#he simultaneously thinks all the time and hasn't had a thought in his life
Text
03/03/24 Twitter Space Recap (2/2)
After the other Twitter Space which I already made a recap for, Martin, Eva ("Bon" and Bon's VA), Coral (Susan's VA), and Kyle (Boozoo & Charles' VA) reconvened for another space, this time with a Q&A focus, later in the day. This one was really long, and they talked about a lot, but I've summarized it here to the best of my ability:
-Someone asks "What would Jenny major in college? Because it's implied that she's in college." Martin answers (reiterating an answer he gave in a previous Space) that she studies psychology. Coral chimes in to say that they think Jenny would understand Sophie and her trauma a lot better for it, and Martin agrees, saying "Yeah, yeah, I think Jenny has a really good understanding of how Sophie thinks because of that."
-Someone asks "Hypothetically, which Tyler, The Creator album would be Sophie's favorite?". Martin answers that he thinks it would be Flower Boy.
-"When Jack and Rosemary argue, Jack sleeps on the couch and he goes to Molly, and he goes like 'Hey, could you go pick that up for me? I don't want to enter the room,' 'cause, like, whenever Rosemary is mad she's actually really scary. So Jack just doesn't- doesn't get involved. He just sleeps on the couch."
-Eva goes, "Martin, didn't we agree before that if Sophie and Brian ever met, Sophie would just kick his ass?". Martin answers, "Yeah, Sophie would hate Brian."
-"Okay, here's a Jophie fact, Jophie wasn't even supposed to be, like, an actual relationship, at first. Originally, it was gonna be, like, they would gradually start dating as the series went on. But then, we were like, Y'know what, it's way easier if they are already a couple... Imagine if you're going through the animatronic drama, and simultaneously it's just these two girls falling in love, in the middle of all that shit."
-"Will Richie appear again?" At this point the battery in Martin's phone has died, but nobody has noticed, so Eva steps in to answer, "Martin has had plans to bring Richie back for more stuff, but he hasn't really done anything with him yet, but I dunno." Kyle says he doesn't remember who Richie is, which is really funny to me.
-Someone asks if either Sophie or Jenny would like Weezer, and Coral says they think Jenny would like them unironically, but Sophie would like something like Buddy Holly ironically. Martin answers, "Y'know, I think Sophie- I've always thought that Sophie isn't the kinda person to like- like, experimental or artistic stuff too much, because she's like a very- a person that gets confused very easily. So, she would listen to stuff like Weezer and she would think internally, like, 'what the fuck is this?', but she'd go like "Oh, this is fire, Jenny, I love- I love it."'
-Kyle says he thinks it's important for Jenny to be a bit of a loser, in an endearing way. Eva slightly disagrees, saying Jenny would probably be the cool one between them, while Sophie is an absolute loser. Martin says, "I was trying to say, before we change the subject, the way I see it is that, to me, Sophie has a lot of like, street smarts, and Jenny is more like a very dorky person that probably just, like, lived a very normal and fulfilled life, y'know? She just, like, lived in the suburbs, with supporting people in her life. I think Sophie, yeah, she's kind of loser, but I think, in a way, in my opinion I think Sophie's a little braver than Jenny is. I've always seen them like that."
-Coral says, "I feel like Sophie wouldn't really know how to emote properly." and Martin says, emphatically, that she doesn't. Coral describes a scenario where Jenny is upset or scared by something, and is crying. and how Sophie would try her best to comfort her, but would really not know what to do, and would struggle immensely in a situation like that. Martin adds an anecdote, "Yeah, no, I-I told this to Eva one time, Sophie doesn't cry. Jenny has never- has never seen Sophie cry, ever."
-Eva says, "I think, like, um- [Sophie's], like, lack of really, like, full awareness of what's going on for episode 3- like, seeming really 'dead', the whole time, is like- while it could be seen as like, bad writing, it- I think it also can be taken as a part of her character. And that's also, like, further emphasized in future episodes, and here emotions are just, like really--" and Coral interrupts, saying, "No offense to Martin, but I feel like it's a mix of both."
Martin says, ""Yeah, it's a mix of both. It- the intention of making her seem like someone who wasn't really 'in there', at the time, someone who wasn't really like, aware of what's going on, is just like, barely even phased by it, was there, but it was just mostly bad writing. The way I see it is that, back then I didn't trust the series as much as I trust it now, so I was always making sure that people would understand stuff the way that I intended it to, and that resulted in Sophie just saying everything out loud. Like, 'this is very weird!'"
-Eva talks for a bit about how she gets frustrated when Crystal, Sophie's VA, gets criticism over her performance, when the problem really laid with Martin's writing. She says that one of her favorite aspects of Crystal's performance as Sophie is that she sounds very childlike, not in the way of her actually being a child, but in seeming very much like someone who never really grew out of being a child.
On this topic, Martin says, "Or- to me, more like Sophie being someone who never grew out of being a child- is someone who was forced to grow up very quickly. So, so she doesn't know how to be- she didn't get to know how to be a child, but she didn't get to know how to be an adult, either. So she's, like, stuck and is constantly- she doesn't really know what to do most of the time, because- she doesn't really understand what she's supposed to do and how she's supposed to do things."
-Eva says, "Sophie is like, probably one of the most interesting characters in the series to me, and I can't wait for her to come back, 'cause she's so interesting." and Martin responds, "Oh, yeah! I really- because I think if she comes back, she's gonna feel so different, with like, the new style of writing, and stuff. I think, um, something I really like about Sophie is that, uh, I really like how people think of Sophie like this fucking girl- oh, I mean, back in the day, I don't know how it is now, but back in the day people would think Sophie would be like, this very soft and shy person, but, no, in a way, Sophie's a very mean person! She's like, something I always thought about when it comes to her character is that she is- she has so many weak, like, social skills, that she usually gets very defensive with anybody."
-Eva talks about how Sophie is definitely a very walled-off and antisocial person, and how she tends to push people out of her life, aside from Jenny, and Martin says, "And, like, Sophie fucking hated Jenny at the beginning. [laughing] Like, she didn't hate her, but I remember telling you specifically how they met, and it took a while- not- not a while-while, but it took some time for Sophie to get used to Jenny, and actually start developing feelings for her." Coral compares the evolution of their relationship to the process of taming a feral cat.
-Eva says, "Someone said, 'What animal would Sophie be if she was an animal,' I think she'd be a deer." Martin says, "I think she'd be a WOLF! A WEREWOLF!" Kyle says he thinks if Sophie is a deer, Jenny should be a moose.
-Martin reads a question, "'Besides painting, what other art does Rose make?' Okay, this was an idea from back when Coker was part of the team, that, we wanted to make, like, a third Showstopper album, which was going to be songs composed by Rose. So, Rose was kind of like a songwriter."
-Eva says, "Someone asked for a Richie fact, and asked if he's friends with Chris." Martin hems and haws, going "Oh, I wanna talk about it, but I don't know if I should!", but then says, "Yeah, they're friends."
Kyle says he thinks they would hold hands, "In a platonic way, because it's cold outside." Martin jokes, saying, "I think they would hold hands... in a romantic way!"
-Martin reads a question, saying he thinks Kyle would enjoy answering it, "Is Felix Kranken religious? If so, what's his religion?", and Kyle says he has an idea that Felix isn't religious and never has been, but during his lowest moments in life, he prays. "He is an incredibly superstitious person, so when the going gets really bad, all he can think to do is drop to his knees, and just home that somebody's listening."
Martin says, "The Waltens actually- I mean, Sophie, Edd, and Molly aren't, but Jack and Rosemary are Christian." Eva jokes that she thinks Edd & Molly are Satanists.
-Coral asks what everything thinks is the worst thing Edd & Molly have done, and Martin says, "From the top of my head, like something I'm just making up, I really think something they would do, is they would buy all of Jack's socks, and change them for smaller ones so they don't fit his feet. So he has to go to work with, like, really tiny socks."
-Eva reads a question, "Where's Brian Stells hiding? Like, where's his spirit hiding." Martin and Eva both say that they think his ghost lingered around for a while, but that he probably just died. Like, nothing special happened to his ghost. Eva shares an idea she has, that Bon probably realized, at some point while killing Brian, that he wasn't Sophie, but continued to mutilate him out of anger that he wasn't her.
-Martin goes, "What do you think made him realize [that Brian wasn't Sophie]? I like to think that Bon looked at him, and was like, 'wait, Sophie's not fucking blonde, is she?', and he took like three seconds to remember."
-Eva reads, "Can we get a CyberTelly fact?" and Kyle answers, "CyberTelly used to be a car salesman before he joined Bon's Burgers."
-Eva goes, "Wait, Martin, didn't we agree at one point that Bon would have a ridiculous amount of exes? He's like Ramona Flowers?" and Martin laughs and agrees emphatically. He says, "So fucking funny- Bon has a fucking ex-wife that's literally just a female version of Bon. Like, Bon with a pink bowtie."
-Eva says, "Someone just asked, 'What's Richie's last name', can we just come up with the stupidest last name for him on the spot?". They spitball a bunch of really stupid answers, and land on "Richie Ratterson".
-Martin reads a question, "'Are we going to see Showbear's replacement in 5 & 6?' Yep!"
-They start talking about how Felix has a new voice actor, but at the time of the Space, they hadn't actually told him yet, that he had been picked to be Felix's new VA. They invite him to the stream and tell him live! He's very thankful and very surprised. You can find him on Twitter Here!
-Martin posted this (and deleted it after five seconds) to celebrate Felix's new voice actor. Isn't it nice don't you guys love it
After posting this he kept going "Toxic Yaoi!" in a very sing-song way.
-Coral complains that they never got kissing art when they became a VA for The Walten Files, so Martin drew this for them, and again deleted it after a couple seconds:
-Coral talks about a while about how, just before the Space, everyone speaking in the space (minus Connor, Felix's new VA) watched the finished portions of TWF6. They gush for a bit about just how good it was, and how nice it was to see everyone's hard work come together and how glad they are that everyone seems so proud of and happy with the episode.
-Martin answers a question, "Please, Martin, can you draw Felix and "Bon", I'll take it over Jelix, please don't draw that again," with, "Don't worry, don't worry, you're going to see Felix and "Bon", eventually."
-Martin talks for a bit about how he found out PepsiCo supports Israel, and how mad he is, because in Bon's Burgers there's a Pepsi ad on the wall, and it's in virtually every scene, and can't be removed. He apologizes preemptively, saying "I created that map before being made aware of that, so I'm sorry in advance for that."
-In the last minute of the space, Martin attempts a lightning round Q&A session, answering as many questions as he can as quickly as he can. Here are those answers:
-"Would Jenny listen to Ska? Okay, sure, why not."
-"Do Derek Collins and/or Frank Davis appear in 5 or 6? Yeah, Derek appears."
-"Would Sophie be an Undertale fan? No."
-My audio blipped out this part of the recording, so I can't transcribe it, but someone asked who would win in a fight, Jack or Susan. Martin initially answered Jack, but after thinking about it for another moment, decides Susan would probably win.
-"Is Susan and cat or dog person? Probably cat."
#the walten files#okay this wasn't as bad as i thought it was going to be. i didnt need to put it off for this long#i mean writing this did take me like 3 hours because that's how long this recording is. but its ok#they did a lot more just chatting between themselves than like. Walten Files Facts. so not too much to write down#twitter space recap
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
Weird shower thought fantasy / crossover idea / headcanon
Partially in honor of the WHB devs finally releasing Lucifer (Selfie)
What In Hell Is Bad and Obey Me! actually take place in the same world, but WHB takes place before Obey Me, in the bad old days.
And God was upset that the kings had it so rough and reflected on himself a little. "Damn, I feel guilty about how those beautiful creations of mine died due to my negligence."
And so he decided they should be one big happy family.
He scoured Hell for what remained of the demon kings after a massive war that damn near destroyed both Heaven and Hell and gave their essence to his new creations. So, basically, he reincarnated them.
The birth/creation order was mostly determined by whose essence he was able to find first. Of course, that essence was mostly their sins that they left behind, so when they all fell from Heaven, they essentially resumed their duties as the seven kings.
And, purely because WHB Satan was (obviously) practically obliterated, God said "A'ight Luci's got a festering angie monster inside of him, so I'll just put what consciousness I could find from WHB Satan in there so it'll be kinda reasonable when he has to let it all out. Thank me later, son :P" <- the reason Luci became a single mother father.
Luci: Thanks a lot, God. First the virgin Mary and now this??
Funnily enough what God found was mostly WHB Satan's sweet side, which is the reason that OM Satan resembles (and likes) cats. The only one who didn't inherit the sin from his predecessor got it anyway because of his dad. Go figure.
The countries (Abyssos, Tartaros, Gehenna, etc.) no longer existed after the war, and Diavolo's lineage, which was probably descendent of one or more of the WHB's kings' vassals, was the one trying to pick up the pieces. The war continued because many of the angels were still complete dicks, but Diavolo's family eventually eradicated what had survived from The Big War™.
Excluding Gabriel, because Gabriel is a prick.
Which may or may not have been a factor in Lucifer falling from Heaven because he killed Gabriel on his way down. You know, because Gabriel was probably Lilith's executioner, given his history.
Then Diavolo, to signal the fresh start, said "We're not calling it Hell and Heaven anymore, now it's "The Devildom" and "The Celestial Realm." Less stigma. Very good."
And our dear Solomon? Well, you know how he is... I think there's definitely some things he hasn't told you...
Like how he was technically dead for a hot minute because of some magical mishap, which translated into a few thousand years in hell because of the way time flows there. His experiment gone wrong is also the reason why his appearance changed so drastically.
You'll ask him one day, "Hey, did you have purple hair in the past?" and he'll just start sweating profusely because he's very embarrassed about how often he did some *ahem* interesting things with the former demon kings. Asmo is the only one who still has that feeling from his past life :)
And, as far as how time flows and MC frequently traveling between the human world and hell in OM!, the travel is actually magically controlled by Barbatos, our resident overpowered god, who was annoyed by the time dilation/contraction and wanted to just visit his favorite tea shops in the human world whenever he wanted without f*cking around.
I mean, all of the demon kings knew how to go back and forth, but they had to do overly complicated shit to do it, so Barbie just said "sharing is caring" and perfected the magic by the OM! time period.
Of course there's an implication here that all events in Heaven/Hell are technically happening simultaneously from a human world perspective. Which isn't trippy at all.
And yes, OM! Barbatos and WHB Barbatos know each other. Because OM! Barbatos is (obviously) from a parallel dimension and took WHB Barbatos' name since he enjoyed the rose gardens WHB Barbie tended to. It's out of respect since he faithfully died for Leviathan in the bad old days.
Flawless joining of the worlds without a hint of plotholes (sarcasm).
(This is so random, but I hope y'all enjoyed my fever dream.)
#why is it always in the shower#obey me shall we date#what in hell is bad#crossover idea#headcanon#shower thoughts#obey me!#shameless self indulgence#fanfiction#obey me#random thoughts#whb
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
the popular fandom conventions of babying Chay and adultifying Kim are. well, not at all how either character ever acts in canon, but they also just feel inauthentic because that's not how people their respective ages would act.
teenagers try to act older than they are! esp 17yos, who usually deal with a lot of peer and societal pressure(/reinforcement) of "you're about to become an ADULT" even if their actual emotional maturity hasn't reached that state. the way they act adult is often as hilarious as it is wonderful. teens generally put a lot of thought into how they present themselves (alongside simultaneously budding confidence and paralyzing anxiety over how they act) and push for a more serious persona that's usually belied by the depth of their passion vs any specific speech or action coding. Chay actually has a lot more maturity than the average teen due to his circumstances growing up (lbr he raised himself as much as Porsche did and definitely more than Arthee) and a lot of that shines through in his general confidence and strong sense of self/his wants, but Porsche also worked very hard to make sure Chay also got to be a kid and Chay's demeanor reflects that.
21/22yo really isn't that much older. very often for early 20s to have more confidence than they did as teens but still a lot of anxiety about sense of self. there can be a lot of restlessness in this age group regardless of what path they're walking because it's an age where there's a lot of pressure to Figure Out Your Life but you're still very young to knowing who you are and there's still so much changing and growing to come -- even though you're "more adult" and oftentimes expected to be more settled, everything is still so changeable. I think this is an age where people start letting up some reservations towards "childish" things because there's often a sense of comfort associated with those things, but that also clashes with the pressure of "now I'm a proper adult, I need to act like it" (not that they know what that looks like either). and for Kim, despite his circumstances, he's still characterized with very similar and familiar pressures due to his push-pull relationship with his family and the fact that he's an unwilling lone wolf. sure, he is a lone wolf by nature, but he doesn't want to be cut off the way he is and he didn't want to leave as soon as he did, he did it because he had to, and that shows itself so heavily in the way he's so startled when people (who aren't his brothers) show him genuine affection and consideration beyond general courtesy. Kim feels both older and younger at times due to his personal trauma, but he still very much behaves and acts like a 21/22 yo.
both of them are still just kids and neither of them act wildly older nor younger than they really are.
#like. you were all teens at one point. why do you keep writing chay like hes seven#kim i just. sigh very heavily intoy hands#please#kinnporsche#kimchay
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
all roads lead back to you (even the ones i took to forget)
"Can you keep a secret?" Scott asks.
He's standing in front of the Secret Keeper, a monolith of stone and silence, eyes glowing with reflected starlight. His lips curl in a soft smile, simultaneously distant and inviting and just a little bit teasing. He looks like a memory long forgotten.
Jimmy doesn't think he can breathe. The aching familiarity presses behind his eyes, digs between his bones, where he'd thought he'd buried it. If he squeezes his eyes shut, he thinks, he could imagine that the loam beneath his feet is blooming. He can feel petals in his hair.
"Yeah," he manages, finally, trying to ignore the way his voice rasps, raw desperation scraping his throat. Tell me anything. Anything at all, as long as it's us. Scott smiles wider, one hand reaching up to adjust the poppy crown atop his head. Jimmy remembers weaving the stems together, fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as the winter chill bit at him (Dogwarts had always been a good place to find poppies, funnily enough), and the crown had ended up lopsided. He remembers the warmth of embarrassment in his cheeks as he presented it to Scott, expecting kindly mocking laughter, only to blink at his sudden grin. He doesn't think Scott had taken it off since.
"I think I'm still in love with you." If he had thought he was breathless before, it's nothing compared to now, as a little, crushed sound punches its way out of his chest. It's too much and not enough, all at once. He's not sure how he's denied himself this for so long, especially since it's been right at his fingertips the whole time. He's choking on the words, saccharine, honey-sweet.
"Say it back." Scott's smile turns sharp. Jimmy opens his mouth. He wants to, feels the words in the way his ribs curl over his chest, caging his rebelling heart. I know, he wants to say, I know I want this, and I know I'm not supposed to. I know I've denied this for so long. I know I've hurt you, I've had your blood in my mouth and I liked the taste, but I don't want to anymore. I know I shouldn't feel this and I know I feel it anyways.
I know that I'm in love with you too.
The words stick in his throat. The words stick in his throat, and he bites his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. He's struck mute, caged in by an invisible force pressing down on his chest. And all the while, Scott stands there, eyes bright and knowing, with fingers like claws as he curls them around Jimmy's chin to tilt his head upwards. When did he get so close?
"You can't say it, can you?" Scott practically sneers, an edge to his voice that borders on vindictive. "Because you're a coward, isn't that right? Or maybe," and his voice drops, low enough that he has to strain to hear it, "maybe you never even loved me at all. Maybe it was all a means to an end to you, watching me trail after you, helpless, hopeless."
No, he wants to argue, no, that's not it, I just- but he wouldn't know what to say even if he could say it. Maybe that's the worst part; the not knowing. Why does anybody love anybody? Why does anybody leave anybody?
Scott has a crown of poppies and eyes full of stars, and he is an unattainable wish just out of Jimmy's reach, because he's too scared to reach out and get burned-
Wait.
Something isn't right. This isn't right.
Scott doesn't wear poppies anymore. Hasn't, since Third Life. The sky is too bright, the air too thin. He can't feel Scott's hands on his face.
The man tilts his head, a lock of blue hair falling into his face. "I'm the closest you'll ever get to the real thing, darling."
Jimmy sits bolt upright, hands clutching at the sheets of his bed. A dream. How cliché. It doesn't make it feel any less real, though. It doesn't stop the crushing weight in his chest. It doesn't stop him mouthing the words he couldn't say. I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou-
It doesn't stop them leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, from causing him to curl in on himself and think, maybe I'm not cut out for this.
A flash of red catches his eye, and he nearly gives himself whiplash with how quickly he turns to look.
It's... a poppy. Because of course it is. Jimmy vaguely remembers picking it up when he was wandering aimlessly, nearly second nature. Now it's lying on top of one of his chests, inadvertently making his heart beat faster. Jimmy swallows. Because you're a coward, isn't that right?
Love you! Scott- the real Scott- had called, waving a cheery goodbye. Jimmy had stopped dead, waiting. Waiting for the hunger, the burning, barely-disguised desperation of Limited Life. He had been waiting for Scott to beg.
And then, he hadn't. He'd just smiled- casual, not soft or deadly, not anything at all. He'd smiled, and he'd left, leaving Jimmy in a half-daze, with nothing to say back, not even the poor excuse of thirty minutes.
He wonders, if he dreamt for long enough, if he'd find the right words to say to him. A mix between I love you and I'm sorry and everything but silence. Anything but damning silence.
He's not sure he wants to know, he realizes, as he bends down to examine the flower. It's just beginning to wilt, the edges of the petals wrinkling. One dislodges itself and floats on the slight breeze. Jimmy follows it with his eyes, far too fond for something as simple as this.
He doesn't want to just dream it.
He picks up the poppy, gently, as another petal drifts to the floor. "It's a start," he says quietly, feeling the wry smile quirking at his lips. For old times' sake, he imagines he'll claim, and maybe Scott will smile, bright green eyes accented by the smudged blue eyeliner he's taken to wearing. Thank you, he might say, too raw, too earnest, or I thought I was the sentimental one? And Jimmy will laugh, and Scott will grab his wrist and tell him to stick around a little longer, just to catch up.
And maybe, just maybe, it'll be forgiveness.
#oops! all dream sequence#local aromantic writes romance again; is not sorry#life series#secret life#secret life smp#flower husbands#smajor1995#solidaritygaming#fic#does jimmy even have a house? idfk
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi again, so the second chapter! I hope y'all like this fluff. I gave my best on this chapter, however this is my first fic and english is not my first language, so apologies if anything sounds confusing, and please let me know in the comments. Again, any spanish spoken will be translated in the end, so don't worry ;)
Title: One And The Opposite
Rating: Teens and Up (swearing, mentions of sex)
Summary: After filling the shoes of his alternate self in a parallel universe, Miguel O'Hara swiftly discovers that embodying a different version of himself is far more challenging than he initially anticipated. As he juggles with the complexities of family dynamics, with a wife and daughter who both expect him to be the man they remember, he tries to stay afloat, grappling with the pros and cons of navigating two lives simultaneously.
OR
A domestic Miguel trying his best.
Chapter 2: Sweet reunion
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!" he hears a voice shout from down the hallway, as the door slams shut, followed by the loud noise of keys rattling and plastic bags crinkling.
Miguel turns around to look at her for the first time, and it's nothing like he thought it would be, to say the least. He imagines it’s like if he were living life immersed in tiger illustrations, and then got to see the real thing for the very first time. It feels like he’s standing in the presence of a real tiger, with its raw power, the rhythmic pulse of its fur, and the untamed wilderness echoing in its eyes. His breath catches as he steps back to really look at her in awe.
Moving through the kitchen in a busy sway, she goes about putting the groceries away, all the while speaking almost too fast to understand like every Spanish speaker ever. It’s as if she hasn't even spotted him there yet — so comfortable with his presence.
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a... estas bien?" She asks, getting on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss.
As much as he tries not to, Miguel is startled by the sudden contact, and it must show on his face because she notices too.
"Que te pasa, mi amor?" She asks, a look of confusion in her face that makes her look even more beautiful.
"I uh... I... Just got robbed." He blurts out.
Even after a day of practicing his Spanish accent, English still instinctively surfaces as his immediate response — it's become much more natural than his native language at this point. The perplexity in her eyes immediately turns into worry as she puts a hand on his face and examines him up and down.
"Are you ok? Did they hurt you!?" She thankfully also speaks English, although with a slight accent that Miguel can’t quite figure out where it’s from.
"No, no, yo estoy bien. I'm fine just... A little shaken. He had a gun." He answers, gently holding her hand back.
She stares at him, a twinge of shock coloring her features, then looks down at his hand. He gets worried for a second that even though his talons are concealed, something else might be giving him away. Something he doesn’t know about. He can't help the way his heart must be beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of his chest.
"Well, you're safe now, okay? Don't worry about it too much." The way she casually utters it confirms for him that this sort of thing happens frequently here. She only smiles sympathetically at him, not even asking what they took — if anything.
He sighs in relief as she says that, and smiles back, taking the chance to get a good look at her face.
Brown eyes like his, a few moles here and there. Worry lines between her brows that paint a picture of a woman who hasn't had everything handed to her, or the easiest life. He can't help but think he chose well.
"Listen, I can go pick up Briella, you stay here and I'll-" she says, swiftly turning around to grab her keys.
"No, no, it's okay, I can do it. It's fine." He quickly insists, knowing he has to use every opportunity to get to know his family, and his alternate version better.
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor." She warns, placing another kiss on his lips.
*
He gets there early, watching from his car as some parents start making their way towards the entrance. While he contemplates waiting inside the front office — an idea that might be a bit excessive, though it would allow him to catch an earlier glimpse of Gabriella — staying in the car seems neglectful at best. So he settles on waiting near the front of the school until the bell rings.
When it finally does, a crowd of kids emerges from the building, and with them a cacophony of screams and voices as he nervously shifts his weight around, willing himself to stay calm while trying to spot his daughter in the crowd.
“¿Apá?” She asks, right next to him . Miguel looks down at her, startled.
He must have been so distracted looking through hundreds of faces, that he didn’t even notice her coming up to him. It doesn’t help that she’s tiny, barely reaching past his hips, and the school uniform makes her blend right in with the navy blue crowd.
“Oh hi there! You scared me!” He tells her with a laugh, trying to play it off.
Gabriella blinks at him. “You didn’t wait in the car this time.”
Uh oh. Is that bad? Maybe she was embarrassed of leaving with her father, maybe the kids would make fun of her for it now. He quickly scans the surroundings, seeing not that many kids leaving with their parents.
“Uh… Right. Well, I wanted to walk with you, if that’s ok…” He explains, fighting the urge to lean down so she doesn’t feel as small to him.
Thankfully she just shrugs, and turns to leave after he offers to carry her backpack for her. They start walking in silence, with Miguel more afraid of being found out than he was earlier, with her mother.
It’s silly, really: She’s a child, barely nine years old. However, his mind keeps racing trying to figure out what to say, what to ask that’s not going to give him away immediately, while at the same time reassuring himself that it’s okay, that she doesn’t know yet.
“So… How was school?” He asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“It was alright.” She answers dryly, staring at the floor as she walks.
“Soo was it alright as in boring, or…?” He risks the question, wanting to know more about her day.
She seems pensive for a moment, considering him. “It’s just that the boys keep making fun of me and Isa again. Even Sam joined in, and he doesn't even play soccer!” She frowns, continuing. “They keep saying we’re never gonna play like Messi Jr because we’re girls.”
He can feel his fists closing into tight balls when she says that. He knows first hand just how insufferable boys her age could get, especially dealing with Kron and all the hell he’d put him through at school, but he also knows that when it comes to girls they act ten times worse.
So even though he has no idea who ‘Messi Jr’ is, he figures instead of speaking out of anger and cursing the hell out of these boys, he should at least try and help her with her insecurities instead.
“Why are you worried about being exactly like Messi Jr when you can be so much better than him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
She keeps silent for a moment, seeming hesitant. “Really? You think so?”
“Of course I do! You’re great!” He answers honestly.
Miguel remembers watching her play a little fútbol prior to coming here. He had been surprised to find out how good she played for her age before…
Suddenly, he’s almost overwhelmed by the thought of what would have happened to her had he not been here. He has a vision of this lovely little girl he just met being thrusted into a childhood filled with grief.
No paternal figure there for her. A perpetual sadness that got particularly worse on every father’s day, an endless list of things he would never get to teach her. A constant wondering of what it could have been, what would have been like to have him there.
He can’t help but feel glad that he could take his place. That he could be there for her in this way and fill this void. It’s an impossible responsibility, yet one he’s happy to take nonetheless.
Shaking his thoughts away, he continues. “And besides, it’s like you said, right? What does Sam know about soccer, he doesn’t even play! Also, there are some great women players around the world too.” He smiles with a sudden enjoyment, excited to play this role the best way he knew how to.
Gabriella looks like she notices his thrilled state, eyeing him sideways with a curious look. “I know, I know. It’s just that it annoys me, you know?” she says, back to looking pensive.
“Yeah, that’s… True. And the more it annoys you, the more they do it…” He admits, more to himself than her.
Miguel didn’t want to be a walking cliché. He didn’t have much advice to give her, besides things he really wanted to say but couldn’t. Like: She’s a lovely little girl, that he’s glad to be here for her and she’s actually so much more than he ever imagined, that she could be anything she put her mind to, and already he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn’t do if she asked him to. No, that would be too much in too little time. Instead, he had to go with what was appropriate.
“You know, you’re gonna find people like that everywhere you go. I have people I don’t like at work, too. The thing is how you deal with them. But don't worry, you’ll learn that with time. it’s not like there’s a recipe for it, you know?” He tells her.
She keeps quiet for a moment, listening to him. Was that also too much?
But then she just nods in understanding as he opens the door of the car for her to get in.
*
“Not again, Gabriella. Again!?”
“¿Qué?” Gabriella asks, rubbing her feet on a rug by the entrance of the apartment when the both of them come in.
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” María raises her voice, pointing to her daughter's legs.
“But mooom! It was just a quick cascarita! And I’m not even that dirty!” Gabriella insists, gesturing towards her white socks, which funny enough are covered in green and brown spots, especially by the knees.
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda, take it off and give it here.” She orders after letting out a breath.
“Sí mamá.” Says Briella, pouting and dragging her feet to her room, looking annoyed.
Miguel also drags his feet by the threshold, setting his keys on a hook next to the door. He takes off his boots, eyeing the three pairs of slippers nearby. Hesitantly, he puts one of them on, the irony in the mundane gesture settling heavy in his chest, the weight of deception tugging annoyingly at his conscience.
Since he’s already taken a quick look around the place before she arrived from work, he gets to inspect things a little closer this time around.
The entryway is adorned with sleek porcelain tiles that extend seamlessly into the living space. A smart home system panel mounted on the wall offers control over lighting, temperature, and security, right next to the hook where he hung his keys. To the side, there’s a wall-mounted shelf holding a curated display of art and what looks to be some personal mementos.
A water bill sits on top of it, the sight striking an odd chord — in a time where holographic displays and digital transactions were the norm, a paper bill practically seems like a relic from another time — but also allowing him to find out her full name, which he immediately commits to memory.
“I think she thinks the socks make her look more like a professional player.” María tells him a while later, while slicing some meat by the sink. “We should buy her a pair of those so she stops ruining her uniform.”
He nods in agreement, putting a plate down as he lets the reality sink in, that this is really happening. This is his life now.
He’s married, he has a beautiful wife, and he’s also father to a beautiful little girl. And he couldn't be happier. Couldn’t have asked for anything else in life.
It’s like he just woke up from a bad dream, straight into the life he’s always wanted to live.
Like he’s exactly where he belongs.
So he helps María with the food. Luckily, he must be incompetent at the kitchen in every universe, because her instructions are extremely detailed, as they prepare carne a la tampiqueña for three.
María yells for Gabriella to come, and they all eat in silence after joining hands around the table for a quick, silent prayer.
*
Later, María is washing the socks while he cleans the table, and Maná plays in the background. She grooves with the rhythm, singing and humming now and then, completely oblivious to it all.
Objectively, he knows that he’s hiding a lot from her, but his heart can’t help but ache a little at how she’s not intimidated at all by his presence, in fact, she’s used to it. For once, he doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster the way he inadvertently does among the other spiders.
She spots him there, lost in thought as he finishes up, and says “I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx.”
“What?” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the weird phrase.
“Maná. The vocalist, I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx to help the A.I replicate his voice better. Can you believe that!?” She explains “That’s why I’m listening to their original songs, I heard it on the news today.”
He blinks slowly, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be used to things like these. “That’s… Crazy, honestly.”
“Right? I mean, the fact that we aren’t able to tell the difference for most artists nowadays is already pretty insane to me, and now they’re reconstructing the larynx of a dead guy to make a robot replicate his voice better? Come on now!” She remarks, turning back to look at him.
“I know, it’s so wild to think about.” He says, taking the chance to look around the room.
Sleek countertops adorned in marble, bearing the scars of a few culinary adventures that her and his alternate self probably didn’t have the time to clean yet; Rectangular windows above the kitchen sink, lined with cheap plastic containers labeled “basil”, “rosemary” and a few other herbs, bringing a nice green contrast to the brushed metal accents; A smart fridge on the corner, adorned with Gabriella’s drawings held by magnets all throughout it. Some things never change.
He approaches the fridge, taking one of the drawings to inspect it closer. It’s a crudely drawn version of him… His alternate self, with exaggerated triangular shoulders and, most tellingly, what looks like a phone buzzing in his hand.
María seems to notice his curiosity, approaching to look at the drawing too.
“Listen I know, you must be still a little shaken from… Before,” She tells him carefully “Just… Try not to think too much about it, okay? You’re here, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
He puts the drawing back as she places a cold hand on his face again, gently willing him to meet her eyes.
“I know, I know. It’s just… I was afraid for a second, that’s all.” He says, sincere in his words but not the real meaning behind them.
“And that’s okay. I’m here.” She assures him, pulling him by the arm gently.
The low hum of the city outside is a distant lullaby as they settle into the living room.
She takes a bottle from on top of a cabinet, wordlessly pouring two cups. He takes a sip, letting the burning soothe his nerves.
"I didn’t think I'd make it back." He lies, gaze lingering on the symmetrical floor panels.
Her hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did, and you're here now."
“Yeah… I am.” An inward glow softing his expression, the sensation of a smile blooming from deep within as he stares into her eyes.
As the night unfolds, the room is filled with shared glances and unspoken understanding. María lays her head on his shoulder, caressing him.
And he can’t help but think that this could work.
This could really work.
*
When they go to bed, after making sure Briella did her homework and wishing her goodnight of course, María takes off her bra in front of him, and slips on a loose nightgown.
He hates that for so many things that he had considered before coming here, this hadn’t even crossed his mind at all. Hesitantly, he pulls off his own clothes, not able to help how flushed red his face must be.
Thankfully, María doesn’t seem to notice this, as she’s busy settling into bed and pulling the sheets towards herself. He sits besides her underneath them, awkwardly stiff, and she pulls him into a sideways hug, humming quietly.
"You seem so different today." She observes, fingers lightly tracing circles on the sheets next to him.
He freezes, eyes widening but trying not to look at her.
"Yeah… It's been a long day.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm just tired, that’s all. Besides, I gotta wake up early tomorrow. You know how it is, work.” He explains, thinking it’s a good enough excuse.
She turns to fully look at him, blinking in amusement. “It’s friday. Did you forget?”
He closes his eyes. Fuck.
“Yeah, yeah, right. I meant workout, you know? Gym? I just need some rest.” He corrects, pulling away from her a little and cursing himself inwardly for talking so much.
She seems to get the message, recoiling as well.
“You and your Gym. Should at least try eating those packed proteins just like everyone else.” She tells him, turning her back to him, reaching for the light switch on her side of the bed and then finally lying back down.
"Well, you know how I am," He says, turning off his side of the bed lamp as well but still remaining upright. She hums in agreement.
“Goodnight?” He asks, reluctantly.
“Goodnight.” She replies, sounding already half asleep.
*
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!” = Fatty is that you? I’ve arrived!
(Keep in mind that ‘gordo’ is a wholesome way to call someone in spanish, and doesn’t mean she actually thinks he’s fat nor that she is body shaming Miguel).
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a… estas bien?”
=
“... Your brother won’t stop calling me, you should see what he wants. Ah, and the weather forecast says the air will be unbreathable for a few hours, so remember that when you’re heading to… Are you ok?”
"Que te pasa, mi amor?” = “What’s up with you, my love?”
“Estoy bien” = “I’m fine”
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor.” = “Okay, but be careful my love.”
“¿Apá?” = “Dad?”
“¿Qué?” = “What?”
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” = “How many times have I told you to not play soccer with your uniform? Look at you! You’re covered in grass!”
Cascarita = an informal, purely friendly soccer match in Mexico. The equivalent for a ‘pelada’ in Brazilian Portuguese, although if you search for the term, make sure to include the word ‘futebol’ after it, as ‘pelada’ on its own simply means ‘naked’ haha
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda [...]” = “Who are you calling ‘mooom’? Come on [...]”
“Sí mamá.” = “yes mom.”
Carne a la tampiqueña = a traditional mexican meat dish
Lyla, play Mi religión by Maná :) Also you can read it on ao3
#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#marvel#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#original character#my fics#shameless self rec#my fic#fic rec
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 5
WARNINGS: none
You stand outside the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office, staring up at the elegant, yet intimidating griffin statue that stands guard. You try to imagine what you would say to the headmaster... Hello, Draco Malfoy forced me to kiss him? You snort. No. You turn around and head back the way you came. Dumbledore has much more important things to deal with than your boy problem.
You don't go back to Snape's class, but instead to your dormitory where you lay motionless on your bed for a solid hour and twenty minutes before going to your next class. Transfiguration with McGonagall is uneventful, and you are grateful for it. Today has been emotionally exhausting. This is not what you had in mind when you told yourself you wanted more "excitement" in your life.
After classes end for the day, you go to the library to relax. You scan the shelves and select a book titled Magic Is Science, hoping its context is as mind numbing as its name. You sit down with it at an empty table in the back.
Just as you had hoped and predicted, you are dozing off within minutes. You have a pleasant dream in which you ride the back of a flying, two-headed dragon. You and the two dragon heads laugh together as you soar high above the ground, through the clouds and under the light of a beautiful sunset. The dragon scales beneath you are warm and smooth to the touch. You inhale the fresh air billowing all around you and let it out in a satisfied sigh...
You startle awake when something pokes you in the ribs.
You sit up in a daze. You are once again in the library, and, sadly, not riding a dragon. You look up to your right to see Fred and George standing by your table. You rub your eyes and blink, wondering if you're still seeing fragments of a dream, but the twins don't disappear.
"How rude," you yawn sarcastically. You stretch, and think it strange that Maddy hasn't come looking for you.
"Hi," Fred says. "Have a nice nap?"
"Yes, it was very nice, thanks."
"Good, good. We were just about to head out to detention when we heard you snoring," says George. He laughs at the look on your face. You feel your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.
"Was I really?"
"Nah," Fred chuckles. He glances up at the clock on the wall above the library door. "Detention is at 6:00, yes? We'd better hurry."
"Right." The twins wait patiently for you as you gather your things and put the Magic Is Science book back on its shelf. They follow you out of the library.
"Thanks for waking me," you say as the three of you walk briskly down the halls. You struggle to keep up with their long strides. "I probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't."
"Don't mention it," the twins respond simultaneously.
You reach the greenhouses a few minutes late, though Sprout doesn't scold you for it. She directs you and the twins to a wide crate of mandrakes, hands each of you a pair of earmuffs, then leaves you to it.
Earlier, you had been dreading detention, but you are pleasantly surprised and end up enjoying your time potting mandrakes. They may not make good company, but they are funny looking creatures, and Fred and George make it all the better. Between each excruciatingly loud potting, you joke and make conversation.
"This morning, what were you doing away from the class?" George shouts so you can hear him through the earmuffs.
You shrug. "I was bored," you yell back. "I've never been a big fan of herbology." You fidget with your garden gloves in thought, then snigger. "It's like watching grass grow!"
Your chest flutters with delight as Fred and George burst out laughing.
Professor Sprout dismisses the three of you after about half an hour so there's still enough time for dinner. You and the twins walk together to the Great Hall. When you arrive, you scan the room for Maddy, but she's no where in sight.
The twins must notice your dilemma. They make a show of speaking in loud hushes to each other and glancing over at you repeatedly.
"Her Slytherin friend isn't here," Fred whispers.
"Yes, I can see that, Fred," George replies.
"Should we offer to let her sit with us?"
"You think she's worthy?"
They stop and look at you, pretending to only now notice that you're listening in on their "private" conversation. They quickly turn their backs to you.
"Merlin's beard," you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you're smiling. You fold your arms impatiently just as the twins turn back around to face you.
"Care to join us?" Fred asks. They both give you that handsome smile.
You grin helplessly. "I'd love to."
#weasley twins x reader#fred and george#fred weasley x reader#george weasley x reader#fred and george weasley#fred wealsey fic#george weasly x reader#george weasley#fanfiction#fanfic#george weasley fic#wizarding world#harry potter#reader pov#pov#slytherin girl
79 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay just woke up from a nap and had a really good dream. Thought it was my duty to share with my fellow simps.
It was something along the lines that you were hanging out with Kika and a man that knew you from work came up to talk and started hitting on you, he had done it every time you guys had a meeting. And after noticing your sour face expression he said
"you should smile more you never do, don't pretend your not happy to see me"
You were so sick of him and his attitude that you finally said something
"I smile to my boyfriend all the time"
"I bet you do" - with an ironic tone.
and that set you off and by accident (kinda) you just said
"Yeah, he gives great head" -with a little smile coming to your lips.
He decided it was time for him to walk away. Kika was watching this whole interaction happening right in front of her, despite not understanding what it really meant "giving head", her english not being so good, she looked at you shocked.
-"Isn't he a client from work?"
-"Yes but I only said it because he already signed the contract and if he wants to withdraw from the deal he will have to pay 75% of the total value price as a fine."
Your always enjoyed when you had the chance of giving something back and not suffer any consequences.
Later that day, everyone got together for dinner, when Mick, Esteban and Pierre got there (after a "boys only" day as if any of you were interested in playing tennis under a 30° C sun) you greet them and excuse yourself to go to the restroom.
While you were in there, conversation got loose in the table, and then Pierre almost chocked on his water after Kika had said, out of nowhere, out loud for the whole table to hear.
"What does give head mean?"
Everyone on the table laugh nonstop, and when Pierre asked where did this come from, she let out about what had happened earlier that day. Because she didn't think it could have been a big deal, again not knowing exactly what was so funny about her question.
"Well this guy came to hit on Y/N earlier today"
and that really caught Mick's attention and for some reason you were taking so long to come back for. So she continued.
"He kept giving making advances and she finally had enough" - taking a little sip of her water break as if she hasn't just dropped the biggest bomb possible.
Mick and Pierre asked "What?" "What else?" simultaneously.
"Turns out she knew that guy from work."
"And how is this tied to giving head?" said her boyfriend.
"Please for fuck sakes tell me that the next thing coming out from your mouth, is not what I think it is" - coming from an already panicking Mick that couldn't help but worry especially by the way Kika was letting everything out.
"What? No, he told her to smile and next thing I hear her say is "I smile all the time at my boyfriend, he gives great head" - "he seemed to be annoyed and walked away so I guess it worked"
as soon as Kika had started the last statement, you could see a rollercoaster of reactions go through their faces until the last word.
Mick's cheeks were hot and red, but this time not from anger or jealousy, in truth he was a bit embarrassed. But the smile he had on his face couldn't lie about how proud of himself he felt, obviously it was recurring thing to talk about how good their sex was, but nonetheless, you could tell that at least 65% of that smile was because of the ego boost he got in front of everyone.
Everyone looked at Mick and didn't know what to say next - till Lando lets out a "Damn" - after that everyone started teasing and joking around about it, and he didn't care at all. I mean to him it was the best complement he could ever hear in life.
About that same time you were walking back to the table and managed to hear everyone laughing and having a good time, but when you got there everyone stared at you. Which got you a little defensive for not knowing what was going on.
"Have you guys missed me that much or?"
and everyone just went back to a random conversation as you sat back down next to your boyfriend, and not missing the way he was looking at you and the huge smirk plastered on his face.
"You seem excited, did the day go well? Perhaps you won a couple matches?"
"No, not that at all, turns out I suck at it, way more than I thought I would" - "I'm just happy to see you" - giving you a quick peck on the lips.
You knew there was more to it. But you let go for the time being...
wait this definitely needs a follow up!?
anyways enjoy and do what you will with this, still can't believe I woke up
-🎀
oMG IM HOOKED OF COURSE THIS NEEDS A FOLLOW UP AAAAAAAAA IM READY IM HERE FOR IT!!!!
(Can you imagine the guy shows up again while theyre hanging out and he’s all flustered and taken aback because never in a million year he would’ve thought the “gives good head”-bf was mick freaking schumacher - lets say he doesnt know much about your personal life and Mick just gives him that German stare head to toe silently judging him).
What a dream, honey, I would be mad if I woke up in the middle of it too ngl hahaha
Thank you for sharing this piece w us 🩷🩷
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
piarles + second chances 🌻
He skips the universes like he used to skip the stones in the river behind his house in France. One by one with no pauses and no thought of slipping and falling into the river and being taken away.
If the universe hasn't washed him away by now, well. It can go fuck itself.
Pierre didn't ask for this. For any of this. He doesn't even really know what's happened. The technical explanation is complicated and long winded, at least when Sebastian gives it, so Pierre doesn't even bother remembering it. It's enough to know that everything went to Hell, and that there was no turning back.
George simplified it for him one night.
"It's like - imagine a tower built out of cards, yeah? So every universe is a card, and those universes touch. Not all of them, not the same ones, but they're all cards from the same deck. And so what happened was that someone pulled one of the bottom cards and..." and here George trailed off, because there was no need for him to go on. It was a pretty clear picture.
This George was pretty, too. The George from his universe was pretty too, but he didn't have the scars on his back that this George did. George never offered an explanation, and Pierre didn't ask.
They almost fucked that night, him and George. They were drinking, and the lights were low, and the world was ending and they kissed, but George's face was smooth and he didn't have dimples, and Pierre couldn't. He just couldn't, and George couldn't either, because the name on his lips when they separated wasn't Pierre.
"We are sending you to Gamma-Delta-Pi," Sebastian says and Pierre chuckles.
"Like American sorority, non?"
George butts in. "Actually, if it's for boys, it's a fraternity. Sorority is for girls."
Sebastian and Pierre roll their eyes simultanously. "Alright, alright, Mister Know-It-All," Sebastian continues. "Pierre, get in, asess the situation, and get out. This one is on the border of the Gamma Quadrant, and we don't want to have any more nasty surprises."
"You mean like the flesh-eating monster world we found last time?" Pierre asks cheerfully. "I would like to avoid that, too. Though the scar makes me very popular with the ladies."
He leers at Seb, who indulges him with a small smile. "Just go, Gasly," he says, and Pierre straps in and checks if he has his knife, and then the lights start flashing and he's gone.
There are no ladies. They all know it, because they are all in the same boat here. They've all lost everything that mattered to them, and are now living outside of time and space, in the liminal spaces between universes, collecting strays.
They're all the only ones who survived the collapses of their worlds. They are all the only ones left.
Pierre keeps his eyes open as he travels through the wormhole. Sebastian was the one who found him, stepping out of a wormhole just like this one as Pierre's world ended. Sebastian was the one who dragged him away from the race track and the body in red racing suit Pierre was clutching, his face a grimace of perfect, horrible understanding. Sebastian was the one who dragged him away as the vebomous clouds overtook the sky, and the last thing Pierre saw of his world was the darkness swallowing Spa-Francorchamps.
It had to be Spa. Of course it had to be Spa.
George was already there when Pierre arrived, as were some of the others. They were all different, much different than Pierre remembered them to be. None of them, bar Sebastian, were racing drivers in their original universes. Pierre knows that's what hurts him the most.
No. He shakes his head. That's a lie, but don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't. Don't you dare.
The wormhole tightens, and stretches, and spits him out. He's distracted enough nkt to land on his feet, and falls down on his knees.
When he opens his eyes, he's in Suzuka.
He almost throws up. There's cars piled up against each other right in front of him, a chain crash like the one he barely avoided in another life. There's a McLaren, and a Mercedes, and a Red Bull, and a Ferrari at the end of the row.
Pierre doesn't think. He runs.
There's smoke coming out of the cars and the sky above it too dark even for a monsoon season and Pierre can't see a thing properly, but he doesn't care.
"Not again," he mutters as he tears at the halo, determined to get the unmoving body from the cockpit. "Not again, please God, not again, not again, not -"
"Pear?" Charles' voice is weak. He coughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Pierre has heard in a long time. "How - am I dead?"
Pierre sobs a laugh and undoes Charles' belt. "No, calamar, you're okay. You're going to be okay."
Pierre can't see Charles properly under the helmet, but he knows his best friend. "But - I must be dead," Charles says, and there's fear and confusion and profound sadness in his voice. He lifts his arms nonetheless and lets Pierre pull him out.
"Why," Pierre asks distractedly, trying to ascertain Charles' state and keep an eye on the rapidly approaching darkness. "Why do you think that?"
Charles' leg is broken, Pierre thinks, because he yelps in pain when he tries to step on it. Pierre grabs him around the waist and throws Charles' arm around his shoulders, holding him up. He glances at the sky. The darkness is eating the grandstands, and they have to go.
"Because," Charles starts to say, and then gets frustrated and starts fiddling with his helmet. Pierre should drag him away, but he has to - h3 has to see. Charles takes the helmet off, pulling the balaclava with it, and when he turns to Pierre, his heart almost stops. It's him. It's really him.
Charles' hazy eyes are flitting all over Pierre's face, and there's sweat on his face, and he looks awful, and he looks more beautiful than Pierre remembers him being.
"Because," he says, and his voice is shaking, "you died in Spa."
Pierre chokes back a sob. He raises his hand and puts his palm on Charles' cheek, presses his thumb where he knows Charles' dimple to be.
"No," he whispers as the sky above them darkens. "No, mon amour."
A tear falls out of the corner of Charles' eye, and Pierre wipes it away.
"You did," he says, and holds Charles close, and activates the transporter.
#this ... is angst xD#im in a mood#anyways#piarles#f1 rpf#scifi au#idek what this is tbh#effervescentdragonwrites#my writing
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
the clusterfuck that was episode 14: an analysis
disclaimer: this does not condone any of ryu si-o's actions, were they to happen in real life. this is purely an objective examination of si-oh's psychology.
so, episode 14. that happened.
to start with, we've been getting insight into ryu si-o ever since he's started having more screen time (around episode 3), and since then we've been either seeing his backstory, or hearing his thoughts.
all of this abruptly cut off in episode 14.
obviously this is because he could could no longer remain as a character to be sympathized with, & the writers/directors needed to cut us off from his thought process to facilitate that. – for as long as we see the complexity within his motives, he will be a character we emotionally connect with.
if you want to see me vent about the potential his character had for positive growth leading up to this, here you go
but this will be an objective analysis on his motives and a likely explanation for his behavior, since we didn't receive that.
now, we have to acknowledge that up until this point, ryu si-o has had two main motives for anything he's done:
gaining strength [both himself and through tsetseg] & creating a trump card [the antidote] so that he can separate from pavel
finding binbin
and we've also seen, that all of a sudden, the cards are suddenly against him:
he's angered the mafia by directly going against them, regarding the antidote and his ownership of it
his leverage against geum ju's assistant didn't work out, and he's trying to disprove the drug accusations
the leverage he held against the police hasn't worked out either and there's now an arrest warrant out on him and no way for him to escape the country
his wild card, tstetseg, turned out to be just that, infact, and now the one person he thought he could depend on in case of a fallout with the mafia/any unfavorable situation is now gone
and from his perspective, it's infinitely worse because, putting aside that she is gang nam soon, tsetseg is no longer the person he thought she was:
he fell in love with tsetseg in the first place because she was honest – she spoke without a filter and lived without constraints. she talked informally, yet did so innocently. to him, she didn't hide her emotions, or mask her thoughts.
but now he realizes that she has been lying to him the whole time, has pretended not to recognize her own mother, and has listened to him talk about his past and seen him at his most vulnerable, while working against him all throughout.
throughout the whole episode, we are seeing ryu si-o at his rock bottom.
from all of his previous patterns, he only commits violence when absolutely necessary, or under the influence of the drug, when he is at his most aggressive, but this episode was an exception to that.
and it makes the most sense when you consider it this way:
right now his condition/mindset is akin to that of a desperate animal, backed into a corner, he will claw at anything to survive right now.
and as we discussed here, pain/fear is not a very useful emotion, especially with how badly it must threaten to shake him right now, so obviously he'd react to something like heartbreak the only way he knows how, or the only way that will help him get past it: anger.
he's doing what would be a regular stage of heartbreak after a breakup – blame.
[albeit in a very terrible, violent way, because of the way he was raised]
he's trying to find where to place the blame for what happened with tsetseg: who can he blame except himself for getting so close to the one person who was meant to ruin his plans?
so he goes after hwaja, (and interestingly has someone else stab her) for lying to him, and does (what I think is a larger-than-usual) dose of the drug because he is genuinely trying to escape the pain, while simultaneously doing damage control as everything he's been working on, falls apart.
his approach is completely wrong, and cannot be justified, but the place it's coming from is understandable and so is the rage.
if we continue to see him act in line with the way he is characterized he will definitely hesitate when it comes down to directly hurting namsoon, should she be in front of him, because the emotion we're seeing clearly isn't "how dare she betray me?" — it's "how could I have let her hurt me like this?"
the writers may choose to ditch the character patterns and motives they've been giving him, in order to villainize him and lead up to their intended ending, but i do believe reckless violence (not just against namsoon), would be completely out of character.
#mini-analysis#based on his characterization + byeon woo seok's portreyal#strong girl nam soon#ryu si o#byeon woo seok
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sometimes I'm normal and sometimes I think about how Ky has never really gotten to live a normal life and the one time he tried to it was ripped away from him by the conclave and maybe that's why him and Dizzy bonded so quickly because they were both denied basic life experiences due to circumstances beyond their control
Ky is such an intriguing character to me. Because there are stretches of time wherein I'll not forget him per se but he tends to slip a bit into the background for me, aND THEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS AND THEN I BECOME THE MOST UNCHILL ABOUT KY KISKE BECAUSE I'M SO MAD ABOUT HOW SHITTY HIS LIFE IS.
KY JOINED THE MILITARY AT AGE TEN. HE JOINED THE MILITARY AT TEN YEARS OLD. THEY MADE HIM INTO A WEAPONS PRODIGY AT FIFTEEN AND MADE HIM AN INSPIRATIONAL FIGURE EVEN BEFORE HE WAS DONE WITH PUBERTY. KLIFF WILLINGLY AND INTENTIONALLY RETIRED AND PUT A SIXTEEN YEAR OLD BOY IN CHARGE OF THE MILITARY TO WIN A WAR NOBODY HAD SUCCEEDED IN DOING OVER A HUNDRED YEARS. I DON'T CARE IF HE WAS A PRODIGY HE WAS A CHILD, OF COURSE HE DID AS HE WAS TOLD WHAT OTHER CHOICE DID HE HAVE AND KLIFF WAS THE CLOSEST THING TO A FATHER THAT HE'D HAD SINCE HIS PARENTS FUCKING DIED AND KLIFF JUST UP AND LEFT KY WITH ALL THE WORLD'S BURDENS AS A FUCKING TEENAGER AND EXPECTED HIM TO BE OKAY.
OF COURSE HE'S STUBBORN AND COMBATIVE IN THE EARLIER GAMES THATS LITERALLY ALL HE'S BEEN TAUGHT HOW TO DO OF COURSE HE CAN'T RETIRE AFTER THE WAR OR FIND SOMETHING QUIET HOW CAN A MAN BUILT TO BE A SOLDIER JUSTIFY HIMSELF WHEN THERE'S NO BATTLE TO BE FOUGHT AND OF COURSE THE VERY SECOND HE MAY BE ABLE TO THINK THAT HE COULD LIVE QUIETLY AND MAKE SOMETHING LOVELY THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS OR WAR AND HE GETS A GUN POINTED TO HIS FAMILY'S HEAD AND FORCED TO HAVE THE WORLD PUT UPON HIS BACK AGAIN WHEN JUST FOR A MOMENT HE THOUGHT HE COULD FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING ELSE. HE DOESN'T EVEN CHASTISE HIS OWN SON OR TRY TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF BECAUSE HE KNOWS FULL WELL NOW THAT NOBODY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT HIS OPINION OR WHAT HE THINKS UNLESS IT'S HOW TO WIN A WAR AND NOW THE WORLD IS CONSTANTLY WATCHING HIM AND SCRUTINIZING BUT NOBODY IS PAYING ATTENTION BECAUSE HE'S SIMULTANEOUSLY THE WORLD'S BRILLIANT STRATEGIST KING AND ALSO A SURLY CHILD WHOSE OPINIONS THEY CAN IGNORE WHENEVER IT SUITS THEIR MOOD BECAUSE TWO DECADES HAVE PASSED AND HE'S STILL NOTHING MORE THAN A PUPPET TO BE TOSSED AROUND AND SUMMARILY DISCARDED AS SOON AS HE ISN'T USEFUL ANYMORE.
KY KISKE IS 30 YEARS OLD. BARELY. HE'S BEEN CHEWED UP AND SPIT OUT PRACTICALLY NONSTOP FOR TWO DECADES AND THE FACT THAT HE HASN'T BECOME A GENOCIDAL VILLAIN ON ITS OWN HAS TO QUALIFY FOR SOME KIND OF SAINTHOOD BUT HE STILL FUNDAMENTALLY BELIEVES IN OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR NEAR-ENDLESS CAPACITY FOR GOOD DESPITE BEING SOMEONE WHO IS FULLY AWARE OF AND HAS WITNESSED SOME OF THE MOST HIDEOUS ASPECTS OF HUMAN NATURE FIRSTHAND.
We could debate their relationship from every angle until the cows come home but I can't help but feel that for Ky there was some blessed relief in meeting someone who never expected the world from him and never say him as the war hero child prodigy, just an ordinary man.
#augh I'm mad now and I'm giving myself a headache#giving Ky an absurdly long hot bath and as much tea as he can possibly stand#ask#guilty gear#ky kiske
89 notes
·
View notes
Note
Just seen the Charles x micah's sister reader, very cute :) !! Could we get some headcannons for micah and his sisters relationship? Like do they get along ? Thank you :)
Thank you for requesting, anon! It's a nice spring day. The sun is shining brightly and the mountain looks beautiful. I'm listening to the birds while the deer eat my bushes. This is a perfect day to write some HCs, so let's get to it!
Micah's Younger Sister - Headcannons
- Micah loves his sister but his version of love is very skewed. We know by the stories he tells of Amos he doesn't seem too fond of his brother; however, the letter Amos sends Micah suggests Micah cares enough about his brother, (and thought his brother cares enough about him), to inform him that he was not hanged and that he's doing well.
- This suggest to me that Micah does have some love for his siblings. I think he would really love a little sister. Especially if the age gap is big enough because he can probably easily get her to listen to him and do whatever he wants.
- We know that Micah Bell the II was an awful father. If Micah's sister grows up with him, I can't see Micah ever protecting her from their father's wrath. However, I do think he would offer to teach her how to stand up for herself.
- I view this in more of a 'sibling unity' type of way. He's not doing it to protect her, but because he wants his siblings to be at his level. They grew up the same way and endured the same abuse. I think Micah might feel as if his siblings are the only people on earth who will ever truly understand him.
- He teaches her how to use a gun. Probably buys her a gun specially engraved. Of course, his sister has a wicked quick draw, taught by one of the finest gunslingers.
- I also think Micah would gift her a hat that looks similar to his. It would make him swell like pride to see her in his image.
- They hang out a lot! Neither of them would admit it but they're best friends. His sister is his little buddy.
- It's odd having a brother who doesn't like women but likes you. It fills her with a sense of pride whenever Micah treats her better while simultaneously disgusting her.
- They'll go into town to see a show together every once in awhile or do mundane things like getting their horses shoed or stocking up at the general store.
- Of course Micah's favorite activity to do with his sister is to put her to work so he can rob folk easier. This is all she's even know, so to them it's more like a hobby and they always end up having a blast!
- Micah is clearly very bitter Amos didn't stick by him. After Amos leaves Micah would immediately sink his teeth into his sister, figuring out how to make sure she stays by his side.
- Because of this she ends up in the Van Der Linde gang!
- Micah has ways of being charming. Charming enough to eventually make a massive gang of his own. His sister is much more charming than Micah could ever be. She has a unique perspective on life. Being the youngest child of an outlaw, and a woman in a time where she had no rights. She knows a good sense of humor can be a matter of life or death.
- The SECOND Mary-Beth asks her if she likes to read they're immediately best friends! Micah's sister opens up to the other women of the camp easily and creates fantastic relationships with them.
- Despite being friendly with all the women, Micah's sister would be very weary of the men. Of course, she's probably out robbing with them. Used to violent misogyny all her life, it's much harder for her to connect with them even when she spends so much time amongst them.
- Javier would be the first one she opens up to, I think. And it's his music that lulls her into a sense of security. Every time Javier sits down to play his guitar or sing she comes to sit near him and listen until one day she finally compliments him and they start a very pleasant conversation. It also helps that Javier has befriended many of the women in camp. This helps her trust him more.
- Because she hasn't been treated the best by her father or other outlaws, Micah's sister has more empathy. I also don't think she'd follow Micah's footsteps when it comes to racism.
- Dutch repulses her. She's noticed his lingering eyes. His 'compliments' towards her spoken with hot breath. How many times had she been around men who've looked at her that way? Too many. She tries to avoid him the best she can.
- But Hosea???? She's shocked at how fatherly he is. He's kind, wise, and one of the first people to sit down with her to try and really get to know her. I think Micah's sister would yearn for a father figure who is gentler and more human than her father ever was. She opens up to him and wishes he would replace her father.
- The blow-out fights start when she develops a sense of security within the gang. No longer does she listen to Micah. She stopped dropping everything for his beck and call. She's beginning to form a better sense of self. She's safe here, secure, no longer does she have to do what everyone else wants her to do. Obviously Micah isn't very happy and it starts fights.
- Micah assumes it's just a phase and so he drops the subject after they scream back and forth for awhile.
- It isn't until Micah notices that his sister spends a lot of time with Arthur that he becomes furious and jealous. He begins to feel like she's slipping away from him. Their fights become worse and more viscous His sister refuses to back down because she can't understand why Micah is so threatened by her happiness. She doesn't realize, from Micah's point of view, she's abandoning him.
- Eventually Dutch has to step in and tell them to cut it out because they're disturbing the camp's peace. Micah and his sister hardly speak to each other after that except to give the other a snide comment every once in awhile.
- Despite this I think both siblings would be very broken up about it. Micah will feel abandoned while his sister feels betrayed.
- After awhile they're put on a job together. Things go south pretty quickly and they both manage to narrowly escape. While hiding in the forest, struggling to catch their breath, they look at each other and burst out laughing. Neither Micah nor his sister ever talk through their issues with one another. They simply decide they're okay with each other again and resume talking as if nothing ever came between them. Forgiveness is their silent apology.
- Sometimes you just have to accept your sibling chooses a different path but that bond can still remain.
- If she ever gets hurt or shot, Micah will go ape shit!!!! He loves an excuse to slaughter someone. That paired with the threat of his final family member being injured? Oh he'll wreck havoc on the poor soul that decided to fuck with his sister.
- As the days go on and Micah's betrayal becomes more and more clear. Some of the gang start projecting their feelings for Micah onto her. Watching her with great suspicion. This would hurt her deeply. She doesn't want to lose her new family and she'll struggle with this a lot.
- If she falls in love with anyone from the gang, she knows it needs to be kept a secret. If Micah ever finds out.... She knows her lover will "mysteriously" go missing one day.
- I think during the final showdown she wouldn't choose Micah's side. She decides to choose whatever life she started building for herself. Micah destroyed the gang that made her feel loved and accepted for the first time in her life. She's furious with him and can't even look at him anymore. If her lover survives, she'll choose to stay with the lover.
- After a few years guilt will eat away at her and she'll return to Micah, joining his gang. Despite her 'betrayal' I think Micah would welcome her with open arms.
- At the end of the day they're just two lost souls who accept each other in a very raw humanity type of way. No one will ever know them the way they know each other. After everything Micah and his sister have been through together they will always end up in the same place again and again.
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
love, lola / chapter eight / it's happening again (4.6k)
Eddie has some news and amidst all the drama, you're starting to get a sense of deja vu...
a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie!
this is a two parter! once you've read this, go here!
series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!
comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.
Anything being said is drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Piercing and shrill, as if an internal alarm was triggered by the words that left Eddie's mouth.
'I'd have to leave for California next week.'
Simultaneously your prayers had been answered and your worst nightmare had come true. Eddie was being granted a shot at his dream to become a professional musician; a chance to get the hell out of Hawkins. Yet, the cost of it was leaving you behind. A successful rockstar life beyond the containment of this small town offered more than you ever could.
Eddie paces anxiously in front of your bed where you have sat unmoving for the last five minutes. With each lap of the room a new thought intrudes. He hasn't slept since Taylor asked him to join Kraven last night.
Does she hate me? Does she think I betrayed her? Is she actually relieved I'll be gone? Is she happy she doesn't have to follow through on letting me go back to New York?
His fingers brush over anything in his reach. Over the objects he's seen nearly everyday of his life. Fragments of everything he's ever know, that now feel like they're slipping away. A jewellery stand that is weighed down by handmade beaded necklaces from your childhood and priceless heirlooms; all equally precious. A silver frame filled with an array photostrips of you with himself, some with Steve, one with you as a baby with Gran. A collection of figurines Eddie had hand painted custom for your birthday one year. One a powerful elven queen radiating a bright light, tailored to your likeness. The other a dark knight resembling Eddie, in service of the queen as he is to you in life.
'You have to go, Teddy,' you finally muster a croak. Eddie freezes in his spot and your eyes meet. Both red from resisting the tears that beg to erupt.
'Are you su-'
You refuse to even let him ask the question, shaking your head profusely. Reaching a hand out to him to come closer, he climbs onto your bed. In the centre you both sit cross legged facing the other, like two kids again sharing secrets.
'You have to,' you repeat.
He inhaled and takes your hands in his, they feel so small and cold. Like he had when you were little in the winter, he rubs his thumbs over your fingers and knuckles to warm them. Focusing on the touching of your skin so he doesn't have to see your reaction, Eddie admits his biggest concern.
'But California doesn't have you...'
No it doesn't. At this moment in your life it feels like you aren't anywhere. Floating around lost without a tether, not to New York, not to Hawkins, not to Eddie.
'But it has your future.'
The words were like a punch to gut for the both of you. An admittance that your futures don't evolve around the other. Especially not in the ways either of you want but won't admit.
'This is a once in a life time offer, Ted,' you sigh, you've got to be the grown up. 'The chance to be a rockstar? It's something you've been dreaming of since you were a kid sat in this very room.'
Sniffles can be heard from behind the wall of curls before you.
'What if it doesn't work out?' he admits, letting his self-doubt show.
Shuffling closer, you brush away his wild curls to reveal the soft face you've always adored. Thumbs stroking over the smattering of summer freckles, smoothing the tired bags under his big brown eyes. It's a face the world deserves to know.
'Then you were close and will still have done something spectacular. Regardless, I'll always be here. But you have to, for once, be selfish. Do this for yourself... what would your Mom say if you were here?'
The tears in Eddie's eyes now fall. Coaxed out by your love and faith in him, the strength of which only ever matched by his Mom. His hands sit on top of yours.
'She'd...' he pauses to chuckle, 'oh man, she'd have threatened to shave the hair whilst I was sleeping. Would make me repeat what she'd tell me everyday, that I'm everything and anything I wanna be if I believe in myself like she does... did.'
As he recounts his Mom's words, it truly dawns on Eddie what the answer is. What he must do. Just like that, the cord that has tied you and Eddie together for over a decade is severed. You're setting him free. Tears trickle down your cheeks. Now, he mirrors your previous actions. Rough thumbs stroking over your cheeks that feel like velvet to the touch. He touches your features that he knows by heart more so than any song or movie. For a while you both sit there, hands bracing the other's face. Holding on before they flitter away into memory only.
When Eddie finally leaves your bedroom it feels all too symbolic, as if he has left your life. Once you hear the front door shut, you hurl yourself into the bathroom and throw up but this time, morning sickness isn't your excuse. The sob the racks through you vibrates off every bone. As if your body is responding to this feeling of grief. It's the first you've ever felt true loneliness. A jolt hits your again but it's not a sob or a heave. It's another first. The baby kicks you.
Exactly a week later, The Hideout was buzzing with people wanting to say goodbye to one of their own. Eddie Munson was getting the hell out of Hawkins. With the help of Carl the manager, you, Steve and Dustin planned a bon voyage party. The bar crammed full with the gang, Corroded Coffin, Wayne, Gran, Hopper, Joyce and friends from the Hideout amongst the usual regulars. Everyone's pride over their friend's news combined with the free flowing booze, managed to overshadow the lingering sadness at his impending departure. With some coercion, everyone was treated to an impromptu Corroded Coffin reunion.
Up on the stage and under the lights, Eddie glowed. It was where he belonged, this was always his destiny. Despite the clear intoxication, seeing the four up there you saw how they were still the silly boys you'd grown up with. Still all goofy grins and dimpled cheeks. After a couple of Corroded Coffin classics, Eddie's fingers strummed the beginnings of a song that halted the breath of a few in the crowd. Before you all, they performed Master Of Puppets. Playing from start to finish, uninterrupted, unharmed. Behind the raucous cheers were dewy eyes from those that knew. Knew this was so nearly Eddie's final song. But he had survived and stood in all his glory, stronger than ever. A fighter. A hero. He played like he had something to prove to the universe - that he was a survivor.
After the cheers subsided, Eddie took the mic from Jeff, taking centre stage instead.
'What can I say? You've been a wonderful audience. We're going to do one final song. It's for a very special lady. Y/N, sweetheart, I wouldn't be here without you. Kept me sane since were eight, when I first heard this song.'
Everyone turns, looking at you expectantly. Those that knew you wondering where he was going with this. Those that didn't wondering what exactly was your relationship. Hell if I know, you think. With that, his fingers kick started the song and he begins to croon with a wicked grin.
'I met her in a club down in old Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like coca cola
C-O-L-A, Cola
She walked up to me and she asked me to dance
I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola
L-O-L-A, Lola
La-la-la-la Lola'
As soon as the first words slide off his tongue your grin matches his. Dizzy with sentiment. Out the corner of your eye, you see Gran smirking to herself. Everyone else is clueless but eventually learn to go with it, dancing and understand there's a tale they're not privy to.
When a small and afraid Eddie had shown up in your house twelve years ago, you were stuck on what to do. Gran sent you off to make him feel comfortable as she and Eva spoke. The curly headed boy was so timid, a far cry away from the one before you now rolling his hips with his guitar. To break the crippling silence that lingers between two strangers, you brought him to your living room where the record machine lived. Fumbling through to stacks of your Gran's aged records you picked one carefully.
'I... I think this will make you laugh. It makes me laugh when I'm sad,' you admitted nervously, unsure why you felt so determined to make this strange boy smile. The needle drops at the song Eddie is playing for you now, begins to echo out the speakers. Lola by The Kinks.
Shyly you sit back on the plush rug beside the rigid boy. It's not long before the sadness begins to crack. Eddie's fingers tapping. Then, it's clear he finally listens to the lyrics and his head whips around to you. It's the first time you truly get a look at him. Oh he's so pretty, the little voice in your head gasped. His eyes are wide in shock, white rimming giant chocolate buttons.
'Why she walked like a woman but talked like a man.'
The meaning dawns on him and he laughs. The best sound you've ever heard. An expression that causes dimples to pop and his eyes to shine. It's that moment you decide to need to make this boy, this Eddie, smile and laugh for as long as you know him. By the time your Gran and Eva come and find you, you're both sprawled out on the rug. Barely any distance between you and the song still on repeat.
Now Eddie is singing it for you. It's sinful the way his tongue flicks on the 'la-la's. His voice gritty during the rest of the song. It should be enough to tip you over the edge, drive you insane but it's too good not to indulge in. You spin around, laughing, joining in with the rest of your friends. Robin dipping you and Steve twirling you round. In Eddie's over watching eyes, the celebrations of others are nothing but white noise and a blur. To him it's only you stood in the centre of the crowd, red lights illuminating your hair billowing as you sway. You're in slow motion and everything else is an irrelevant blur. Even under the boozy fog, he channels everything he has into this serenade. It's all for you, every feeling runs through his veins, out his finger tips and pours out through the amps. It's for you, he chants internally, it's always all for you.
Once Eddie exits the stage, he's winded as you hurl yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly round his neck. He's quick to respond, his own arms round your waste to swing you round and round. The song, it was too much, forcing you to break your self imposed boundaries. The two of you remain the same most of the night, joined at the hip. Eddie's inhibitions growing looser with every shot and beer that passes his lips; raw from biting them to stop himself from impulsively kissing yours. Easily, you both clear out the dance floor. Between reckless spinning and Eddie dipping you dramatically, the space had began to thin out. People retiring to booths or back home as the night wore on. It felt like you and him were the only two people in the world again.
Suddenly, the energy shifts between the two of you when the track changes. The soft tones of Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths begin to hum through the room. Eddie freezes in his movements for a moment, you look up at him confused and expectant; waiting for his next move. Then, with more tenderness than any of his previous moves, he sweeps you into a slow dance. Two of your hands clutched together whilst he brings your other to his shoulder and then settles his own on your waist. Despite his intoxicated state, he glides surprisingly effortlessly and you can't help but take him in. His face surprisingly somber, blue lights soft on his features as he looks down at you. A mixture of melancholy and sweetness thick in the air. For an unknown reason, the moment feels so familiar as if deja vu but this has never happened before. You don't remember ever dancing with Eddie like this and god knows the boy won't ever let you play The Smiths. But you manage to push the eery feeling down, resting your head on his shoulder to let the moment embrace you and forget that tomorrow he'll be gone.
From the corner of the room, the adults congregate. There, Gran watches adoringly. Her eyes threatening tears at the sight. The two kids she's raised still together and oblivious to what was always obvious to Eddie's mom - they were soulmates. Hopper follows her gaze to the embracing young adults.
'Think they'd make a nice couple one day, y'know,' he remarks offhandedly from behind his bottle of beer. A hidden smile as he thinks of himself and Joyce at that age. Maybe they'll find their way back to each other one day, he muses to himself. Gran clears her throat, straightening herself up and withdrawing from the wistful place she'd found herself in.
'Maybe... I think there might be something to that,' she smiles sadly.
Before long the bar is near deserted. The remaining members are the survivors, the ones who know too much, who've been through too much for such an age. Round a booth, you, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Argyle, Dustin, Lucas, Will, Mike, El and Max gather. All of you with a shot, in the case of the kids it's a shot of cordial. Unknowing to everyone but Steve, you join them in the cordial.
Steve chimes his class to raise a toast.
'I think, I speak for everyone here when I say we're proud of you, Eddie. You did it, most people would've never left the house again, man. But you're getting the hell outta this hell hole. Let's make this the start of the end, of us all moving on. The Upside Down is gone forever and now we can finally live normal lives. Here's to Eddie and to all of us, for surviving!'
Everyone cheers in agreement and downs their shot. You quicker than the rest before anyone, especially Eddie who hovers beside you, can notice its content. But he's too far gone to have ever spotted it, which he proves as he brashly clatters his rings against a class to get everyone's attention.
'Hey! Hey, Stevie s'not the only one who can make speech!' He slurs.
'Debatable,' Max smirks earning a prod from Steve and a snicker from Robin.
'Tsch be nice to your father, Red. He s'on his own now,' Eddie scolds.
The group chuckles and Steve shakes his head, face buried into his palms.
'How much have you drank, Eddie?' Dustin gawps and his swaying idol.
'Shhh secret, Dustybuns! S'okay, sweetheart lookin after me,' he grins goofily as he wraps an arm around your shoulder affectionately but also to keep himself upright.
'Anyway! Stop int... interruptin me. You lil dinguses gotta take in my wisdom whilst 'm still here! So I just wanna say... love you guys. Even when I'm up there accepting my awards, I'll still remember you. 'Specially sweetheart here. Keepin' me alive, huh? What am I gonna do without ya?'
The group look between each other, baffled as they watch Eddie paw at your face like a cat. Steve scowls, anxious as to what this is doing for you.
'Aaand on that note, let's call it a night,' Nancy claps, ready to rally the troops.
'Steve, we going half and half on the kids?'
Steve nods half heartedly, eyes still watching you and Eddie carefully.
'Okay, now Y/N, what about you? And Eddie? Need a lift?' She asks as she divvies up the kids between them.
'Noooo, she s'comin home with me,' Eddie whines before pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.
Nancy and Robin raise an eyebrow.
'Are you sure?' Robin presses you. You laugh it off.
'Yes, honestly guys it's fine. We live in the same place anyway and I've not really drank anything. I can drive. It'll just take everyone out of their way!'
The answer satisfies the girls and everyone begins their goodbyes. Before they all file out the door, Steve pulls you aside. That hand of support clutching yours once again.
'You'll be okay?' He whispers, 'be careful. If anything is wrong, just call me okay? Don't just lie their being sad-'
Steve is cut off as Eddie drags you out of his touch. Flapping his hand in Steve's face to shoo him.
'Get off my lady, Harrington!' Eddie garbles, making you blush and your stomach swirl. Drunk Eddie is not good for your already aching heart. Steve sighs, giving up and waving goodbye. It's just you and Eddie now.
Instantly, Eddie is draping himself over you. His eyes focused on a strand your hair he twirls round his fingers.
'Finally!! Thought they'd never leave us alone, sweets.'
'Think it's time we got you home, huh, Teddy?' You chuckle, cheeks red at the implication.
'S'cute when you call me that...'
You just smile and nod, trying to drag him to the car. Buckling him in as if he were a child, unable to himself as he continues to fidget with any part of you he can get touch.
The journey home was surprisingly quiet. Eddie's head resting against the window, watching the dark blur of what will now become his former hometown. It's only the sound of your voice that stirs him once you pull up outside the pool house.
'Okay, here we are, Eds! Home sweet home,' you pat his knee. He looks between out the window then back at you with a big scowl on his face.
'S'not home.'
Your heart sinks. You suppose it's not home anymore, California will be. Or maybe he means the trailer?
'Urm, well where else are you going to sleep then, hey?' You try to mask your sadness.
Eddie groans. Inside he's frustrated by your cluelessness and his inability to spit out his true feelings. Why is she being so silly, he thinks, this is not his home, you are his home.
'Your room! Sleepover,' he bats his long lashes at you and paws at you pleadingly. It makes your insides jelly. It's our final night together, you sigh internally, what harm could it do?
The second your bedroom door is open, Eddie is stumbling through and flopping back onto the bed. Tight tee riding up revealing his belly button, tattooed hip and a trail of hair that is so cruelly tempting. You idiot, you scold yourself. Leaving Eddie to lie there you go and change into the pyjamas then sit at your vanity to remove your make up. You're oblivious to how Eddie has sat bolt upright to watch you, entirely enchanted at the sight of your mid-routine.
'You looked real pretty tonight,' he whispers but it's loud enough for you to catch. Your cheeks redden, helpfully disguised by the swipes of cotton wool.
'You look pretty too, Teddy,' you chuckle. He blinks, baffled.
'Really?' He almost gasps.
'Of course,' you laugh, ruffling his curls as you get up and walk past. He leans into the touch and huffs quietly when it ends all too soon. You come back and stand before him at the edge of the bed,
'You always look pretty.'
Eddie wants to swoon but stops when he notices what you're wearing. You're stood before him in a t-shirt he always wondered if you still had. One he sent you home him on that night. He can't help himself as he reaches out, fingers skimming over them hem and accidentally making contact with the exposed thigh. Goosebumps instantly prickle up his arm and across your thighs but neither of you notice the others reaction.
'You always look pretty too, Y/N. 'Specially in that shirt...' his voice is the quietest it's been all night.
'O-oh yeah, I'm sorry. You can have it back! It's just really comfortable! I've no idea where it came from bu-'
Eddie cuts your rambling off by tugging you forward, causing you to fall on top of him. Faces hovering over each other, your hair acting as a curtain, hiding the rest of the world. Both of your breathing slows. The drunken hormones raging through Eddie are screaming. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are reaching out. Calloused tip gliding down the slope of your nose, over your cupids bow, hesitating over your lips. Both of you stare at each other wide eyed, unsure as to where this is going. Quickly, Eddie catches himself. He retracts his fingers from your plush lips and brings them back to boop the tip of your nose. The absurdity breaking the tension.
'Honk!' He grins.
You can't tell if you're disappointed or relieved.
'S'not a problem sweetheart, won't make ya take it off. 'Nless you wanna,' he teases, brows wiggling.
You give him a shove as you pull yourself back onto your feet and out of the compromising position.
'Edward Munson, you are wasted.'
He looks back up at you with hazy puppy dog eyes.
'I know. Can't move. You'll have t'undress me for bedtime,' he sighs with a smirk. Raising his arms up as a hint for you to get started. You gulp. Countless time you've seen him shirtless but you've never literally undressed him. Plus, you know him too well and know you just have to go with it when he's in these kind of moods. Trying desperately not to turn beet red, you attempt the task at hand. Tugging the hem of his shirt up carefully, gradually revealing his soft stomach, then chest, then shoulders. Perfect porcelain, dotted with ink and shiny healed scars and then of course, that god forsaken trail of hair. Your eyes linger far too long, trying to memorise this moment before it disappears.
'Trousers too,' Eddie chirps. Reclining back and thrusting his hips up. It's like the universe is trying to torture you.
'Eddie...' you murmur, mortified, 'you can do them yourself.'
'Can't, sweets,' he shakes his head defiantly, 'hands not working, see!'
He dramatically attempts and fails to use his hands to undo his belt; flopping them around as if they were jello.
'Sure you're meant to be a rockstar? I think you'd make a better clown...'
He prods you with his socked toes then but his smile is beaming. Sighing you begin to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's eyes are wide, throat tight and brain malfunctioning as he watches something he'd only fantasised about. Why did I talk her into this, he yells at himself, this is dangerous. He watches as your fingers nimbly undo his button, then the zip, then you take the top of them and begin to slide the denim away. Your soft touch brushing against his hip bones, then his thighs, exposing his boxers, exposing himself. Thank fuck they don't have holes in, he thanks his earlier sober self.
Your heart is in your throat seeing Eddie there reclined on your bed in nothing but underwear. You've seen him like this before but usually in glimpses as he walks between the bathroom and bedroom. Now he's entirely on display and it's torturous. You're barely allowed to look never mind touch. Praying he's too wasted to realise how your eyes flicker too the outline of his...
'Okay!' You clap, 'it's bedtime for you, Mr! Big day tomorrow!'
Eddie groans like a petulant child, 'don't wanna!'
You scoff as you tug at the duvet for him to move so you can get under.
'Don't wanna what? Go and live it up in California? Go and be a superstar?'
With his back turned to you as he swings to get off the bed, you can't see the empty look in his eyes. The sadness that sweeps the earlier joking off his face.
'No, s'just... don't wanna leave you.'
You fix your gaze at the ceiling as you lie there, not daring to look him although he's doing the same. Looking anywhere but at you as he climbs into bed.
'Oh... well... Eds, you ha-'
Your forget what you were going to say as Eddie turns over and drapes himself over your lying frame. Arm slung over you and his face buried into your abdomen. You're frozen, praying that now isn't the moment the baby decides to move or somehow he hears it inside you.
'I only just got you back,' he mumbles into the worn fabric of your shirt.
Any potential of him hearing the baby, the baby was now drowned out by the hammering of your heart. You're unsure of what to say or do other than stroke his tangled curls soothingly.
'You'll always have me,' you whisper back. It pains you how true the sentiment is, you would always be there. Waiting for him like the moon to his earth, functionless without him, permanently in his orbit.
The warmth radiating from you envelopes Eddie. The softness of the skin on your arm that he strokes and of the warn t-shirt of his you wear. No one has brought him comfort like this since his Mom. Nothing can touch him when he's in your embrace. If being in your arms was all he ever did, it was a life well lived. But that can't happen, you aren't his.
'S'not enough...' he croaks groggily.
Having you always but just as a friend isn't enough, is what he means. But he's too scared to ever admit that fully and too heavy with booze and sleep to explain anyway.
'What do you mean?' Your heart sinks.
What's not enough? Am I not enough? I already know, it's why I have to let you leave. Yet you realise your questions will remain unanswered as soft snores begin to drift from Eddie's lips. Snuggled into you, he falls into rhythmic breathing, his hand having moved from your arm, now resting on your stomach. It's the closest you'll ever get to having him feel your bump, you realise. You stay there, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke his hair in time with his breathing. It feels natural, regardless of the heartbreak, you feel at peace with him like this.
And maybe the baby feels that, feels how truly comfortable you are. Or, maybe, it's the sensation of being enveloped by Eddie; his warmth covering your bump. But as you drift asleep, the baby wiggles and kicks under his touch as if they too feel connected to Eddie.
Sometime later, at an ungodly hour, Gran wakes up. Making her way across the landing to your room to make sure you were safe and home. A quiet gasp escapes her once she opens the door ajar. There you lie on your bed, Eddie curled round you, as if guarding the bump he's oblivious too. It looks picture perfect, like a scene that was meant to be. As if her best friend, Eva Munson, was still alive and standing beside her, Gran can hear her smug laugh.
'I told you so,' Eva would be gloating, 'I said we'll really be family one day, Ruby.'
If only it had worked out so simple, Gran thinks with a woeful smile, maybe one day.
What was that deja vu? Is there something you don't remember... read the new prequel to find out
tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife
#enam3l love lola#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson × fem reader#eddie munson × reader#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson X y/n#rockstar!eddie munson#eddie munson × afab reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#stranger things 4#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader
59 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! So I said I would come back and leave more detailed comments about Helen ch.1 and I am a woman of my word SO! Here we are
Firstly, I rewatched John Wick just for this, bc I wanted to be able to pick up on nuances that I may otherwise have forgotten, so I took notes while watching it like the dork I am 😂 What jumped out at me most is how perfectly suited Joel's intensity (both when it comes to love and when it comes to violence) is for a John Wick AU!!! At one point John is described in the movie as "a man of commitment, focus, sheer will" which captures the parallels beautifully to me - and I really love the idea that the same qualities that made Joel a good assassin are also the ones which made him a good husband. There's something simultaneously beautiful and dark about that. I also FELT this description in how Joel's affections were described - he is so tender with his wife throughout. Reacting immediately once he sees she is tearing up, being so obviusly thrilled that she's back and so open about having missed her, liking it when she takes care of his hair. "Devotion" is so apt, and it is the word that comes to the forefront of my brain when I think about them, but I read this chapter and thought "committed to his wife? Check. Focused on his wife? Check. Getting back up after an ambush out of sheer will for his wife? Check". Also in the film, in the note that came with the dog, John's wife wrote "You still need something to love" and if that doesn't simply SCREAM Joel then what does? One of my notes was "Joel absolutely would go scorched earth á la John Wick" 😂 what I'm trying to say is that the way the parallels play out between the fic and the movie is absolutely BRILLIANT!! Also the little remark about him being a "meticulous driver"?? I see you!!!
Secondly, that preface and the bit in italics at the beginning???? You had me nervous with that bc like I said, I knew you were a genius when I first read the description for Helen but that as the intro to the whole fic??? I cannot imagine a more perfect beginning to this story. I will say at first I thought this would go under "parallels btwn the movie and the fic", bc I thought "well in the movie John watches a video of his dead wife, maybe in this fic Joel listens to the voicemail thing she recorded" but now I am not sure if she dies in this fic so I was thinking maybe Joel has to reconcile with her due to hiding his past and she hasn't been answering his calls? 🤔 i am intrigued but clueless. Also "did you get the perfect life Joel?" Is so painful to me bc yeah!!! It seems like he did!!! Leave my man alone he just wanted to love on his wife go away you're making him kill people!!!
Joel "was fourteen when he escaped... He is destined for Hell" and then it's revealed that he has a burn scar from a cigarette from "the people that raised" him... Joel learned Spanish in the Marines??? Do you know how hooked you've got me on Joel's backstory in this??? Do you understand the awesomeness of your own writing??? Do you comprehend that this fic has been like,,,, the ONLY thing in my brain these past few days??? God. I understand why she teared up though, I am quite ready to cry. I will equip myself with many tissue boxes for future chapters.
I know this is already obnoxiously long and I apologise, I am really trying not to take up too much of your time but the details in this are all so great! How the tone and Joel's whole outlook shifts once he sees her, like he goes from scanning his surroundings and thinking about the blade in his jacket lining (SUCH a good, characterising little touch to have that in there, speaks VOLUMES about who he is so efficiently!!!!) to basically only having eyes and focus for her 🥺
Is her croaking "can't breathe, honey" foreshadowing for how him trying to keep her close ends up being what kills her??? I want these two to have a happy ending so bad i am freaking out about this... pls just let this end with them happy and safe and finally getting that puppy. The hole in the painting where the woman's heart should be, though? Doesn't bode well for my hopes...
I want to highlight every piece of dialogue between them and all the touching!! Oh my goodness the way you describe their physicality is pure poetry. I can FEEL the devotion through the screen.
The fact that she not only paints him and the two of them together, but also her inner monologue so clearly sees Joel from an artist's perspective? GAAAAH I AM SO IN LOVE W THIS FIC. Oh also "no tears for me, not until I've earned'em" OH??? Just take my whole heart why don't you then?? "When will you learn that everything is about you" DON'T I am gonna turn feeeral. The fact that this foreshadowed the kid from the gas station later saying that Joel doesn't matter though? Damn that broke my heart. "Joel drags his open mouth up the column of your sternum, its golden pillar, his tongue dipping to taste the nectar that pools in the hollow of your throat. He tastes you instead, and he feels he has not cheated God." UHM???? THIS MIGHT ACTUALLY BE MY FAVOURITE THING EVEEEEER. "Your Joel will die and he will know pain in the way you want him to know love." This sentence + the way she tries to negotiate in order to protect him??? Oh. OH I LOVE HER. And then the threat to her being what makes him get up and fight like hell even though, before that, he was immobilised? HELL. YES. "Your soft cry inverts his ribs, sits heavy and wrong in his chest." + details about men Joel has wanted to kill for his wife but kept himself back from... the thoughts I had bc of this suggest I might need Jesus more than Joel does 😂
"Faith, he thinks now, glaring at the shallow cut on your cheek, is knowing your purpose. The wound is his purpose" what goes on in your brain when you craft a masterpiece like this I am just asking on behalf of us mortals.
I had to google "the black hands of Dürer" and now I am imagining that as a tattoo on Joel and my brain is empty except for that thought. So with that, I leave you and tell you I cannot wait for part 2 🥰
So I've had to migrate to my laptop just to give this ask the respect it fucking DESERVES because??? Oh my god???? This is the most in-depth and insightful and passionate analysis - when you said you were coming back with more thoughts, I did not expect you to rewatch JW let alone take notes. Every single word of this had me giggling and kicking my feet and slapping my hand over my mouth to contain the sheer joy. I am so honoured to have this in my inbox and honestly, I don't think I can do it justice. However, I'm ready to fucking dive in baby let's go!!!
Re: your first point about John/Joel parallels...
My original idea for the entire fic came from a thought I had one day: What if his wife had lived, and she found out about his life as a hitman? And in so many ways, Joel is similar to John, and it makes my heart SING that you noticed this. Joel needing "someone to love" reminds me of his motto that "you find something to fight for." So, of course, part of me wanted to write a John Wick AU because I'm selfishly in love with the films, but most of me thought that Joel Miller would slot into that world so nicely. Your beautiful, poetic point that "the same qualities that made Joel a good assassin are also the ones which made him a good husband" is so astute. I agree completely that those driving traits of commitment, focus, and sheer will absolutely carry over into his personal life with his girl! Scorched-earth is the only way to go, baby!! Those idiots made a biiig mistake.
I also knew that I wouldn't be able (or even want) to follow the film plot point by plot point; there are necessarily lots of things that will be different, but hearing from you that I was able to capture the essence of the film truly is unlike any other compliment I could receive. And as someone who knows bare-bones nothing about cars, I love that you noticed my little reference to John's driving in the movies LOL. Is Joel stunt driving around an empty airstrip or a rainy dock? Nope, he's driving his wife home from the airport!
Re: your second point about the beginning (and your predictions!)...
I obviously cannot say much to your questions and predictions (all of which I LOVE to read, eek!!). You're very right that I wanted a little parallel between the opening of JW/the video of Helen and the call Joel makes which goes to voicemail. You are the OPPOSITE of clueless, my friend. Your observational skills know no bounds.
You're also very clever for having those tissues prepared. I'm not an angst girlie at heart and this has been a whopping challenge for me! But again, fuck, it is so validating and so exciting to know that you want to see more!!
Re: THE REST
It truly stuns me how you're able to notice the little details, and now I'm so happy that I agonized over them! The hole in the painting especially. I think I'm in love with you, helen!anon. Another point you mentioned about Joel in the airport: I love that you recognize how his killer mindset really isn't all that different from his husbandly mindset - we will explore this more in the future!! (AKA I will be giving Joel free therapy and he really should thank me.) But it makes my heart so warm to see you point out how "Devotion" really is at the core of them. And yeah... Joel being murderous definitely makes me feel.... yeah.
Your screaming in the final couple paragraphs is literally ME GEEKING OUT OVER YOU AND THIS MESSAGE. I FUCKING LOVE YOU. And you know (because I love you) that I simply could not write a Joel Miller John Wick AU without reminding us all that yes, Joel does indeed have those tattoos. The hands of Dürer on John's back is my favourite one - it's such a simple piece but it conveys a lot of his history. I thought it was important that reader fixates on these things about him because she has an artist's brain (like you said), and the way she understands his physicality is, in many ways, how she understands all of him.
And... re: your final point about what goes on in my brain... BABY YOU TELL ME. God, I have wanted to write this fic for AGES and now that it's finally happening, I feel extremely privileged and excited that people like you are getting invested the way I did. I particularly love the fact that John's wife's name is Helen, because of course it is. Of course he starts a one-man war when his only living memory of her is destroyed. Of course Joel Miller would do the exact same fucking thing, over a cut on his wife's face. The face that launched a thousand ships, or just one guy who's real mad.
All that to say, I have never been quite so moved by an ask in my life. I truly cannot describe the feeling I had reading this, and I will never, ever forget the lengths you went to to bring me your thoughts. Your observations and your insights and your predictions and your thoughts make me so fucking happy to just exist, non, let alone write this fic. I just.. I love you. Thank you so much for all of this. I'm so, so grateful, and GOD please do not ever think you're being obnoxious. This has genuinely made my entire week.
TL;DR: helen!anon makes me cry (in a really really good way)
#sweet anon#but that doesn't even begin to cover it#kiwisbell answers#fic: helen#this is a very long reply i'm sorry!!#but helen!anon deserves it#i just... wow#crying
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hurricane
Pairing: Maverick x Reader
Warnings: AGE GAP, SLOW BURN, this one is more an intro to mav's thoughts about youuuuuuu
a/n: For a girl who's username is midnight devotion I sure be falling asleep before it a lot
It's just a normal Friday night in Miramar, the ocean breeze doing little to cool the crowded bar around maverick. He doesn't mind it though. Life for him hasn't been this good since he had goose by his side. After the Uranium plant the dagger team got permanently stationed out at top gun and while he misses goose everyday, this is the closest he's felt to having a family since losing him.
Things were so turbulent with Bradley too, after he did what Carole asked of him. He doesn't regret it though he'd do anything Carole asked of him, even if the consequences of it were terrible.
He scans over his team of aviators, a full feeling in his heart, or at least as full as he can remember it being in a very long time. He hears a loud shout, and what sounds like music for laughter hit his ears. This captures the entire teams attention as they slowly look over to the ruckus.
That's when he sees you, wild hair, eyes sparkling and laughing loudly. Now Pete has been in a fair share of relationships, but he doesn't remember feeling like this, ever. He doesn't even know your name.
His first thought is that you remind him of a hurricane. Devastatingly beautiful, destructive, and he can't help but feel like being in the center of your world would be the most rewarding experience.
"Holy shit" thats what brings him out of his thoughts, Hangman's statement is soon followed by laughter.
"She really punched that guy" is roosters response, sounding in awe. That's when maverick pieces it all together. You, the short fire cracker you clearly are, just punched that 6'3 drunk asshole. The context as to why you did is still unclear to him, but he's smitten either way.
Maverick is by no means a shy person, so when he sees you clutching your knuckles, a cut on the back of your hand, he makes his way over.
"that was a hell of a punch" and okay maybe he wasn't ready for that smile to be directed to him.
"thanks, I'm afraid I didn't get away unscathed" and your voice is like honey, or sunshine after a long rainy day, or the feeling of being in his jet.
"most of the time that's how it works, I can help you get it cleaned up though if you'd like?" Is he smiling too wide right now? Or maybe looking at you for too long? Why does he feel so nervous?
"That-that would be fantastic actually" and the way your grinning at him has his heart simultaneously stop and start at a millions miles an hour. He swears his heart wasn't even beating this hard when he was going mach 10.
He walks you over to the bar, quickly asking penny if he can use her first aid kit, with a sweep of her hand she points to the back room and you two head there. His hand comes to rest on your lower back, and he considers himself lucky when you don't turn around and punch him.
"so what'd the guy do to deserve the beating?" when he hears the laugh that comes from your lips he wants to bottle it up and listen whenever he has a long day.
"let's just say he got the idea that he could just take whatever he wants, but I think he learned some manners tonight" He laughs as you two find the first aid kit. There's a table in the back that you both move to sit at. Once seated he grabs your hand, delicate with his touch because the last thing he ever wants to do is cause you pain.
"You new to Miramar then?" he questions, wanting to know everything about you, but really trying not to be creepy.
"That obvious huh?" your tone is sheepish, as if you wanted to fit in.
"No no, just a small town and you recognize the regular faces vs the new is all"
"oh right, not use to small town life yet I guess, but yeah I moved here two weeks ago"
"what brought you out here?"
"well I just graduated college and Penny was looking for a bar manager that wants to eventually buy it, and well after coming out and getting a feel for it a month ago I decided it's what I wanted" you give him a small smile, like you are unsure if your dreams are silly or not.
"that's awesome" he gives you a grin, that he hopes soothe your nerves. You could tell him your dreams were to do absolutely nothing ever and he wouldn't find it in him to judge, if anything he'd try to make it happen for you.
"wait- just graduated so how old are you?"
"I'm twenty two" and you're blushing, he should not be thinking about where else that blush leads.
Twenty two. 22. He's not above having dated women in their 30's but 22? No, he couldn't possibly. He has to stop this feeling, and he has to stop them now.
His eyes catch yours and he hates that he sees a flicker of sadness in them, mixed with what he thinks is shame?
"22 and throwing killer right hooks" he shakes his head bemused. It's a cover, and he thinks you know it. He's never felt more like a creepy old man than he does right in this moment.
He is old enough to be your father, he is not allowed to be attracted to you. He shouldn't think about the pretty sounds that would fall from your lips or the way you would laugh at his jokes the next morning. He can't stop thinking about the way his shirt would look on you, as you laid in bed with him on a slow Sunday morning.
He puts all his attention into your hand, quickly getting the gauze tapped to you knuckles. He reluctantly lets go of you, moving to put away the first aid supplies.
"thank you for your help with my hand" your voice is softer than before and the woman he first saw that reminded him of a hurricane is replaced by a much softer version.
The glow of the light around you, and the way you are sheepishly looking down hair framing your face in a way that makes him want to reach out and touch it.
"I'd say anytime, but I hope you don't make it a practice to punch people in a bar on Friday nights" and he's so relieved to see you laugh again, it's like a weight was sitting on him until he got to hear the sound.
"I won't make any promises" and there's a humorous mirth to your eyes. He watches you walk away, and instead of going back to your friend, he watches as you b-line it out of the bar.
Maybe the night was just catching up with you, it was certainly catching up with him. The way you smelt, the way your hand felt in his, it was going to haunt him in the best way possible.
Except maybe not, because he's in his 50's and you're 22. He should not be feeling any sort of feelings towards you. He was in his thirties when you were born for godsake.
He makes his way back over to the loud group of aviators, but his head was definitely still with you.
"Hey Mav, where'd you go?"
"he went to go help the pretty little puncher" is hangman's reply, smirk perfectly in place on his face.
"Seresin she is 22, stop smirking all I did was make sure her hand wasn't broken."
"oooh Mav likes the younger girls huh"
"No way that's just creepy" he hears a throat clear behind him, and he turns to see you standing there. He can't describe the way his heart plummets.
"sorry fellas, forgot my purse. 10 bucks mustache here wins the game" you give a grin but it doesn't reach your eyes and you walk away from the group.
"Hey why'd you bet on rooster and not me honey!" hangman tries to call out to you, but you were out of that bar faster than a man on fire. He feels so stupid. God why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut. He shouldn't care though, why does he care if he thought he saw your eyes glisten, why are his hands twitching with the need to run after you and make sure to wipe away any tears that may fall.
God he is so screwed.
---
Taglist:
@alanadetigy
@luckyladycreator2
@multiplefandomsmess
@tkmarvel-divergentbish
@ohh-to-be-a-frog
@roosterschanelslut
@americaarse
@malindacath
@atarmychick007
@trikigirl271
@miccissleeping
@creativecu1t
@vexedcanadian
#pete maverick mitchell#top gun maverick#maverick x reader#pete mitchell x reader#pete mitchell x y/n#pete mitchell#pete mitchell imagine#top gun#top gun 1986
220 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you for not only humoring me but also responding to my angry rants in a measured and thoughtful manner! It's post ep-12 now and tbh I've managed to eliminate most of the full-on Way hate from my feed via judicial use of the blocking tool! Which means I can't tell if the small swell of sympathy I've seen since the most recent ep is because, by using Pete as a conduit, the show is inviting us (and Babe) to, if not outright forgive, at least acknowledge the coercion and abuse that has informed Way's actions, or if general opinion has not in fact changed, but my extensive blocking has merely succeeded in shutting out the angry mob!
It is curious, though, the complete disconnect some ppl seem to be experiencing vis a vis what the show itself - not just us crazy apologists! - is trying to tell us about Way and his motivations and psychology, vs the funhouse mirror version they see: a toxic incel who can only be redeemed by death. And yes, the hypocrisy of those who write essays pleading for Kenta's salvation whilst simultaneously wishing the worst for Way...I don't get it. Well, actually I do have some thoughts as to why.
I think some ppl can't see past - and will never be able to, and I won't judge them for that - the attempted sexual assault, but, more than that, they haven't contextualised it (ugh I know how that sounds but bear with me!). They still see it in terms of Way trying to rape Babe cos he thinks his ten years of pining mean he's entitled to him. They still see his actions as motivated primarily by a twisted version of possession and obsession masquerading as unrequited love. And if that was the case I would be right there with them, baying for blood! But for reasons both of us have discussed in length already, I see it very differently (and I'm fairly confident this is also how the show intends us to see it): I see someone who has been manipulated, abused and groomed for years, who is being held at metaphorical gunpoint, feeling he has no choice but to do this abhorrent thing because otherwise everyone he loves will suffer an even worse fate (insert usual disclaimer here about how this doesn't excuse or justify said actions). We've talked about how Way had TEN YEARS to use his power to assault Babe should he want to, and yet it's only when the walls are closing in, Tony's piling on the pressure, and Way's true identity has been revealed that he finally feels there's no going back and now he has no other choice but to go through with it. I do think maybe the show hasn't been explicit enough in spelling out that this was Tony's plan for Way the whole time - not sure if it's a subs thing, or an attempt not to lean too heavily into the mpreg thing, but they could have been clearer about that (I will be forever bitter that out of all of Tony's 'kids', we didn't get flashbacks of Way's background or his time as a child in Tony's house. I get why, to keep the reveal as a surprise, Way was kept as a bit of a mystery up to that point, but now it's out in the open it would be really useful and illuminating to see how he came to be there, how Tony planted the seed in his mind, how he met Babe, if he'd ever met any of the others, etc. I think show dropped the ball in general a tad after the big reveal - Way's screentime was reduced to drunkenly moping around in bars, which doesn't necessarily engender much sympathy! We could have had more about the meds, seen more of the real life ramifications for him if he's no longer of any use to Tony, etc.).
Other reasons I think ppl are quicker to forgive Kenta than Way: Kenta's abuse and subjugation have been shown much more regularly and explicitly - Way appears to be out and about living life freely, has his own place, his own income, his own friendship group, etc. whereas Kenta is more literally trapped/constrained/manhandled. And although we were told by Tony himself that Way is still effectively a prisoner, it's the ol' show vs tell thing again - that's still nowhere near as powerful as seeing Kenta's very continual and visual degredation. I also don't think it helps that the one scene where we are both told and shown the truth about Way's situation and his treatment at Tony's hands comes immediately after the attempted assault, when most viewers, understandably, aren't exactly in the mood to feel sorry for him!
I also think another possible explanation is that Way's actions specifically hurt Babe, our main POV character, and in a very personal way, whereas Kenta's actions a) had a more indirect impact (well, the trafficked children might disagree but they're only hypothetical so we don't really care about them as much!) and b) weren't personal - he didn't betray anyone's trust or friendship or love - so viewers find it easier to accept mitigating factors.
At the end of the day, I mostly just feel sorry for those viewers who either can't see past their own bias (obviously does not include anyone who for personal reasons may have been triggered)/admit they were wrong, or who lack the necessary media literacy to fully engage with the characterisation the show is offering us (hahahah says the self-proclaimed hater of all things Charlie/Babe!!!), since it's an infinitely more interesting and powerful and tragic story if you see Way, and Way's relationship with Babe, through open, receptive and, most importantly, sympathetic eyes.
my pleasure! i'm happy i have someone to talk with way about; the friends i usually theorise and cry about blorbos with are still way behind so i can't tell them anything bc i don't want to spoil them, and i've been venting to another friend (more like talking her ear off) but she's not watching or really interested so it's not really the same even when she has something to say lol
and yeah, at the end of the day we're responsible for curating our fandom experience, inasmuch as people don't tag hate etc. i haven't blocked anyone bc for some reason i feel bad blocking people which i know is stupid (edit: never fucking mind i am blocking now), but i do follow very selectively bc i get easily overwhelmed by my dash, so everything i've seen was either in the tag or by people i no longer follow. this means i have wonderful moots who provide me with plenty of blorbo feels and are not assholes about other characters <3
(fun? fact: my top blorbos are literally way > kenta > pete which is i think i'm no too bothered by the shipping side of things? as in it's not affecting me as it does sometimes the fact that some people are looking at all of this solely through their shipping goggles or whatever... but idk. i don't deal well with hate generally and after some thought i think that's what's bothering me about the whole way situation, bc the character/media you're hating on won't know bc it doesn't exists but their fans will.)
i totally agree, the fact we saw that scene with tony (even if it's clear how terrified way is in his presence earlier) right after the attempted SA didn't help. i wish we'd seen more of his past, maybe a flashback when he was at the bar… because as you said, once again the not showing/telling/letting people infer things isn't helping. specially when people aren't interested in the first place. idk i just like to understand characters independently of if i like them or not so this is! baffling to me! and yeah exactly, the fact that it was personal to babe plays a big part too, never mind how babe himself feels about way since we're already sympathising with him as our main character so…
as my friend (the one that isn't watching but is patting my back in these difficult times) tells me, sometimes people just let their prestablished idea of a character blind them to what the story is telling them. and honestly, their loss. skill issue if you ask me /j
anyway, the ep is about to start. let's hold hands.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
9 book recs meme! tagged by @roobylavender; ty faatima <3333. this ended up being longer than i wanted it to be but oh well
the bloody chamber & other stories - angela carter
angela carter quotes get circulated out of context on this site every 2-3 business days but i really do think everyone should tap into the bloody chamber at least once. i have written many a paper on this book & each time i uncovered some new aspect i had previously overlooked but which carter hadn't. i'm not sure what i could say about it that hasn't already been said; this is one of the best fairytale anthologies out there, period. not to mention, those quotes are so much better in context.
decreation: poetry, essays, opera - anne carson
the first book of carson's essays/poetry i ever read cover to cover after crashing against plainwater hard when i was like 16. decreation is very aptly named - it's disjointed & deconstructed & more than a little strange, moving from subject to subject, essay to poem to play to opera and back again, but it managed to capture my attention the way none of carson's other works did. decreation is a journey through the self (through sleep & the subconscious, the spirit & God) that doesn't really arrive anywhere but is worth reading for the journey. aside from showing me just what could be done with form, it also introduced to me to marguerite porete, who became my own personal medieval mystic-martyr special interest. i've since read a lot of carson, but i still think decreation is her most interesting (& maybe underrated?) work.
violence & the sacred - rene girard
a solid 75% of my essays in my last two years of undergrad used this text as scaffolding of some sort. even when i wasn't writing about violence, sacrifice, or mimesis, i was thinking about it. this is a dense book of theory that flies by because everything girard is saying is simultaneously insane & so so compelling. other people have if you're interested in rituals, the societal function of violence, the origins of the word scapegoat, or you just want to find a new jumping off point for your own thoughts on any of these topics, i think you would find violence & the sacred a really fascinating text.
the children of húrin - j.r.r. tolkien
i read the children of húrin directly after reading the hobbit at age 14; i wanted another 'short' 'standalone' tolkien book to read before diving into the lord of the rings or the silmarillion. (i clearly did not know anything about tolkien at this point in my life.) but i don't regret it at all, because it's probably the best thing he's ever written. CoH is, for the most part, about the tragic life of túrin son of húrin & how the curse on his family dooms him & everyone he crosses paths with. the tighter focus on túrin's various fuck-ups and miseries is more intimate, more detailed, and more character-driven unlike a lot of tolkien's first age work. it's also the darkest thing tolkien's written, in my opinion; this is his longest most extended greek tragedy moment & he leans into it 100%. hubris, unintentional incest, accidental murder, suicide - the children of húrin has it all. túrin turambar you will always be famous!
a master of djinn - p. djeli clark
this is my favorite new fantasy read of the last couple of years. i went into thinking i wouldn't like it at all—it's set in an edwardian-era alternate history magical steampunk cairo, for one—but clark's writing is incredibly immersive. he's very skilled at reimagining history in a way that both makes perfect sense & is wildly inventive. i thought some of its critiques of colonialism were a little shallow but otherwise it was fun. and lesbian! the main character is a dapper muslim butch, and while i'm not usually a 'representation for its own sake' kind of person, i couldn't help but be obsessed with fatma. it helps that it has a more refined perspective on islam compared to virtually any other muslim/arab fantasy novel i've ever read (this is not a high bar). a master of djinn comes with not one, but two short stories set in the same universe, so you can check out clark's writing for free & see how you like it.
as meat loves salt - maria mccann
this one was recommended to me by a twitter mutual almost 2 years ago and i haven't reread it since, but i think about it frequently anyways. it's a historical fiction novel set during the english civil war, following jacob cullen, a man initially of gentle birth who becomes a servant who becomes a soldier in the parliamentary army. characterizing it beyond that gets tricky; how do you properly describe the completely insane depths of rage, lust, love, & obsession that mccann plumbs? as meat loves salt is for the hannigram girls, the heathcliff/cathy girls, the girls who enjoy devotion & obsession going hand in unlovable hand. major tws for rape & violence, & i don't think i could read it again unless i was in the right headspace, but this one is really good.
ship of magic - robin hobb
i could have put any robin hobb book here, because i do think everyone should read robin hobb at least once. especially if you have even a passing interest in fantasy. ship of magic made the final cut because it's the perfect beginning for anyone who might be turned off by the slow character study that is the farseer trilogy. liveship traders is more fast-paced with a rotating cast of v unique characters and the best villain she's ever put to paper. it has talking ships, terrible parenting even for a fantasy book, representation for awful horrible teenage girls with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, & a truly original take on dragons.
beowulf: a new verse translation - seamus heaney
when i decided to minor in medieval studies, beowulf was at least 60% of the reason. i read the r.m. liuzza broadview translation for class (which i love, to be clear), but my prof recommended that we go read heaney's translation anyways, because it's both a good translation of beowulf & an exercise in poetic brilliance. to me, heaney's beowulf feels less like a translation & more like a free-verse poem he wrote while possessed by the spirit of a 7th century scop. i know there are better, more accurate/faithful translations, but this one has a spirit to it that's difficult to find elsewhere. honestly it's worth reading for the introduction alone.
the fortune men - nadifa mohamed
my token contemporary non-fiction fiction novel of the past couple of years. i'm always rooting for everyone somali but also? nadifa mohamed is just a great writer. this novel is set in 1950s cardiff, wales, and dramatizes the true story of mahmood hussein mattan, a somali man who was wrongfully executed for the murder of lily volpert. mohamed approaches the events with so much empathy for both victims and the extensive research she did shines through at every moment. the consistency and conviction and clarity of her writing will convince you that, even if you don't know anything about the city or the time period or the events unfolding, she definitely does. she was kinda robbed for the booker but that's just my opinion.
tagging @derelictship; @misericordae; @hesitationss; @yevrosima-the-third; @gawayne; @butchniqabi & anyone else who wants to do it!
#are these even recs they're like mini-books reviews. sorry you get my unfiltered thoughts i usually reserve them for twt#if you dont read anything else. PLEASE READ THE FORTUNE MEN OK. support my somali sister ty#txt
14 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
unluckylovee
all good things come to an end.
dcdoesart
bupropion hcl, xl 300mg
8-anastasia-8
Анастасия
nowitsfuckingnaptime
im Fuck
noblecide2
soaked in bleach