacher he of course managed to speak with him a couple of time

And okay he knows he's, like, probably a great person based on how his child is being raised

But still. Kid's teacher. Nothing more.

"OH IS SO HIM" Yoongi shouted clapping his hands and calling the elevator

Right, work

They were there he precisely took Yoongi out of his cave to meet with him at the office so they could finish the book once and for all

"you won't avoid the filing work of your own book by distracting me" hoseok mutters, and Yoongi hisses.

"Hoseok. My friend. Soul of my mate. I would never deceive you on a such important matter as the word by word checking we need to do today but"

They stood outside the office, and an hunch Hoseok can explain only as parent instinct told him to wait

"if you were finally screwing someone you oughta tell me"

Exactly

Hoseok face went red and then white. His lips faced downward and the grip on the handle intensified

"I am not. Screwing. My kid's teacher"

He thought his voice was at a normal level but a few concerned looks on the people around then suggested him that it may not be exactly the truthful truth

"DUH! That is exactly the problem"

So, life choose violence that day on Hoseok.

Replies are overrated anyway. He just march inside and sit at his desk and no more mention of Kim Taehyung will be made for the rest of the day

.............................. Ok no mention but his brain cannot be faulted if sometimes conjured up the image of the man. The glasses, the soft sweater, the curly dark hair.

It's not like he didn't struck up to Hoseok in general, and in a different situation he would handled things differently maybe

But reality is reality because is real and is it

So the next morning he accompanied Jungkook at school and the boy even had the audacity to smirk at him when he asked for a word with the teacher

The man looks positively surprised, but when he reaches him he speaks normally

"so, when Jungkook told me I look distilled he meant.."

"Distinguished. Yes. Exactly. I just told him his father looks distinguished"

"well, thank you" oh my Hoseok is smiling and it's like looking at the sun directly

"I-I'm sorry if it overstepped.. something. We just went through the different kinds of relationship and I guess kids are.. excitable

"oh don't worry, it was just funny. I know how Jungkook doesn't really know the difference between spontaneous and obnoxious, and I'm quite sure if anyone is to blame here is Yoongi hyung"

Now, Taehyung is smart enough and aware enough to know he was probably talking about Min Yoongi, the novelist

Also he has seen them often out of school

And Jungkook talked about him like a second father or uncle

So even if he had a little squick of surprise, he wasn't surprised at all

It was only natural that someone as beautiful as Jung Hoseok would have someone by his side talented as Min Yoongi. He read his books. He knows it.

He smiles politely, and so does Hoseok, before departing

And if Hoseok lingered a bit when Tae was walking back to the class

No one would never know

Hope you liked it! Hope I'll come soon with the second part! Byee

#vhope #vope #Kim Taehyung #jung hoseok #vhope fan fiction #kinda ff #mostly rambling #parent/teacher au #a concept

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Won’t You Stay (Part 9)

Summary: The reader and Ethan talk about their pasts where they learn they have more than a few things in common...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, depression, self-doubt, past domestic abuse, mention of death

A/N: Please enjoy!

_____

“Hey,” said your dad half an hour later, handing you some tissues as you sniffled and sucked down your milkshake at a park nearby.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped, getting an arm around your shoulders on the bench.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“What?” you said, wiping off your face.

“Y/N. There are things you don’t know about your mom, your birth mom, things I never wanted to tell you but you deserve the truth, not the story I made up,” he said. “I used to make up stories and lies too.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. He leaned back and stared out at the dim park, a few lights turning on.

“I didn’t love your mother. I feared her,” he said. You stared at him and he shifted around, pulling up his shirt and showing you his side. “You know that scar I got from skateboarding as a kid? She threw a glass at me.”

“She hurt you?” you asked.

“I moved to LA to run away from her,” he said, staring at the ground. “She was...awful. We were only teenagers and she was awful. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like as adults.”

“Dad. Did she hurt you?” you asked. He sighed and closed his eyes. “You said she threw a glass. What else did she do?”

“What did Logan do?” he asked.

You sighed and sipped on your milkshake, your dad rubbing your back.

“Alright, I’ll go first. Your birth mother was controlling. She was mean. She got physical at times. And I was a kid that didn’t know what the hell to do,” he said. “Then she did something without me knowing and after I left, I found out what that was and then I heard nothing and then I got a call she was in an accident. That’s when I found out about you. Sweetie, I was never depressed because I loved her and lost her. It’s something that’s been a part of me since I was thirteen years old. I’ve always been a bit like this. The thought of you growing up with her though, alone, mortified me. I am happy that she is gone and that’s the honest truth.”

“What did she do to you?”

“...You were planned, by her,” he said. “She poked a hole in a condom.”

“Dad,” you said. “Dad...she-“

“I didn’t know. Not until it was too late,” he said. “I thought it tore. A few weeks later I was told by her that it was on purpose, right after I left. She said she got her period though and I believed her. I believed her. I never should have. Who knows what I was leaving you with? She knew exactly what she was doing though because by the time she would have had you and she came back to me, she knew I would do it, for you, and then she’d have the both of us.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

“Mom knows. No one else,” he said. “I’m not proud of that time in my life.”

“You were eighteen and you left. You should be proud,” you said. He smiled and gave you a hug, releasing a shaky breath.

“You left whatever was going on too. We must have done something right,” he said. You nodded and blew your nose, tossing your garbage in the nearby trash can. “Whatever happened with Logan, kiddo?”

“At home he got controlling,” you said with a swallow. “I didn’t even notice it at first. Then he started to pick out my clothes and what I could eat and he put me down and then he got rough in bed one night and I knew I had to leave before it got worse. So I broke up with him and two days later he was dating someone new already.”

“How rough?” he asked softly.

“It hurt. I kicked him and then punched him and then left,” you said. “I got a hotel room that night.”

“How do you feel now? You ever tell anyone?”

“No. The book and movie made me happy for a while,” you said. “It didn’t work all the way but I am feeling a little better lately.”

“You really like Jensen, huh,” he said, giving you a smile.

“I had a mini freak session this morning and he was so nice about it. Logan would have put me down and belittled me. Jensen made me feel safe though.”

“He’s a good kid. He didn’t have to drive me home the other night and hang out and help keep mom and you calm. But he did. Be with a boy that does stuff like that, sweetie,” he said.

“He’s kinda like a big fan of the book,” you said. “Like big fan.”

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

“No. I just...I hope he likes me because of me, not because I wrote his favorite book,” you said.

“Didn’t he ask you out before he knew who you were though?” he chuckled. “I think you got him on the hook all on your own.”

“You’re not gonna like, go murder Logan, are you?” you asked.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

“No. I just want to forget about him,” you said.

“Then forget about him. Stop giving him control and move on with your life,” he said. “You were really good for me in that regard. Really good.”

“I’m sorry about what I said back at the house,” you said. “It wasn’t true. I wanted to be mean because I knew it’d get you to back off.”

“You were scared and trying to push. I knew that,” he said, fixing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You didn’t see your face.”

“You didn’t see yours,” he said. You nodded and took a deep breath. “Can we talk again? Be thick as thieves like the old days?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” you said with a small smile, wiping off your face with the back of your hand.

“You want to come stay back home?”

“No,” you said with a smile. “I’m a big girl. I do like having my own space. But can we do a family dinner every week or something?”

“I think that’s a good idea for all of us,” he said. “Offer is always open though.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m still sorry about earlier.”

“Apology accepted. You want to get some sundaes to bring home?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel like the other guys are gonna be pissed at me,” you said.

“You’re a good secret keeper. They should let you slide without an explanation,” he said. “I mean, no offense but does Anthony think we’re idiots? I knew years ago he liked guys.”

“Really? I was a little surprised when he told me,” you said.

“Well, you can catch your son checking out men’s asses only so many times before you start to wonder,” he teased. You felt yourself giggle and got a boop on the nose. “That’s the sound I like to hear out of her.”

“What’d you think about Ella?”

“I think her big sister did a good job of making sure she gets treated right,” he said.

“Jensen kinda helped out during that talk,” you said.

“He’s just racking up all the brownie points, isn’t he?” he said.

“You think he’s a good actor?” you asked.

“Yeah. He’s got the potential to go big. This movie will change his life,” he said. “He certainly knows Lyle inside and out.”

“What’s a good date idea?” you asked. “I kinda ditched on one with him tonight.”

“Oh, boy talk? I missed that for sure,” he teased. “I am sure you’ll come up with something good. Why don’t we head on home and maybe mom can help us come up with something.”

“Okay. Dad...I won’t tell anyone about what you said. Ever,” you said.

“I know. I will give you the same courtesy. Come on, sweetie. I’m starving.”

“Hello, Y/N,” said Jensen with a big grin when you let him into your apartment Sunday afternoon. “Your apartment building is very fancy.”

“A doorman and security were a requirement from my parents to living alone. I had to appease them somehow,” you said.

“It smells pretty in here,” he said as you locked up behind him. He pulled out a bundle of flowers from behind his back and handed them over.

“Thank you,” you said. You set them in a glass of water, Jensen following you into your kitchen.

“Nice. It’s very cute,” he said, leaning against your counter. “So. I heard someone was going to make me the best grilled cheese and tomato soup I’ve ever had before we watched some football.”

“Not to brag or anything but I am pretty spectacular at grilled cheese,” you said.

“So humble you are,” he teased, taking a seat at the counter as you pulled out some ingredients. “How’s your dad doing?”

“Better. Everyone kind of aired their crap last night. It was good,” you said.

“Good. You seem a little more relaxed than normal,” he said.

“Wait until I’m filming again in the morning,” you said as you whipped up a light dressing to put on the bread. “Your ribs feeling better?”

“Oh, I’m fine. They were only bruised. I should be ready to do scene 12 on Friday,” he said. “I hope. I’m kinda nervous about it actually.”

“Afraid of heights?” you asked.

“No. It’s just the big stunt for the first act,” he said. “I know it’s like an ‘oh fuck’ moment in the book. It’s important to get it right.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jensen. No one knows Lyle better beside me,” you said.

“Not to go full nerd on you again-”

“Ask away, fanboy,” you teased, Jensen giving you a smirk back.

“Cute,” he said.

“Does it bother you?”

“No. I like my little nickname,” he chuckled. “I’ll have to come up with something good for you.”

“In the meantime, ask away. I like talking about this stuff with you,” you said. He hummed and watched you work on the sandwiches for a moment before you switched over to the soup.

“So how did you come up with the story? It’s a bit dark sometimes. I like that but I was always curious. Scene 12 for example. Lyle’s going to get caught, interrogated by Hale, he’ll escape and then nearly get killed by Hale when he catches up to him.”

“I think there’s two ways of focusing on that chapter. One is Hale is hellbent on revenge for his son and lets that rage take over and he nearly kills an innocent man for it after terrorizing him. The other is the way I think you see it, the way I think I lot of people see it. A man who lost his son and another young man whose family hurt him. Hale hurts, Lyle hurts. Hale shows Lyle eventual kindness after he realizes his mistake and Lyle finds a father figure, he finds someone that will protect him, not hurt him. Two lost souls and all that,” you said.

“I totally get it. I just wonder how a Hollywood girl who grew up with Ethan Y/L/N as a father comes up with a story like that,” he said.

“I had a single dad for the first ten years of my life, Jensen. I love my mom, I do, but our whole family knows that me and dad, that’s something special. He was my father and my mother back then. He didn’t know what he was doing. We figured it out together,” you said. “Plus I like the flawed hero story. Everyone does.”

“True,” he said. “Those are always more interesting.”

“Is that the kind of role you like to play? If you had your choice I mean,” you said.

“Yeah. I’d play a good or bad guy. I don’t have a preference,” he said. “Happy to have a steady job right now mostly.”

“I know you guys get a pretty good paycheck,” you said, stirring the pot a few times.

“I heard a rumor that I wasn’t supposed to get as good a paycheck as I got. Apparently our director pushed for me,” he said. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“I feel like you should be compensated for your work,” you said, shrugging as you covered the pot. “It’s a lot of pressure and this is going to be a multi movie thing someday.”

“My agent told me this movie will change my career. I’ll get to pick my next project instead of scraping for it,” he said.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you asked.

“It is. It’s going to be hard to top working on The Dark Woods is all,” he said.

“Oh yeah because this working experience is so awesome I bet,” you laughed.

“Actually, yeah, it is. I have never met a director like you. Even when shit goes wrong, I’ve never once seen you yell at someone, even when they probably deserve it. You’re kind and prioritize cast and crew over a schedule and money. People notice that, Y/N,” he said.

“It’s how people should act,” you said, shaking your head. “Alright. How do you like your grilled cheese? Barely crispy or extra crunchy?”

“Somewhere in the middle,” he said. “Need help with anything?”

“Nope. Just grab yourself something to drink from the fridge and this will be done in a jiffy,” you said. Jensen hummed and took a bottle of water out for you and himself, carrying them over to where you had set your table.

Ten minutes later Jensen was moaning around the grilled cheese, giving you a thumbs up.

“Okay. You are allowed to brag about your grilled cheese skills anytime,” he said. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“You don’t cook?” you asked. “I’m not great but slowly trying to learn. Instant pot is a girl’s best friend.”

“Well I mean, no one’s cooked for me besides my parents or your parents in like a year,” he said. “It’s kinda nice. I will be sure to return the favor soon.”

“Might have to wait until the weekend. It’s going to be crazy busy this week,” you said.

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” he said, dipping his sandwich in his soup. “Mmm, so good.”

When you were finished eating, Jensen helped you clean up before you sent him into your family room to settle in for the game. He wandered over to your bookcases on either side, scanning the rows while you turned the TV on.

“I didn’t know you had other books,” he said, looking back with a smile. You quickly hopped up and saw him pull out one. “This is not a Lyle Sullivan book.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve written a lot, since I was a teenager. I uh, only the one is published right now, the other two on the way,” you said. “This other stuff is crap. Only my parents and siblings have read it really. Also Logan but he said they were bad.”

“Logan is an idiot, full offense intended,” he said with a smirk, flipping through one. “I finished The Dark Night yesterday which holy crap by the way. It was amazing and I have so many questions.”

“You liked it?” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“It was so good. Lyle’s like a full on badass but he still fucks shit up and he and Molly are like living together and they’re so cute and she’s actually like learning from Hale how to be a badass too so she’s safe and Hale’s like his actual dad and Lyle called him dad and I was like fucking finally but-”

“Okay,” you laughed. “I see you liked it.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I did. Since I’ve read the Lyle prequel before too would you mind if I read one of these? I get bored in my trailer sometimes.”

“Sure,” you said.

“Any you recommend?” he asked.

“Oh they’re all horrible,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I see. I guess I’ll just have to read all of them,” he said with a smile. “I’ll start with this one. Oak Street. I wonder what it’s about.”

“Jensen,” you said as he pulled out the first one. “I’m really not a good writer.”

“We have very different opinions on that,” he said. He hummed and he sat down on the couch and set the book on the end table to take home later. You rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, Jensen putting an arm around your shoulders. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” you said, leaning against his shoulder as you turned your attention to the TV. You shut your eyes, the game drowning out in the background.

“Y/N, wake up,” said Jensen. Your eyes flashed open and you shot up, both his hands on your arms. You looked around, still on the couch with the football game going on. “Hey. It’s alright. You were having a nightmare. You were taking a nap on me.”

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing your eyes.

“S’okay. I’m pretty tired on the weekends. I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be,” he said, sliding a hand up to your cheek. “Bad dream?”

You nodded and looked away, Jensen turning your cheek back towards him.

“I get bad dreams too,” he said. He smiled and returned it, dropping his hand away.

“People aren’t sweet like you, you know.”

“They are. You just haven’t been around too many quality people lately it seems,” he said.

“I can’t really disagree with that,” you said.

“Your friends aren’t sweet?” he asked.

“Are yours?”

“I ditched the bad ones. The ones I got left, some are guy guys, they don’t talk about the serious stuff but they’re good. The other guys...yeah, we talk about feelings and shit. One of my best friends we talk everyday about that stuff,” he said. “We have a tag up. We just check in, make sure the other is okay.”

“Like I said. You’re sweet,” you said.

“Like I said. You should hang around with some better people,” he said. You nodded and sat back, tucking into his side. “Not a lot of friends?”

“Never had a lot. But then when I broke up with my ex, all my friends stopped talking to me and kept hanging out with him,” you said. “Always was kind of hard, growing up the way I did, knowing if people liked me.”

“Well I know someone that likes you very much,” he said, smirking at you.

“I wonder who that is,” you said.

“He’s quite adorable,” he said. “Very handsome.”

“Lucky me,” you laughed. “Sounds very humble.”

“For sure,” he said. You glanced up at him, Jensen rubbing your arm. “If you’re up for it, want to go do something fun?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Your hair is a hot mess,” teased Jensen three hours later. He tried to fix it back in place but you quickly felt his baseball cap on your head, ponytail pulled through the opening. “All better.”

“I cannot believe you took us to Disneyland,” you said, looking back at the rollercoaster you’d just gotten off of. “I haven’t been here in years!”

“Best part is we can totally drink now,” he said. “Want to hit a few more rides first before we get a snack?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you said. You got bumped as you walked, Jensen grabbing your hand and pulling you around to his other side. He didn’t let go once you’d made it past a crowd of people and you gave it a squeeze. “Hey, Ackles.”

“Y/L/N,” he said as you headed for another coaster.

“Thanks for saving my ass that night we met,” you said.

“I’m sure you would have handled it on your own,” he said. “I got your back from now on though if that’s cool.”

“I’m okay with that, Ackles,” you said.

“Good. You watch mine and maybe it’ll all work out,” he said.

“Maybe it will,” you said. He hummed and leaned over to kiss you, smiling when you blushed. “Don’t say a word, fanboy.”

“Mhm,” he said, a smug little look on his face. “Alright, let’s try another one of these coasters out.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 10 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

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final-girl96 · 3 years

Text

Radioactive Spider Bite

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, vilonce, muture content? Maybe later on?, jealousy, death, idk its marvel... slow updates.

A/N: please don't be rude. Feed back is welcome but be kind. If there is any little details you would like to change to fit your style and personality please do so. This will also be on my WATTPAD along with all my other stories. This begins with Civil War when Peter comes home to find Tony Stark there. It will go to Homecoming, Infinity War, End Game, Far From Home, and then when No Way Home is out and I watch it the story will continue as long as there is a new movie with Spider-Man.

Word Count: 1122 words

Captian America: Civil War

Chapter Two

Mr. Stark walked over to Peter's desk. "Whoa, what have we here? Retro tech, huh?" He said. "Peter's a nerd," I said. "Hey! I am not," he said pushing me a little. "Thrifty store? Salvation army?" Stark asked Peter. "Uh, the garbage, actually," Peter said. "You're a dumpster diver?" Mr. Stark asked bluntly. "Yeah, I was... anyway, look, um, I did not apply for your grant and either did y/n..." Peter said but was cut off. "Ah-ah! Me first," Mr. Stark said loudly. "Okay," Peter said.

"Quick question of the rhetorical variety," Stark said holding his phone up. A screen projected from it showing Peter or "Spider-Man swinging by a guy on his webs. "That's you, right?" He asked. "Um. No. What do you... what do you mean?" Petet stammered. "Yeah," Stark said flipping his phone as another video came up. "Look at you go," he said. "Wow! Nice catch. 3,000 pounds, 40 miles an hour. That's no easy. You got mad skills," Mr. Stark said and brought up another video. "And this... this is both of you," he said. The video showing Peter and I swinging together the day he was showing me how the web-shooters worked just in case I changed my mind.

Peter had his stupid suit he made on and I have black leggings and a tight long sleeve black shirt with my hair up in a ponytail and a simple black mask that went over my eyes. I had my arms around his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist while his one arm was securely around my waist. He had been talking to me and explaining everything step by step. I squinted at the stilled frame and shook my head. "Nope. That... that is not me," I said and looked at Mr. Stark. "Really? And I guess this isn't either?" He asked showing another video of me swinging by myself. I shook my head "nope. Nope, definitely not me," I said.

"That's... that's all you YouTube, though, right? That's where you found that? Because you know that's all fake. It's all done on the computer," Peter jumped in. "Mmm-hmm," Stark hummed. "It's like that video. What it is?" Peter said looking at the projected screen in front of us as Stark looked around. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, you mean like those UFOs over Phoenix?" Stark said as he took a broom handle and pushed open the crawl space door on the ceiling. Peter's suit falling out on a rope. "Oh, what has me here?" He said. Peter jumped in front of him and grabbed him. Turning his back he shoved it into his closet.

"Uh..." Peter let out leaning on the wall nodding his head. I sat on his bed and flopped back laying down. "Awkward," I said and Peter glared at me. Mr. Stark walked over to him. "So. You're the Spider-ling. Crime-fighting spider. You're Spider-Boy? And you're what? Spider-Girl?" He asked. "No. I'm y/n," I said and rolled my eyes. "Spider-Man," Peter said crossing his arms. "Not in that onesie, you're not," Stark said. "Ha!" I snorted out laughing at that. "It's not a onesie," Peter said and walked over to pick the broom handle up. "I don't believe this. I was actually having a really good day today, Mr. Stark. We didn't miss put train, this perfectly good DVD player was just sitting there... and Algebra test, nailed it," Peter said now standing by his desk. "I'm pretty sure I failed it," I said sitting up.

"Who else knows? Anybody?" Mr. Stark asked. I and Peter shook our heads. "Nobody," we both said. "Not even your unusually attractive aunt?" Stark asked. "No. No. No! If she knew, she would freak out. And when she freaks out, I freak out," Peter said. "That's true he does," I said looking at Mr. Stark who was sitting on the end of the bed in a chair. "You know what I think is really cool? This webbing," Mr. Stark said and threw the little thing he had the webbing at Peter who caught it without looking. "That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured that?" Stark asked.

"Peter did," I said. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows as he looked over the suit. "Climbing walls, how you doing that? Adhesive gloves?" He asked. "It's a long story. I was..." Peter started but stopped cut off by Stark. "Lordy! Can you even see in these?" He asked holding the goggles up to his face that were attached to the suit. I bit my lip so I wouldn't laugh as Peter glared at me. "Yes. Yes. I can," Peter said taking it away from him and putting this in the small closest. "I can see in those. Okay? It's just that when whatever happened, happened... It's like our senses dialed to 11. There's way too much input, so they kinda help me focus," Peter said.

"You're in dire need of an upgrade. You too," Stark said looking at me. "What? No!" I said but he ignored me. "Systemic, top to bottom, hundred-point restoration. That's why I'm here," he said and leaned against the wall. Peter sat beside me on the bed. "Why are doing this? I gotta know, what's your MO? What gets you outta that twin bed in the morning?" Stark asked. "Me. I get him outta bed," I said. "And you, why don't you do what he's doing? Why are you Spider-Girl?" He asked.

Peter looked at me and looked back at Mr. Stark. "Because..." he stammered a little. "Because I've been me my whole life, and we have had these powers for 6 months. I read books, I build computers. Yeah, I would love to play football, but I couldn't then, so I shouldn't now," Peter said. I forward my eyebrows he never told me exactly why he was doing what he was. "Sure, because you're different," Stark said. "Exactly. But I can't tell anybody that, so I'm not," Peter said. Stark looked at me then and raised his eyebrows. I sighed knowing I wasn't getting around this at all and I was going to have to explain why I wasn't out there with Peter in so ridiculous suit fighting crime.

"I'm not a genius like Peter is. I can barely pass my classes. I wouldn't be passing them if it wasn't for him. I'm more street smart and I'm artsier than him. I take pictures and draw and I don't draw pretty things, I draw dark messed up things. Peter follows the rules and I don't. So what business do I have out there saving people's lives?" I said looking down at my hands.

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

Text

Baby Shoes - Chapter 5

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

thank u to my friend gordon for beta reading even after i threatened to steal his blood <3 ilu bitch

AO3 Link

Bubby had forgotten about the tinfoil until he walks into Zeki’s office. She’s ripping it off her desk, a few hairs slipping from her careful bun, and Bubby has to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Did you have something to do with this?” she demands, throwing a ball of tinfoil on the floor.

“I’ve been with the subject all day. You can check the cameras, if you want.”

“I just might,” Zeki warns. She pulls another sheet off her chair and collapses into it. “So. Where are we moving you? The tube is all ready.”

“B-22,” Bubby says. “Near the break room. The L-shaped one.”

“The storage room?”

“It’s been years since it’s stored anything but dust.”

Zeki frowns, ripping the tinfoil off a pen. “You don’t need to do this, you know.”

“You offered, didn’t you? A real scientist is willing to try new things.”

She grits her teeth. “I’ll get it cleared with -”

“Aren’t you the department head?”

There’s a pause. Bubby doesn’t look away from Zeki, pale blue eyes staring into green.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll ask the cleaning crew to clear it out.”

Bubby smiles. “I’ll start packing my things.”

He turns on his heel, leaving Zeki to her paperwork and her tinfoil covered office.

Dekkard’s back in the breakroom, sat in the corner eating his doritos. “They are stale,” he informs Bubby as he sits down across from him.

“Zeki approved the room.”

Dekkard drops the bag. “She did?”

“Very begrudgingly, I might add. Though I think at least some of her frustration was due to the tinfoil covering every available surface.”

Dekkard beams at him. “Today has truly been a wonderful day.”

“I’ll miss you after she kills you.” Bubby reaches across the table, grabbing one of Dekkard’s doritos. They’re stale, and he doesn’t even like chips, but he hasn’t eaten since this morning. Dekkard nudges the bag closer to Bubby, and before he realizes it, the bag is empty. “Alright, well, I have other work to get back to.”

Dekkard frowns. “I think you mean you have lunch to get back to.”

“I don’t have time for that. I need-”

“To take a break.”

Bubby huffs. “I’m not going to let myself be lectured by someone half my age.”

“I’m not lecturing you! I’m just saying, you seem kinda stressed, and I was thinking of heading over to the cafeteria to get something more substantial. I thought maybe you’d wanna come with.”

“To the cafeteria? Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like there’s somewhere else we can get food,”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Come with me.” He doesn’t wait for Dekkard, standing up and leaving, though the sound of footsteps behind him means Dekkard must be following. “You know, cooking is a kind of science.”

“Is it?”

“I’d say so.” He leads Dekkard out of the Biological Research wing, down a flight of stairs. “And I think someone high up agreed with me, once.” The area they’re in was something, once, but now it’s abandoned. The lights burst years ago, the only illumination left coming from the level above.

“Did you bring me out here to kill me?” Dekkard asks, picking his way through the room.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Here, this way.” It takes Bubby a moment to pry the door open, the hinges stiff from disuse. “I have no idea what this used to be, but. No one ever comes here.”

It was likely a lab of some sort - of course it was, that’s what Black Mesa does - but it was surprisingly easy to turn it into a kitchen. There’s a makeshift stove, no source of fire since Bubby can make that himself but just something to hold the flames. Scales and flasks serve as something like measuring cups, and he’s stolen various blades from around the facilities, along with any else he can get his hands on. It’s messy, but it’s serviceable.

“I try to keep it decently stocked here, but it can be tricky to find ingredients. But I’m sure you’ll find anything we can make down here leagues better than the garbage they serve in the cafeteria.”

“Did you make this?” Dekkard asks, poking at a burner. “Shit, maybe you really are the Ultimate Lifeform or whatever. This is - I’ll admit it, this is clever.”

“I’m glad someone recognizes my genius.” He crosses the room, over to the makeshift freezer and his stolen microwave. “Do not tell anyone about this, though. I will kill you.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

“I don’t have the ingredients for anything too complicated. How do you feel about pasta? I’ve got some frozen pasta sauce I can heat up.”

Dekkard has made his way to the table. It was about to be thrown out when Bubby stole and repaired it all on his own. There’s only two chairs, but they at least are in good shape. “That sounds incredible.” He collapses into a chair, laying his head on the table. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten real food? Everything in the cafeteria tastes like cardboard.”

“I’m familiar,” Bubby says, getting out a pot. He lights the burner with a snap of his fingers, enjoying how Dekkard’s eyebrows raise up into his hairline.

He sits down across from Dekkard as he waits for the water to boil, drumming his fingers on the table. Dekkard keeps staring at the pot, then at Bubby.

“Is something wrong? You’re staring.”

“Have you really been here your whole life?” Dekkard asks. Bubby sighs.

“Yes.”

“You’ve never - I mean you’ve been outside, right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Sorry, that - that’s a rude question, huh?”

“A bit, yes.” The water sounds like it’s bubbling, so Bubby takes it as an excuse to get up. Dekkard remains seated. “Is there a reason you’re asking this?”

“Just thinking about - about Benrey.”

Bubby adds the pasta to the pot, stirring it. “Ah.”

“I’m not gonna try and say I get it, exactly, but I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, or anything, but -”

“I know what I’m doing, Dekkard.” He doesn’t have to turn to imagine the look on Dekkard’s face, one eyebrow raised and the other flat. “Yes, I’ll admit, I might be...attached. But I’m not an idiot, alright? I’ve heard all the stories.”

“Zeki tell you about Dr. Tipton?”

“She was trying to scare me. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with him. Whatever Benrey did, I’m sure he deserved it.”

Dekkard’s quiet for a moment. When Bubby turns, he’s staring at the pasta, hand resting on his chin.

“I can see the gears in your brain trying to work,” Bubby says, turning back.

“You think they’re like you.”

“They are like me.” He continues stirring, directing all his focus into the movements of his arm. “They didn’t even have a name. I can’t - I can do something, here. I can’t just sit by and ignore this when I can do something.”

No one ever did anything for him. He’d spent seventeen years in that god forsaken tube before anyone had even considered letting him out, and it was another twelve after that before he was allowed any scrap of freedom. Even now, his autonomy is challenged constantly, by scientists half his age with a fraction of his knowledge.

Benrey doesn’t even have the luxury of being a valued experiment. Based on what Zeki’s said, Benrey’s only kept around because nothing seems to kill them, and they’re interesting to study.

If Bubby can do something - anything - then he has to.

“Hey,” Dekkard says. “Uh. I think the pot is on fire.”

“Oh, motherfucker.” Bubby shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath, willing the flames to die down. “I was...distracted.”

“Can’t help but feel like that was my fault.”

“A little.”

“...sorry.”

It’s nothing unsalvageable, at least. The noodles are a bit too soft, but that’s fine.

He grabs the jar of sauce out of the freezer, heating it in his hands. He can feel Dekkard watching him as he scoops the noodles into bowls, pouring sauce over each serving. The air’s gone tense.

“Sorry,” Dekkard mumbles again as Bubby passes him a fork. He sighs.

“It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Look, I might be underqualified, but I’m not stupid. I see how Zeki and all the other guys talk to you. I don’t wanna be like that.”

“I put this area together five years ago,” Bubby says, spinning his noodles around his fork. “You are the first person I’ve ever invited down here.”

“Is this your way of saying we’re friends?”

Bubby purses his lips. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

Dekkard snorts. “Alright. Acquaintances.”

“Coworkers.”

“Oh, that’s harsh.”

“Shut up and eat your pasta.”

Dekkard does, for once, shut up. He eats like it’s the first meal he’s had in decades, like some kind of rabid animal, and then leans back against his chair.

“That was the best meal I’ve had since I started working here.”

“Well, if you behave, maybe there’ll be more in the future.”

“Can’t believe you’d stoop to bribes.”

It’s...nice, Bubby thinks. Sitting down here, eating and joking with someone. Maybe Dekkard was right when he called them friends.

Still won’t admit it out loud, though. He has some dignity left.

#hlvrai #bubby #bubby hlvrai #dr bubby #half life vr but the ai is self aware #cora writes #baby shoes au #i hope u all enjoy my favourite idiot <3 #adventures of cora

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

What movie or tv show scared you the most?

OH HEEHEEHEEEEEE MY TIME HAS COME

I think this was probably the sign I was meant to be a horror fan, because I'm gonna talk about two movies here and neither one is a standard horror film. Now, I avoided horror films like the plague, but I now realize that's because of my aversion to jumpscares and gore, which have very little to do with actual scary stuff. I feared actual horror imagery as a small child, but basically once I read Coraline it all just turned around because that book gave me nightmares but I actually WANTED those nightmares and kept going back to the book. So what are the movies I just COULD NOT contend with?

First up, I have found that a lot of people have said this one, but really and truly, fuck Chicken Run.

I was...maybe ten when I watched it. Signed up for a goofy claymation adventure. What did I get? First of all, a whole lot of bleak color palette that warned me that this was not going to be a happy story. We are then shown the stakes right away: our entire main cast lives in a dystopian prison and if they do not find a way to escape, they will die. One DOES die. This is where a lot of people say they noped out right away, but actually, the execution of the dinner chicken in the first scene was tame for me compared to what would come next.

The pie machine. It's assembled, it's talked about, and eventually our two leads fall into it in a way that is designed to be fatal. Look, there are a ton of horror tropes in this scene alone. I haven't seen it SINCE THE ONE AIRING and I can still vividly tell you a lot of this. And if I walked into a horror film and asked for this, I'd come out super satisfied, but I was not expecting horror from this. First of all, I remember vividly the shot where you're looking from Ginger's POV falling down the shaft and the divider comes up to shunt her into the "meat" line. It's incredibly claustrophobic and you just get this almost jumpscare reminder that the character through whose eyes you see is regarded as nothing more than meat to be consumed. There is then an array of blades designed for close calls, and dough that essentially glues the lead characters down to a conveyor belt so they have to helplessly watch the death machines that are coming. Sticky stuff that roots you to one spot; that's another thing that just REALLY unnerves me and I love it if I'm reading CreepyPasta but I was not reading CreepyPasta; I was watching a children's film. The leads escape certain death by jamming the gravy system, causing the machine to overload on pressure, and here I feel like I should've been relieved that they escaped but instead I was the most unsettled of all when the pressure meter started climbing. I don't know if this film *gave* me a phobia of industrial accidents or if it just awakened what was already in my OCD little brain, but suffice to say that after this movie, I was hyper-aware of my own fear of things like hissing steam, rising pressure meters, and being in a room where large metal things were clanking. (I'm since over it; I've been exposed to it in enough things.)

Now, I was no quitter. I should have just noped out. But I didn't. I continued to traumatize myself. The next part of the film until the climax I don't remember so well - it wasn't as traumatizing - EXCEPT for the part where Ginger finds and rebuilds Rocky's circus poster. And now, as an adult, I can see how that was kinda supposed to be funny, like, "The goddamn chicken padded his résumé and the way they found this out was a circus poster." But little me was invested in these chickens, I wanted them to be happy, and what I saw was basically their death notice being signed with that scrap of paper with a cannon on it. I FELT that in my bones.

STILL NOT HAVING THE GOOD SENSE TO JUST EJECT THE TAPE ALREADY, I proceeded to the climax, in which what happens to Tweedy might be one of the most fucking awful things I've seen ever? Pinned upside-down in a superheated, confined space with rising liquid from below as the pressure meter starts climbing again. And her husband arrives just in time to see her like this but not in time to actually stop the explosion. Thank God it didn't actually kill her because even though I was already traumatized, that would've absolutely made it worse.

Thing is, ever since this movie scared the absolute shit out of me - and was probably the cause of the weird stomachaches I had for A WEEK after - I've kinda had this thing about reclaiming the scary parts and stomping on them while laughing maniacally. I feel like every time I've done a crossover project, there's been a temptation to write in an arc where the mains go up against THE PIE MACHINE and fucking win. And also there's whump with tons of comfort in my version to mitigate it all. I haven't done any such thing for TBTC...YET. But I know what I must do. I know who must destroy the machine and the Tweedys along with it. Buckle your seatbelts.

My final word before I move on is that as I ascend into adulthood, I think that for the most part, a rewatch of this film wouldn't traumatize me so badly. It'd still be gross and creepy in a way I think shouldn't be sent to children without warning, but I could deal with the imagery, maybe enjoy using it as whump fuel even more, maybe my horror side would really get into the peril this time. But the one thing I've realized is that this premise is fucked EVEN MORE if you're a grown-up, because as a child, you're sympathizing with the chickens. You want them to get free of this death camp environment. But as an adult, you start to realize that all Tweedy wanted to do was be a chicken farmer who sold pie, and her supposedly nonsentient animals ganged up on her in a display of unheard-of intellect among farm stock. This would then lead to her undergoing at least one near-death fate. Think about being a farmer in our world and the animals you keep GANG UP ON YOU LIKE PEOPLE because you're killing them for food. No thank you, no THANK you.

But surely this was a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Surely, after this...after so many other people agreed with me; "Fuck Chicken Run"...no animation studio would ever pull shit like this again.

I had hoped that was the case until Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.

This is one I don't actually see lambasted as often. Maybe because the Chicken Run trauma crew grew thicker skins before this movie. I only sort of did. Maybe because no one ever actually invested in this film, having already predicted how much it would be garbage from the dumb humor in the trailers. Oh, but not me. I was a fool. Also my family picked it for a movie night so my fate was sealed anyway.

The original book is actually pretty frightening on its own. Food falls from the sky in such great numbers that it starts to destroy the world. Okay, that's terrifying. But kind of in the alluring way. I would keep coming back to the one page about the giant pancake on the school because the way it was drawn unsettled me so, with something huge and immovable blocking off the way to a building that usually has hundreds of innocent children inside. The film built on this and made it a thousand times worse.

Let's start with the goddamn Spray-On Shoe. Our main character is a mad scientist (but the good kind, apparently) whose list of bumbling failed experiments dates back to when he was a child and invented a spray you could put on your feet to coat them in shoes. He then gets laughed at because he didn't engineer a way to get the shoes off, and runs home in humiliation. Guys, the teasing/bullying factor is...not the most worrying thing about this story. There's a throwaway line about how Flint wears THE SAME SHOES into adulthood because to that day they simply cannot be removed. This seems like an incredibly urgent medical problem? Having your feet encased in the same rubber for years? The same rubber as when you're a kid? I just found myself thinking "What if my shoes never came off one day" and that terrifies me, okay? It's stupid and it's silly and it scares me. Even more than that, though, is the canonization of a polymer in this universe that can be sprayed on sticky and will literally never break no matter what you do to it, because that goes back to the pie machine dough principle. Being glued to a surface permanently is inherently terrifying and we'll go over this later because this is not the last fuckin time the glue shoes get brought up.

Flint invents a food-spewing machine. It ends up in the sky. He rides his popularity as it rains larger and larger food down upon the town and also the world. Most of this film up until the climax is unsettling but not AWFUL. Where it starts to go to shit is when Flint realizes his machine is too dangerous and shuts it off, only for the town's local greedy politician to switch it back on into an apocalyptic mode. So can we start with "Local town finds out its elected official is willing to sabotage their well-being in order to capitalize on the fame of a disaster-causing object?". Like, the whole film would've been solved so much sooner if there hadn't been a saboteur in the works - not a fun campy villain, mind you, but a saboteur who exists to drive the plot to the scary place. But I guess we need that narrative tension to justify having a film in the first place, so fine, I'll ride it out.

The main crew saddles up to fly out to the machine, which is now encased in a FLESH LABYRINTH of food, and...I'm just gonna rapid-fire the shit that happens at this part:

-The food turns sentient in order to defend itself. The cute animal sidekick brutally dismembers an army of gummy bears that is fully sentient and rips them apart to devour them.

-We enter the flesh labyrinth and it's exactly as much a horror RPG setting as you think it is.

-Now sentient cooked chickens besiege the party. The comic relief character is consumed by one, only to kill it from the inside and decide to WEAR ITS SKIN in what is seen as his defining character arc's conclusion. Wearing the skin of a dead monster allows him to forge his new identity.

-One of our party has to go back because of a tight passage lined with her deadly allergen, causing her to undergo anaphylaxis after an accidental mild nick. In the flesh labyrinth.

-The entire horrific journey is instantly INVALIDATED when it turns out that instead of the kill code for the machine, all Flint has is a file of a cat video. Which he finds out as the town is about to be obliterated off the face of the earth.

-So he solves it by jamming the works with the spray-on shoe and DID I NOT JUST GO OVER HOW HORRIFIC INDUSTRIAL EXPLOSIONS ARE IN KIDS' MOVIES? DID I NOT? ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN? Anyway it's canonical proof that NOTHING can break the shoe glue and I should be happy for the town and happy that there's no more flesh labyrinth of living meat but instead I'm just terrified because of the door we have opened. We have imparted the existence of an indestructible sticky polymer upon the world.

-It's later seen used in a credits sequence to repair damaged houses. Which, first of all, given its flexible nature, is fuckin stupid. It won't serve as an actual wall. Second, that got me thinking about construction accidents involving the fuckin shoe glue. If that stuff gets dripped on a person's face -

-So then cue me sitting awake in bed later thinking wide-eyed about Cloudy with a Chance of Fucking Meatballs and realizing that this compound that is essentially a chemical weapon in the making is now in the hands of the mayor who deliberately caused an apocalyptic event over the town because he wanted the food rain. And THAT'S not going to lead to pretty circumstances.

I think you'll see that a lot of my fears with these two movies is "THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!" and I think that just shows how my mind works and why I'm drawn to fanfic so much. I'm all about diving into a universe, exploring its corners, analyzing it to death.

And with the industrial horror stuff, I kinda wanna bring it around to two other films that actually really subverted my expectations and made it fun. 102 Dalmatians was a fave of mine through middle school, but I remember when the climax took us to a big ol' factory and I got plumb nervous. After the usual blades and ovens of horror, the fact that it concludes with Cruella basically wearing a cake and a lengthy montage of the dogs kicking toppings onto her is just one of the most wholesome imageries. She survived the thing and now you get to watch her be decorated Lisa Frank style by her victims who are more interested in humiliation than murder, and I love that.

But maybe more prevalent is that I'm well aware that if certain filmography or plot points had been handled in different ways, The Boxtrolls might've actually frightened the ever-loving fuck out of me what with all the industrial stuff and medical horror, but I just...felt like that film was holding my hand the whole way through going "It's okay." The industrial stuff was framed in a way that was just campy enough and yet also taken seriously. Putting a really charismatic villain - ACTUAL VILLAIN, NOT CHICKEN FARMER OR CORRUPT POLITICIAN SABOTEUR - at the wheel was just such a mitigating factor that it gelled the whole thing together and I ended up LOVING what was done with giant machines and garbage crushers and explosions. And as for the medical body horror, I really appreciate how it was so baked in that Snatcher did that to himself - that everyone, EVERYONE warned him "Do not do this, you will probably die, I'm serious, bad fucking idea" up to the point of Eggs trying to plead him during an anaphylaxis attack, one last time, DO NOT continue down this path, we can find a way to heal you psychologically and get you some self-fulfillment. And Snatcher fully chooses hubris over the many, many opportunities offered him to be able to step down onto a safer path and that removes the fear and pulls it more into a tragedy for the villain. Not at all the same thing as "Sam the reporter is trying to save the world and doing her best until a fixture of the landscape accidentally sends her into anaphylaxis."

(Oh, and by the way, can I just - when I do see CWACOM brought up these days, it's always in the context of "This is the one movie where the guy tells the girl it's okay to look nerdy!". Well, no, not the way I remember it. The way I remember it, Sam basically tells Flint "I used to have really tacky style but have since changed it up of my own volition" and Flint is just like "NOOOOO YOU NEED TO WEAR GLASSES AND A SCRUNCHIE. I WANT A HOT NERD GIRL." This could've been pulled off right with some more introspection into female beauty standards, even in a tongue-in-cheek way, but right now it really looks like Sam just wanted to make herself more glam for a new image and Flint bullied her into regressing her style. Which I've also realized meant he bullied her into dressing more like she did as a teenager and normally I think that kind of shit is just "You're overthinking it" but since it's CWACOM and I spelled it out on paper like that, I'm just now realizing how that can be seen as pretty...icky.)

The one saving grace of CWACOM is that I was older by that time, and so it didn't affect me as hard as Chicken Run. But I still hold it dearly to my heart as one of the MOST DISTURBING movies I know, and by "dearly" I mean "fuck this movie, really and truly." I want to extend my thanks to 102D and Boxtrolls for giving me industrial-horror-based climaxes that were actually really comfortable, and again, probably what drove both of these was the fact that we had a campy diva villain in the lead for the potential scary stuff to surround and radiate off. Not a fuckin...ordinary chicken farmer who is just trying to make bank but is somehow passed as a Nazi allegory for trying to live her life as a farmer? I dunno, maybe if I rewatched that film I'd see she has a thirst for human blood too, and if I could fix fic Chicken Run my first order of business would be to give her a thirst for human blood instead of/in addition to chickens.

Anyway. Fuck both these films, EXCEPT for the fact that traumatizing scenarios can always be recast as whump material, and the next time I wanna do some crossover aftercare from a physically and psychologically damaging mission, I have a pie machine and a flesh labyrinth to exploit. REALLY HEAVY ON THAT AFTERCARE COMFORT THOUGH!

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