#if jackson was a girl this is how his wardrobe might look like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshjacksons · 3 years

Text

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

57 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 4 years

Text

Date Night ~ Jackson Wang

He couldn’t get in his car quick enough as he closed the door of his apartment, placing his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, placing the keys in the ignition. With one last glance of his reflection in the mirror, he pulled away from the drive of his home.

Throughout the whole drive, he had butterflies in his tummy, desperate to see you. His hands tapped against the steering wheel with a mixture of excitement and nerves, continually checking himself in the mirror whenever he could, making sure not a single hair was out of place.

As he pulled up outside your home, he spotted the front light of your bedroom was on, smiling softly to himself. He fastened up one of the buttons on his jacket before stepping out of the car. After locking the door, he made his way towards your door, skipping up the stairs.

His arm shook as he reached out to knock the door, hearing your footsteps walking down the stairs a few moments later. With a deep breath, he took one step away from the door, resting his arms in front of his chest as he heard the door unlock.

The moment he saw you stood before him; his breath was taken away. Your red dress fitted perfectly, your hair was done perfectly, just the way he liked it, which was coincidentally your favourite style too. He couldn’t help but chuckle, meeting your eyes.

“Wow,” he smiled, stepping into your home as you opened up the space for him.

As he stepped forwards, his hand rested on your waist, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek, careful not to ruin your makeup. Straight away he could smell your perfume, inhaling softly, as the corners of his mouth turned into a smile, walking through further into the house.

Your hands lifted your dress slightly as you walked, knowing it was one Jackson had always been desperate for you to wear on one of your date nights together.

As he walked, he couldn’t take his eyes away from you, glancing back every time he knew you weren’t looking at him. He couldn’t help but smile, studying every single part of your body so closely and precisely.

“You look beautiful,” he finally whispered as he made himself comfortable in the living room.”

A light blush covered your cheeks as he spoke, shying away from him. “You look really handsome in your suit too; it’s been a while since I’ve seen you dress so smartly.”

“I know, I thought I might as well prove to you I don’t just wear tracksuits,” he joked, unfastening his suit button as he took a seat. “Sorry that I’m a bit early too.”

“It’s alright, I’m nearly ready anyway,” you assured him, brushing your hands over the dress to remove any creases. “I’m excited for dinner, it sounds like an amazing place.”

“I thought now that I’m home, I should take you somewhere special.”

A couple of months had passed since the last time you got to see each other due to Jackson’s work commitments abroad, which already left him excited to see you. But seeing you dressed so beautifully, reminded him just how excited he really was to see you.

He watched on carefully as you moved around your home and grabbed a few of the bits you needed to put in your bag. “Our reservation isn’t for another hour; you don’t need to rush. I just couldn’t wait to see you, so I got here a little early.”

You spun around to face him, watching as he patted the space beside him on the sofa. You reluctantly put your bag down and walked over to sit yourself beside him.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he whispered into your ear, draping an arm over your shoulders. “It’s as if you knew exactly what my favourite things were, and you put them all together to create the perfect luck.”

“If I’m honest, my hair was already like this from work, and the dress was at the front of my wardrobe,” you chuckled, resting closely into his side.

“So, you’re this beautiful effortlessly then?” He questioned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I wish I was as stunning as you were.”

Your head shook, hiding your blushed cheeks into his jacket suit, feeling his hand squeeze carefully against the tops of your shoulders. He was desperate to see your face and the effect he had on you, seeing you so nervous always made his heart skip a beat.

“How can you look this good after stepping off a flight only seven hours ago?” You asked him, fixing a small strand of his hair that had fallen loose. “You look like you’ve just stepped off the set for a fancy commercial.”

It was his turn to go shy as he pressed his hand over your mouth to stop you from talking anymore. It sure had taken him a while to look presentable this evening, but as soon as he landed back in Korea, he couldn’t wait to see you any longer.

The two of you settled back against the couch, your arms wrapped around each other as you began to catch up on all the things that had been happening. Every time he glanced down at you as you spoke, Jackson couldn’t help but smile widely, listening attentively to everything you told him.

It felt like he’d never been away, your arms were still just as tight around him, your smile was still just as wide, everything about you that he’d fallen in love with, was just the way he wanted it to be.

“Y/N,” you heard him whisper, breaking you from your chatter to look across at him. “I’m not sure whether I’ve made it clear, so I just want to say it again tonight. You look absolutely beautiful.”

Your eyes rolled, hitting lightly against his chest. “I was in the middle of a good story there, you idiot. If you tell me I’m beautiful one more time, my ego might get too big to even walk out of the house.”

“I’ll never stop telling you that you’re beautiful,” he mused, resting his head on top of yours. “So, you’ll probably want to buy yourself a bigger front door, or just get rid of it all together by the time I’ve finished complimenting you.”

“You should go away more often if you’re as sweet as this,” you teased, giggling as he gasped in response. “I’m only kidding, I much prefer having you here with me.”

He nodded, kissing against the tip of your nose. Of course, he agreed, there was nowhere else he’d wanted to be during the long months away then back with you.

“We should probably think about going soon, I don’t want to get into traffic,” he smiled, helping you up from the sofa, both of his hands in yours.

You ran quickly around the house to gather up all the bits that you wanted, throwing your bag together, grabbing a pair of shoes from the back door, before checking your reflection one last time in the mirror at the front of your house.

“You still look beautiful,” a voice whispered from beside of you. You turned to face Jackson as you put on your shoes, nudging against his strong arm. “I can’t wait to show you off tonight, I get the most beautiful girl in the world on my arm.”

“How am I supposed to deal with you all night,” you laughed, stepping out into the cold, “I’m not going to be able to handle all of these compliments.”

“You best get used to all of them, because I’ve got a lot more.”

“You’re not going to stop this, are you?” You questioned.

“Telling you that you’re beautiful? Never.”

---

Masterlist

277 notes · View notes

primavera-cerezos · 4 years

Text

what’s that? I’m supposed to be sleeping? no, thank you. I would rather write 900 words of genderqueer Hermione Granger.

tw/cw: looooots of talk of top surgery (not graphic), coming out to self/others (overall very positive)

not betaed. it’s 2am folks, we ain’t got time for that.

At 20 years old, Hermione Granger decides to get top surgery.

“I’ve never liked my chest,” they explain to Ginny, who nods in understanding. “It’s in the way, makes my tops fit funny, and… I just don’t like it.”

Hermione is, of course, quite familiar with gender affirmation procedures. They’ve read all about them, both the magical and nonmagical sorts. The people who get them, the surgical techniques, the aftercare. It’s all very clear. Trans men get bilateral mastectomies and other breast-tissue-removal procedures to make their chests match those of men who never formed breasts.

The thing is, Hermione is not a trans man.

But they read in a book—a muggle book, one they’re reading for Harry’s youth group—about a young person who doesn’t identify as a man or a woman. That led to a delightful rabbit hole into nonbinary gender identities (with brief side trips into computer coding and children’s movies), and several days later, Hermione emerges, library-dusty and fueled by knowledge.

“Is there a new name we should use for you, dear?” asks Molly, but Hermione shakes their head.

“No,” they say. “I like mine.”

They try muggle binders and compression spells, but it’s no good. There’s always the presence, the awareness. No, there’s only one thing for it.

“We love you,” their parents tell them. “Girl, boy, whatever.”

“I love you too, but I’m not a ‘whatever.’” This comment leads to some terse conversation over dinner and, later, quiet book recommendations. Their parents call the next day and apologize.

Ron offers to tailor Hermione’s wardrobe to fit their new measurements, once they’ve recovered enough for a good fitting. “Mum didn’t teach me a hundred seamstress spells for nothing,” he says with a shrug. “You want to get pho tonight?”

Hermione sees a muggle GP and is horrified by the amount of red tape around top surgery. They decide to start volunteering with a group that lobbies for reforming the requirements for gender affirmation procedures.

That’s all well and good, but then they see some post-op photos right after a bad bout of food poisoning and determine that muggle techniques are not the way to go for them. Nonetheless, they make up a spell to auto-dial MPs with gender-related medical best practices.

They visit St Mungo’s, but there isn’t a gender ward, or even a breast ward, so they find Draco and force him to figure out who they need to talk to.

“I’ll bloody do it myself if you don’t let me piss in peace, Granger,” Draco threatens, to which Hermione responds with direct quotes from the Healer Code of Ethics while standing next to Draco’s urinal.

A resident from Canada is located in the basement of the hospital. Elena Pfeifer, it turns out, worked in Ontario doing magical plastic surgery for several years before moving to the UK. She’d done a number of top surgeries and trained under the best-known top surgeon in North America, who had invented the magical version of the procedure.

“Well,” Draco says, “let’s bring him over.”

Healer Horatio Jackson-Torton is a very tall, very pleasant man. He and Harry get along like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Harry takes Horatio to the youth group, and by the end of the night half the kids have decided to become healers.

Horatio agrees to perform Hermione’s top surgery at St Mungo’s and demands any available surgeons observe. Having never been demanded to do anything before, the Healers comply with baffled curiosity. By the end of the two-hour operation, three of them have registered to study in Ontario under Horatio. Elena Pfeifer feels extremely smug the entire time.

Hermione’s recovery is quick, any pain alleviated by the way their sweaters drop from their shoulders to their belly with any interruptions. True to his word, Ron alters their clothes, and spends every moment telling Hermione how amazing they look. Hermione, who spends more time admiring themself in the mirror than they ever have before, agrees.

Molly brings stacks of dinners and baked goods, and Arthur listens with fascination as Hermione tells me about the muggle way of doing it. Harry and Draco come over to eat Molly’s food and watch Hermione’s new television. Draco french braids Hermione’s hair and Harry rubs their feet.

Four days after the surgery, Hermione is ready to go shopping. Ron’s done a wonderful job, of course, but they want to buy the kinds of clothes they’ve been eying for years. They spend at least a paycheque on button-ups and cardigans and a couple of blessedly-flat-fitting pocket tees. It’s all lovely and they feel delightful.

They help Ginny pick out a binder to try, and then they think better of it and invent a binding spell. “You can’t play Quidditch in a binder,” they explain, “but with the spell you can breathe safely.”

A group branches off from Harry’s, trans kids and genderqueer kids and kids who don’t quite know what they might be, but who like wearing their older sisters’ dresses. Harry hires two social workers from Canada to run it. Hermione marches in protests for fair treatment for trans people in the UK and sends hourly owls to Draco until he agrees to fund a gender affirmation ward at St Mungo’s.

All in all, Hermione thinks years later, swimming topless at the beach with their friends, it was a very good idea.

#genderqueer Hermione granger #mine #drabble #trans HP #top surgery #genderqueer

65 notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

Text

Hell, You and Christmas (Favored Ones, Part 10.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Part Summary: Killing a human really did a number on you... Joel, Ellie or Dina couldn't help you to get out of the cycle inside your head. Until you realized that it's Christmas already.

A/N: We're slowly getting into the fluffy parts before it all goes downhill.

Warnings: Uh... So... You know... We be smutty... Again... THEY BE HAVING A HOOK UP RELATIONSHIP, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT. JUST WAIT UNTIL WE'LL BE IN SEATTLE. YOU'LL BEG ME TO WRITE FOUR SMUTTY CHAPTERS IN A ROW.

Word count: 5.8 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @peakymarvels @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

The winter of 2037, 3 months before the incident:

Joel hadn't seen you for four weeks. Sure, you met him in the town, chit-chatted with him, and asked him about his wellbeing, but you hadn't visited him ever since the patrol you've had. The man was letting you take your time, there was not a single sign of pressure.

Yet truth be told, he missed having you around. There was something empty about his house in the night when he was going asleep all alone. It wasn't that he hadn't sex in weeks, that didn't bother him as much as feeling the bed being cold and empty again. Was it what you saw that made you cut everything with him? It was quite confusing the man since you hadn't any problem with greeting him and talking to him. So Joel was trying to spend as much time as possible with reading, carving animals out of wood. He was often seen going for a hunt, spending most of the time either alone or with Tommy and Maria.

But it was hard for you. It wasn't that Joel would make you feel less safe once you saw him just suffocating a guy with his damned forearm, the quite opposite actually. If anything, this damned man with a somehow gentle soul, was perfectly capable of protecting you from bad men. But there was this something that was coming up inside of you - what were you if you were capable of taking someone else's life? Joel told you that makes you a survivor and any of the people that know weren't acting any differently around you.

Slowly, all the leaves were gone - and once, when you were walking around the town with your palms inside your jacket, you noticed that something fell on your nose. First snow of the year. It was late November - so much time flew past since you had your patrol with Joel. Jesus, were you out for such a long time? Holy hell.

When you came home, you looked at your clock - realizing it was already the thirtieth of November. December was starting the next day, which meant that Christmas were coming soon... And you hadn't got even one gift. It wasn't about the gifts at all and you knew that, but you enjoyed giving your friends something that would make them happy. Ellie was quite easy to pleasure - you, as usual, gave her a bottle of beer and some donuts from Seth. Dina loved scarves, so in exchange for help in the workshop, you got one for her. Jesse was quite hard to estimate, so you prepared a few bombs for him.

You managed to trade one of your other bombs for a book Diego wanted. Just a day before Christmas, you got all the gifts you needed and for real, there was only one person who you wanted to give someone to. This time it wasn't that you didn't want to spend time with Joel - it was just a lot to think about. And honestly, you were now in the phase when slowly, everything got back to normal again.

So you decided to give him a small gift he'll have to unwrap himself in his bedroom after the traditional Christmas party people held in the big dining room. Usually, people were drinking, eating sweets, dancing, and singing some carols at the beginning. Then, everyone usually went to talk with a group of friends. So, naturally, you ended up at the local young folk's table with your best friends, dressed up in the cutest dress you could thing you had in your wardrobe, having two bottles of eggnog and a plate of Christmas sweets in the middle. As usual, the presents were thrown into a sack, and the person who got the gift in that row had to guess from who it was.

It was great so far - Jesse brought you a whole plastic bag of plastic bottles which he was collecting the whole yeah for you, Ellie gave you a pair of socks and Dina somehow managed to get a bottle of wine for you, which was special in the town. This gift was so amazing that you told them you'll open it together once you'll all gather again. The last gift was from Diego, who spent weeks trying to figure out how to tell you his feelings. And in the end, Tommy had advised him to give you a branch of mistletoe in a Christmas card. So he did exactly that.

Just when you were about to open the card, some rumble coming from the front part of the room made each of you turn around. Ellie, who was drunk beyond socially acceptable, started to whistle loudly when she saw Joel, who wasn't exactly sober either, bringing a guitar to the stage where the musicians were playing until Seth turned on some stereo with Carols.

Everyone changed a look of surprise about Ellie's reaction before you all shifted your attention to what was happening around. Diego was feeling more and more pressured when he watched your hand putting the card down when you leaned your back into Ellie's chest, watching her old man on the stage.

"So, as usual, my younger brother still thinks it's appropriate to make me play songs against my will. And even this year, he talked me down to play somethin' for you because he still thinks y'all enjoyin' it." - Joel told the microphone with a shy smile on his face, looking into the crowd of mostly drunk adults. Dina out both her palms in front of her lips to yell... - "Bet your damn ass we love you playing guitar!" - Making your whole table giggle like a group of high school girls.

Joel lowered his head with the hint of defeat, he was still smiling though, in his face, shaking his head in the process. - "Might not be a carol, but it is for someone here." - Joel looked into the crowd with a grin. You wouldn't suspect he's thinking about you - you'd say he means Ellie - until your gazes met for a second. So he was giving you a Christmas present even though you've been distancing from him for quite some time now... Why was Joel sometimes the sweetest guy in Jackson just to be the jackass most of the time?

Ellie, clearly bored with the old man singing for her, scoffed inside your hair, bringing you even closer than before. Joel took his time with making sure the guitar is good to go before he plucked the first chords of the song. Both you and Ellie furrowed while watching him - he played this song for neither of you so far. So you've listened to the words, while surprised smiles appeared on both of your faces.

"'Cause I'd rot in Hell with you if you'd just ask me to. I love the shitty things we do together - live with me in this sin forever. Hell and you - I know you want it too. I say take the shot, see this chance, feel the fire, and let me have this... Dance with you." - He proceeded to the refrain, having both you and Ellie sitting there with opened mouths.

"I think this song ain't for you, girl!" - Dina yelled, sending a loud whistle to Joel. This man rarely sang something different than overplayed country songs or Johnny Cash - let alone something as sexual as this was. To support the old man, almost everyone around the table clapped in rhythm, giggling at the lyrics.

"I didn't know he's seeing someone." - Ellie said and drank one cup of the eggnog at once. Diego's card was long forgotten by the time Joel was leaving the stage, shaking hands with the musicians. There were now theories about who Joel could be seeing. The person was in the room with them.

"I think it's Bobby." - Jesse looked at all of you. - "She's around Joel's age and her butt ain't bad for someone as old as she is." - The boy finished with a grin, earning a chest smack from Dina, who was laughing like crazy.

"Well, obviously, it's Francis from the kitchen. Their personalities match totally." - Dina rolled her eyes. Uh, that wasn't true - while Joel was an adorable jackass with his good and bad moments, Francis was a straightway bitch. But Ellie was shaking her head at Dina's tip. - "He needs someone who can get through the bad days with him. Francis would've murdered him on the spot. In my opinion, it's Cat from the stables. She's lovely, they both adore horses and trust me, I've seen them talking the other day... Fuck me, she's all over him." - Ellie laughed, still keeping her hand on your knee.

This topic was making you sick if you had to be honest. Sure, they were joking about who Joel can be fucking while the person sat next to them. Or... Was it you? As they spoke of it, you weren't so sure if the song was even for you. You meant a lot to Joel, but he never had told you anything to even have you an idea that you could be this important to him. But no matter how nervous it was making you, you were still laughing along with your friends, drinking maybe a bit more of eggnog than you should.

That was Diego's chance to embarrass both of you. Your friends were total dicks when they were drinking, which you knew - but the boy had to do it nonetheless, hadn't he?

You turned your head to him, feeling a smooth touch on your shoulder, just to see Diego holding the card he gave you. Oh, you've forgotten about that. He laughed nervously and opened the piece of paper, showing you the mistletoe inside of it. Your eyes widened with horror when you realized where he's getting at with giving you such a gift.

"I mean... If you don't wanna listen to tradition, we can at least dance?" - Diego asked when he saw your terrified expression. Well, this sure wasn't what he was expecting as a reaction, yet this boy wasn't giving up so easily. Another of Johnny Cash's songs was just playing - you knew that because Joel loved to sang this man's songs - when he got up and offered you a hand.

It was awfully weird when you just sat there, looking at his palm. Ellie woke you up out of the trance by pushing you closer to the boy, giving you a sick grin. So, against your will, you put your hand in his and went to the dance floor with the boy. Even such bullshit was enough to have the black-haired boy grinning when he was circling his hands around your body.

Tommy was laughing out loud about a joke Seth has said, there were legitimate tears in Joel's brother's eyes. Joel chuckled at the joke as well, leaning one of his elbows into the bar behind them. With a smile, he took one good look around the room - just to feel the smile fade away rather quickly.

Chords of the True Faith were announcing the chorus coming just when the boy leaned in to kiss you. You sure was surprised, but you were too drunk to push him away, so the only thing that remained you was to kiss him back. When the kiss was over, you could see a huge smile on Diego's face, yet his excitement met a rather stoic face confusion you had on.

For the situation to fuck, even more, you noticed another man walking directly to you. All you could do was to close your eyes and cuss under your breath. Joel was seemingly pissed - why you had at least a clue about what had pissed him off, the others would've dismissed it as his normal jackass behavior.

"Sir." - Diego greeted him in the most polite behavior possible, unable to get the happy grin off of his. The man's eyes flickered on you, on the boy's arms wrapped around your waist proudly, and then to Diegos face in the end.

"Am I interruptin' somethin' here, son?" - Joel asked, knowing damn well he was interrupting something, which put a wicked grin on his lips, and little devilish sparks into his eyes. While Diego told him a quiet 'Yes', both of the men stared at you shaking your head with horror in your face. You didn't know how many times you'll have to drop clues for Diego, telling him you're not interested in him.

"I mean, you didn't come to talk about these damn bombs Tommy had mentioned. You have a minute?" - Joel asked you directly and Diego finally let you go from his gentle grip. To not end on the bad note completely, you at least patted his shoulder before waking off with Joel, coming to the bar to get at least a beer from Seth. - "Bombs? Really? You couldn't come up with something original?" - An angry hum left your lips.

"Diego? Really?" - Joel asked you back rather mockingly, making you finally look in his face. Damn you. It was hard to tell if it's the alcohol making you both more daring than ever before, but there was some kind of shift in his expression. Did he finally realize that he's not the only one interested in you?

"You were a good boy this year." - You mumbled with a victorious smile, waiting for the old sack ball to notice you. Your relationship with Seth was more or less without complications - you hated him just as much as he hated you. It wasn't that you'd be a bad kid or whatever, but you were friends with people Seth despited with passion. Ellie and he were arguing on almost every dance, especially when she got drunk. He was one of the people who liked the traditions - young people being polite while having a normal relationship as he put it. Which meant opposite genders being attracted to each other - which, resolved in many conflicts. Especially when both of them got drunk. There were even occasions when you hat to pull Ellie away from him because she'd kick him down to a fucking ball.

Joel's grin after your statement was hilarious - he felt confident and above the situation completely. Which made you grin as well. - "How comes?" - He asked and looked around the room, bringing his bottle closer to his lips.

"Santa left you a gift." - You smiled sweetly, moving a bit closer. There was still the socially acceptable distance between you two, yet no-one could hear what you were talking about. - "The only problem with is that... You have to take the wrapping off of me before seeing it." - Oh, the reaction of the old man was priceless. He rose his eyebrows, his mood suddenly being so much that he was almost beaming though the whole room with happiness. Or something similar to it at least.

"What are you two whispering about, huh?" - The old's ballsack voice freaked you out. If he'd be there just a moment earlier, he'd hear you telling Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, to undress you. Which would've been enough to cause a scandal? With that, you gave him the sweetest smile you were capable of. - "Nothing your long nose would have to sniff about, Seth." - And that was the fakest smile in the entire history of Jackson what you gave to Seth.

"These kids." - Seth rolled his eyes in Joel's direction, leaving to get your beer. Joel just chuckled at his sigh, agreeing with the man.

"What about meetin' me in ten at the restrooms?" - Joel grunted to you, taking another swing of his beer. This took you by surprise. Sure, seeing Joel was enough of a crazy situation on its own, but you've never done anything as crazy with anyone. You had a surprised expression, for sure, but any red flags have risen as far as Joel could tell. There was also a heavy hint of excitement in your eyes, which made his wicked grin widen even more.

"But the entire concept of it's just ridiculous. It'll blow up right in your face, I tell you that, kiddo." - Joel shifted his tone entirely all of a sudden. You wouldn't even notice Ellie approaching you if he wouldn't send you a warning.

"Heard you're keeping her hostage here." - Ellie got out of her lips and straightened to look even scarier. Oh, your poor baby. She'd do anything to keep you from getting harmed. Especially on Christmas night like that one. - "So I came here to save her." - She looked right to Joel's face with an ice-cold look. You decided to play along, scoffing at the last remark. Just when Seth gave you your beer, you took at and entwined your elbow with Ellie's.

"You don't know shit about my work, so stop inserting yourself in, yeah?" - You told Joel, turning your face to him. Quicky, you mouthed 'ten' before you let Ellie drag you along. The man hid another smirk to the beer, wondering about how impossible you could be.

"Was he laying into you a lot?" - The girls asked you on your way to the table. You shook your head with a furrow, thinking about what was happening at the bar. You were overenjoyed and very excited, looking at the clock to count down each minute. You figured out that it will be the best to pretend you want to puke - it'll give you some time and no-one will come to check on you since you puked on dances all the time.

"No, he was quite okay. It just gets repetitive." - You answered with a small smile, rolling your eyes.

"Just don't let him ruin your night, girl." - She pulled you even closer, giving you a small smile. Diego was looking like a lovesick puppy when you appeared out of the crowd. He smiled almost immediately, leaning towards you. How was just not giving up, was he? Jesus Christ. What should you tell him? Nervously, you just smiled back and nodded at the boy, but you sat far away from the boy as possible at the table.

"So, was he acting weird? Maybe looking at someone? A lot? Was he searching for his girl? You noticed something?" - Dina leaned close to you, looking you in the eyes. Well, what should you say? The only person he had his eyes on was you. The whole time. It didn't seem that he was singing for someone else, but you still couldn't be quite sure. For a moment, you pretended to think about that before you shook your head.

"Why are you so curious about that, Dina? I am your man." - The black-haired boy sitting next to one of your best friends chuckled. Dina spared Jesse a furrow before giggling and taking a sip of the eggnog.

"Because it's Joel damned Miller. He lives here for the last five years and I have never seen him talking to a woman... With romantic intentions. Have you seen that?" - Dina winked at him, making a total douche out of Jesse. Both you and Ellie were grinning on the other side. Normally, Ellie wasn't taking sides in conversations involving Joel, but she was so drunk she was grinning next to you.

Suddenly, you let out a long sigh and you put your hand on your stomach. - "Oh, and it's here." - Ellie noted, helping you on your legs. See? Everyone was just waiting until you throw up. Once you'd throw up, the night was most likely over. But Diego had stood up as well, catching your waist in the process.

"What the fuck are you doing?" - You stopped. The look you gave him was so cold that his palm immediately flew back to his side. - "I supposed you'd need some help." - The boy whispered, licking his lips as he watched you. Until that moment, everyone thought that you're a thing, especially when he kissed you on the damned dancefloor. But as soon as you answered him, everyone understood that you're not the case. Jesse also thought about pulling the dude back on his chair for a minute. - "You supposed fucking wrong, then."

Everyone sitting at the table watched you disappear in the crowd. Diego's expression was full of sadness and surprise as he sat down, and there was a weird silence ever since you left for the restrooms. No-one was looking at you and even though, there was this thought implanted to your head that someone out there is watching every mood you made.

The whole time and party seemed to slow down as you walked around Tommy, Maria, and Joel. It almost appeared that the man isn't watching every step you took, but you saw his eyes flickered in your direction when you walked to the back part of the building. Jesus, you weren't that excited in years. Literal years. You could hear the muted music when you looked into each of the four restrooms to see if they're empty. And for the love of God, you had your lucky day.

There wasn't much talking anyway. Just straight off the bat, when Joel opened up the door and there was this small moment of silence when you just watched the man - you missed gripping the too-long hair, the feeling when the beard was scratching your skin... And these shoulders. This man was one damn multipack. When you were done with taking the view, you leaned in to pull on his palm, dragging him into the cabin which was the further from the door.

His shoulder probably hit the doorframe, but you were too lost in the kiss to even notice it. And he was probably lost in it as well. Before pulling his brown leather jacket off, you made sure that the door is locked. Quickly, you pulled the jacket off him, his shirt following after that. Meanwhile, the man was looking at your dress with clear confusion.

"Aren't you cold in this?" - He asked, making you giggle before answering something. - "I suppose you're about to make me feel warm, arent you?" - That was it. No matter how much was Joel amused with you, he covered up your mouth as you still giggled into his skin. - "You need to be real quiet now, baby girl."

That made you shut up for a few seconds. Sure, he called you girl before, but being called a baby girl? What was that? Didn't he tell you that he does only 'no strings attached things'? Without hesitation, you nodded to assure him that you're gonna be a good one. It didn't last too long tho - the man got on his knees quickly, slowly raising the skirt of your dress up.

"What are you doing, Joel?" - A question flew out of you as you watched his palms smoothing your thighs. Jesus, this man was sure a masterpiece in so many regards. With a long sigh, the man got back upon his legs, tugging his t-shirt off. Oh fuck. This situation was getting serious - first, he called you baby girl and now, he took his t-shirt off. This was the first time he had done something like that. Immediately, you could see why he wasn't taking it off during your sessions - there was this big, thick scar on his right hip which was not too good-looking.

"Open up for me, come on." - The man said, looking on your lips. So, like the good girl you were, you opened your mouth - just for Joel to put his t-shirt between your lips as a form of a gag there. And it almost made you gag when you felt the fabric on your tongue. - "Keep it in. Soon, you won't even know it's there. I swear."

When that was said, Joel got back on his knees, starting over. This time, the man was taking his time. It wasn't just a bathroom quickie, as you expected, it was as a full-blown making love session when you watched his lips kiss a trail on your thigh, continuing over your hip, up to your shoulder just to take the dress off of you. For a moment, the man leaned his back into the wall opposite of you, playing with your dress between his palms. Jesus, that nasty grin was killing you.

"I sure as hell was a good boy this year, huh?" - He whispered with that typical raspy voice since his vocal cords were already giving up at the sight of you. Every damn time he saw you naked, he just suddenly lost his voice. More like he lost his mind every fucking time you undressed - just like that, it just happened. Before you had the time to answer, he was on his knees again, both of his palms holding your waist in one place. It took you a while to process the sight - and when your drunk brain finally clicked with the connections, you just stared at him, entwining your fingers to the locks of his hair.

No-one, and I mean no-one, ever had taken your underwear off with their teeth. Joel was gripping his teeth into one side of the thing, skillfully tugging it down. If Dina would've told you that Jesse was doing this to her, you'd most likely piss yourself, because it was just silly to imagine that. But Joel getting on his knees to do that shit? Holy motherfucking God. It almost felt as if you hadn't been even living until that moment.

The man didn't lose any time over staring at you with hungry eyes - he went down on you as soon as your panties were taken off enough. It never felt better with the man. Let you explain - he knew what he was doing every time he went down on you or when he was showing you something new. He knew how to make you relaxed and you were trusting him enough to tell him to stop when you weren't feeling it. But this night was different - the names, the t-shirt, Joel was acting somehow different. And it was making you feel really good.

"Hey?" - Someone asked into the muffled sighs which were almost unbearable. You almost took the t-shirt down, just to see the man looking your right in the eyes while still eating you out, shaking his head. So you bent your head until it rested on the wall and carefully put your hand on the door to ensure the girl won't open them even though they were locked already. With that, you also pulled your other palm.

As the girl did what she needed to do, a thought crossed your mind, which made you grin. You had Joel being as obedient as a fucking dog - he was on his knees, quietly and slowly working on his masterpiece as he slowly caressed your skin. That put just a grin on your lips. Yet just when the girl left, the man pulled away, making you look at him.

"Lean into the door, baby girl." - Oh, you loved it when he was direct with you like that. Without hesitation, you did what he wanted you to do, leaning your palms into the cold wood, showing him your whole ass. Joel knew he has to control himself, but that didn't stop him from giving you one good spank after he took his dick out, finally sinking into you. Just as his t-shirt was keeping your moan down, you heard the typical soft grunt he did every time he slipped inside for the first time. You've never heard something as sexy as that, you'd say. The first few moves were just lustful - his palms gripped both your breast to take them out of your bra, first few moves were so hasty it made the wood under you shake. Just when you were rolling your eyes, both of you started to pay attention to the shrieking of the main door leading to the restrooms.

"Y/N? Are you here?" - A voice asked, making your eyes widen as Joel skillfully rolled his lips. The person behind the door was Diego, which made him make such moves with his pelvis that you began to shake. Horrified expression appeared on your face when you felt Joel's palm tugging the t-shirt from your mouth. His daring expression told you to answer the boy.

"Y-yeah. What do you need?" - You answered with your eyes closed, making Joel grin when he started to feel your body slowly hammering against his. All you was capable of was to think about that D making you feel so good you'd scream if you could, making you mouth 'oh my motherfucking God' breathlessly. Miller was stating one thing with this - the boy will never see you as he did. Because no other man knew you the way Joel did.

"I was just checking up on you. You're here at least ten minutes already." - The boy came to the cab you two were at, making Joel stop with any movements he was doing so he wouldn't hear the man there. But if you'd have thought that would mean that hed let you be, you were wrong. The fucking man buried himself as deep as he could, putting his palm between your thighs. Which made you roll your eyes again. - "You want me to hold your hair?" - Diego asked shyly. Only if he would have any idea what was happening behind the closed door.

"No, I'm fine. You can go." - You got out somehow with stuttering, biting your lip at Joel's movements.

"Really? You don't sound fine to me." - The boy asked with worried. Just as a moan came to your mouth, you coughed loudly to cover it up.

"Just get fucking lost, Diego. Stop pretending you're my boyfriend." - Well, now it was as clear as a summer day that you are not into him. And Diego was just standing there for a while, being hurt with your word. You could be nicer, that was true, but you had to tell him already. Especially when Joel was blowing your back out the way he did.

"Sure... I'll tell Ellie to wait for you... Outside." - The black-haired boy gulped loudly, rushing out of the room at the speed of the light. Fucking finally. This time, Joel didn't even bother with covering your mouth with the t-shirt, he just pressed his palm on your lips, finishing you both as quickly as possible. You couldn't almost walk nonetheless.

"Will you come tonight, baby girl?" - Joel asked from buttoning his shirt and putting his jacket on. You smiled and wiped his beard clean from your juices. - "But I don't think that I can take another round after this, okay?" - You whispered, tiptoeing to kiss him. You were looking like a fucking mess - your hair was all over the place, your cheeks were on fire and Joel would even tell that you smell like freshly fucked girl. - "Fine. We can have some coffee and tea while watchin' some dumb Christmas comedy." - The man leaned down to kiss your forehead before giving your ass one last slap as you left the cabin.

He left five minutes after you so you wouldn't be that suspicious. Sure, Joel's mood was suddenly a million times better than before he left for the restrooms, but Tommy was too drunk to notice the obvious signs of being freshly fucked.

Ellie was waiting for you in front of the hall, already having your jacket prepared to dress you up, your presents were inside a bag. Since you saw her face, you knew something was wrong. Something was bothering her. - "Okay, what are you thinking about?" - You interrupted her, making the green-eyes girl looking at you.

"You want the first thing or the second thing?" - She teased you back, having you grin at the question. - "I can handle both." - You assured her, slowly walking through the snow while entwining your elbow with hers.

"You didn't have to be so hard with Diego. This boy didn't exactly choose to fall in love with you." - Ellie told you quietly. So he'd told her. Or your harsh answers made him look so bad that he was a little cry baby. Your eyes rolled on their own. - "Just talk it out. Tell him you're sorry and that you're not interested. And if he doesn't realize he's acting like a fucker even after you gently tell him, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"Okay, I will do that, miss. And now tell me about the Joel thing." - You have risen your eyebrows, giving Ellie one of those knowing looks. You caught her off guard. She didn't tell you it's about Joel, yet somehow, you knew. You were her best friend for real, even reading her mind and shit.

"I mean, I know I'm not talking to him... But... He would tell me. I think. That he's seeing someone. Even if I don't greet him, he always tells me everything, just like back then." - Ellie sighed, being confused with the whole 'Joel is dating' situation. - "I just hope he knows what he's doing and that the girl isn't just some bitch who doesn't even love him." - This was the sweetest thing you heard that day. They weren't talking and even though Ellie pretended to hate him, he was worried about his love life. You couldn't tell her that you're the one he's spending nights with, or at least you hoped so, but you snuggled her shoulder and sighed lightly instead of telling her not to worry.

"Wanna build a snowman?" - You asked, giving her a big smile. It was fun - and when you were sure Ellie had gone home for real, you changed into a comfy sweater and sweatpants, leaving for Joel's house. The man prepared the living room, made you a hot cup of tea - with honey, which was special - and turned on the movie. Since you were both drunk, you didn't realize you fell asleep, snuggled up under one blanket.

When you were walking home at six a.m., you almost flipped when Dina was running in your direction. She was looking confused and she sure as hell was crying just a while before. You ran to her to meet her in the middle, catching both of her shoulders. - "What happened, Dina? What is it, baby?" - You asked with worries.

"It's... It's Eugene. He had a heart attack." - She stuttered out and started crying again. With that, you hugged her and closed your eyes as you tried not to cry.

#ellie williams #jesse the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x y/n #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #maria miller #maria miller the last of us #tommy miller the last of us #tommy miller

44 notes · View notes

rhubarbbaby · 4 years

Text

Strawberries and Art 2

Jihoon x Y/N

Genre: College AU, Fluff Word Count: 4,2k Summary: Like every passionate art student, you spend most of your time immersed in your drawings and paintings. The day you meet Jihoon, your everyday life suddenly gets a lot more exciting...

All chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Chapter 2

The rest of your day had passed in a blur. Time had seemingly stopped making sense after you had met Jihoon. You tried to go on with your day as usual even though the world seemed to have readjusted itself along its own axis. Love at first sight was certainly nothing you believed in but the question whether a thing such as “crush at first sight” existed, did cross your mind more than once.

Your brain continued replaying the short conversation you had had with him over and over again. It was as if you had temporarily lost all control over your train of thoughts. You were not oblivious that the sudden change in your feelings was because of Jihoon, a boy who was still a stranger to you, nothing more than a fleeting encounter. And even though you were aware of all those things you still could not get yourself to stop thinking about him. Suppressing your thoughts did not work; you even caught yourself doodling some human outlines that suspiciously seemed to resemble him.

In the afternoon you had realized that concentrating was an impossible quest so you simply stopped fighting it. It took you between two and three seconds to come to the conclusion that, yes you did have a crush at first sight on Jihoon, and (god damn it) you couldn´t wait for the party tomorrow to see him again.

The next morning you woke up to three unread messages from Jo.

Jo: “You still up for the party?”

Jo: “I´ll come pick you up at 8.”

Jo: “Oh and I asked Hansol about Jihoon :) From what he told me he seems like a really great guy. Also he says Jihoon is this super talented songwriter which is just incredibly hot if you ask me…”

Oh my god.

You: 8 is perfect.

You: You talked to Hansol about it?? Jo!!! That´s so embarrassing.

You only had to wait a few minutes for her answer.

Jo: Don´t worry. I didn´t tell him you fell in love at first sight ;)

Jo: See you at 8

You: I´m not in love with him!!!!!!

Thinking about the party filled you with anticipation which had an accompanying taste of a mixture between nervousness and uncertainty. You knew that your brain was probably just overreacting, likely Jihoon would turn out to be boring, maybe even rude and you would have forgotten about him by tomorrow. But it has been a while since you had been as thrilled meeting a boy as you were now and you wanted nothing more than for him to turn out to be the person you imagined him to be. Another problem was, of course, that you didn´t have the slightest idea how you would start a conversation with him. You had never been the type to approach people just like that, especially not people who were as hot as Jihoon.

The party wasn´t until the evening and your thoughts were still circling around him like a moth searching for light. You knew you had some assignments due next week that you wanted to continue working on and so you made the conscious decision to stop letting your thoughts distract you, not until 8 at least. But it is not easy to lure a moth away from light; some would argue that it is sheer impossible.

You were finished with your art history homework at about 5. Somewhere far in the back of your head your mind tried to remind you of the portrait assignment which would have to be finished in a week. You knew the assignment would make up 30 percent of your grade and you didn´t even know who you wanted to draw yet…But you really did not want to think about that right now. A certain person seemed much more important at the moment. Also you still needed to pick an outfit for the party.

As you stood in front of your wardrobe, you suddenly had to giggle. The situation, you were in, reminded you a bit too much of one of those overly cheesy, almost ridiculous romantic movies. Of course the poor innocent girl didn´t know what to wear to the party her crush was at. Because you absolutely did not want to fuel the cliché any further, you quickly decided to put on simple black pants and a t-shirt you really liked. Finding a suitable outfit wasn’t too difficult, you thought.

Maybe it really was because your pants seemed to be a bit scratchy, or maybe it was because you had looked at yourself in the mirror once too often and had noticed that the back pockets of your pants were making your butt look weird. Whatever the reason for your decision, you changed your black pants for a pair of jeans in the last moment. Possibly, some of those cliché movie scenes were not as unrealistic as you had thought.

Jo: I´m here! I´m waiting downstairs.

You: I´m coming.

Downstairs you hugged briefly to greet each other. “You look pretty! Is all this for Jihoon?” “I´m only wearing regular jeans!” you replied with a smile on your face, your tone slightly outraged. “I know. I´m sorryyy. I´m just so excited already. Hansol told me some things about Jihoon and I think the two of you should marry.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “JO! I don´t even know him!” “Not yet!”

Hansol would be waiting at the party, which meant you had the ten minutes’ walk to exchange essential information. According to Jo, Jihoon was a music student just like Hansol but while Hansol had an understanding of rap and hip hop, Jihoon was considered an exceptionally talented songwriter. Hansol had apparently got to know him because they had to do a school project together last semester.

Your anticipation was now growing with every step you took. Going out was nothing unusual for you, normally you weren´t nervous or overly excited though. On a normal evening you would have met up with Jo, the two of you would have had too many sugary alcoholic beverages and then you would have danced until your feet were going to give out. Not that those normal evenings weren´t fun, but today was different. Today was different because for the first time in months you were looking forward to talking to a boy. Your heart starting beating a tiny bit faster when you could finally hear the dull music of the party that was already in progress.

“Ok, listen. I thought about it. When you see him, I think you should walk up to him and tell him that he owes you a drink because of that strawberry.” “Jo! You´re crazy! I´ll never be brave enough to do that.” “With an attitude like this you won´t…just saying. I really think you should give it a try. You can´t just hope he´ll come up to you …” You hadn´t thought about that yet. Yes of course you were aware that you might actually have to start a conversation but in all of your carefully arranged, delicately placed fantasies, it was always Jihoon who approached you. The possibility that he might not even intend starting a conversation with you was not something you had considered. A wave of anxiety swept over you. It felt like waking up in a bathtub full of cold water, which once used to be comfortingly warm when you got in. You definitely didn´t know enough about him to be invested in a hypothetical relationship that might never become reality. You needed to slow down. “You´re right. I´ll try to talk to him.” “No you´re not just gonna try. You´re going to do it.”

Hansol was waiting at the entrance. “Good evening, ladies.” He grinned. He hugged you before pulling Jo into his side and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Let´s do this!” you smiled while trying to sound confident but you knew Jo was able to hear the pinch of uncertainty in your voice.

“I´ll go get you two something to drink.” With these words Hansol had left to find alcohol. Looking around the room you tried to orientate yourself. You have never been here before but it was obvious you were at a frat house. Hansol had mentioned some guy called Jackson Wang who apparently was the host of the party. You had never heard of him before but he was apparently really good at hosting parties, the people around you seemed to have a lot of fun.

Even though you would never have been able to admit it, not even in front of yourself, your eyes started wandering across the room searching for him. And just like in one of those exaggeratedly cheesy romantic movies, the ones you thought so little of, you discovered him immediately. He was standing far back in a corner where he was talking to some people. Yesterday you hadn´t noticed, you had probably been too busy staring at his face, but he was very small, which was funny because in the few seconds you talked to him you had found him to be quite a bit intimidating. Not in a bad way, he simply seemed to take up more space than he needed which was probably due to the way he carried himself.

“I see! You found him already,” Jo ripped you out of your thoughts. “Come on! Go over there and say hi!” “There are so many people with him. I´d rather wait a little…” “Fair enough. Then let´s go dance!” she smiled and pulled you with her onto the “dance floor”, which technically was just the living room. A few minutes later Hansol joined you again and gave you both drinks. “I´m going over there to talk to some friends. Is that alright?” he asked directed at Jo. She just nodded and gave him a short kiss before turning back to you. You immediately downed your glass to build up a certain level of alcohol, which you wished would help you speak to him at some point. You normally did get drunk fairly easy and so you could already feel the slight effect of the alcohol in your body after the first glass. After the third one, you and Jo could finally dance unrestrainedly and even though your gaze wandered over to him every few minutes you still lost any kind of tension you were holding in your body. God bless alcohol.

“Hey I have to go to the bathroom. You coming with me?” Jo asked. “Sure.” You held onto her shirts so you wouldn´t lose each other in the crowd. Slowly you made your way through the masses of sweating, dancing bodies. The bathroom was in the back so it took you a few minutes to arrive there. Jo immediately disappeared behind the bathroom door while you waited outside. You leaned against the wall and for a second you did nothing more than just breathe. You looked up at the ceiling and took deep breaths in and out. You could feel the alcohol in your body and the cool wall on your back gently pulled you back into reality.

“You came.” The voice tore you from your state of utter peace. The music was loud, you could feel the bass in your body, everywhere people were screaming at each other to make themselves understood, the voice that had caught your attention was comparatively quiet, calm and seemed to be very close to you. You couldn´t be sure that the sentence was directed at you, still your gaze shot to the side to see where the voice was coming from. Jihoon stood close beside you, also leaning against the wall. He was smiling at you expectantly. It was similar to yesterday, right off the bat your brain started to absorb his features. Every line, every mark, every twitch of muscle, no matter how small. For a moment (which lasted far too long) you simply stared at him. Fuck, what did he say?

“Yeah..” you managed to stutter an answer just before the situation drowned in a blend of an embarrassing and awkward silence. You were still looking at him, doe eyed, not knowing how to act further. Jihoon just chuckled and in that moment you could´ve sworn it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life. “Why are you laughing?” you couldn´t help but grin back, his smile was contagious. “It´s just…you look cute when you don´t know what to say.” As soon as the words left his lips, your body literally catapulted itself into shock. Did he really just call you cute?? You were probably just lost in thoughts again, surely you were just daydreaming. Your eyes did not leave his face, you were certain you had misheard what he had said but his smug, maybe even a bit arrogant smirk told you otherwise. You were still lost for words. It must´ve been seconds and you still hadn´t answered…

His smile was fading a little. “Hey sorry if I overstepped any boundaries, I know we don´t know each other yet, also I´m a bit drunk.” Now it was your turn to laugh. “It´s ok. I think you´re cute too.” You had not even the faintest idea where your sudden confidence was coming from (you would probably have to thank the alcohol for it tomorrow morning). “You think I´m cute, huh?” he asked, and you couldn´t help but wonder again how he could be so fucking hot. The hands in his pockets, his collarbones peeking out slightly above his neckline, the smug smile with which he was looking at you. “So, will you let me buy you a drink?” Just as you were about to answer, Jo came out the bathroom door again. “I´m ready! Let´s…,” she stopped mid-sentence when she saw who was standing next to you. Her surprised look quickly changed into a knowing grin. “Uhm..I want to look for Hansol. Is it ok if I just…” “Don´t worry you can leave her with me. I´ll look out for her.” Jihoon chimed in with an assuring smile. Even if you were not even expected to answer, you were completely speechless. An hour earlier you had racked your brain about how you would approach him, you remembered. “What a gentleman you are. Thank you.” she responded. “Text me if you need anything. I´ll look at my phone. And wait for us to walk you home!” she added, addressed to you. In the next second she had already disappeared into the crowd. “If you don´t mind I´ll get us something to drink?” “I´d love that.”

Minutes later you were sitting on a garden bench in the backyard. On the wall of the house there were paper lanterns attached, which made wonderful little colored spots of light dance around you. That Jackson Wang really knew how to throw a party, you thought again. You could still hear the music, but the walls functioned as a shield and made it appear as if the music was coming from far away. You and Jihoon weren´t the only ones who had gone outside to have a proper conversation, many couples had found the backyard to be the perfect place to make out, intertwined they sat there and you were sure that nothing would be able to keep them away from each other in that moment. But because you were drunk, and most importantly because Jihoon was sitting right next to you, you didn´t even give them more than a second of your attention.

Jihoon sat there, legs casually spread, with one arm on the backrest. You sat (very) close to each other, much closer than you probably would have, had you not been drunk. You had one leg on the bench so it was easier for you to face him. “You´re an art student, right?” “Yup. You´re a music student? Hansol said you are a very talented song writer.” Laughing out loud, he threw his head back. You were still nervous; your heart was still clearly beating a tad too fast and you had no clue what to do with your hands. But his laughter was contagious and his voice was soothing and so full of ease that all your nervousness was slowly guided out of your body. “Did he? I mean, he´s not wrong. I do indeed love writing songs, and I suppose I´m not too bad at it. Not sure I would call myself very talented though.” “Oh so humble.” You grinned. “Would you call yourself a very talented artist?” “No, I guess I wouldn´t. I´m not even sure I´m talented. Maybe I just love art. I think drawing the line between talent and just being hard-working is not always easy. That´s of course because talent and being hard-working are not mutually exclusive. You can be talented and hard working. That´s why I think it´s not always easy to detect talent.” Jihoon just looked at you, his face twisted into a slight smile. Why didn´t he say anything? “What?” you asked with a hint of shakiness in your voice. “It´s just…I think this was one of the smartest things I´ve ever heard a drunk person say.” Your eyes became big and suddenly your nervousness was back again. “I´m not that drunk!” “It was still smart.” You did not know what to say to that. You just looked at him and for a few seconds, neither you nor he said anything. But it wasn´t an awkward silence that begged to be broken, so the two of you just sat there, staring at each other.

“So tell me, what do you like to draw?” And you told him everything. About your obsession with peonies, about how you loved to draw old people because every single wrinkle, every scar seemed to tell so many stories. You told him about how you got off the bus three stops too early last summer just to paint a field of poppies, you told him how you once won an art contest in elementary school with a drawing of a hedgehog, that you didn´t even like. And you told him about how your mom had cried when you got accepted to art school because she was just so proud of you. While you were talking he listened attentively. And if you weren´t so immersed in your narration, if you were a little less drunk, you would´ve probably noticed the way he looked at you. Not once did he take his eyes off your face. When you were finished he told you about music. He told you how writing songs soothed him like nothing else. He told you how satisfying it was for him to finally finish a song. He told you how much he loved to sing and about that one night a few years ago the neighbors called the cops on him because he was singing too loudly in the middle of the night. You listened to every single word he said and if he wasn´t so immersed in his narration, if he was a little less drunk, he would´ve probably noticed the way you looked at him. Not once did you take your eyes off his face.

The buzzing of your phone ripped you out of your thoughts.

Jo: Hey, we´re about to go home. Are you ok? I don´t want you to walk home alone…

Fuck. You had totally forgotten the time. It was already 2 am. Jihoon saw you looking at your phone. “Is everything ok?” “Yeah, it´s just…I should probably go. My friend is leaving and she wants to walk me home.” “And what if I walked you home?" “You would do that?” “I just kept you from having fun with your friend the entire evening. I think I even owe you to walk you home.” He chuckled. You felt your cheeks flush. “I did have fun with you though.” “I´m very glad to hear that.” “And you´d really walk me home?” “Sweetie, it would be my pleasure.” he smirked. Sweetie. You definitely were not prepared for the pet name. All of a sudden your heart was beating so fast, you thought it would jump out of your chest. Your cheeks, rosy before, suddenly felt incredibly hot. “Thank you.” You answered, relieved after you noticed your voice didn´t leave you hanging.

You: I´m ok! Jihoon is going to walk me home. You don´t have to wait for me!

Jo: Use condoms!

You snorted and suppressed a laugh. Jihoon looked at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Sorry, my friend just texted something funny.” “What did she say?” Your heart seemed to have stopped beating for a moment. You didn´t think he´d ask that. “I, uh…nothing…she just…” you stammered. He laughed while never taking his eyes off you. “It´s ok. You don´t have to tell me.” “It´s just…” you tried to explain but instead you buried your face in your hands. This was so embarrassing! You didn´t know what reaction you expected from Jihoon, probably there wouldn´t have been anything to improve your situation anyway, but his low chuckle definitely made it worse. “I make you nervous, huh?” Your heart was still beating so fast and your cheeks had to be deep red by now and as much as you tried; you didn´t manage to look him in the eye again. So you just nodded. “Come on. Let´s walk for a bit.”

He stood up and stretched out his hand to pull you on your feet, which would not have been necessary, but you enjoyed the touching of your hands. It was the first time you touched each other on purpose. And even though it was only your hands that touched, you couldn´t help but feel more and more attracted to him. He didn´t let go of your hand, pressed it even more firmly and then gently pulled you past the left over party guests. Out of the front door, you just kept walking, your hand still in his. “Where do you live?” He sounded calm, relaxed and you knew you would be happy to hear nothing else than his voice for the rest of your days. “Basically on the other side of the campus. It´s a ten minutes ‘walk.” “Alright.”

And then the two of you walked, holding hands, side by side, so close other people would´ve thought you were a couple. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes. As before, the silence was not unpleasant at all, you simply enjoyed each other´s presence. Also, your heart finally had the opportunity to return to a normal pace, and the evening air cooled your cheeks. “I would love to see you again.” He underpinned his statement with a slight squeezing of your hand. You looked at him; he was focused on the walk, so you granted yourself a second to stare at him. He really was just so beautiful. The hair that gently fell in his face, his cheekbones, his neck. “I want to see you again too.” “You have to show me some of your drawings. Especially that one hedgehog drawing you were speaking of.” “Jihoon! I was 8 when I drew that and I didn´t even like it!” you made your voice sound playfully outraged. He couldn´t help but smile, his whole face lit up after hearing you say his name. He could definitely get used to that. “I bet it´s still good.” “No it´s not. But I can show you some other drawings.” “Guess I´ll have to settle for that.” He grinned. “Yes! And I want to hear some of your songs and you have to sing for me!” you said self-confidently. Your nervousness had completely disappeared from your body and had given way to a pleasant tension. “Deal.”

“This is me” you said as you came to a stop outside your building. He let go of your hand, the warmth leaving your palm empty, you wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again. A second later he had pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. “Here, type in your number.” You complied and gave it back to him. “Text me when you get home?” you asked shyly. “I promise.” And then came the moment, the moment in romance movies every viewer awaited eagerly, the moment you two should´ve kissed, or at least hugged. But you didn´t. Both of you were so absorbed in each other that neither one of you dared, nor even thought of making the first step. “Goodnight, Jihoon.” “Goodnight, Y/n.” And with that he left. You looked after him for a moment. Hell, even the way he walked was sexy.

Back in your apartment, you pushed your shoes off your feet just to fall into bed right after. You doubted that your remaining strength would be enough to change into your pajamas. Your body was so tired, but your mind was awake. Endorphins seemed to have decided to simply continue the party in your stomach. You were just lying there, arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling with a grin.

After, what had to be about 15 minutes, you heard your phone buzz. Never before had you reached for your phone so quickly.

Unknown: I just got home. Goodnight, Sweetie. Don´t forget to drink lots of water!

You read the message and you didn´t know it was possible, but your grin got even wider. Your phone pressed to your chest, your clothes still on, you started drifting off to sleep. You would just text him back, and save his contact in the morning, you thought. And with that, your body fell into a pleasant sleep.

Hi! It´s me, Jo. I´d like to thank you for reading my stuff! I really hope you enjoyed it. If you have any feedback, comments, requests, questions please let me know!

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen ff #seventeen fluff #jihoon fluff #woozi fluff #kpop fanfiction #seventeen #rhubarbbabywrites

57 notes · View notes

serahsanguine · 4 years

Text

New Home, New Adventures And New Memories

Summary: Jackson (Will) comes home from college to a surprise

This whole short fic came from a quote by Atticus 'I don't believe in magic' The young boy said. The old man smiled. 'You will when you see her'

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

Notes: Just a short fluff piece that I can see cannon in my head Ao3

Tagging; @peacenik0 @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @skullsmuldon

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

New Home, New Adventures And New Memories

August; 2019

Jackson, now going by his given birth name William had long since moved in with Mulder and Scully and their little girl Lilly. With the threat now long passed and never a chance of ever returning. He now attended a high prestige college and doing rather well. While he was at college, Mulder was going to give him the surprise of his life. They had built him his very own small guest house on the land near the house (since there was so much of it) the house contained a living room, kitchen, one king-size bedroom with an en-suite shower room. With more to add on at a later date. It was far enough away to have his personal space but close enough to have family there if need be.

Scully had just finished the last of the preparations for the salad to go along with the BBQ that Mulder was doing in the back garden. Watching Their nearly 1-year-old daughter run around on the grass-catching butterflies and being carefree. Lilly had only started to walk barely 2 months ago but being a perfect mix of not only her but Mulder as well within the first two weeks of her walking she was running.

Scully stopped what she was doing when she heard a car outside, looking out the window she smiled seeing a familiar car pull up in the driveway she went to the door.

“Lilly someones here to see you” Scully shouted Lilly’s red hair flowed in the wind and her pale freckled face turned towards her mother and she let out a toothy grin.

“Wiii, wii” Lilly said innocently she ran not towards her mom but towards her big brother.

William stepped out of the car with his baggy dark jeans and lost grey t-shirt looking even more like Mulder than ever with his overgrown hair and a leather jacket. All Scully could hear was Lilly shouting ‘Wii, Wii’ over and over again. She walked towards them just as Will picked up his little sister giving her a big squeeze.

“Hey Squirt, looks who got so big”, Lilly smiled hugging her brother harder.

“Hi, Dana,”

“Hi Will, your Dads out pack trying to cook on the bbq.”

Scully didn’t mind being called by her first name by her son; she didn't want to replace his adoptive mother and they came to some silent agreement that when he was ready he would call her mom. Which at first made her uncomfortable but she was just used to it by now it didn't phase her.

“When did she start running?”

“A few months back, round about the time she started to say your name.”

“Wow, she took to that quick,”

“She certainly did, come in and I'll go grab your father. ”

They walk into the house Lilly still tucked into the crook of her brother's neck. A few minutes later both Scully and Mulder had returned to the house.

“Hey son, how’ve you been, still fighting back the ladies?”

“Good and always.”

“Boy’s,” Scully said certainly before continuing “Why don’t you show Will your surprise and I will finish the food, and then we can all sit down and catch up.”

“Ok, this way Will,” Mulder said the leading way out of the back door with Will close behind.

They went down the field and around the large pond that sat at the end following the new dirt road came to a large ground floor dwelling.

“Whose is this? Has someone new moved close to you?”

“Well Will this is your house, it’s a late 18th birthday present to you”

“But how.. When, what! “

“Skinner helped out; he still was not cleared to go back fully to the office; Doggett helped him towards the end. After what happened in the past year, your mom and I thought you needed something permanent. We have been working on it since you last went back to college on the evenings and most weekends. Your mom and Monica are the ones who decorated it including furniture.”

Mulder smiled at the younger man's lack of words “come on come in” Mulder unlocked the front door and passed the keys behind him to his son. And stepping out of the way watching his son's eyes as he was in awe of his new accommodation.

The boy looked around and the cream and grey walls with ample amount of space with a corner couch and small glass coffee table with light windows, it was an open plan living with a large kitchen to the left with its light blue marble worktops and blue double fridge freezer and normal kitchen accessories. Will walked through the living room to find the master bedroom with a queen-sized dark oak bed with walk in wardrobe also an ensuite shower room, the opposite was a large claw foot white tub with his and hers sink and large mirror.

“Dad I… just don’t know what to say..”

Mulder didn't miss you use of the word dad but took it under his belt for he knew things were certainly going in a good direction “A Thank you might be a start” he said snickering.

“Of course thank you” his smile is wide just like Scullys. Will walked over to his dad, Lilly still snuggled on his chest. With Lilly in one arm, he reached around his dad and hugged him.

“Haha, she missed you” gesturing towards the small little girl.

“I missed her too, she looking more and more like Dana every time I see her,” he said with awe.

“I know and luckily neither of you have my nose” Mulder replied jokingly.

“It was our pleasure now we better head back before your mom burns the food.”

“No Mulder that's just you.”

They both laughed and walked towards the main house. Both men never thought the time would come where they would be here as a family.

They had got talking about girls and if Will had found anyone he liked more than just being someone to hang around with and Will started to blush a crimson red.

“I take that as a yes."

“Well yes, I like the girl. She laughs at my jokes even if they're not funny. She's caring and honest. She knows how I'm feeling before I do and I umm.. God this is awkward umm. How do you know you love someone?”

“It’s like Magic,” Mulder said.

“I don't believe in Magic” the younger boy stated.

The older man smiled.

“You will when you see her”

Will nodded and they walked in silence, pondering what his dad had said. The night went well they eat food and talked about college, they were finally a family.

The end.

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

As allways thank you for reading, i really aprichate your feedback good or bad

#The X-files fanfic #The X-Files #the xfiles #the x files #Post Episode #post season 11 #my head canons

28 notes · View notes

jpat82 · 5 years

Text

Sanity

So my sister @devilbat request 21, 26, and 28 form the prompts. I decided to make this part of My Uncle Tony series.

21.) And so, I start another day being kidnapped.

26.)all that blood looks good on you, brings out yours eyes.

28.) why is there a raccoon in the kitchen? And why is it wearing an apron?

You blew a strand of hair from your forehead as you looked around the small room. The walls a slate grey, a cement floor, an annoyingly bright uncovered over head light bulb that wasn't doing anything to help the throbbing in your head. A singular metal door that had multiple dents. The ropes that wrapped around your upper torso holding you tight to the chair was an ever present reminder that you knowing the Asgardian brothers would no doubt lead you to moments like this. Adding to the fact that your uncle was not only a very prominent man but an Avenger as well, that probably didn't help. But on the bright side at least you had had your back surgery.

"And so," You sighed heavily with aggravation. "I start another day being kidnapped."

It had been months, almost a year since your last kidnapping. You had went out to replace the stuff Thor had took while Loki was the distraction from last night. It was the return trip, broad daylight, well some what overcast but still very much during the day. Carrying two bags back toward your upscale apartment, at first you thought you had felt a bee sting you. And naturally you brought your hand up to your neck, only to the brush dart out instead.

And that lead you to this moment, well actually only a couple moment before this one right here. The blinding headache, the steady small pain throbbing in your neck, and the demeanor of a disgruntled penguin. You wanted to slap whoever thought this was a great idea, this never went the way they planned. However that never stopped them.

The door creak and all you did in response was raise your eyebrow. A very well dressed man with a neatly groom goatee walked in, his heels clicked against the cement floor. He held his hands behind his back, and you weren't sure if he was the big boss man or just a really well dressed henchman.

"Asgardains or Stark?" You demanded.

"Come again, little girl?" He asked with a thick accented voice.

"Or Romanoff?" You tilted your head slight, narrowing your eyes. "Russian?"

"What would give you that idea? And why would you think Romanoff?” He questioned, stopping just before you. Maybe if you had the ability to stretch your legs the tips of your toes would touch his black Italian leather shoes.

"Well, your accent. I know a lot of people, been around a lot of different accents. Comes with the territory. So what do you want with Natasha?”

“It’s not Romanov that we want.” He stated, his lip curling in a sinister sneer. “We want our asset back.”

“Your asset?” You question feeling your brows bunch together.

“Yes, and you, little girl are going to get him for me.”

“Me?” You rolled your eyes taking a deep breath. “I don’t have your asset and this, this right here kidnapping me and holding me hostage is only going to end badly for you.”

“Nobody knows where you are, trust me, we are safe here.” The guy smirked, cocking his head to the side. You laughed in response looking straight at him.

“You really think you’re safe here? You seriously think so? Do you know how many times I’ve been kidnapped?” You asked him, taking a deep breath. “Look buddy, attempting to go through me to get your asset is like going through Comcast to get ahold of Disney, it just doesn’t work that way.”

“One of two things are going to happen.” You stated flatly before continuing. “You either get Thor and Loki, cause they are very protective me, especially the raven haired God of Mischief. He’ll likely rip you to pieces while Thor fries your ass. Or you get my uncle, and he is not someone you want to be on the bad side of. Cause either route you go, it’s going to be severely painful.”

“I’m hoping it’s your uncle. We are heavily fortified, and he will need his entire team to get you out. And when he does that he will bring me my asset.”

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You stated just as a red light in the hall turned on and began flash before the power flickered. “Guessing that was the back up generator being kicked on?”

The man looked over his shoulder before pressing on the ear piece that was hidden in his ear. He shouted something in Russian briskly. He turned his gaze back to you, you shifted, straightening yourself a bit more.

“Guessing the perimeter was breeched?” You smiled.

It didn’t take long before you heard gunfire and the man in front of you sprang into action. He spun on his heel, pulling a gun from his hip. He never got a shot off before you watched his body jerk and blood spray out behind him onto you. You reeled back slightly in the chair caught off guard, normally things like this didn’t happen yet here you were covered in someone else’s blood. You blinked hard a couple time before it dawned on you a flash of green and gold had entered the room.

“My pet,” Loki cooed as he knelt down in front of you, a dagger materializing in your hands. He cut you free as you slowly looked up and met his eyes. “All that blood looks good on you, brings out your eyes.”

“Loki?” You said softly before the room went black.

—————-

You woke with a start, your soft blanket surrounding you and Loki’s side of the bed empty. If it weren’t for the fact you could still feel where the ropes had rubbed against your arms making them raw you would of just thought it was a dream. The window outside was dark and you weren’t sure if it night or early morning.

Slowly pulling yourself from the confines of your warm soft bed, the second thing you notice was you were in your pajamas. So whatever had happened after being doused in the guys blood Loki had at least had the decency to change you into something clean. Hushed voices came from your open doorway making you wonder what the hell was going on.

Slipping out into the hall you excepted to hear Tony sternly talking to the brothers, yet the voices you heard beside the idiots were ones you didn’t recognize. You walked out into the landing looking down into the living room where a woman who was green was standing. Not wearing but her skin was green and you felt a wave of confusion. She was talking to another woman with overly large eyes and antennas sticking out of her head.

Whatever they hit you with must of had some psychedelics into as a tiny tree looking man was kicking a huge guy that was silver and red at the base of your stairs. The tree thing repeatedly say ‘I am Groot.’ in a very angry tone. Almost everyone stopping talking as you hit the bottom of the stairs, except the tree. You started walking toward the kitchen where you could hear Thor and Loki talking to someone else when a man in a red leather jacket stepped out of the dining room, his out fit almost reminding you of Micheal Jackson era clothing.

“Well, hello gorgeous.” He smirked, his blue eyes traveling over you.

“Wow, nice one Thriller, the 80’s called and want their wardrobe back.” You stated walking past him as you rolled your eyes.

Stepping into the kitchen reveled even more confusion.

“Why is there a raccoon in my kitchen? And why is it wearing an apron?” You asked looking from Thor to Loki.

“Who you calling a raccoon? Is she calling me a raccoon?” It spoke, you blinked even harder looking slowly up from it back to the brothers.

“Lady y/n, this is Rabbit.” Thor stated proudly, smiling.

“Thor, that’s not a rabbit.” You replied looking at Loki.

“Darling, I know this might all seem confusing, but these people are who helped us get you out of Hydras base. This is Rocket, the only sane one of the group.” Loki explained.

“If you think he’s sane then obviously it’s someone else in this group. I think I’m going to see if my therapist has any openings. You boys have fun and don’t use my good knives.” You replied, slowly turning and taking a deep breath. “And also to ask my uncle if I’m going to need a bigger apartment.”

Permanent tag-

@kitkatkl

@octobermermaid @ajosieface @instantnoodlese @crystlblu @coffeebooksandfandom @thisismysecrethappyplace @the-wayward-robot @lokilvrr @shynara51 @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl l @loislp @savedbyimagination @bubblycypres87 @ifyousayyouloveme @courtmr @blue-cat-1989 @saharzek @lokiodinsoninwriting @silverhart93 @rynabarnesrogers

Some Loki tags.

@theoneanna @jewels2876 @devilbat @sarahivi

If I missed you just let me know or if wanted to be added as a tag

#loki #loki of asgard #loki fic #loki x you #loki x reader #loki laufeyson

100 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 5 years

Text

It Chapter Two: Aged-Up Protagonists and the Umbridge Effect

Writing reviews, metas, and the like is a lot about timing. If you don’t craft your writing in the immediate aftermath of your source’s release, someone else will beat you to it and, chances are, your audience will be less enthused about reading the same arguments weeks later. (Admittedly, that’s up for debate. I for one am happy to read about the same shit for years on end.) Thus, when I didn’t have the time or the mental energy to write about It: Chapter Two immediately after seeing it in theaters, I knew within a few days that I’d lost a lot of ground. Fans and critics alike have already spoken about the film’s major draws, namely the update on Richie’s sexuality and the canonizing of a beloved, thirty-year-old ship. We’ve also covered the issues that arose out of those positives. In 2019, is it necessary to show a hate crime in such violent detail? By giving us queer characters, have Muschietti and King unintentionally fallen into the trap of treating them badly? One is dead and the other mourns while the straight couple passionately kiss beneath the lake. Faithful adaptation vs. modern activism is a tricky balance to strike. I could rehash all those arguments here, but why bother? They’ve been articulated better by others already. Besides, falling behind means that I now have the space to discuss something just as important to me.

The Losers’ ages.

Now, I’m not sure if you all have noticed, but fantasy adventures aren’t really geared towards adults. That is to say, stories often contain adult content, but that’s not the same thing as putting adults at the center of the narrative. I’ve experienced a niggling sense of displeasure that’s grown stronger with each passing year and it took until my mid-twenties to figure out what it was: I am no longer the hero of many of my favorite stories. Because I’ve grown up. Harry Potter is concerned primarily with the trials and tribulations of characters between the ages of eleven and eighteen. If we return to that world---such as through a certain cursed play---the focus must shift to the new, shiny generation. Anyone who falls through a wardrobe is bound to be a child and if they dare grow up? They’re no longer allowed access to such a fantastic place. Kids are the ones who find the Hundred Acre Woods, or fall down rabbit holes, get daemons, battle Other Mothers when the world gets flipped, or head off onto all sorts of elementary and high school adventures. Sometimes, even those who are adults mistakenly get caught up in this trend. Frodo might be in his fifties, but as a small, kindly hobbit he comes across as younger than the rest of the Fellowship. Since the release of Jackson’s trilogy I’ve corrected more than one new fan who assumed (somewhat logically) that he is in his early twenties, max. It’s an easy mistake to make when we’ve grown accustomed to children and young adults taking center stage in so many fantastic, high-profile adventures.

Of course, there are plenty of counters to this feeling. Just look at Game of Thrones. Though we see much of the story through younger perspectives---such as the Stark siblings---the vast majority of the cast is made up of adults, playing just as pivotal a role as the up-and-comers. Fantasy, Science Fiction, and other speculative story-lines are by no means solely in the hands of minors, yet I think it’s also worth acknowledging that a good majority of those stories do shape our media landscape. Or, if they’re not strictly minors, they’re characters who embody a sort of static young adulthood, the Winchesters and the Shadowhunters and all the television superheroes who might gesture towards markers of adulthood---we have long term relationships, hold down jobs, can impersonate FBI agents without anyone batting an eye---yet are still able to maintain a nebulous form of youth. They all (try to) look and act as if they’re right out of college. The standards of film and television demand that actors appear twenty-years-old even when they’re pushing forty, and the standards of much literature insists that twenty is simply too old for an adventure, period. I can still clearly recall two moments of shock (later agreed upon by my friends) when I encountered unexpectedly older protagonists in genre fiction: the realization that Sophie actually spends the majority of Howl’s Moving Castle as a very old woman and that The Magicians takes place in graduate school. “Wow,” I remember thinking. “When’s the last time that happened?”

What does all this have to do with It: Chapter Two? I don’t have any big twist for you here. It was just really refreshing to see such a fantastical story where our cast is all forty or older. Seriously, can we take a moment to appreciate exactly how much King undermined expectations there? The first half of the novel is structured precisely how we assume it ‘should’ be. There’s a mysterious threat, there are children caught up in the middle of it, and ultimately only they are capable of saving the day. We know this story. We even have the characterization of the town itself to reinforce this structure, a place so warped by evil that only the very young with their open-mindedness and imagination are capable of seeing Derry for what it truly is, illustrated beautifully in the film by Mr. Marsh straight up not noticing a whole room full of blood.

Though they’re It’s prey, children are also the only ones who have any potential power over him. You have to be able to acknowledge a problem in order to fix it and King could have easily ended his story at the first chapter alone, with the group somehow managing to defeat Pennywise for good the first time they set foot in the sewers. A part of me is still shocked he didn’t, if only because the young savior as an archetype was embedded within Western culture far earlier than It’s 1986 publication. From Carrie to The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, Pet Sematary to Firestarter, King is no stranger to putting children at the center of fantastic tales. Yet he’s also given us numerous adult protagonists, managing to find an enjoyable balance between the two, both within individual novels and his entire corpus. It represents that balance, not just imagining a story where seven (yes, I’m counting Stan) middle-age adults manage to finally save their town, but actually setting up a twenty-seven year jump to allow for that. It's the best of both worlds, exploring the difficulties inherent in both childhood and adulthood, arguing that we need each---that imagination and that experience---if we hope to come out alive.

While watching It: Chapter Two I took note of how many people laughed throughout the film, and not just at the moments set up to be funny (looking at you, Richie). Rather, the film that two years ago had scared the pants off of movie-goers now entertained them in a much more relaxed manner. No one was hiding behind their popcorn; there were no shrieks of fright. I’ve seen more than one reviewer express displeasure at this change. What the hell happened? Isn’t an It film supposed to be scary? Well, yes and no. I think what a lot of people miss is how providing us with an adult cast inherently changes the way fear manifests, both literally in the case of Pennywise’s illusions and thematically in regards to the film itself. This sloppy bitch, as established, preys on children. His tricks have the illogical, fantastical veneer that reflect how children see the world: you’re scared of women with horrifically elongated faces, zombie-like lepers, and hungry mummies. They’re literal monsters emerging out from under the bed. Of course, as adults watching the story we’re easily able to see how these monsters represent much deeper, intangible fears: growing up and disappointing your father, falling ill like your mother always claims you will (to say nothing of contracting AIDS in connection with a budding queer identity), and the danger that comes with being alone and ostracized. Sometimes It: Chapter One gestures more firmly towards those underlying fears---such as the burnt hands reaching for Mike when we know his family died in a fire---but only once does it make the real horror overt, when Pennywise takes Mr. Marsh’s face and asks Bev if she's still his little girl.

Outside of pedophilia and sexual abuse, Chapter One’s real horror is mostly coded, symbolic, left up to (admittedly rather obvious at times) interpretation. It’s just under the surface and we’re meant to be distracted by the fact that, allegorical or not, there’s still a very creepy thing hunting our protagonists from the shadows. For two hours we take on a child’s perspective, biting our nails at all the things we once imagined hid inside our closets. We’re scared because they’re scared.

That mindset irrevocably changes once your group grows up. Forty-year-olds simply don’t freak out in the same way a bunch of thirteen-year-olds would, especially now that they know precisely what’s happening and have the mental fortitude to combat it. At least to an extent. Chapter Two isn’t as traditionally scary for the simple reason that the film now acknowledges what all adults eventually must: there’s nothing in the closet, there’s nothing hiding under your bed. Or if there is, it’s something tangible that can be handled with a calm(ish) demeanor and a well-placed ax. An adult might scream when something jumps out at them, but they’re not as inclined to cower. Adults might still be scared, but they’re better able to push that fear aside in order to take action. The group first reached that point in the sewers--- “Welcome to the Losers’ club, asshole!”---and now fully embodies that mindset with nearly three decades of growth and experience to draw on. This is why Ben investigating the library as a teen reads as teeth-chatteringly scary, but Ben and Bill as adults investigating the skateboard produces only a comment about how they're getting used to this nonsense. They know, and we as the audience know, what the real threat is and whether or not we need to shield our eyes when something starts clunking its way down the stairs.

All of which isn’t to say that Chapter Two isn’t scary. It’s simply scary in a much more realistic manner, killer clowns and Native American rituals aside. The fears have been aged-up along with the cast, stripping away the child-like fantasies that made us wet our pants in Chapter One. What’s the scariest moment outside of the jump scares? When two men and a kid beat a gay man and then chuck him in the river to drown. You’ll note that, unlike in the first film, Pennywise doesn’t actually have to do much work here. Seasoning people up with fear? The rest of the world is doing that for him. That first scene detailing a truly horrific hate crime (which, by the way, is based off of true events) results in a meal delivered straight to Pennywise’s arms. It’s people who targeted that couple, beat one of them within an inch of his life, and then tossed him over a bridge, bleeding and shrieking for help. All Pennywise had to do was scoop him from the water and take that first bite. He’s incidental to the film’s most cringe-worthy scene. We can argue all we want about how it’s Pennywise’s influence that “makes” the town this way, but any queer viewer knows that's simply not the case. In 2019 we're still living this horror, no Pennywise required.

Likewise, the two children we see murdered are much more overtly grappling with fears that have nothing to do with fantastical monsters. Dean, the little boy Bill tries to save in lieu of Georgie, is rightly petrified because a seemingly crazy adult is now stalking him. We as the audience know that Bill is just trying to help----that he’s not the real danger here----but that’s not the perspective this kid has, nor is it the issue the film is grappling with. We first see him approaching an idol of his, Richie, and instead of an enjoyable experience he winds up getting yelled at. The It films are only tangentially interested in the status of fans and their relationship with celebrities, but we know it’s a common theme for King’s work overall. Look at Misery and look at this cameo: a disenchanted fan of the 21st century, criticizing a writer’s novel and leveraging him for money. “You can afford it,” he tells Bill, swindling him simply because he can. The context of this little boy as a fan and Richie as the older, bigger, larger-than-life comedian adds another layer to the interaction. It’s not just an adult verbally attacking a child, it’s an adult this kid worshiped enough to recognize and quote his material from memory. Who easily walks away from that?

This little boy then finds Bill shrieking at a sewer opening, is manhandled by him, and told in the scariest way possible, born of Bill’s own fear, that he has to get out of dodge, fast. There are scary things out there, Dean freely admits that he’s heard kids’ voices coming from the tub drain, but right now the scariest thing is how badly the adults in his life are failing him: parents (from what little we can gather) are distant, his comedic idol is mean, and now this stranger is traumatizing him in the middle of the street. Once again, it’s easy to see how Pennywise isn’t needed to sow fear or even enact cruelty; he’s not a requirement for horrible things in the world, he’s merely their reflection. We see the same setup with the little girl under the bleachers. That scene demonstrates precisely how not scary Pennywise is. Here’s this child putting aside her discomfort over his looks and agreeing to be his friend. What’s worse than a clown with a creepy expression? The knowledge that all the other kids have already rejected you because of a birthmark on your face. Bullying is the far greater threat and one we’re 100% more likely to deal with in our lives than a killer clown, so the second film re-frames Pennywise to better acknowledge this. He’s scary because things like bullying and neglect exist to give him an easy in. He’s even scary because in this moment, hiding under the bleachers, manipulating this little girl, he’s fully embodying a child predator. Chapter One was a primal, “There’s a monster hiding in the shadows” kind of fear. Chapter Two is a, “We’re all going to die from climate change” kind of fear. Logical and largely inescapable. Characters like Richie don't need Pennywise to take some fantastic form to scare him. Homophobia has already done all the work.

Ultimately, I think of this as the Umbridge Effect. Who’s the most hated character in the Harry Potter franchise? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the Dark Lord responsible for two wars, attempted genocide, and the death of our title character.

We despise Umbridge because she’s real. She’s relatable. She’s grounded in a way that Voldemort could never hope to be. We have no fear that an all-powerful sorcerer is suddenly going to come out of the woodwork and attempt to enslave and/or eradicate everyone without magic. That’s just not on our list of things to worry about. A corrupt politician, however? An instructor who uses her power to emotionally and physically torture students, getting away with it because of a cutesy, hyper-feminine persona? We’ve seen stuff like that. We’ve lived it. Umbridge represents all the real wrongs in the world when it comes to bigotry and privilege. Therefore we hate her---we fear her---in a way we could never hate or fear Voldemort. Now, in It: Chapter Two, Pennywise is the new Voldemort. Is an alien clown with an unhinged jaw and three rows of teeth technically scary? Sure, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the real problems that plague the cast: abuse, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, the fear that someone will hurt or outright kill you over some part of your identity. These are things we continue to fear long after the credits roll and the lights come up, and they’re now barely coded in the story:

It occurred to me halfway through my viewing that the people laughing at the characters’ new plights were the same ones who didn’t flinch when a gay man’s head cracked into the pavement. I had both hands over my mouth during that scene and I wasn’t snickering whenever Eddie had a panic attack, or Ben’s self-confidence took a hit. Because those moments, like our opening, hit pretty close to home for me; I didn’t find them embarrassingly humorous in the way much of my theater did. So many reviews in the last two months have insisted that Chapter Two isn't scary, but I think that depends entirely on whether or not you're struggling with these now explicit threats. We're not dealing with mummies and creepy portraits anymore. Instead, tell me how you feel about holding your partner's hand in public. Do certain memories make you vomit? Or freeze? Consider heading upstairs to the bath? The horror is dependent on how the audience views Bill's stutter coming back, or the bruises on Bev's arms.

The cast grew up. It’s a fantastic twist. It also means that the horror needed to grow up with them, resulting in a film that could no longer function as a simple, scary clown movie. Our ending reminds us of that. When did people laugh the loudest? When the Losers’ club was bullying Pennywise into something vulnerable. And yeah, I get it. It’s a cheesy moment that we feel the need to laugh at because it’s just so unexpected. Awkward, even. Since when are badass horror monsters defeated with a bit of backyard peer pressure straight out of middle school? If this were any other story, Pennywise would have been defeated by Eddie’s poker. The most scared member of the group finally finds his courage! He has faith that this simple object can kill monsters! He throws it in a perfect arc, splitting the deadlights in two! That’s a heroic ending. Something epic and fantastical, relying on the idea that the Good Guys will win simply because they believe in themselves... but that’s not how the real world works. That ending is a child’s fantasy. Sometimes you do the heroic thing and end up dying anyway. Which isn’t to say that the heroic thing is useless. It saves Richie’s life. It’s just that a single act can’t cure all our ills in the way that storybooks often claim they can.

How then does an adult deal with huge, intangible problems like bigotry and mental illness---the things Pennywise now fully represents? By saying “Fuck you” to those things again and again with all the support you can possibly wrangle up at your side. You refuse to let those issues control you; you drag those child-like representations into the light and remind yourself just how small they really are. We don’t get to beat something like depression by spearing it with a fire poker in some overblown finale. If we did, we’d all be having a much better time. All you can do is band together with friends and scream that you’re not going to let your fears define you anymore. Pennywise is a symptom of all the true horrors in the world. Sadly, you can’t beat those with a baseball bat. But you can acknowledge the heart of the issue, literally in the case of five friends squeezing until that one symptom, at least, is gone.

Image Credit

#1:https://www.screengeek.net/2018/07/10/it-chapter-2-character-mashups/

#2:https://earlybirdbooks.com/the-re-read-the-lion-the-witch-and-the-wardrobe

#3:https://www.vox.com/culture/2019/7/4/19413771/stranger-things-season-3-review-recap-hopper-elevenrussians

#4:https://comicbook.com/movies/2019/08/08/harry-potter-movies-review-10-years-late-snape-dumbledore-franchise/

#5:https://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/netflix/277257/give-the-dragon-prince-a-chance

#6:https://www.forbes.com/sites/lindamaleh/2019/04/23/she-ra-and-the-princesses-of-power-season-2-review/#ec7022c42953

#7:https://www.commonsensemedia.org/tv-reviews/avatar-the-last-airbender

#8:https://www.newsweek.com/buffy-vampire-slayer-turns-20-charisma-carpenter-shows-enduring-legacy-and-566123

#9:http://theinspirationroom.com/daily/2009/alice-in-wonderland-the-movie/

#10:https://www.hindustantimes.com/tv/game-of-thrones-this-edited-out-scene-between-bran-and-sansa-reveals-so-much-about-finale/story-qFDHflH2dO6Kcki1wgsEyM.html

#11:https://www.cinemablend.com/new/Why-Ender-Game-Best-Possible-Adaptation-Book-40110.html

#12:https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/live-feed/supernatural-end-season-15-cw-1196579

#13:https://www.slashfilm.com/it-chapter-two-scene/

#14:https://www.vox.com/culture/2017/9/12/16286316/it-cleaning-up-blood-scene-feminism

#15:http://www.allocine.fr/film/fichefilm-208633/photos/detail/?cmediafile=21647122

#16:https://stanleyyuris.tumblr.com/post/188300897715/chaotic-losers

#17:https://whatculture.com/film/it-chapter-2-every-character-ranked-worst-to-best?page=3

#18:https://www.reddit.com/r/harrypotter/comments/7uhrkz/the_most_hated_character/

#19:https://9gag.com/gag/am2X2Z4?ref=pn.mw

#20:https://screenrant.com/harry-potter-hated-characters-unpopular-worst-ranked/quickview/17

GIFs1-5:https://the-pretty-poisons.tumblr.com/post/188344826978/why-is-everyone-looking-at-me-\like-this

#It #It Chapter 2 #It Chapter Two #It Chapter Two Spoilers #reddie #mymetas

71 notes · View notes

roman-writing · 5 years

Text

A Study in Hospitality (4/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,418

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

The weird dream didn't go away. Which was really inconvenient, to be honest. Hilda liked sleeping as much as any other person, and these nightmares were starting to get on her nerves. Her only consolation was that they didn't happen every night. Only sometimes. But that was more than enough, thank you very much.

In her dream, her mother would offer to kill her a different way every time. Knives. Magic. Swords. Magic swords. Breaking her neck. Pulling the last breath right out of her lungs. Being hung by a diamond necklace from a myrtle tree in full summer’s bloom. And every time, Aphrodite never finished saying what was so important for Hilda to remember.

That was, hands down, the worst part. Even worse than the dying part. Honestly, the dying part was annoying, but it got old real fast. But not getting to know why this was even happening in the first place? Abso-fucking-lutely maddening. Aphrodite would lean forward and whisper in her ear, and Hilda would wake up before she could finish delivering her warning.

Every. Damn. Time.

"Why are we even learning about this?" Hilda grumbled. She wore a spare set of sunglasses to try and cover the dark rings beneath her eyes. “It’s dumb. This is dumb.”

They were standing by the edge of a field, learning hunting techniques from one of the forest nymphs, who took the appearance of a young girl with the name Flayn. She was shy and willowy, with green hair and greener eyes. She was also purportedly Seteth's daughter, though Hilda couldn’t imagine which oreiad could’ve been desperate enough to get it on with a joyless busybody like Seteth.

Beside Hilda, Claude was idly thrumming his bowstring as though it were a harp. He even managed to get a few different notes out of it somehow, though Hilda was stumped as to how he accomplished it. She didn't have any musical talent to speak of, apart from her ability to dance to anything that had a half decent tempo.

He shrugged, only lending half an ear to what Flayn was saying to the gathered group of campers. "Supposedly it's to teach us how to tackle life's problems."

"Um? When am I ever going to need to use this -" Hilda gestured to her bronze axe, which she was leaning upon. "-in the real world? Not that I don’t love swinging this bad boy around, but also: people are civilised now or whatever. When am I going to walk down the street and need an axe to fend off monsters?”

Claude pointed to the axe. "Hey, I thought you lost your axe in the lake."

"Yeah, I did. This is just one of the boring old replacements from the armoury."

"Why didn't you equip your own axe with the return feature?" To make his point, Claude gave his bow a flick, and it transformed back into a headband. He then tossed it over his shoulder. It immediately reappeared back in his hand not a second later. "It's pretty useful."

Hilda grumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?" Claude asked, cupping a hand around his ear as though he hadn't heard, even though he definitely would have.

Glowering, Hilda said, "It was either customise the sunglasses, or take the return feature."

"And of course you chose to customise the sunglasses."

"The original design had reflective lenses! The horrible blue-green kind that looks like a beetle shell! I couldn’t have that!"

Claude nodded solemnly. "Tragic."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. She leaned back on the replacement axe, and turned her glare back upon Flayn, who was now explaining various tracking techniques. "What the hell is a 'hind' anyway? Is it a direction?"

On her other side, a soft familiar voice answered, "It's a stag."

Hilda tossed up a hand in exasperation. "Well, why can't she just say 'stag'? And how do you know that?"

Marianne was seated on the ground to Hilda's left. Her chin was resting atop her knees. She was holding her ankles in her hands, folded upon herself like an accordion. The eye almost seemed to skip over her, as though Marianne did not want to be seen. "I don't know. I just do."

Claude leaned around Hilda, and asked, "Do you like hunting? Do you do it often?"

He had to hide a grunt when Hilda elbowed him in the abdomen. Which was what he deserved for being so damn obvious.

Still, Marianne only blinked languidly up at them. Her face gave away nothing. "Not really."

"I've never seen you use a bow before. Want to try mine?" Claude continued, ignoring the way Hilda was now stepping on his foot.

"Oh. Uh -" Marianne glanced towards Flayn, who was still pointing to a few broken leaves on the ground like it was actually supposed to mean something. "I think we're going to be doing that soon anyway."

Indeed, there were a series of targets erected on the far end of the field behind Flayn. They were made of straw, and painted exactly the way Hilda would have expected targets to be painted.

"I think I'll just throw this instead." Hilda kicked the flat side of her new axe.

"Is that allowed?" Marianne asked.

Hilda shrugged, and made an 'I don't know' noise.

"At least it will come back this time," Claude said. He prodded at Hilda's shoulder with a grin. "Remember capture the flag last year?"

Rolling her eyes, Hilda said, "That was one time."

"And two years ago when you lost your axe to the Hippocampus that came out of the lake?"

"A blip. A complete coincidence," Hilda insisted primly. She had taken out a small handheld mirror and was pretending to check that her lipstick was still as pristinely applied as ever. "And why is it always horse creatures that hate me? Did my mom piss off Poseidon or something?"

"You should really just stick with the return feature on your axe, you know."

Hilda tilted her head back and forth to inspect herself in the mirror. "And you should really cut off that braid. You’ve had it since you were - what? Eighteen?"

Claude's hand flew to the distinctive little braid that had been woven on one side of his head. "Don't be mean to the braid, Hilda."

Hilda snapped the mirror shut. "If you don't want to take fashion advice from a daughter of Aphrodite, that's your business. But you should know that it's a dumb business."

"You should focus more on making sure you don't lose your third axe in three years, and less on my rakish good looks."

Reaching up, Hilda pinched his cheek. "But just think: you could look even better."

He gave her a lopsided grin, but did not pull his head away. "Impossible."

"Careful," Hilda lowered her hand, only to wag her finger at him. "Or you might not be able to fit into that headband anymore."

"Oh, ha ha."

From the ground, Marianne watched their banter in silence. She pointed between the two of them. “Are you two -” she fished around for the right word, “- courting?”

Claude and Hilda looked at each other. And then they started laughing.

"Oh gods." Claude leaned on his knees. "Oh, my stomach hurts."

Meanwhile Hilda leaned her elbow on his hunched back, and pushed her sunglasses up to wipe at the tears forming in her eyes. "Courting!" she repeated.

It sent them into another spiral of wheezing laughter. Marianne stared at them in utter bewilderment. "Is that -" she hazarded, "- is that not the right term?"

"No, no!" Claude straightened. "It's perfect."

"Then -?"

"We're not," he said, at the same time Hilda said, "No way."

"I mean -" Claude gave Hilda a leering once-over.

She shoved his shoulder. "Stop that."

"Remember that one time four years ago behind the armoury?"

"I would rather not." Hilda readjusted her sunglasses, and turned her attention to Marianne. "We're not dating. We have never dated. We will never date."

"You wound me," said Claude.

"No, but I will."

"Not even if I cut off the braid?"

"Not even if you let me give you a full makeover," Hilda said. Then, her face brightened, and she looked at Marianne. "Speaking of makeovers -"

"Oh no," Claude said. He began gesturing to Marianne, making a slicing motion across his throat. "Run, Marianne! Save yourself!"

In answer, Marianne gazed up at them both in confusion. "What?"

"My brother told me that your package is finally on the way."

Marianne blinked up at her. "Package?"

"Remember? You needed some new clothes, so I gave you mine, and ordered you some others?" She waved at Marianne's clothes, which were actually her own clothes and not Marianne's at all.

Between thumb and forefinger, Marainne worried the long sleeve of the shirt she wore. "Yes. I remember. I didn't think you were going to so much trouble to help me."

"Trouble?" Hilda blew a raspberry. "Trust me. Getting someone a new wardrobe is never trouble. It's basically my hobby."

"It really is," Claude said with a solemn nod.

"I see," said Marianne. "Thank you. I've never had much need for clothes like these in the past."

"Did you live in a hole in the ground before coming here, or something?" Hilda asked. When Marianne did not answer, Hilda hurried to correct herself. "Not that that's bad. I mean, it's fine! Completely - uh - normal." She lowered her voice and hissed. "Claude, help me."

Thankfully, he did. "I liked your dresses. But I agree with Hilda that they would be difficult to wear while performing athletic tasks at camp."

"Tasks which still don't make any sense, I would like to add," said Hilda. To prove her point, she tilted her head towards Flayn, who had moved on to the lovely topic of how to best skin wild animals and monsters, and wear their hides. Hilda made a face. "Blech. Fur is definitely not in this season."

"The skin of some creatures can have magical properties that ward the wearer from death's eyes," Marianne said. Then, realising what that sounded like, she ducked her head, and mumbled, "So I've heard."

"Again, when are we ever going to need to 'ward ourselves from death's eyes'?" Hilda asked.

"What if our parents give us a hero's task? They do that sometimes, you know," Claude countered. "What we learn here could be helpful."

Hilda snorted derisively, "Oh. Yeah. Sure. The heroic task of canoeing across a lake. Remind me: did Hercules accomplish that daunting feat of derring-do before or after he wrestled Cerberus? My memory is a little rusty."

Claude stretched the colourful headband between his hands, and put it on. "I think the canoeing part is just for fun. The monster hunting on the other hand -" he fixed his hair so that the small braid hung just so over the headband, until he looked delightfully tousled. "- probably just good practice in coordination and cooperation."

"Look," Hilda said, "I appreciate that -- I really do -- but if not for this camp, I never would've ever met any of you. Which would've been a shame, I know. But also, the majority of us could've just lived our lives with our powers among mortals, and not had any problems."

"I don't know about you, but I don't particularly enjoy the idea of being discovered and dissected because I'm a demigod."

"Then don't join the Olympic archery team, and you'll be fine."

Claude snapped his fingers as if coming to a sudden realisation. "Right. I’ll be sure to remember that next time I’m on the run for being the freak whose car-crash injuries heal overnight, when the collision killed everyone else involved.”

Silence stretched between them for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.

"I'm sorry," Hilda said with a grimace. "I didn't mean -"

But he merely waved her away. "I know you didn't."

Hilda's stomach twisted with guilt. It was an unpleasant feeling, like she had swallowed a nest of live snakes. "I just don't see how learning all of this could have even helped. What could you have done differently then with the skills you have now? Shot an arrow at the other car?"

He shrugged. His arms were crossed, and he favoured studying Flayn rather than look in Hilda's direction. "Maybe. I'll never know. But I like to think this is somehow worth while. Why else would so many immortals put so much time and effort into training us, unless there was a purpose?"

"To keep us out of mischief?" Hilda said, trying to wheedle a smile out of him. "I wasn't lying when I said it would've been a shame not knowing everyone. I do like you guys. I mean -" she corrected herself, "-not enough to, like, throw myself in front of a dragon for you. But I'll be your wingman!"

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Claude's mouth. He looked at her askance. "To think I was prepared to die heroically for you, and you wouldn't do the same," he drawled.

Hilda scoffed. "Dying for someone else is dumb. It defeats the whole point."

And then from the sidelines, Marianne said, "Death isn't so bad."

Hilda turned to look at Marianne with an incredulous grin. "And you know that because you've died sooo many times, right?"

For a moment Marianne did not respond, until finally she mumbled, "No. Not exactly."

Hilda held out her arms as though to an audience. "I rest my case."

The other campers were starting to mill about now. Claude nudged Hilda with his elbow, and jerked his head towards the targets. "Looks like it's time for archery. Mind if I take over?"

In answer, Hilda plopped down beside Marianne, and leaned back on her elbows. "An opportunity for me to not do anything? Like you even need to ask."

"Great." Claude took off his headband. With an expert twist of his wrist, it extended into an elegantly curved bow. The surface had been carved with all manner of hunting motifs and scenes from ancient mythology. He held out the bow to Marianne with an encouraging smile. "Would you do me the honours?"

Still curled up on the ground, Marianne glanced over at Hilda in a silent question.

"Why are you looking at me?" Hilda asked.

"Well, I -" Marianne's voice trailed off. "I don't know."

Rather than lift her arm, Hilda gestured with her foot towards Claude and the targets. "It's your choice. You don't have to shoot if you don't want to. But -- and I don't say this lightly -- he is really very good with the bow. So, if you want lessons, he's the guy."

Claude swept a hand over his heart as though in fealty. "I swear I will only be the utmost gentleman."

While Hilda rolled her eyes, Marianne seemed convinced. "Alright."

Marianne unfolded herself. She patted off bits of grass stuck to her long track pants when she stood, and allowed herself to be led a few strides away. Hilda crossed her legs at the ankles, and watched.

Claude handed Marianne his bow, which she took gingerly, as though afraid she might break it. When she stepped up to the line drawn onto the grass however, she held the bow with an unquestionable familiarity. Other pairs were doing the same all along the line, while Flayn strode behind them, keeping watch with that gentle gaze of hers.

From this distance, Hilda could just overhear Claude's instructions. He directed Marianne with a mix of clarity and humour. At one point, he even managed to get her to make that soft choked noise at the back of her throat, which meant she was trying to stop herself from laughing aloud. He handed her an arrow. When Marianne drew it smoothly back to her cheek, he held up his hands for her to hold that position.

Hilda's eyebrows shot up over the rim of her sunglasses, as she watched Claude touch Marianne's elbow to reposition her arm slightly. Even more shockingly, Marianne did not flinch away, or tell him to stop. Though her shoulders tensed, and her dark eyes flickered like a nervous animal backed into a corner.

Sensing her discomfort, he stepped away, and made a gesture for her to fire. Marianne released the arrow. It streaked across the pitch, and buried itself firmly in the target. Not in the bullseye or anything flashy like that. But still. On the target. Which was better than Hilda could have done.

Claude clapped effusively. Cheeks pink, Marianne lowered the bow. Hilda could hear her making demurring noises, insisting that the praise was Claude's for being a patient teacher and expert marksman.

Raising her voice, Hilda said, "Accept the praise, Marianne!"

At that, Marianne ducked her head. She glanced over her shoulder. If Hilda didn't know better, she might have thought she saw a slight smile on Marianne's face. As though she were secretly pleased with herself, but didn't want anyone to notice.

Which, of course, was an open invitation for Hilda to offer even more raucous praise when Marianne hit the target again.

"Miss Goneril," said a voice to the side.

Shielding her face from the sun with the flat of her hand, Hilda looked up to find Flayn standing over her. "Yo! What's up?"

Flayn held herself with a poise that Hilda could only dream of; the perks of being fully immortal, probably. Her voice was light and deceptively girlish. It was an uncanny contrast to her eyes, which were ancient in the same way her father's were. "Is there some reason why you're not also participating?"

Hilda took off her sunglasses so that more of her face could be seen as she widened her eyes, and said plaintively, "There's an odd number of people today, and I don't have a partner. I was just waiting to trade off with Claude and Marianne."

Charmspeak wove itself in the air like an invisible tapestry, each strand hung from Hilda's words. It settled like a net over Flayn, who blinked. Briefly her expression slackened, only for her to shake her head as though she had just walked into a spider's web. Her brows drew down in a disapproving slant. "That is quite distracting, you know."

"Sorry," Hilda made a face. "Force of habit. Did it almost work though?"

"Almost," Flayn smiled gently. Hilda had never known her to ever actually get mad before.

"Do you think if I practice more, it will work on your dad?"

Flayn laughed, and the sound was like a breeze over the first buds of spring. "That would be a lot of practice, I think."

Swinging her sunglasses around between her fingers, Hilda smirked. "Want to help?"

"I don't see why charmspeak is even necessary. You have already successfully distracted me from scolding you for being lazy."

Hilda pouted, lacing the air with magic again. "Please?"

Flayn had to shake the charmspeak off before she relented. "Oh, very well." She sat beside Hilda, her feet neatly tucked up beneath her legs. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell my father. He would be so cross."

Hilda made a locking motion with her hand, as if twisting a key at her mouth.

While the other students practised archery, Hilda spent the next hour or so trying to charm a dryad older than the mountains. By the end, Marianne was consistently hitting near the bullseye, and Hilda had just about convinced Flayn the sky was pink. It was almost a lesson that Hilda didn't want to end so soon. Almost.

"Well, I must admit," Flayn said, rising gracefully to her feet and smiling at Hilda. "This has been very entertaining."

"Will you tell your dad about how amazingly hospitable I am?" Hilda asked.

Flayn hummed thoughtfully. "I think he already knows." She tilted her head back to study the scattering of puffy white clouds above them. "Still blue. But I think there's a rosy hue. Keep up the good work."

And with that, she started walking off, lifting her voice to deliver instructions to the group on cleaning up for the afternoon. Hilda put her sunglasses back on just as Claude and Marianne were returning to her spot. Claude was resting his hand on Marianne's shoulder, and she only seemed timid rather than tense at the contact.

"Well, well, well," Hilda tilted her head to the side to study their approach. "Aren't you two getting on like a house on fire."

Claude winked at her, then lowered his hand after giving Marianne's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "She's a natural. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a daughter of Apollo."

Rather than contest that idea, Marianne handed the bow back to him. "I'm sorry again. I didn't mean to -"

Claude took the bow, and tapped his tongue against the back of his teeth in an admonishing manner. “I told you, I actually kind of like it this way.”

The smooth bone-carved handle gleamed. What had once been pale ashen bone was now streaked with gold in the shape of a handprint, as though Marianne had gripped it too hard and it had bled gold.

With a gesture, he turned the bow back into the garishly coloured headband, except now it had a broad length of cloth-of-gold running through the fabric like splotches of paint. He put it on, then turned to Hilda, and pretended to pose as though for a camera. “What do you think? Pretty good, right?”

She hummed thoughtfully, and tapped at her chin. “Actually, I have to admit: it is a bit of an improvement.”

Marianne ducked her head, mumbled some excuse about wanting to get lunch even though Hilda rarely ever saw her actually eat, thanked Claude again, apologised (again), and then drifted off in the exact opposite direction of the dining pavilion. Claude watched her go. He waved jovially, but something keen glinted in his eyes, like he had just recognised a person on the street.

Hilda waited until Marianne was well and truly out of earshot, before asking, "Why do you look so smug?"

But Claude merely smiled. "Oh, no reason. No reason at all." His smile broadened. “See you at capture the flag tomorrow.”

The day of capture the flag, the sky was dark with summer rain. Hilda held her blue-crested helm between her hands, and stared up at the sky.

"It's going to rain. This sucks," she whined, then repeated more emphatically, "This sucks."

Marianne hummed in agreement, which was more than she had done even a week ago. A week ago, she would have just stood there in complete silence, letting Hilda fill up every nook and cranny of space. Now, she made herself known with small comments and gestures and noises. She even attempted to smile, when Lysithea handed over a helmet that was identical to everyone else on their team.

Turning over the helmet in her hands, Marianne asked, "If we are expecting a battle, why don't we wear other armour."

"It's more to just tell the two teams apart," Lysithea explained. She put her own helmet on, the blue crest of horse-hair nodding as she did so. "We don't actually hurt each other."

"Usually," Hilda added.

"Usually," Lysithea agreed.

Still, Marianne did not put the helmet on. Neither did Hilda, to be fair. But Hilda was avoiding the dreaded helmet hair that would accompany it.

The two teams were gathered at the edge of the forest, where Seteth, Flayn, Manuela, and Hanneman all waited for them. Hilda spied Claude on the other team, already wearing his red-crested helm, and taking point from Dimitri, who addressed the Ares-led group. Claude spotted her watching him, and he winked. Hilda made a rude gesture with her fingers, which only made him laugh.

"Can we please refrain from fraternising with the enemy until after the competition?" said Edelgard at the fore of their own team.

"Sorry," said Hilda, not sorry at all.

With a sigh, Edelgard shook her head. Then, she lifted her voice, and addressed the Athena-led team. "All of you know the rules, so -"

Marianne raised her hand.

"Yes?" said Edelgard.

Marianne lowered her hand, and said, "I don't know the rules."

"Hilda didn't explain them to you?"

When Marianne shook her head, Hilda did her best to look sheepish. It wasn't difficult. She felt rather sheepish, to be perfectly honest.

"Sorry," said Hilda.

With one last glare in Hilda's direction, Edelgard said to Marianne, "Don't let the opposing team take our flag. Try to take the opposing team’s flag. Use any reasonable force necessary, but try not to kill anyone. Stick to your group, and stick to the plan. And for all our sakes, stick to the range as set out by Seteth and the others. The professors will be the judges.They’ll be walking around key boundaries. Don't go wandering too far into the forest. Remember what happened last time?"

At that, a disgruntled murmur spread throughout the large group of campers.

"What happened last time?" Marianne asked Hilda in a low voice.

"Some idiot stumbled across a dragon's lair. It went badly." Hilda said, inspecting her eyeliner in the mirror shine of her helm. "That's how Dimitri lost his eye. Poor bastard."

Indeed, Dimitri still wore a patch over said eye. Magic and ambrosia could only do so much. Especially against wounds inflicted by other magical creatures and beasts.

"Any other questions?" Edelgard looked at Marianne, who shook her head. "Excellent. And good luck out there. Just remember -" and her lilac gaze went hard as iron. "- defeat is not an option."

As the group began to split up and head into the forest, Hilda sighed. "Sometimes I worry about that girl. Like, doesn't she get that this is a game?"

"Is it?" Marianne asked quietly.

"Well -" Hilda hesitated. She thought about it, then decided she really didn't want to think about it. Instead, she finally shoved the helmet onto her head. "Anyway. Let's go."

Marianne followed suit. She put her helm on. Hilda had been right. Blue did look good on her. In the track pants and long-sleeved shirt however, the helm looked a bit silly.

As they crossed the first row of trees, Hilda could feel a set of eyes upon her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Seteth watching her intently. She flashed him a grin, but received nothing in return. For someone acting as one of the judges in this competition, his dedication to impartiality was admirable. But really, did he have to be so damn stiff? Relax. Live a little.

Between Edelgard and Seteth, Hilda had to shrug off a bad feeling about this competition. To add insult to injury, she could have sworn she felt the first speck of rain.

"Which way are we going?" Marianne asked.

Drawing her axe, which had been disguised as a boring old pen in her pocket, Hilda used it to point. "That way. Us two are guarding the flag, while everyone else does whatever Edelgard and Lysithea told them to do."

"Alright."

It did not take long for the other groups to be swallowed up by the woods. The trees clustered thickly all around. The air was darker and heavier here, and grew even more so the further they pushed ahead.

After a while of tramping along, Marianne had another question, "Why us?"

"Hmm?"

"Guarding the flag is important, right? I'm assuming Edelgard had a reason for picking us."

Hilda shrugged. "Probably. I don't think we'll ever really know why Edelgard does what she does. Maybe we're the best suited for the job. Maybe there are only two people allowed to guard the flag at any one point in time. Maybe she doesn't know where to put you in a bigger team, because you're new here. Or maybe I just complain if I get put out into the field to do more work. Who knows."

"It sounds like you know."

"It's a mystery," Hilda insisted.

"I really don't think it is."

They reached a clearing in the trees, surrounded by dense underbrush. Here, the vegetation gave way to a near perfect circle that extended nearly twenty meters in every direction. The area was demarcated by a ring of white-capped mushrooms. Hilda was very careful not to step on one as she entered the clearing. She could almost taste the nature magic emanating off of them.

In the centre of the clearing, a bronze spear had been stuck in the ground, and a blue flag trailed from it like a military standard. On the flag had been stitched the insignia of every cabin on their team.

Immediately, Hilda crossed over to it. At the base of the spear, she slammed her axe into the ground so that the head was half buried and would remain upright on its own. Then she flopped onto the ground beside it. She sprawled her legs, and sighed up at the sky.

"The rest of the forest won't get any rain, except for us. Figures," she grumbled.

Marianne drifted closer. In her own hand, she held a basic armour sword of Celestial bronze, not unlike Hilda's own weapon. "Aren't we supposed to be guarding the flag?"

Hilda gestured towards the flag, which hung just over her head. "Here's the flag. And here we are. It's guarded."

Uncertain, Marianne glanced towards the edge of the clearing. "What if someone comes?"

"Then we tell them to go away."

"Hilda, be serious."

"I am being serious!"

"I have never known you to be serious."

"Now, that's just rude. I bet I'm the most serious person you've ever met."

At that, Marianne bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. She turned her head aside to hide a smile.

"What?" Hilda asked, placing a hand over her heart as though insulted. "You don't believe me? Name someone with more gravitas."

Marianne's voice sounded strained, as though she were trying to keep it level. "I can think of a few people."

When Marianne couldn't stop the corner of her mouth curling up in a smile, Hilda grinned at her. "That's more like it." She patted the ground beside her. "Come on. Sit. Relax."

Folding her legs, Marianne crouched down so that they sat, side by side. They were close enough that when Hilda leaned back, her arm brushed against the fabric of Mariann's sleeve. A week ago Marianne would have shuffled away. Now, she stayed put.

Hilda cocked her head. "Are you having fun?"

That seemed to puzzle Marianne. "The forest is nice, I guess."

"No, I mean -- are you enjoying camp half-blood?"

"Oh." Marianne used the tip of her sword to draw patterns in the soft earth. She took a while to think about her answer, before she said, "Yes. I think so. It's nicer than home in many ways."

"What's home like?"

Marianne went very quiet. She continued to sketch shapes in the dirt with her sword. Little swirls and peaks, like mountains. Or perhaps flames. "It's full of people," she finally said. "But it's lonely. Not like here."

"Do you miss it?"

Marianne shrugged. "Sometimes."

Humming contemplatively, Hilda said, "I felt that way when I first came here." When Marianne shot her an incredulous look over her shoulder, Hilda insisted, "It's true! I mean, I'm great at making friends and getting to know people, but it still takes time. You only warmed up to me after a few weeks, and I was already friends with people. Think of how long it would've taken me to make friends in a place where I knew absolutely nobody."

"A few hours, I imagine," Marianne replied dryly.

"At least!"

Marianne snorted. Then her head jerked up; she frowned in the direction of the trees. "Someone's coming."

Hilda did not move. A few fat raindrops began to fall intermittently from the sky. It wouldn't be long now until it started to rain in earnest. A warm summer rain. With lightning most likely. Hilda almost wished she had packed a poncho, if ponchos weren't so awful to look at.

"Hilda -?"

"I heard you," Hilda said. She rose to her feet, brushing a few leaves from her legs. Just as she tugged her axe free from the ground, she heard voices through the underbrush.

Marianne stood as well. She remained a step behind Hilda, letting her take point. The voices grew a bit louder, and a minute later, three people wearing red-crested helms stepped into the clearing.

Shouldering her axe, Hilda waved. "Hey, Caspar! Raphael! Ignatz! So good of you to join us!"

The three approached, Caspar leading the other two. He grinned, and gave a mocking salute with one hand. "Hi, Hilda! We've got you outnumbered. Want to make this easy, and just hand over that flag there?"

"Oh, you mean this?" Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the flag. The drops of rain had strengthened into a drizzle. Hilda tapped at her chin as though thinking very hard about a complicated maths problem, until she said in a cheery tone, "Nope! I have a much better idea."

Ignatz had stopped at the edge of the clearing, but Raphael and Caspar continued their advance. Raphael's knuckles were sheathed in bronze gauntlets with wicked talons on the ends, while Caspar carried an axe even larger than Hilda's.

If anything Caspar's smile only widened at the prospect of a fight. "Oh, yeah? What's the plan?"

Behind him, Ignatz was nocking an arrow into his bow. Hilda tsked, shaking her head, and wagged a finger in his direction. "Down, boy."

Charmspeak laced through the air. Without hesitation, Ignatz lowered his bow.

Frowning, Caspar looked over his shoulder, then did a double take. "Ignatz! What are you doing? Shoot them!"

But Ignatz's eyes were glazed behind his thick round spectacles. He did not react to being addressed by his team leader.

"Don’t be rude, Ignatz. You heard the man!" Hilda said. She pointed at Caspar and Raphael, and said, "Shoot them!"

Immediately, Ignatz drew his bow back, aiming at his friends. His arrow narrowly missed, deflected by Caspar’s axe. Both Caspar and Raphael whirled about, torn between who to face. They set their backs against one another.

"Oh, would you look at that!" Hilda gasped in faux surprise. "You're outnumbered! And surrounded, I would like to add. So, hows about you just -" she snapped her fingers with a beaming smile, "- give up, and go away?"

Baring his teeth, Caspar lowered his stance. "I still like my odds."

"Don't worry. I'll fix that, too." Hilda looked at the hulking man at his side. "Oh, Raphael!" she said in a sing-song tone.

Caspar whirled around to his only remaining teammate. "Plug your ears, Raphael! Don't listen to her!"

Hilda continued to speak over him, weaving a tapestry of charmspeak with every syllable. "Raphael, doesn’t an early dinner sound just too amazing to resist?”

Raphael’s tawny eyes went unfocused. Slowly, he lowered his fists, his broad shoulders relaxing. “Yeah,” he said in a dazed tone. “Yeah, food sounds really good right now.”

“You know,” Hilda said, “If everyone else is out here in the woods, then there’s nobody in line at the dining pavilion!”

His expression brightened, and he started heading towards the treeline.

“Don’t forget to take Ignatz with you!” Hilda called after him.

In response, Raphael picked up Ignatz -- who was still pointing an arrow at Caspar -- and carried him away.

Hilda waved after them until the rain and trees obscured their figures, then turned her bright smile upon Caspar. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

Furious, Caspar took out his frustrations by chopping at a nearby tree trunk with his axe a few times. Typical child of Ares behaviour. Hilda inspected her nails while she waited for his little tantrum to be finished. She had a microscopic chip in her nailpolish. She would need to repaint them this evening.

Finally Caspar rounded on her. His face was bright red and streaked with rain. “Fight me anyway!”

“Mmmm…Nah,” said Hilda, still inspecting her nails.

“Is this a good idea?” Marianne asked at her side. “He looks really angry.”

“See, now, that’s the thing.” Hilda waggled her fingers towards Marianne’s sword. “If you fight him, then he wins. Even when he loses, he wins.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Caspar shouted.

Which, of course, meant Hilda kept talking about him like he wasn’t there. “Caspar loves fighting, but he won’t fight you unless you fight him. So, the only way to win is to not fight at all.” She pretended to lower her voice to a whisper, knowing full well that he could still hear her. “He hates it so much.”

At that, Caspar kicked at the ground, sending a spray of dirt towards them. With a great, wordless cry of frustration, he stomped off after Raphael and Ignatz.

Hilda called after him, “Hey! Tell Dimitri to send someone good next time!”

“Fuck you, Hilda!”

“Maybe later! Bye bye, now!”

When Caspar, too, had left, Marianne turned to Hilda. “I see now why Edelgard puts you in charge of guarding the flag.”

“You’re here, too,” Hilda pointed out.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did. You have the most important job of all!”

Marianne’s expression was dubious. “Which is -?”

“Making sure I don’t get bored, and abandon my post in favour of going to the arts and crafts centre. Which I may have done in past years. I refuse to incriminate myself.”

Something rustled in the trees again. Hilda squinted through the rain. She had to wipe at the brim of the helmet, clearing the drizzle that unspooled in front of her face. Beside her Marianne peered in the same direction, though where Hilda hefted her axe, Marianne's hand remained slack around the hilt of her sword of Celestial bronze.

Hilda raised her voice to call out, "We know you're out there! How about you make it easy for everyone, and just lay down your weapons! Or maybe just go away! That would be really great! Thanks!"

More shuffling. The low branches and foliage of the shrubbery wavered back and forth. Then, a deer burst through the trees. Hilda yelped in surprise, and the deer bounded away. She clutched at her chest with one hand to calm the racing of her heart.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she grumbled after the deer.

"It wasn't alone," Marianne said softly.

Marianne nodded towards the trees where the deer had appeared. This time, there was absolute silence. No shuffling or rustling at all. And yet, Claude stepped into the clearing as though he were out on an evening stroll in his garish gold-streaked headband, and bright yellow t-shirt. His bow was in his hands. He glanced in their direction. When Hilda opened her mouth to speak, he raised a single finger to his lips, and shook his head.

Instead of speaking, Hilda rolled her eyes and mouthed at him, "What are you doing?"

In answer, Claude gestured for her to come over to him. He then pointed to where the deer had vanished into the woods. Hilda did not move. She watched that place. And watched. And watched.

Nothing happened.

This time, she spoke aloud, "Alright, if this is some kind of trap, I am not falling for it."

He made a slicing motion at his neck for her to be quiet, then strung his bow with a bronze-tipped arrow, backing away.

“Yeah. Still not falling for it.”

"Hilda -"

"Not now, Marianne. He's trying to trick us into abandoning the flag, or something. I mean, it's a stupid trick. Which is weird. He's normally cleverer than that, but -"

Marianne grasped her arm, and that was enough for Hilda to fall silent. She looked over only to find that Claude had vanished from the clearing. Meanwhile, the place he had pointed to was growing dark. As though night were falling before its time. Shadows gathered beneath the boughs and between the trees, and not even the rain could pierce it.

And then one of the shadows stepped forward.

Marianne's hand tightened on Hilda's arm. Her face looked even more pale. She took a trembling step back. "Is that supposed to be here?"

“No. No it definitely isn’t.”

The shadow sloped slowly forward with the grace of a great cat. It stepped on one of the mushrooms, crushing it and its magic underfoot. It had too many legs. Its eyes burned a dull coal-red, and smoke slithered in its footsteps. No sooner had it emerged, than another followed in its wake. And another. And another. Their muzzles dripped with something other than rain. One of them still carried in its jaws the haunch of the deer, which it dropped at the edge of the clearing.

"Oh," Hilda breathed, "shit."

Marianne had let go of Hilda's arm and taken another step back, and Hilda was right there with her. The pack followed them with lidless eyes, each enormous head turning to watch their retreat. Every fibre of Hilda's bones -- down to the marrows -- was screaming for her to run, to turn tail and sprint until her lungs burned and her legs gave way. Until the sun could wash over the land, and burn away the foul stench of sulphur that preceded the shadows like a fog.

Hilda shoved that tiny screaming miniature version of herself away, and instead tightened her grip upon her axe. Her hands were sweaty upon the hilt. The distance between her, Marianne, and the shadows was shrinking, but at a certain point the shadows stopped approaching. Darkness swirled all around the edges of the clearing like mist.

"Whatever you do," Marianne murmured, and her voice trembled slightly, "don't look away from them."

Without thinking, Hilda glanced over her shoulder at Marianne. "What? Why -?"

"No, don't -!"

There was a flash of darkness that stirred the air, and when Hilda looked back around, one of the creatures loomed over her. It was not rearing back on its hind legs. It did not need to. It was massive enough that it could loom without trying. Hilda only jerked her axe up in time to knock the creature's head aside, so that she did not lose a limb. The Celestial bronze cut a pale glowing mark into the shadow, and it snarled in fury.

"Fuck," Hilda swore. "Shit fuck."

She staggered back with another wild swing, as teeth snapped near her head. This was bad. This was very bad. Her inner thoughts were a constant stream of frantic swearing, as she hacked and slashed with the best of her abilities. No sooner had she made one of the shadows back off, than another took its place. They circled around her with bared teeth like tarnished silver, snapping and growling, so that she could never quite get her bearings before she had to swing around once more to fend off another.

"Hey, back off, already!" Hilda said, and her voice cracked in fear. The charmspeak rolled over them, and for a split second the creatures hesitated, only for their eyes to burn bright as though searing the very magic away.

One of the shadows lunged. Cursing loudly, profusely, and elegantly, Hilda brought her axe down hard enough that it sliced through the thing's damn neck. The creature's head continued to shriek even as it dissolved on the ground at her feet. In horror, Hilda watched while the shadow twitched and swung its body back and forth as though merely blinded.

Another tried to bite her around the stomach, but from the trees there came a dart of bronze. The creature jerked back as a bronze-tipped arrow found its mark, sticking out of its eye and smoking there as though it were a white-hot iron.

Hilda wrenched around. Claude waved at her from the safety of a nearby tree, then nocked another arrow. Hilda swung her axe at another shadow, and yelled at him, "If I die, I am going to be really pissed off, Claude!"

His answer was another arrow sticking into the creature to her right. It snapped at her ankles, and she had to snatch her foot back to avoid losing it entirely. "Marianne, are you -?"

But when Hilda looked around, Marianne was no longer beside her. The creatures had her completely surrounded and alone. In a panic, Hilda gave one of them a good smack with her axe, and it squealed like a kicked dog when one of its many legs was cut off. Still, it did not die. It only began to limp. But it meant that Hilda could actually see over it.

Marianne was standing near the flag. Watching. Her shoulders were hunched. Her cheeks blanched. Her sword had been dropped to the ground as though discarded.

Hilda swung her axe again to fend off another attack. She called out, "You can help me any day now!"

Marianne's mouth moved, but no sound came out. She took a trembling step back, and shook her head. "I -" she choked out. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't -"

"What do you mean: you can’t?!"

When one of the beasts clawed the air, Hilda was forced to stagger back or risk disembowelment, which was not high up on her to do list. It knocked her axe aside, so as to close its teeth around the hilt and wrench the weapon from her hands. She clung on for dear life, toppling sideways onto the ground, and landing in the disembodied head of the one she had decapitated.

Her hand fell right through the shadow as if it were made of liquid. Hilda continued to grapple over her axe, but stopped when she felt something cold begin to creep up her arm.

Veins of shadow were branching towards her shoulder. Panic lanced through her, and her grip slackened on the axe enough for the beast to tear it from her hand. There were only three of the creatures still upright, their flanks protruding with a forest of arrows and gouges from Hilda's axe. The fourth had dissolved into a twitching mass of darkness on the ground.

Panic quickly rose to terror. Hilda reached over with her free hand to squeeze her upper arm in an attempt to staunch the flow of icy shadow up her arm, while the remaining three beasts descended upon her.

She closed her eyes, curled up into a ball on the ground, and waited for teeth and claws to tear into her. But that moment never came.

"Leave her alone."

Like a kid peering through their fingers at a horror film, Hilda slowly opened her eyes. Marianne was standing beside her. From this angle, Hilda could see the underside of her clenched jaw, and the way her fists shook.

The beasts backed away a step. They seemed to be weighing their chances. They looked from Marianne to Hilda, and took a step forward. Obviously, they liked their odds.

Something flickered across Marianne's face, like steel plates settling into place. With one hand she reached up to the pendant at her neck, and tugged it free from the white ribbon from which it was strung. As she extended her arm, it seemed that she was slowly drawing a sword from her chest. Its handle was bone. Its crossguard the golden shape of the original pendant. Its blade was curved and utterly, purely black. Black as a nightmare.

In one smooth motion, Marianne swept the sword downward. It arced, and left behind the faint stench of burning ozone, as though its edge had cut through the very air molecules. She brought it down upon the nearest beast, as easily as if brushing aside a cobweb.

Whereas the Celestial bronze of Hilda and Claude's weapons had bled the beasts a searing white, Marianne's blade left behind a cut that revealed nothing but darkness. The beast's hide split open, and a wind stirred. The blade absorbed the shadows within until not an inch of the creature remained.

"LEAVE HER ALONE."

Marianne's words were not loud; they were substantial. As though every letter she spoke were engraved upon stone, etched into a memorial that would weather the millennia beyond mortal ken.

Immediately, the last two beasts stopped in their tracks. They lowered their heads and their great hulking shoulders, until they lay upon the ground before her. Like trained dogs. Hilda even swore she could see their ears flattened back, as though they had been admonished by an angry master.

Slowly, Marianne turned. Hilda had to resist the urge to scramble back. Marianne's eyes had gone black. Black as night. Black as the blade in her grasp. Thunder rolled in the distance, but the rain seemed to melt away before ever reaching her. And over Marianne's head, a pale flame burned in the shape of a bident, curved like a broken halo, or perhaps like horns. She cast a shadow that blotted out the sky. Behind her the beasts awaited her command, twin hellhounds with eyes like a dying furnace.

She knelt before Hilda, and held out her hand. This time when Marianne spoke, her voice sounded normal. Well, that wasn’t true. It sounded kind of echo-y. But more normal than before.

"May I -?"

It took Hilda a moment to realise what Marianne was referring to. The cold shadow had reached her shoulder, and was now winding its way up the side of her neck like a plague. Hilda nodded, but still she winced when Marianne took her infected hand in her own.

Her eyes were still black. She did not seem to need to blink. The air around her continued to hum with energy. It made a shiver race down Hilda's spine, as though someone had just walked across her grave. Marianne grasped her hand, and her touch drew the darkness out like a poison until nothing but pure, warm, unblemished skin was left behind.

"I knew it."

Both Hilda and Marianne turned to look towards the edge of the clearing. Claude held their flag in one hand, and his bow in the other. He was beaming in triumph.

“I’ve won. And now,” He gestured with the flag towards Marianne. “I also know what you are. You're not one of the Demeter kids. You’re a child of Hades. You're a daughter of Death."

#hilda valentine goneril #marianne von edmund #hilda/marianne #hildamari #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #roman writes

31 notes · View notes

tbr-agency · 4 years

Text

companion.

summary ⟶ Chaeun arrives in Got7 dorm and Jackson needs help regarding his luggage.

timeline ⟶ May 2018

characters : Ji Chaeun (The Bloody Roses), Wang Jackson (Got7)

❝ Hey Chaeunnie, what are you going to do during these 2 weeks when I'm gone? ❞

Putting on a sweater and skirt quickly, Chaeun quickly put on light makeup as she packs her bag, throwing her phone in it.

"Why do you have to leave sooo early?"

Chaeun jumped a little to hear her roommate, as she turned towards Eunhee, as she was sitting up.

"Jackson will be going to China for about 2 weeks, and no one is available to accompany him to the airport." Chaeun shrugged and Eunhee frowns a little.

"How about his other members then?" asked Eunhee. "Individual schedules. Well, I'm free anyway. I don't mind accompanying him."

"Or... is it because you missed him?" teased Eunhee, and Chaeun turned towards her giving Eunhee a look.

"What?" Eunhee looks at her innocently.

"You know, I think each one of us will probably be attached to them," mumbled Chaeun, and her roommate could see her expression turned serious because Chaeun meant what she said.

Whenever she spends her time with Jackson, mostly the times when she had to accompany Jackson to do solo interviews, they would always talk about deep things.

Mostly Jackson asking Chaeun about her personal life, 80% of the questions are about her bodyguard job.

Jackson is a gentleman towards her and to the other 6 girls. It is Chaeun's job to carry Jackson's bag but they would tend to argue every time on who is going to carry it.

"You know what's scarier?" Eunhee asked timidly, her eyes still onto Chaeun as she was searching for a jacket in her wardrobe.

"What's scarier?"

"Falling in love with them."

Chaeun's movement stopped, before pulling out one of her jackets, as she closed the wardrobe lightly.

"I would resign before it happens or if it was about to happen." Chaeun winked towards Eunhee before leaving the room, making Eunhee sigh as she throws herself back at her bed.

Chaeun knocked on the door, as she looked at her watch while waiting for someone to open the door.

It's either Jackson would be asleep or he is busy packing his luggage. But it would be too late for him to pack since he has less than an hour left.

"Oh! Chaeun noona!"

Chaeun looked up to see Yugyeom smiling widely while opening the door wide for her to come in.

"Hi Yugyeom! It's 9AM! Why are you up early?" questioned Chaeun while walking pass the taller one. He wasn't the only one that is awake.

Jinyoung, Jaebeom and Youngjae are in the living room, playing with Coco.

"As far as I know, your schedule is in the afternoon," said Chaeun with an amused look while turning towards Yugyeom, who looked embarrassed. Yugyeom could only smile sheepishly.

"Anyway, where is Jackson?"

"In his room. He has trouble packing his luggage," replied Youngjae as he picks up Coco. He then accompanied Chaeun towards Jackson's room.

The door was open slightly and as soon as Youngjae pushed the door, Chaeun's eyes widen.

"Hyung! Chaeun noona is here."

Youngjae's voice made Mark and Jackson turn towards the younger one as they were having a conversation in English.

Mark waved shyly towards Chaeun, then turning back towards Jackson as he looked like he was somehow lecturing Jackson.

Mark and Jackson are roommates, Mark's side was clean and neat while Jackson's side was scattered with clothes.

"Oh god! Chaeun-ah! I need your help!" Jackson whines and Chaeun sighs while going towards him, to see him sitting on the luggage, trying to stuff everything in the luggage.

"Chaeun-ah, do we have time?" Jackson was already in a panic.

His flight is at 10.30 in the morning and it is now, 9.45 AM. His worried eyes turned towards Chaeun, but she looked calm.

"I don't think so. Just take out the unnecessary stuf— Chaeun-ah! He brings a lot of useless stuff!" Mark argued and Chaeun quickly took out her sling bag, rolling her sleeves up as she looks at both of the guys.

"We have time but I can't do this alone."

It took 15 minutes for her to re-fold all of his clothes.

"See Mark! It fits!"

"Yeah it fits because Chaeun folded all of your clothes!" Mark dead-panned in English, earning a pout from Jackson.

Chaeun was about to grab the luggage but instead, it was Jackson's hand that she touched.

Jackson's eyes were on Chaeun even before she looked up at him.

"Not this time, Chaeunnie. You already helped me, so this time I should be the one carrying the luggage.

“C'mon." said Jackson with a slight smirk, before leaving the flustered Chaeun.

"Hey Chaeunnie, what are you going to do during these 2 weeks when I'm gone?" questioned Jackson as he turned towards Chaeun who was busy concentrating on the road as she is driving.

Jackson somehow has a nickname for her ever since the first day that her schedule with Jackson began.

"Probably, helping the other girls if they needed help...?"

"What if they don't need your help?"

"Well, Haejin would always need someone's help."

"But what if?" Jackson sounded persistent and Chaeun turned towards the curious guy, as she met his gaze.

Chaeun tilted her head, thinking about what would she do.

"I'll probably go back to the headquarters to train myself," said Chaeun with a smile, and somehow Jackson frowns. He remembered his conversation with Mark the other day.

"Jackson, do you believe if someone says that a company only has male staff? There are only 7 females, which is their artists..?"

"What? Which company is it? That is weird and insane. The 7 girls would feel uncomfort— Wait, 7 girls? Are you talking about our bodyguards??"

"Well, unfortunately, yes."

"Holy shit."

Jackson realized that he was staring at her longly.

"So.... that means you will be training with a guy trainer?" asked the curious Jackson.

"Nope. I'll train alone. I'm still pissed with our trainer. Look.., my bruise is still visible." pointed Chaeun with a sigh, and Jackson let out a sigh of relief but at the same time, he was worried too.

Strangely, he has second thoughts of going to China for the first time. But he knew he can't cancel it since it is regarding work.

About 5 minutes later, they reached the airport car park as she parked the car then quickly got off the car, going to the back of the trunk to take Jackson's luggage.

Knowing he might going to argue again, Chaeun quickly gripped onto the luggage tightly, earning a puppy eye look from Jackson. Chaeun shakes her head lightly, gesturing his pout doesn't affect her.

"C'mon Jackson. We have 15 minutes left!" Chaeun reminded and Jackson quickly fastens his pace as they crossed the road, not stopping to take pictures for the fansites since he was in a rush.

He had to apologize as the fansites were walking while taking pictures.

Chaeun was lucky that the fansites were respectful enough to not go into his personal space.

Stopping in front of the security, both Chaeun and Jackson stopped at their tracks as he faced Chaeun.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Chaeunnie." said Jackson with a smile as he went towards her for a tight hug, before going towards the security to check-in.

"Have a safe flight, Jackson! Text me or your manager when you arrived in Hong Kong!" yelled Chaeun while waving. Jackson turned back towards Chaeun with a wink and his usual puppy smile, then waving towards the fans.

Chaeun watches his figure getting further and further, and she could feel herself sighing, realizing she already misses him as her companion.

masterlist : Got7 Bodyguard Au

#got7 au #got7 bodyguard #got7 jb #got7 mark #got7 jinyoung #got7 youngjae #got7 bambam #bodyguard #got7 yugyeom #got7 jackson imagines #got7 jackson scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #ji chaeun #jackson wang

7 notes · View notes

jazy3 · 5 years

Text

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 16X09

This week’s episode was the Fall Finale and it did not disappoint let me tell you! It was so good! The theme of this episode for me was 'I did not see that coming!' And the ending really shocked me! It felt like the old Grey's! I have to say this is the first episode of Grey’s Anatomy I've watched in a while that made me want to actually go back and re-watch it. We open on Meredith coming out of an elevator. It’s her first day back at Grey Sloan! We find out that Mer is looking for a package. Apparently, Cristina sent her something to make her feel better after almost losing her licence to practice medicine and getting dumped. They are persons and BFF's forever! Maggie and Amelia are happy to have her back and the residents are excited to see her. They present her with a welcome back cake and Helm finally gets her hug. It’s all very sweet. Then DeLuca pipes up about not knowing that Bailey had re-hired her.

To which Meredith responds that she was going to tell him, but he was too busy dumping her. DeLuca tries to argue that he didn’t dump her. He told her to take some time. To which she responds, “Rob, Steal, Murder, Kill. It all means the same thing.” Love that salt Mer! Throw that shade honey! Such a Queen! Meanwhile over at Pac North a woman comes by to tour the ER as a potential new hire and Owen has to show her around because Alex is away in Iowa because something is up with his Mom. Yikes! That’s definitely going to be a major plot point when the show comes back in the New Year. Owen shows the woman around and is all doey eyed while doing it which Richard immediately calls him on in the most hilarious way possible!

Back at Grey Sloan Vic and Jackson are having a moment when Catherine pulls up. She doesn't know that Jackson and Maggie have broken up and as a result is cold as ice to Vic in the funniest way! I love her line, “Station 19? What is that a TV Channel?” Oh Catherine. We get a hot and sexy Amelink moment followed by a Schmico moment. Everybody is knocking boots. LOL. Good old Grey's. Side note, where does Nico work right now? Did he take a fellowship position at Grey Sloan? Is he working somewhere else and here to see Levi? I feel like they probably addressed this and I missed it. We cut to Amelia and Link have an adorable little moment where they play a cute little game of what attributes they hope their baby has from each of them. My heart!

Their game is interrupted when they find out that Jo has become a Safe Haven volunteer and just found out that a baby has been dropped off at Station 19 and she has to go pick them up. Oh boy. Link is wonderful and supportive of Jo and what she's trying to do. I love him for that. Amelia gets pulled away to talk to Bailey. They swap pregnancy updates. It's adorable. I’ve noticed Jo's hair is darker now and they haven't addressed why. That’s interesting. I like that they've turned the black female resident named Hannah Brody who was previously a background character that rarely said much into a full-fledged character this season. After losing the actors who played Sam Bello and Dahlia Qadri to other roles they could have just cast a new actor to play a resident but instead they promoted from within and I like that.

We cut to Maggie rounding on her first patient who turns out to be a man who needs heart surgery and whose wife just gave birth ahead of schedule. Maggie is nervous after what happened with Sabi and unfortunately this comes back to bite her later on. Bailey rounds on her first patient and we find out that it’s none other than Captain Herrera from Station 19 and his cancer is back. Oh boy. The residents are still doing rounds when Meredith comes in to see her first patient a teenage girl that she operated on two years ago and that's when the new Head of Paediatric Surgery walks in! His name is Dr. Cormac Hayes. He's Irish and he started this morning. Him and Mer do not get off to a good start to say the least. Hayes doesn't like it when residents round on his patients when he's not there and doesn't seem to understand that Meredith is Meredith freaking Grey and that she part owns the hospital he's standing in.

Meanwhile Jo arrives at Station 19 to pick up the baby. We find out that it’s a three day old infant and that Ben is happy to see her. Back at the hospital Maggie approaches Teddy and asks her to scrub in on her valve replacement surgery. Maggie is clearly nervous and concerned and Teddy picks up on none of it somehow. Meredith and Dr. Hayes butt heads again over their patient, who they decide to send for a CT scan, while DeLuca looks on longingly but decides not to say anything to Mer. Probably a good idea seeing as he just dumped her. Idiot. Meanwhile Bailey is giving Captain Herrera an ultrasound while they talk about her pregnancy and how she thinks it’s going to be a girl. Jackson finds his Mom in one of the conference rooms and they finally talk about what’s been going on in each of their lives and their relationship problems. I love Catherine's outfit in this scene! The striped multicoloured blazer and pink sequinned blouse are fierce! She always has the best clothes!

I like that this show has moments where they work to dispel harmful myths like the idea that using formula instead of breast milk is bad for your baby. It’s not and we need to stop shaming mothers who can't breastfeed or choose not to. Meanwhile at Pac North, Gemma and Richard are having an impromptu AA meeting in Richard's office. They're in the middle of praying when one of Pac North's incompetent employees barges in! Because they are holding hands the employee mistakes Gemma for Richard's wife! They have a good laugh over that and finish doing the serenity prayer. Pac North: Never a dull moment! Meanwhile Jo is still at Station 19 with the surrendered baby. Her and Jack have a heart to heart about being former foster kids. I really love Jo's bomber jacket! It's super cute! They upgraded her wardrobe this year and damn! Back at the hospital we find out that Amelia has yet to have an ultrasound because she's terrified of what she might find out. Bailey convinces her to get one.

Mer and Hayes butt heads again over their patient's CT scan and Hayes throws major shade. Mer throws it right back though by asking who hired him Bailey or Koracick? When Hayes won't answer and asks her why she wants to know Mer fires back with, “Bailey usually has too much sense to hire surgeons whose egos are too big to fit in an OR.” Savage Meredith is the best Meredith. Maggie and Teddy operate on their heart patient. Teddy wants to chit chat. Maggie does not. Meanwhile Catherine shows up at Pac North looking for Richard. She runs into the incompetent employee from earlier and tries to throw shade. It backfires hilariously. Unfortunately, the employee mistakenly tells her that Richard is having coffee with his wife and so now Catherine definitely thinks he's having an affair. Jeez louis.

Meanwhile back at Grey Sloan we find out that Hayes went behind Meredith's back and told their patient and her mother that she might have cancer. Mer is not happy to say the least. Amelia and Link talk about the fact that she hasn't gotten an ultrasound yet. Link assumed she had. Amelia realizes that she really does need to get one. I love her line, “He dumps my sister and you put him on your service?” Amelia. Always coming in with the one liners! Link was unaware that Mer and DeLuca had broken up. DeLuca tries to clear things up while talking to Link and Nico as they scrub in. Link calls him on his BS. Mer has very few equals because she's that good. Which is the truth. As Link points out Mer is one of the world's top general surgeons. DeLuca is still a resident. She doesn't see him as an equal because he's not. No one is. Nico makes some good points about how Schmitt isn't his equal but that doesn't mean he doesn't respect him.

I loved Nico’s line, “But if he told me to take some time, yeah no, I would not respect that.” Drop that truth Nico! Drop it like it’s hot! I love that DeLuca is finally realizing what an idiot he's been. He's acting like he's this great catch when he was dating Meredith freaking Grey. She's the catch. There are lots of men out there who would give their left arm to go out with Mer and he dumped her over his own feelings of inadequacy. He didn't deserve her and he's figuring this out after they're no longer together. You snooze you lose pal. Link tells DeLuca to go fix what he did because he's not her equal, but Mer went out with him anyway and fell in love with him knowing that. He was the one who suddenly decided that was a problem not her. Meanwhile Maggie and Teddy are operating when Tom comes on the intercom and compliments Teddy's work and then leaves. Maggie asks her why she doesn't tell him to leave her alone. Teddy responds that he's her boss and she feels guilty for breaking his I loved Helm’s line, “Wow. So many lawsuits in one explanation.” Never change Helm. Never change.

Maggie then calls Teddy on the fact that Tom is not harmless in the sense that he wants a future with her and she does not seem to want to clear that up. Just as they are getting ready to close Teddy gets called away to the ER. Teddy leaves and right after Maggie realizes that the patient's heart isn't restarting as it should. Meanwhile Bailey comes to see Captain Herrera. She confirms that his cancer is indeed back. Bailey wants to discuss treatment options. Herrera says he won't do chemo again. That's when he looks down and realizes that Bailey is bleeding. When I was watching the episode the first time through I thought for sure this was going to be a cliff hanger. That we would find out there was something wrong but not find out what it was until January. Alas we do find out. Ben and Jo arrive at the hospital with the surrendered baby. That's when Ben gets a text that there's something wrong. He runs off to be at Bailey's side leaving Jo looking worried and confused. Meanwhile Maggie tries desperately to re-start her patient's heart.

Teddy comes back in and says the heart is probably hibernating and that they need to give it time to come back and re-start. Ben rushes to Bailey's room to find her in bed talking to Carina with Pruitt standing beside her. Their faces say it all. Bailey suffered a miscarriage. I cried watching this scene. Poor Bailey. Poor Ben. She is not having a good year. This also means they'll have to tell Tuck that he isn't going to be getting a sibling after all. My heart breaks for them. Meanwhile Meredith and Hayes are in the OR doing a biopsy on their patient. It's not malignant. Meredith was right and Hayes was dead wrong. Once that's confirmed she lays down the law. “Listen Dr. Who Ever You Are, this is my house. You're a guest in my home. I got this.” Damn straight Mer! On the fashion front, Mer is back to wearing her purple pink scrub cap with the floral pattern on it. Meanwhile over at Pac North, Owen has just finished giving the new potential hire a tour. Richard gives him major side eye. He knows what’s up. Richard warns Owen that he's standing on a slippery slope.

Owen says he's not dead inside, but he's also happily taken. Richard counters by asking him if he’s proposed to Teddy yet. Owen says he hasn't. To which Richard responds, “But what? You're waiting for her to have your third child?” I love Richard. Back at Grey Sloan Mer proves to Hayes that she was right all along and he finally seems impressed. Over at Joe's Bar Catherine meets Jackson for (several) drinks and laments about how Richard is having an affair. Jackson calls her on the fact that she has no proof, hasn't actually talked to Richard, and that it seems like a simple misunderstanding which it is. I love his line, “I cannot be responsible for my relationships and yours! Alright? There's not enough therapy in the damn world for that." Oh Jackson. Back at the hospital Ben chases after Bailey in a hallway. He wants to take her home but she just wants to be alone. Which would be heartbreaking enough except that as she rounds the corner she runs into a very cheerful Amelia.

Amelia asks Bailey if she got her ultrasound, oblivious to the fact that she has just suffered a miscarriage. She urges Amelia to get one. She says she's going tonight. As if you weren't tearing up enough already, Amelia asks Bailey if she decided to find out the baby's sex or not. Bailey tearfully tells her it's a girl. Unaware of her heartbreak Amelia joyfully jumps up and hugs her before skipping off down the hall. Oh Grey's, always hitting me right in the feels. Meanwhile Teddy and Maggie try to explain to their patient's wife what happened in surgery. She is understandably upset. Maggie excuses herself because she can't take it any longer. As she walks away Koracick catches up with her in the hallway and asks what happened. Maggie says she would like to tender her resignation effectively immediately. Koracick tells her to hang on a minute. One bad outcome does not mean she should quit.

She tells him she had a bad feeling about the surgery and she should have trusted herself and had someone else do it. Maggie tells Koracick that she can't be a surgeon if she can't trust herself. She quits. Tom tries to argue with her but it's no use. She walks away. Teddy comes out to talk with Tom. He tells her he is in need of a new Cardio Chief and asks if she's interested. At which point Teddy loses it believing that Tom just fired Maggie to give her what he thinks she needs. Teddy tells Tom that she has moved on, that she loves Owen, and she's sorry that she hurt him. But that he has got to stop barking up this particular tree. Tom tells a stunned Teddy that he didn't fire Maggie. She quit. But he does think she should be Chief of Cardio. After a moment’s hesitation he also tells her that he wants a life with her and would marry her tomorrow. Tom points out that Owen has a baby with her and still hasn't proposed. He asks her if she's really sure she wants to close the door on them before walking away. Meanwhile, Bailey finally breaks down alone in her office about the loss she's suffered.

Meredith and Hayes finish treating their patient who is upset that the boy she likes hasn't texted her back. Hayes pipes up and says that as someone who has raised a couple of teenage boys he knows a thing or two. Hayes tells her that all teenage boys care about is Fortnite and pizza and that they're terrified of girls. And that they can't talk to them, especially the ones they like. This cheers her up considerably. After work Link comes over to see Jo at the loft. He asks how things went and finds out that Jo took the surrendered baby home! Did she steal that baby? Did she talk to the social worker and work something out? We don't know. The day ends with Meredith in the elevator texting Cristina. Cristina asks if she got her package. Mer says it never came. Just then Hayes gets on the elevator too. She stops texting and asks him what his deal is. Hayes tells her that he doesn't try to figure out what people want to hear. He prefers to give them all the information up front and let them figure out how to deal with it.

He follows up by saying he does this because his wife's doctors didn't pay him that respect before she died so he does his best to do so for others. He ends by saying Grey Sloan might be Mer's house, but someone gave him a key so maybe it's best if they try to learn how to live together and welcomes her back. He says he can see why she was missed and just as he walks away she gets another text from Cristina. The package isn't an it. It's a him. The package Cristina sent isn't an object. It's a person. Dr. Cormac Hayes is Cristina's gift to Mer. He's the new head of Paediatric Surgery at Grey Sloan, he's a widow (or McWidow as Cristina calls him), and he's a father to at least two teenage boys. Cristina signs off her texts to Mer with a bunch of three leaf clovers. She's gifting Mer with the luck of the Irish in the form of a new love interest. Which is such a Cristina thing to do. LOL! Everyone needs a Cristina in their life! I'm excited that Mer has a new love interest. From what I can tell Hayes checks all the right boxes. He's an attending Department Chief.

He appears to be a talented surgeon. He appears close to Mer's age. He's a father. And he's got Cristina's stamp of approval! The fact that Cristina had a hand in picking him and bringing him from Ireland to the U.S. to work at Grey Sloan to be the new head of Paediatric Surgery also suggests that Alex might be in on this too. Cristina is a heart surgeon, not a peds surgeon. It’s not her speciality. You know whose it is? Her good friend Alex. Where is Alex working right now? At Pac North and he’s happy there. Which means Grey Sloan needs a new Peds Chief. Cristina wouldn’t send Mer and her beloved hospital someone crappy. Cristina is hard to impress and if she sent Hayes to Seattle it’s because he impressed her. He’s someone Cristina thinks Mer will get along well with, can potentially build a life with, and who can do his job well in a way Alex would approve of. To me this implies that Cristina would have talked to Alex about bringing Hayes to Grey Sloan as a potential new hire before she set things in motion.

Although I doubt she mentioned the boyfriend element. My guess is she reached out to get his thoughts on Hayes and get his stamp of approval. One of my biggest pet peeves is that Cristina and Alex have butted heads with or openly disliked most of the people Meredith has dated (and vice versa). I'm excited to see her with someone her best friends actually like. We’ll have to wait to January to see if I’m right or not, but I’m really excited to see where this goes! To be honest, I think they should have gone this route from the beginning after having Mer date for a while and not wasted our time with all that Link and DeLuca nonsense, but were here now and that's the important thing! But the episode's not done yet! We see Amelia having her ultrasound. Everything is fine with the baby (yah!) except we find out that Amelia is actually 24 weeks pregnant, not 20 weeks like she thought. Which based on the look on her face means either Link or Owen could be the father. Yikes! We then cut to Joe's Bar where Ben and Captain Herrera are drinking at the bar, Jackson is drinking alone, the residents are drinking together, and Nico and Schmitt are on a date.

Herrera tries to comfort Ben to no use. Ben then questions why Herrera himself was even at the hospital. Schmitt turns to bring drinks back to his and Nico's table WHEN A FREAKING CAR CRASHES INTO THE BAR!!! I legitimately screamed when that happened! Not Joe's Bar! No! Wow. What a finale! This means several major and minor character's lives are hanging in the balance until January! I wonder what's happening with Alex's Mom. Whatever it is it doesn't sound good. Imagine how freaked he'll be when he gets back. He's already dealing with family issues and now everything in Seattle is a mess! Jo took home a baby. Cristina sent Mer a new boyfriend from Ireland. Bailey just suffered a miscarriage! Maggie just quit. Amelia might be having Owen's baby and a car just crashed into Joe's Bar! Alex's first day back in Seattle is going to be a doozey!

Until then dear readers!

#grey's anatomy #Meredith Grey #let's all go to the bar #lets all go to the bar #16X09 #16X9 #critique #review #thoughts #episode recap #episode review #fall finale

11 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #259

"i went straight to heaven, but i kept on knockin’.”

What's something that makes you feel more creative? Music. What are the last three nail polish colors you wore? Wow, idk the last time I wore nail polish, but probably black or maroon. What's the last thing you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? YouTube is essentially my TV. Quite literally - I don't have a television in my room because I never watch it. What's a DIY project that you don't think actually works? Oh dude, plenty. I have DIY-obsessed friends online as well as a Pinterest, I know this shit, lmao. I can name one though with total certainty because I was with a friend when she tried that disgusting "YOU CAN MAKE cuPCAkES IN A C uP!!!!!" crap. It's the most eggy shit you'll ever try. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I think those crafts are generally super cute. Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what? (or what's one thing?) Oh yeah, one of my biggest being my senior prom pictures, but not for the reason you'd expect (save for two pictures of us that're just REALLY fuckin cute): I want them back because goddamn I was pretty ok and I miss that now that I hate my body every waking moment of every day. :^) What color is the zip-up hoodie you wear the most? Don't have one w/ a zipper, they're ugly. Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? No. Do you hate taking naps during the day? Nooo I love naps and usually take one a day. I tend to feel really tired all over again a few hours or so after I wake up. Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? MEEEEEEEEEEEE. Would you ever audition for American Idol? Hell no. Do you know anyone who thinks they're more talented than they are? Lol wow, this is mean. I don't think so. Do you buy gum? Rarely, even though I like it. What's your favorite dollar store? I don’t have a favorite, I'd say? But I think we normally go to Dollar General. How many cell phones have you had in your lifetime? Maybe like, six? Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? BITCH I WISH!!!!!!!!!!!! I would kill to get married in one, omfGGGGGGGGGGG. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't remember a bad one. I loved going on field trips. The last time you went, what were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? I’ve never been. Which country would you most like to visit? Eeeeek idk, but probably South Africa. What are your favorite types of videos to watch on YouTube? What I watch on YouTube has become pretty diverse, but I know my favorites are easily Mark's actual big projects w/ egos 'n shit alksjdflk;w gOOD SHIT MY FRIENDS. I still love let's plays, of course! Are you a hoarder? No. Is there a guy (or girl) that you wish things had worked out with? Yes. If you were to start a collection, what would it be? I'd loooove Shadow of the Colossus stuff, particularly the amazing figures they used to have only in Japan. And World of Warcraft stuff; all I have rn is an Illidan poster and a fae dragon plushy hanging from my ceiling that Jason got me. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? Mother of god, a lot. #1, make me skinny again for the love of fuck. Which would result in loose skin being taken off and probably a breast lift because being overweight ruined my comfort with them laskdjfw. Whiten my teeth and give me laser hair removal surgery on my legs, please. Are your parents too controlling? Not at all. Who is your favorite fictitious redhead? VOL'JIN Blizzard what the FUCK give him BACK What shows have you seen on Broadway? None. Who is the prettiest Asian YouTuber that you can think of? Bitch Mark is Korean and he's gorgeous as fuck goddamn it ain't fair. But this is a weird question. What is the best news you've heard lately? When my mom got a follow-up blood test, things looked good!! She especially needed to level out her sugar, which she did well on. She also didn't lose or gain any weight, so that's wonderful. Have you ever flown first class? Hunny I am v poor. Have you ever had food SO bad in a restaurant that you sent it back? I don't believe so, anyway. Do you talk in your sleep? Very regularly now. Have you ever locked yourself out of your house? OOF, yes. Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? They stick with me for a long, long time. At least two I remember from years upon years ago. Who was the last person you cut out of your life intentionally? My old therapist that I trusted and loved when I fucking shouldn't have. Where were you raised? By who? Eastern NC, by my parents. What were your first words? "Dada." What were some of your favorite things when you were young? DINOSAURS, Webkinz, Pokemon, and Spyro, to name a few. What did you grow up listening to? Mostly country and pop music. What games did you play in the past? Spyro was my obsession, and I also loved hunting games (ironic, as irl I would never even consider it???) as well as fishing ones, plus Crash Bandicoot. What was the best birthday party you ever had? I'm not sure. How about the best vacation? I'm unsure; I haven't really been on a lot. Do you have any secrets you never intend to tell? Yup. What memory would you like to disappear from your mind forever? A nightmare I had about my dad. If you were someone else, would you be friends with the person you are now? Yeah. Do you consider yourself a smart person? No. What friend in your life has been the greatest influence to you? I don't know. Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? What made it so terrifying? I shared a bedroom with an EXTREMELY volatile, violent woman once in the mental hospital. As in she had to go in solitary when she had a violent episode, during which she became very destructive to her surroundings, so as you could guess, I was worried about my own wellbeing. She was eventually moved because I was that uncomfortable. Did you celebrate Easter? Are there any holidays you are more inclined to celebrate than others? If so, which? Well, Easter hasn't come yet, but we'll probably go to my sister's house for the kids. We'll celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving without fail. We don't pay much attention to others. I'd LOVE to do something for Halloween, we just never have anywhere to go/anything to do. What was the last thing you deleted? Pictures. What colors make up the majority of your wardrobe? Is there any color you like, but don’t wear often? There's black there. Oh, there's s'more black. What's that???? More bLACK????? MAN, I wish I could pull off pink. When was the last time you were in any amount of pain? I had a pretty intense headache yesterday. Who was the last person to hug you? Do you hug this person often? My niece, and yeah, every time I visit. What are you most likely to argue or debate about? The fact I almost never leave my pajamas lmao. What was the last show you watched? Have you seen it before, or is it something you’re watching for the first time? A few days back, I was reeeaaally bored and actually watched TV deliberately, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?????? It was The Witcher; wasn't bad. I'd be willing to watch more. How would you describe your taste in clothing? What would a dream outfit look like to you? uuuuuggggGHHHHHHHH let me be GOTH. Give me a corsette if they weren't notoriously uncomf with plenty of chains 'n stuff. BIG, SPIKY BOOTS. SKINNY LEATHER PANTS. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH. Have you ever tried snowboarding? No. What’s your favorite planet besides Earth? Saturn is dope. Would you ever be a coach for any sport? Nope. What color of eyes do you have? Blue. Do you like tacos? NOOOOOOOOO. White or red wine? Wine is gross. Do you prefer foxes or wolves? Foxes. What’s the youngest you would consider dating? No younger than 21. Do you think suits are sexy? mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Were you a fan of Michael Jackson before he died? I was never really a fan. Respected him immensely as a musician, I just didn't care much about his music. Turkey or ham for Thanksgiving? Ham. Turkey is always too dry and stringy. Do you look good in hats? I wouldn't know, I haven't worn one in forever. Never with short hair. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face's eyes? Colons. Do you like architecture? If so, do you have a favourite style or structure that you’d like to make note? Yes, and I should really have an answer for this, as architecture was a big part in Art History... Ummm Etruscan stands out, and of course Roman/Greek (even after the class I don't remember their differences well...). I love Middle Eastern architecture, too. What is one of your favorite words, in any language, and why? I just love the sound of "serendipity," as well as uhhhh "sakura" in Japanese and "kanji" in Chinese. I'm trying to think of a German one, as there certainly are some, but they're evading me right now. Where is the farthest you’ve travelled on foot? JESUS FUCK probably going to get Sara's brother from school, mother of all that is holy. But it might just feel like it because it was during the peak of my muscle atrophy in my legs. Are there any songs that you perhaps like but avoid because it makes you sad when heard? A good number. Do you like the area that you live in? What do you like or dislike about the area? NO. There's not shit to do and it's not aesthetically pleasing at all. Do you have a memory of when you really thought that you have lucked out on something? If so, what was it? Uhhhhh. A handful, I guess? Oh, uh, the suicide attempt to name one and probably the biggest. I took way too many of those pills to experience almost zero symptoms of an overdose; I did look up what "too many" was, because I wanted that. I'd say I was pretty fuckin lucky. If you have apps on your mobile phone, which one do you use the most? Facebook. Which do you like better: fantasy or science fiction novels? Why? FANTASY!!! I think it allows more creativity and possibilities of something magically "making sense" because yeah, it's fantasy. Science fiction has more "realness" to it, more, obviously, scientific elements versus make-believe. Do you like opossums? Do you think it is ethically right for others to keep opossums as pets? OPOSSUMS!!!!!!!!! ARE!!!!!!!!!! FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They're my second-favorite animals kdsja;lkdjaw. BUT ANYWAY, no, unless it's for rescue reasons. When was the last time someone asked you a huge favor or advice? Do you get asked often by this person? Oh I have no idea. Probably my mom? And no, definitely not. She hates asking for help. What are your thoughts on nihilism? I definitely get it, but it's not my personal outlook. Do you like the snow? More like love. What are your thoughts and feelings towards work/jobs in general? I don't know? I've never even had a real, steady job, so it's hard to really answer... I've only had bad experiences. It's kinda weird to me how you have to work your ass off (usually) to get a job you enjoy, as well as slave for some stupid green paper until the day you die just to stay alive and healthy. But at the same time, it offers a sense of fulfilment and is as well something productive and beneficial to the masses to do. Civilization would be very, very different and unadvanced if we were without them, so I guess it is a necessary thing. Humans gotta work together to keep where we're at. Do you believe in astrology? I've never actually elaborated why I don't believe in it so there ya go: not in the slightest. All it does is offer extremely broad characteristics that, in some light, almost anyone can relate to so they feel included in something. We naturally want to "belong" within something as social creatures, and astrology is an easy one with it being so vast. It gives equally indirect advice that can be applied to a multitude of situations, so people just mold what they read to fit their world. Don't base your goddamn life choices on the random positioning of shit in space. What is something that you’ve made/created? Do you take pride in your creations? Well, way way way too many OCs that I do indeed love a hell of a lot. If you have a Tumblr account, do you have any followers that you wish would not follow you? Well I'm sure there are bots. What kind of books do you generally enjoy to read? Fantasy stuff, mostly. But I also love novels with deep meaning, particularly about life in general. A good plot is mandatory. Does the quality of a video, on YouTube or a television, matter to you? I mean of course in some situations, like if I'm watching something educational/something to gain visual knowledge from. What is one situation that may cause you to become shy (if there is any)? Don't don't don't don't don't point out that my serious interests/things I massively love are "weird" like it's been years and I can still barely explain why my biggest tattoo is a tribute to some fuckface on the Internet lmao. When one is depressed, what can a friend do about it? Do you find that there is a good method to approach people in helping them combat depression? It is SO important to, first, ask them what they want. Do they want advice, an ear to just listen, just your presence, to be alone? As for combating depression, that greatly depends on the origin (if any) of theirs. There are so many factors in answering this question, but what I mentioned should, imo, always be the start. Do you tend to listen to music that embraces your mood or does music dictate your mood? Is it a little bit of both? Definitely both. When I'm sad though, I'm almost definitely listening to somber music too. Do you find yourself to be generally a forgiving person? I'm too goddamn forgiving. Do you have an embarrassing memory that you now look back at and can laugh? If so and if you’re comfortable, could you share one here? Omg I have a Bible-length collection of those suckers. I'd prefer not to. What is one skill that you have worked hard to develop? Is there still room for improvement on that skill? Damn, anxiety-coping mechanisms and actually trusting them to help me through attacks. I used to be convinced that they were useless because it just wouldn't work and weren't immediately effective, but you've gooooooot to trust the process, friends. What do you consider to be your main passion(s) and how did they come about? Spreading awareness of the seriousness of mental health and the comfort of knowing there's hope. You can never stop pushing. My own experience with mental health struggles is definitely the deeeep roots of that. Who do you think influenced you the most in your life so far? Why? Jason changed my life in many ways. Trauma does that. He taught me a lot about the necessity of having faith in yourself to survive on your own, a shitload about love and how it's not some fairy tale, and that people change, even those you least expect to. What is something that you have overheard people talk about that really bothered you? I could name more than a few things about race stuff, living where I do. What do you normally say or how do you normally act in response to a compliment? I usually do this shy laugh and say "thank you" with too much enthusiasm. How many books do you own? Do you have more physical books than electronic books? I've no clue where a lot of my old ones are. I have no electronic ones; I strongly prefer to read a physical book. What are your thoughts on higher education? Is it really necessary? In your opinion, what changes can be made? Depending on your aspiring career, it can be necessary, but just as easily, it can be unnecessary. I know for a fucking fact it should not be NEARLY as expensive as it is. Maybe even free, but I have no idea what monetary concerns that could cause with whoever runs the place. Have you ever received a heartfelt compliment from a stranger? Probably at some point. How many people would you consider to be extremely close to you? "Extremely"... like three lmao. Maybe one more or so. When was the last time you had to speak to a crowd? How well did that go? When I was taking pictures at a wedding last. It went okay. How would you describe your general outlook towards humanity? We by no means deserve to be the apex predator and Earth would be a shitload better without us. How long do you think you could last without any contact with your significant other, best friend, or a person whom you consider would be the closest to you? I'll use my mom here, in which case idk. I don't particularly want to find out. I talk to her at LEAST by text daily. Every day now that she can't work/is always home with me. Have you ever realised that someone was lying, but it was too late to confront them? Nope. Eventually speaking up is how I lost her, but.

#survey #quiz #questions

3 notes · View notes

snapshotadeline · 5 years

Text

The Story of A Girl

Adeline Finley had been ten when she lost everything she had ever known.

She had been caring for herself longer than that. With fingers that learned to mend clothes in the same way they learned to mend flesh, shaking and unsteady, until they weren’t anymore. Until she could pick the glass from her skin and run the needle through it to patch the wound with the same, steady, unfeeling hands she used to mend the shirt the glass had cut on the way into her skin. As if her skin was cloth and not attached to her.

She had a tongue that learned to lie with ease. To hide the dangerous truth that was her life at the hands of her parents. Of the people who were supposed to love and care for her.

When a new bruise was hard to cover. “I walked into something.” Or, “I fell down the stairs.”

When a new cut appeared. “I fell in the street, must have got cut too.” Or, “I dropped a glass and was trying to clean it up.”

When someone asked why she walked home alone. “They’re at work, it’s okay.”

No one needed to know of her father’s fists or her mother’s temper. Of the shoving. Of the cigarettes put out across her skin. She didn’t really feel it anymore anyway. She was numb and that was how it needed to be.

When her parents died, she had known. Walking in on them, she had known. Their eyes were hollow, their skin clammy. But most of all, they were quiet. Her father snored. Her mother moaned. They were never quiet. Even just sitting her father shifted every time he thought he heard something. Her mother often ground her teeth, and every exhale sounded forced. The quiet of their small apartment had been enough for the quiet girl to not be. To scream for the neighbor, pounding on whichever door would open for her.

In the system, Adeline was no different. Quiet, numb, and the tongue of a serpent, so very rarely telling the truth. An eleven year old who was bullied for being too quiet and nerdy, who simply dusted herself off and tended to her own wounds. Who only cried the day her favorite camera broke. Even when it was replaced, she kept it, as she had kept everything else that meant something to her. Who rejected the teachings of a church she was forced to go to.

She was never fostered, but often moved group homes when she proved too much to handle. Too quiet, too much of a liar, too closed off to be any good.

Adeline Finley stole her first cigarettes from the older boys who left them laying out where they were told not to at the age of twelve. She stole the lighter from the matron when she wasn’t looking. Stole cigarettes from her too. She was good at lying and hiding and knew how to get out of trouble using only words. No one would beat her, because she was too used to that. Did not react to threats of a belt or other punishments. She had learned so long ago to make her own fun.

Ned and Emily Jackson walked into her group home one day, asking for the oldest, most troubled child they had. Adeline Finley was fourteen. She smoked cigarettes she had convinced older people to buy her with money she had made forging parent signatures on papers other children didn’t want their parents to see. Used words that seemed too big for a mouth so small. She still tended to her own wounds and lied about things that mattered. She wore all black but carried a camera and a copy of Matilda everywhere she went.

But she liked pretty things too. Good music and good books and sometimes even good movies when she saw them. She had even met Ned once, when she’d wandered into his record store because a song she liked was playing through the open door. He had smiled at her and did not yell when she spent three hours sitting on the floor of his shop asking him questions about the music he was playing and left without buying anything. He did not yell or pry when she would come back every few days and do the same.

Adeline Finley became Adeline Finley-Jackson when Ned and Emily decided she was worth loving despite everything that had happened to her. After everything she had done. They wanted her to love and she didn’t lie when she told them she was grateful.

She had a little sister who was troubled too, though they did not know to what extent. That would come later, when Adeline was older and fiercely protective. When she would lie to protect more than just herself. When she would learn to tell the truth no matter the cost. When she learned to use her sharp tongue to take care of instead of hide.

Still she would lie about the cigarettes she smoked to cover the anxiety she told no one she had. How her fingers only shook when she had nothing to hold in them. How a camera was the only thing better than a good book to hold because she needed to keep it steady to create beautiful things.

When a punk rock band she loved came to town, Adeline lied about her age and took her sister with her to see it. She was sixteen and her sister deserved something fun. Something they could love, together. Black shirts and jeans with rips, leather jackets and sneakers that had seen better days. Loud music and mosh pits and screaming lyrics to songs they knew by heart at the top of their lungs.

The only fist fight she ever got into was with someone who said the wrong thing about her little sister. She had not thought twice about the repercussions when she broke his nose. She did not lie when she explained why she had done it. She took the detention with pride. Stared holes into the back of his head every day for a week, never once saying she was sorry. It was a lie not worth telling, even if it made things harder for her.

She learned some things were not worth lying about.

Her first drink was at eighteen in an underground bar, waiting for a punk rock show, when an older boy would buy her a shot of something and she was too gentle to tell him no.

Two days later she’d sneak a shot of something from her parents’ liquor cabinet before they took her to get her first tattoo. She still carried a camera and a copy of Matilda with her wherever she went. Spoke in words still too big for such a small mouth. Could still patch her own wounds and mend her own clothes, just as black as they had been at fourteen, a pack of cigarettes always nearby. But she’d learned to tell the truth when it mattered most. Learned when to let a doctor look at her.

College came and went, a blur of sex, lies, and alcohol. Drunk nights in bars and dorm rooms. Her photos told the bright lies she made her life to be. When she wasn’t drowning at the bottom of bottles in the arms of some stranger she might not see again.

She still smoked cigarettes to hide the way her hands shook when she had nothing in them. Got tattoos to cover the scars and to remind her of the pain she’d endured for something less beautiful. Her copy of Matilda was replaced with a new one, just as her camera was. But still she kept them as she did everything else she loved too much to let go of.

The day after her graduation from Yale, a master’s degree under her belt, Adeline drove from New Haven to Los Angeles. The drive took a couple days in the car she’d gotten at sixteen, everything she owned packed into the back. Her hair was long and natural in color. The eyebrow she’d gotten pierced was healing, as was her navel. Her wardrobe wasn’t as black and torn apart as it once had been. But she still played punk rock music a little too loud and accepted drinks from strangers in bars, just with no intention of saying no.

She learned to order drinks in languages that were not English, in bars and clubs in places she’d never dreamed she’d go. Taking pictures of beautiful people, making them smile with compliments that were as sincere as someone who lied all too well could be. Which, in many cases, was more sincere than those who could not lie at all. Because she still liked pretty things and spoke words too big for a mouth so small.

She shared cigarettes with women and men and others, on slow mornings after long nights in a house in LA she called her own. Or in the shoe box apartment she rented on the other coast. She never told them to leave, but thanked the gods silently when they did. Nursed the hangover with more alcohol and cuddled with the black cat that spent his days in window sills or sneaking off to the neighbor’s pool.

She made friends and lost them. Still lied too much and spoke words too big for her mouth. Often carried a camera and a copy of Matilda with her everywhere. Cared deeply but accepted easily being cast aside. Never telling anyone the way she didn’t hurt when they left. Drank until her hands shook, even with something in them. Because not remembering was easier.

When the alcohol stopped drowning the memories of pain she’d long since forgotten, she stopped drinking alcohol. She moved back across the country. Finally told someone about smoking cigarettes to hide the way her hands shook when they had nothing to hold. Of the anxiety and the darkness and most of all, the numbness. Of still being able to patch her own wounds without feeling. Not because it didn’t hurt but because she saw no reason to cry.

She left her silly black cat with a woman who gave her the confidence not to carry a camera and a copy of Matilda everywhere. A woman who looked at her and saw things no else seemed to. Who complimented her the way she did so to others. Sincerely and with no other reason than to make her smile. Who picked her up when everyone else had thrown her down. Who laughed about her beanies and the holes in her jeans, but never asked her to change. Who smiled at her most often when she thought no one was looking and who Adeline was far more inclined to return those smiles to.

She rejoiced in her sobriety with a one night stand who had gone on to find peace in someone else, much to Adeline’s delight. Who listened when she struggled, offered help where she could, got her significant other to help when she couldn’t, and was sincere in everything, because she wasn't nice enough to lie. Who teased and joked with Adeline but was sincere in her support and happy to help, in her own way.

She called her parents to tell them the truth. Warned her sister of the dangers of one of their shared past times. A warning she knew fell on deaf ears but deserved to be said anyway. They all still loved her. They were proud of her. And for once she did not lie about how bad things were, even if her words were still too big for her mouth.

Adeline still wore dark clothes and listened to punk rock music too loud. But when the strangers at the underground rock concert offered to buy her drinks she wasn’t too gentle to say no. She stopped mending her own wounds, but now her hands didn’t shake near as often when she stopped mending her own clothes. She called on others to take care of her when she couldn’t do so herself.

Adeline Finley-Jackson had never needed anyone, but every great once in a while, she admitted having other people around wasn’t so bad.

#child abuse tw #alcoholism tw #death tw #depression tw #anxiety tw #about: written word #about: its called coping #about: a camera lens mask

3 notes · View notes