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brrahbrrahcharacterimagines · 5 years

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An Injured Friend (Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Reader

Word Count: 2105

Warnings: Violence, Injury, Minor Angst

A/N: I’m back guys! I hope you enjoy!

You felt like you had known Peter for forever. In reality it might have only been a little over a year, but you felt closer to him than you had ever felt to anyone else. You shared a special bond, a unique connection. Only it wasn’t the kind of connection people expected.

You were best friends. You did everything together, from shopping to homework to fighting crime. You were both members of the Avengers, and it allowed the two of you to bond. As you were both around the same age, the rest of the team assumed that you would end up together. If you were being honest, there was a small part inside of you that wanted the same thing despite how hard you tried to ignore it. But no matter how you felt about him, there were larger matters at hand.

“Y/N! Behind you!” Boomed Thor’s powerful voice. You spun, coming face to face with some sort of alien.

Why does it always have to be aliens? You thought, ducking out of its grasp. You swung as hard as you could, hitting the monster in the face and sending it to the ground. Without missing a beat you grabbed the gun from your holster and aimed for the head, shooting and killing the alien.

“Nice work,” complimented Natasha, dealing with two aliens of her own. You rushed to help, although you knew she didn’t need it. Both foes were too busy focusing on Nat to see you run up behind them, burying your knife in one of their skulls as you shot the other. “You’re becoming quite the bad ass,” Natasha said with a grin.

“Thanks,” you chuckled, almost forgetting you were in the midst of a battle. A sharp pain in your leg brought you back quickly.

You fell to the ground, your leg no longer supporting you.

“Y/n!” You heard Natasha yell, falling to your side. You looked down, seeing blood pooling underneath you as it poured from a wound in your leg.

“Nat,” you whispered, your eyes wide.

“Shh,” she said, stroking your hair and trying to calm you. She continued glancing around, making sure the area was safe as the two of you stayed in place. “It’s going to be alright.”

“What’s going on over there?” Came Cap’s voice through your earpiece.

“Y/n’s been shot,” replied Natasha. “They managed to get her in the leg.”

“Get her out of here,” ordered Steve. Natasha moved to pick you up, and you had to bite back a scream as the pain intensified.

“It’s okay,” said your friend as the two of you booked it out of there. “It’s alright.”

You heard gunfire, feeling the pain pulsating through your leg. Your vision went blurry, getting foggier and foggier before everything went dark.

You woke up to a rhythmic beeping, looking around to find yourself in a room that seemed much too bright. You tried to get up, only to feel an IV tugging at your hand. A wave of pain coursed through your leg at the movement, causing you to let out a small yelp.

“You’re awake,” came a familiar voice. “Are you in pain? Are you okay?”

“I’m alright Peter,” you said, smiling shyly at the boy in the chair next to your bed. You felt ashamed for not having noticed him sooner. “I was just being dumb is all.”

“You aren’t dumb,” he replied immediately. “You’re hurt.”

“Thanks for letting me know, I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically. “The throbbing in my leg doesn’t give it away at all.”

“It’s throbbing?” He asked worriedly. “Should I get the doctor back in here? She should know if you’re in pain-”

“Shh,” you said softly, cutting Peter off. “I was shot in the leg, I’m going to have to deal with some pain.”

Peter stood, moving closer to the hospital bed. He reached out his hand, grabbing your own in his.

“It’s my fault. The only mission I miss is the one where you get shot.”

“Peter, it isn’t your fault. You just happened to be at a convention with Ned.”

“But I could have protected you,” he exclaimed softly. Your heart broke at the sadness in his eyes. He leaned down, eyes glistening. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered as he placed a kiss to your forehead. The doctor entered as Peter pulled away, making him say a rushed goodbye as he left. As the doctor examined your state your mind was elsewhere. There was something about his reaction that made your heart flutter. Your head felt like it was burning where his lips had touched you. You brushed it off, chalking it up to your injured state. After all, he was your best friend. Only your best friend.

The days seemed to pass slowly as your leg began to heal. Your teammates would stop by throughout the day to check on and entertain you, but you always looked forward to Peter’s visits the most. Before you knew it they allowed you to go home, but only so long as you didn’t put any pressure on your leg so that it would continue healing correctly. You knew it would be difficult, but you jumped at the opportunity to go home.

“Thank you for coming to help me Peter,” you said as your friend pushed your wheelchair to the car.

“I would never make you wheel yourself,” he teased, “plus you need somebody to drive you home and everyone else is busy.”

“Still,” you insisted as you made it to the car. “Thank you.” You looked up at Peter, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you met his warm eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He loaded your few possessions from the hospital room into the back before coming back to you.

“Peter?” You asked. “How am I going to get into the car?”

It may have seemed like an obvious problem, but you had only just now realized as you looked up at the door from your chair. Peter looked at you quizzically.

“As if I wouldn’t help out my best friend?” Before you knew it he had scooped you up, careful not to hurt your leg. You felt in ache in your heart as he called you his best friend, longing for it to be more. Your thoughts were quickly shoved away however as you rested your head on Peter’s chest as he moved you to the passenger seat. He picked you up as if you weighed nothing, likely thanks to his super strength. You felt the muscles in his arms ripple under you, and you had to admit you liked it. You fought against the blush rising to your face, mumbling a small thank you as he set you down and moved to put the wheelchair away in the trunk. He had some trouble folding it up, but was able to overcome it quickly as he joined you in the front seat.

“Are you ready to go home?” Asked Peter with a smile.

“Yes, please!” You groaned, making him laugh. His laugh was like music to your ears. You leaned against the window, watching the scenery pass by as Peter took you back to your apartment.

You must have fallen asleep, as you awoke to the sight of your building in front of you.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” teased Peter. “You’re almost home.”

“Give me a break, I’m healing.” You retorted sarcastically.

After getting the wheelchair back out, Peter came to pick you up again. You couldn’t help but realize how close his face was to yours as he bent to pick you up. You let yourself get lost in his chocolate-colored eyes, relishing the feeling of his arms around you. What you somehow didn’t realize was how Peter’s heartbeat began to speed up as he held you. He looked at you so tenderly, wanting more than anything to never let go. Yet at the risk of seeming creepy, he cleared his throat, forcing himself to take his eyes off you and set you down.

Thankfully the elevator in your building worked. You’d had trouble with it before, walking up four flights of stairs for weeks until it was fixed. You had no idea what you would have done it Peter carried you up all those stairs. Not only would you have been pressed up against him for that long, but you would have felt so guilty for making him do all of that work.

You handed Peter the key to unlock your door, inhaling the scent of your apartment as he swung open the door. You were finally home.

“What can I do now, Y/N?” Asked Peter softly. You looked up at him, seeing his big puppy-dog eyes on full display. He truly was the sweetest guy you knew. You turned red as you began to speak.

“Could you help me into bed?” You could have sworn that the corners of Peter’s mouth began forming a smile, but before you could be sure he had you in his arms again and all your other thoughts went out the window. He laid you gently on the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with the amount of pillows as he pulled the covers over you.

You watched him with soft eyes as he took care of you. He was sweet and tender, always making sure that he wasn’t hurting you or making you uncomfortable. Every time he leaned in closer you got a scent of his cologne and it smelled like pure bliss. His hands would brush against you as he pulled the blankets around you, sending a fire coursing through your body. You locked eyes with him as he helped prop you up, noticing how close he was to your face. His lips were mere inches away from yours, and although he was your best friend all you wanted to do was pull him close and feel his lips move against your own.

Peter cleared his throat, backing away as a fierce blush formed on his face. He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t very good at it.

“I guess I should get going,” he said awkwardly. Suddenly you had a burst of confidence.

“Peter?” You asked. He turned back to you quickly, meeting your eyes. “Stay,” you whispered. “Please.”

Peter knew he couldn’t deny a request from you. He climbed into bed beside you, sliding under the covers. He was mindful to sit on your good side, the side where he wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping your leg. If he was close enough, anyway.

“I don’t bite,” you tease softly. Peter took the invitation, scooting closer to you. Although he seemed stiff, you felt the weight of his arm rest on your shoulders. Throwing caution and perhaps reason to the wind, you leaned into him. You could have sat there forever, content to be in his arms. He smelled amazing, and you felt safe. The longer the two of you stayed that way, the more relaxed you were. You felt Peter loosen up, his muscles becoming less tense.

“Why are you helping me so much?” You asked quietly. He paused before answering.

“I care about you.” He said. “Maybe more than I should.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. All you wanted in that moment was to feel his lips on yours. You got your wish as you both slowly leaned in, your eyes fluttering closed. As your lips pressed against his you could have sworn you felt a jolt of electricity through your body. It felt amazing, and it felt right. You moved your hand to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair before you pulled away.

“As cliche as it sounds, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said breathlessly.

“I care about you too, Peter.” You said. His face lit up.

“I sure would hope so, after everything I do for you.”

You playfully swatted at Peter’s chest, trying not to think about the hard muscle underneath.

“Stop teasing me and snuggle with me again.” You joked. “I want to get some sleep in my own bed.”

Peter did as you asked, holding you tight. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face. The conversation about what you were could wait. For now, you were satisfied to lay in his arms as his soft breaths fanned across your neck. You were in the arms of the man you loved.

#peter #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x reader

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part seven) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part seven: While Dean makes a tough decision regarding who has to leave the ranch, Y/N finds it more and more difficult to keep her feelings in check. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Thin Line - honeyhoney (bar scene), Ride to Death - Carter Burwell (evening ride scene), Wonderwall - Ryan Adams (scene under the Joshua tree). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Dean pulls his head out of the refrigerator with six bottles of Corona hooked between his fingers. After he straightens his back, he pops off the cap with an opener, repeating the action until all bottles are opened. He’s about to break out the whiskey for his uncle, when the ranch owner hobbles towards the bar. The wrangler doesn’t really register him, though, because as his hands work swiftly, he watches his crew. The group of young men and women laugh over a - without a doubt - exaggerated story told by Benny, as they down the first round of the evening. It's Friday and the night is still young. With a day off in foresight, the workers allow themselves to enjoy the evening to the fullest. Dean will go easy on the alcohol, he has the early shift tomorrow. Amongst the group of staff, there is one person in particular who brings a smile to his face. Y/N’s laughter carries through the saloon, mixing with the country music that comes from the jukebox. It’s a great sound, one that causes the corners of his mouth to creep up. Jo and Ash are teaching her how to play poker and so far she’s terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to matter. She’s having tons of fun and gets along great with the others. Still wearing a smile, Dean glances down when he pours the amber liquor into the whiskey glass, sets it down on the bar after which he slides it towards Bobby. As if he knows who is on the wrangler's mind, he glances over at the intern as well. “So how’s our ‘wannabe cowgirl’ doing?” the ranch owner wonders.

A chuckle rumbles deep down Dean’s throat. He remembers calling her that when he shared his concerns with Bobby on the night of her arrival. “She survived the first week,” he admits. “Y/N’s a good fit. Still has a lot to learn, but she works hard and she’s smart.” “So, what you're sayin’ is that the intern isn't a total disaster like you predicted?” Bobby continues, his brow raised. “You just wanna hear me say you were right, don't ya?” Dean returns, amused either way. Bobby’s face shows a glimpse of a smile while nursing the tumbler of whiskey. “Maybe.” The young man shakes his head grinning as he takes a swig from his Corona. “What I'm sayin’ is that you got lucky. You know this could have gone south,” he returns, not giving his uncle the satisfaction. “It could have,” the ranch owner admits. “But I had to get creative; talking about things going south.”

The tone of the conversation changes instantly, leaving a heavy silence. Smiles die, their heads dip down, and gone is the pleasant Friday night feel. Dean is fully aware of where this conversation is heading towards. The issue has been bothering him for an entire week now. He has to decide who of his men to let go “Have you made up your mind yet?” Bobby asks his right hand. Dean nods, letting a sigh slip from his lips. He feels like he’s about to snitch on a friend. But this is business, it's what's necessary for the ranch to survive. It’s not personal, and yet it is, because it’s pulling on his heartstrings when he pronounces the name. “Ash.”

Dean’s eyes land on the group at the long table again. The Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie from Kentucky with tattoos on his arms and the wind in his hair is the one who has to go. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was the logical one. With the livestock reducing to only sixty cows and their calves, he will not have enough work to fill his day. What also weighs in, that Ash was hired last. Nevertheless, Gold Canyon is his home and he is a part of this family. He watches the guy, how he points out the pair of jacks in the open card game they are playing to teach the intern Texas Hold’em. The genuine smirk on his face is followed by a backhand down five when she wins. Poor dude, he has no idea what he’s about to lose. “I’ll break it to him after the weekend.” The voice of the old man, who seems to have aged during their chat, is sad and burdened. It's clear as a bell that laying off Ash is the last thing he wants for the bull rider, who he took under his wing half a decade ago. It’s a position Dean doesn't want his uncle in; the troubled ranch owner has enough on his plate as it is. “I’ll do it,” he offers. “Nah, I got this one, son,” Bobby says, reassuring him as he reaches across the bar to put a hand on his shoulder. “Join‘em, make the most of tonight.” His nephew nods while picking up the drunks, and heads for the table, after glancing at Bobby Singer another time. Dean swallows down the guilt and worry before he takes a seat, leaving his company oblivious to the dark clouds that are gathering above them. “So, how's it going? Do I have a new competitor yet?” he asks both Ash and Y/N while he gives out the beers. “I'm getting the hang of it,” she returns confidently, picking up the two cards Garth just dealt. Dean watches the young woman without her noticing, too focused on the game. Ash observes every action over the shoulder of his apprentice without helping her this time and is proud when she wins once again with three eights. “Beginners luck,” Jo scoffs, pushing the pot in her friend’s direction. “Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N grins at the blonde from across the table.

It’s Jo’s turn to shuffle when a group enters. Distracted by the squeaking sound of the double doors, Y/N looks up, noticing that Casey is amongst the guests. Ignoring the heavy feeling in her chest, she directs her eyes back to the cards, the bright smile on her lips toned down. Expecting Dean to have his eyes on his probable fix for tonight, her gaze wanders. He noticed the pretty brunette, but it’s not Casey he’s looking at. As Y/N glances over, so does he, and they both seem to feel caught for busting each other. She cannot help but wonder why he would be checking on her, though. Was he curious about her response? “Hey, handsome.” Dean smiles up at Casey, who positions herself behind his chair, laying her delicate hands on his shoulders as she kisses him on the cheek. He forces himself to come off as sincere, but there’s an anchor restraining him. “Hey,” he responds. “Had a nice ride?” “I did. Would have been better if you were there,” she flirts.

The game continues, but Jo doesn't deal for him, assuming that the two are going to leave for the bunkhouse anyway, like they usually do whenever Casey is here. After giving out the cards, the ranch owner's daughter peeks up from her hand, noticing her friend, who tries to mask the annoyance and disappointment to what is happening on the other end of the table. When she looks up, Jo’s brown eyes lock on hers as she lifts her chin shortly, the mimic asking if her friend is okay. Y/N nods and fakes a smile, but loses this game anyway.

“Hey, you wanna get outta here? To have another sort of ride,” Casey whispers in Dean’s ear as she leans in. He gulps down his beer and sets down the bottle. Her offer should sound tempting, then why isn't he intrigued? Instinctively, his eyes slip over to Y/N again. She seems to be concentrated on the game of poker, but she’s not at ease like she was a minute ago. This time she doesn't grant him any recognition of his existence. “I - uh…” he starts, brought back to the conversation when Casey softly massages his tense shoulder muscles. “I had a busy week and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm gonna hit the hay early.” “I can come along and help you relax,” she presses, now wrapping her arms around his neck.

Y/N picks up on Casey’s offer and grinds her teeth. Suddenly she’s angry with herself. How could she be so stupid to let herself get swooned off her cowboy boots by that scumbag ? Sure, she fought it, she denied it, but at the same time, she found hope in every smile he threw at her, in his flirts and compliments. How could you possibly think for even one short second that he only has eyes for you?! What makes you so special?

When Y/N loses to Benny again, she glances at her watch. Ten past nine; it's not too late to train with Meadow. She was reluctant to leave the fun a moment ago, but now leaving the Saloon seems like the best idea she has had all week. Y/N gets up, attracting confused looks from the company. “You're leaving?” Jo assumes. “Yeah, I still have to train Meadow,” Y/N excuses. “You're gonna ride now ?” Dean responds, perplexed. “We were just having fun.” “No one ever improved their skills by getting plastered and by just having fun, Dean,” she responds, his name coming out with a sneer. “If you want to own it, you've got to work for it.”

The cowgirl gets up and pushes the chair back under the table, the sound of its legs scratching the wooden floor breaking the silence. As she turns around to leave, her eyes meet Jo’s, who has a ‘you tell’im, girl!’ grin on her face. The doors flap after she walks through them, and the men at the table chuckle. “She's a diehard, that’s for sure,” Ash says. “Yeah...” Dean acknowledges, confused. “She is."

He watches her go for a few more seconds, determined strides, frustration in the sound of her footsteps. What the hell was that all about? For someone who claims to be strictly business, she turned pretty defensive when Casey got a little clingy. Oh, he caught the true meaning behind her words, alright. Is she really implying that if he wants her, he has to step up his game? If that’s the case, this might actually be a good thing. Yes, she’s annoyed with him right now, but this could mean he has an actual shot. “So, what do you say?” Casey asks again, pressing a seducing kiss in his neck. He glances up at the gorgeous young woman. She is pretty, wavy brown hair frames her flawless face, some freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. Under that blue blouse and bootcut jeans, there is the body of a pinup girl. One who knows how to get a man’s engine running, which he had the pleasure of experiencing more than once. Dark, lustful eyes tell him all about what she has in store for him once she gets him alone. Yet for the first time, he’s not interested. “I'm gonna have to pass,” Dean decides. Somewhat stunned, Casey keeps a hold of the wrangler’s gaze, giving him a second to reconsider. When he doesn't, she creates a little distance and straightens her back. “Alright then,” she huffs. “Your loss.” The brunette strides away towards the bar, leaving the poker players in awkward silence. Ash and Garth follow the gorgeous beauty with their eyes, then simultaneously turn their heads to look at Dean, perplexed. “Dude, did you just piss off two women in one minute? That's impressive, even for you,” Ash comments. Jo snorts, her beer almost coming from her nose. Dean glares at her. “What?” she counters. “You just turned down a female specimen of the human race. We should call 12 News.” “Are you done?” Dean replies, agitated. Before Jo can throw in another cocky counter, Benny lays down a flush and gets up as he clears his throat. “If you kids will excuse me. I've got a fish to reel in. Keep the change." He winks at Dean, who nods back at his friend as a sign of consent. The head wrangler held his part of the agreement, and Benny is going to take full advantage of that. He watches how the farrier settles down on the barstool next to Casey, complimenting the beautiful girl with his irresistible accent, after which he offers her a drink. “That slick Southern bastard, he’s going to have her in his bed before she knows it,” Ash says, eying at the pair with an impressed look on his face, but then he rises from his seat. “How about some pool, y’all?” Garth gets up to follow him, but Dean declines. “I'll be right up,” Jo promises. When the guys move over, Jo corners her cousin. She gets up, walks around the long table and feels his forehead. “Jo, don't be ridiculous.” He smacks her hand away. “I'm not sick.” “Then what the hell is going on with you?” she asks, confronting. “Casey is your usual set of hooters to honk. Since when do you just turn that down?” “Since now,” the head wrangler answers shortly. “Why?” The head wrangler sighs annoyed. “Because I got bored.” “Because your eye caught something shinier,” Jo corrects. “Dean, Y/N is off limits.” “Says who?!” he argues. “Says me!” “You can't tell me who I can or can't--” “- fuck and dump when you're done with her?" his little cousin interveans. "Yeah, I can! She's my friend, damn it!” “Your friend?” Dean scoffs, fighting with Jo as siblings would. “You barely know her. This is her fifth day!” “Since when is there a mandatory minimum time on friendship?” she cries out. “I care about her and you know just as well as I do that she’s gonna end up with the trash like Casey.” Dean shrugs, finding her arguments invalid. “Casey doesn’t give a shit.” “But Y/N will,” Jo brings to mind. “You will leave her a heartbroken mess when you’re done with her. She’ll go home cryin’ and you know damn well we’re gonna need her.” That comment triggers Dean to furrow his brow. Being the daughter of the owner has its perks. Apparently, she’s aware of the financial problems that are threatening the company. “How much do you know?” Dean questions with a lowered voice. “I know there's gonna be a layoff and that we are gonna need all the free help we can get,” Jo states, whispering. The head wrangler sighs, checking on his crew at the pool table. His eyes linger when he spots Ash, who pockets number thirteen and repositions himself behind the white ball for his next turn. “Dean, you can't afford to screw around,” his cousin adds. I’m not screwing around, is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not going to let his cousin in on something he doesn’t understand himself. “She's not going anywhere, I'll make sure of that,” Dean assures, calmer than a moment ago. “She better not, ‘cause if she does, that’s gonna be on you.” With those words, the youngest Singer gets up and heads for the pool table as well. Dean watches her, staying behind with only his beer for company. Burdened, he drops his head, his jaw tensing. Great. One of his good friends is going to get fired next week, he doesn't feel like blowing off steam with Casey, and Jo won't even allow him to be with the girl he’s after. Not that she's falling for his usual tricks, anyway. Just fucking great. With a sigh he downs his beer, which lost its spark, causing him to make a face at the bland taste. Then he gets up and exits the Saloon. Leaving the muffled sounds of music, conversation, and laughter behind, he slouches down the porch. The evenings are pleasantly warm, now that the monsoon season is reaching the home stretch. The night sky is so clear, that a thick ribbon of stars meanders across, the absence of light pollution allowing the Milky Way to shine brightly. Going over tonight’s decisions once again, Dean heads towards the bunkhouse, when two individuals catch his eye. About a hundred yards ahead, Benny has his arm around Casey as they stroll up to the front door. Before he opens it, she tiptoes when the farrier turns towards her, meeting him in a hot kiss. “Benny, you sly dog,” Dean grins. Surely, he grants his friend the home run, but a part of him thinks of passing up Casey as a loss, now that he will be left empty-handed. The early night isn't going to happen either, since Benny’s room is next to his. He halts as the two enter the bunkhouse, passionately making out, then he breathes out a humid cloud of air. No way in hell he is going to listen to those two banging their heads against the backboard for the rest of the evening. Dean turns around, considering to head back to the Saloon, but then he notices the lighted outdoor arena. He almost forgot; Y/N is still at the barn. Maybe this evening does not have to be a total loss after all. Jo’s voice whales in the back of his mind, but it doesn't stop him from heading over. He’s just going to have a talk to clear the air, no harm in that, right? Under the stars, he strolls towards the outdoor arena, listening to the crickets which chirp loudly in the dry grass. The two lanterns spread brightness over the otherwise dark and deserted lands, creating long shadows on the ground where the fencing blocks the rays. A horse moves steadily on a large circle, relaxed and in harmony with her rider. Y/N has not noticed Dean yet, too concentrated to pick up on the spectator. There is a peacefulness in the air that distracts him from the troubles on his mind. The coolness of the night causes Meadow to breathe out warm clouds with every third beat of the gait, leaving a misty trail behind her, like a steam train puffing out clouds rhythmically. The silhouette of horse and rider passes by the fence every time they come between the wrangler and the light is as if he’s watching an eclipse. It brings a smile to the cowboy’s face. Bobby was right; Y/N is talented.

Slowly, he strolls up to the gate, moving into the yellow rays coming from the high masts. This time she does notice him and eyes the head wrangler, perplexed. He is the last person she expected to see here at this hour, especially since Casey couldn't wait to drag him away to do all kinds of dirty things to him. “H - hey,” she stammers, half surprised, half confused. “How is she doing?” he wonders while nodding at the horse, more to get the conversation going. Suddenly self-conscious about every move she makes, Y/N sits back slightly and lets her mare transition to an easy walk, loosening the reins and petting her on the shoulder with her free hand. “She’s good, a little fresh,” she responds. “I didn't expect you here.” “I was on my way to the bunkhouse, saw the lights,” Dean explains casually. The rider barely smiles at that, still unsure how to behave around him after the way she left the Saloon thirty minutes ago. An awkward silence follows and she decides to continue her training to keep busy. With a forward motion of the hand and a small aid with the legs, Meadow swiftly pushes into a lope, head down and light on the bit, as she should be. The muscles of the well-developed Quarter horse roll under her shiny coat with every stride, flexing and relaxing again. It might look like child’s play, and yet Y/N was less nervous for the Nationals last year than she is now. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, watching every move closely. As he does, the wrangler climbs the steel fence, hooking his heels behind the middle bar and resting the palm of his hands on the top one for balance. Intrigued, he observes the training, reading into her skills. Now that she’s aware of him, her riding seems a little stiffer than it was before. Is she actually nervous now that he's here? His presumption is confirmed when she turns in the other direction halfway in a circle through a flying change. Her timing is far from perfect and the horse changes from a left to a right lope a stride too late, unable to translate the aid into an action before the perfect moment mid-stride. Despite the mistake, Y/N tussles Meadow’s manes. For a second Dean wonders if it’s because she didn't recognize the timing being off, but then she performs the exercise again, nailing it this time. Dean smiles at that, content with her method of training. Meadow did exactly what her rider inquired of her, it was the rider who inquired wrong. Where plenty would have corrected the horse or even punished it, Y/N didn't, because she was very much aware that it was a human error. After only a couple of minutes, he has a pretty good idea what kind of rider she is. Truly feeling what happens under the saddle is something most people will never get down. It’s almost like an extra sense, a skill only so many equestrians have. Y/N is one of those gifted equestrians. How she handled that communication error, is what separates horse riding from horsemanship. Satisfied, Y/N uses her seat to bring Meadow back to an easy walk, after which Y/N lets her move around freely; the mare is done for today. Now that her horse doesn't require her full attention any more, she is forced to deal with the handsome yet overbearing spectator. Why on earth is he even here? Isn't he supposed to be getting laid right now? Oh yes, seeing him with Casey rubbed her the wrong way. She’s fully aware of that fact, and he probably is too. Should she have let him push her buttons like that? No. Was it his intention to mess her up? Probably not. Was she overreacting when she barked at him back at the Saloon? Maybe a little. “Feel better now?” he asks out of the blue. Y/N furrows her brow, glancing over when she rides by his spot on the fence, trying to sense in which direction he is going. “What do you mean?” Dean shrugs, dropping his gaze to the sand for a moment. “For me, a good ride usually works as a stress reliever, and you seemed on edge earlier.” As the rider cools down Meadow by walking her on a free rein, she considers her options carefully before she speaks. Darn, so he did notice. Then again, the sneer she fired at him was hard to miss. Denying it isn't going to do her much good, so she might as well skip past it. “I'm fine. Who needs meditation when you spend time on the back of a horse, right?” she replies. She wasn't keeping up an appearance, because Dean is right. Her mood did change for the better the moment she opened the stable door and was greeted by her four-legged friend. By the time she settled on her back, the whole thing seemed silly and unimportant. “Especially on a horse like that. She’s good,” Dean compliments. “The rider could use a lesson or two…” Y/N stares at him over her shoulder self consciously, turning Meadow around to face the cowboy. Is he serious? But when she spots the smirk on the wrangler’s face, followed by the subtle wink, she cannot help but chuckle. “Let me guess: you should be the one teaching me,” she fills in. “I can't think of anyone more capable,” he grins, his eyes sparkling like the stars above. “Of course you can't,” she laughs as Meadow halts, allowing her to swing her leg over the back and smoothly lower herself until her feet reach the ground. Glad to have gotten rid of the awkwardness, Dean gets down from the fence and opens the gate. Y/N leads the Quarter mare to the tack up area under the tree and her company follows, hitting the light switch when he passes it. The arena spots die down, leaving the only light to come from inside the barn together with the moon and galaxy above. As she takes off Meadow’s bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, she cannot help but to analyze herself. When she angrily speed-walked from the Saloon to the stable with her fists clenched in her pockets, she was calling Dean out for being a dirty scumbag with no respect for women whatsoever. But now that he’s here and apparently still takes an interest in her, a part of her is thrilled by that matter, and steadily overrules. Y/N, you know better than this! He just wants to get in your pants! He will dispose of you like an empty coffee container when he’s done with you! She continues the inner dialogue while loosening the girth, after which she lifts the heavy saddle off Meadow’s back. “I got it,” Dean says, taking over the twenty-five-pound load. He holds the back of the saddle on his hip, balancing it by gripping the gullet. As if it weighs nothing at all, the wrangler heads to the tack room. Amused, Y/N watches him from under her Stetson hat, her eyes taking him in from top to bottom. Oh, you just cannot help yourself, can you? Meadow snorts impatiently and rubs her head against her shoulder. She is making herself perfectly clear; the Queen doesn't have time for this and wants to get to her hay, pronto. After a quick brush Y/N leads her to her stable and puts a rug on the horse to protect her from the cold in the early hours. Buried in thoughts, she enters the tack room where Dean is about to put the saddle away. She watches him push the saddle upon the highest rack on the wall, his strong arms working under his plaid shirt. “Can I ask you something?” she wonders while she stores away the brushes, leg protection, and bridle. “Shoot,” he says, as the two of them exit the room, which the head wrangler locks up. The cowgirl hesitates, her footsteps suddenly loud and obvious when she begins to walk down the hall between the stables. “It might be a little straightforward--” “Really? You being straightforward?” he interrupts, a smug grin on his face. “Now, that I wasn't expecting.” She glares at the handsome cowboy, but can't suppress the smile either. The sarcasm is practically dripping off his comment and she bumps her shoulder into his. “Watch it,” she warns. “You’re not entirely on my good side yet.” A last glance into the quiet stable is sufficient to reassure Dean that the horses are alright until the final feeding round. He leaves the light on for his uncle and exits the barn through the large doors. “Yeah, about that. What did I do to make you storm off?” The two of them walk out, back to the tack up area. For a moment Y/N thinks of an answer, but nothing that she can come up with sounds reasonable. To be fair, she’s not even sure if she’s ready to admit why she got so frustrated with him. Dean is a free man, who can see whoever and do whatever he pleases. Yet when Casey put her arms around him and got intimate, she felt a prick in her heart. Her stupid, stupid heart wanted to be the one close to him, even though her smart mind is trying to keep it together and do the respectable thing. “It was nothing, really,” she excuses, not giving him much of an explanation. Dean glances aside, reading into the doubt in her voice. What is it, that she doesn't want to tell him? Could it be, that in that moment, she was jealous of Casey? He thinks about it for a second, as he slowly strolls to the big Joshua tree in the center of the square. He has played a lot of girls, but that sure as hell was not what he was doing here. He never intended to lure Y/N out of hiding, though her response to the situation raises a question. If watching him and another girl really bothered her that much, does that mean that she is interested in him? Confused, he bites the inside of his cheek as he halts. “What did you want to ask me?” he wonders. For a moment there, she was lost in her own mind, but then Y/N redirects her focus and turns around to face him. Curious, he observes the young woman as he leans against the bark of the tall Yucca tree. The sight of Mister Green Eyes wonderingly looking over, forces her to take a breath before she speaks. Stars reflect in his pupils, the moon painting their surroundings in a silver hue. It reminds her of the hills back home, covered in frost at the arrival of winter. Dean’s short hair has been tousled by the hat he took off and now holds by the brim. The up-to-no-good smile is gone, but he seems content either way. God, isn't he lovely. Annoyed with herself for thinking such things, she looks down, figuring that not being mesmerized by his gorgeous looks might help her keep it together. “I was just wondering…” she starts insecure. “I - I mean, you and Casey… Are you two…?” Dean frowns at the presumption. So it was about Casey. “Together? No.” He huffs, unable to picture it. “She and some friends rent a house here for a week or two a year to blow off some steam. We’ve hooked up a couple of times whenever she comes over, but it doesn't mean anything.” Y/N digests the information and keeps her gaze pinned on the hat in his hands. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. See? He doesn't care about Casey and he surely won't care about her either. But if he doesn't care for Casey, she doesn’t have to compete with anyone. Wait... She’s not actually considering making a move, is she? Y/N, you are under no circumstances making a move! she tells herself sternly. God, this is what schizophrenia must feel like. Trying to distract herself from the voices in her head, she carries on with the conversation. “I'm sorry for asking. I know it’s none of my business, but I - I cannot help to wonder…” Now she does look up, a little shocked when she realizes how close Dean is. His eyes are on her, peeling away the layers as he tries to make sense of what she’s struggling to say. “If Casey is at the ranch, why are you here with me?” Stunned, Dean keeps a hold of her gaze. She isn’t asking the obvious, but that is a damn good question. Casey offered herself on a silver plate back in the Saloon. Dean never experienced much trouble with the ladies, yet the brunette, in particular, couldn't wait to open her legs for the wrangler. He could have had her in his bed right now, letting her do all kinds of delightful things to him. Yet here he is, opposite of the girl that has been giving him a hard time from the get-go. The thought of Casey did nothing for him, he simply wasn’t interested in the regular ranch guest. Why is that? Brought out of balance by the question, he chuckles nervously and breaks eye contact, fiddling with the brim of his hat again. Slowly it starts to sink in. Why he would much rather be here with Y/N under the Joshua tree. Why he felt the need to protect her from Benny’s lust. Why he lost interest in any other girl. Why every wandering thought, every daydream he had in the past week, was somehow about the one person standing before him. He looks up at her again and something within him changes. A tightness in his chest that he has never experienced before makes it difficult to swallow. It's unpleasant, scary even, but the sight of her waiting in wonder takes away the discomfort. The faint light from the night’s sky caresses her hair and smooth skin. A pair of gorgeous eyes framed with long lashes watch, traces of hesitation in them, but also curiosity. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks to himself.

Dean fails to answer her question with words. He doesn't have to. His mouth falls open just a little as he looks deep into her eyes with an intensity she is unfamiliar with, simply because no one has ever looked at her like that before. As if only now he came to realize what is happening between the two of them. He can tell that she understands now, because her insecurity makes way for astonishment. “Oh…” she responds, flustered, a shy smile growing larger. He mirrors her expression without letting go of her gaze. His pupils bounce between hers as he leans in hesitatingly. Every fiber he consists of wants to kiss the enchanting cowgirl before him and he cannot stop his eyes from flicking down at her lips for just a moment, then up again. Would she let him? What are you waiting for? Just go for it, Dean lectures himself. This isn't the first time he’s kissed a girl, however, doubt overwhelms him. What if she pulls back? What if he ruins it? Could he handle that? Before the cowboy can decide to act or not to act, she looks down and lets out a shuddering breath, the anticipation becoming too much. “Are you cold?” he asks kindly, quickly covering up the awkwardness. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and nods. Not only did Meadow get a workout, so did her rider. Her clammy undershirt has turned stone cold and sends goosebumps down her arms. Or is it Dean who is doing that? “Let’s get inside. Wouldn't want you to catch something,” he suggests, not having a jacket to offer. She agrees to that, because the warmth of the bunkhouse sounds pretty good. In silence they stroll towards the cabin, her shoulders hunched in an attempt to keep the cold at bay, as Dean walks by her side. Overcome by the rush of mixed emotions, she glances at him from under her hat. He seems to be pondering, without a doubt going over the past minute. That one moment that Dean’s reason for wanting to be around her became clear, with nothing more than a look. Holy mother, he was going to kiss you, and you glanced down? Why would you do that? What were you thinking?! She could kick herself in the head right about now. It was the responsible thing to do, to avoid things from getting complicated, to keep their relationship strictly business. But dear God, she wanted him to close that gap and press his lips on hers. Dean walks up the porch and opens the door, after which he holds the fly curtain aside so that Y/N can pass through. As soon as she steps into the bunkhouse, peculiar sounds coming from one of the rooms draw her attention. Squeaking in a steady pace mixed with moans of both male and female, followed by a muffled ‘oh yeah’ and ‘right there’. Dean, who was about to pull the door shut, freezes mid-action when the noise reaches his hearing. Well then, this situation just went through the awkward scale. Y/N slowly turns to him, eyes wide in shock as she mouths ‘Oh my god!’ and he can't contain the quiet laughter. “Who’s in there?” she whispers. “My two cents: Benny and Casey,” he replies, keeping his voice down. “Are you serious?” she returns, watching him shrug. “She lost no time, did she?” “Like I said: it didn't mean anything,” he assures, grinning at her judgment. “Besides, you’re much better company anyway.” Y/N can feel the heat rising to her face again. She opens her mouth to return the compliment, when the sounds from the other room intensify. Dear Lord, those two are really going at it. Dean chuckles, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye, if I can with those rabbits next door.” “Yeah, me too,” she says, shaking her head as she makes a mental note to dig up a set of earplugs from her suitcase. In the doorway Y/N turns around, granting herself a last look at the man that is stealing her heart away. “Good night.” “G’night,” Dean returns with a soft voice, keeping a hold of her gaze as well until she shuts the door. The sounds of the couple in the other room is all that is left, a painful reminder of his loneliness. Could this evening have played out differently if he had kissed her? It probably could have. Shit, what if he wasted his only shot? For a few seconds the wrangler lingers, but then turns towards his room, where he sits down on the edge of his empty bed. Banning the noises of pleasure next door from his mind, Dean forks his fingers together as he leans his forearms on his knees. He's so confused by his own thoughts and how he’s responding to them, that he doesn't seem to know himself anymore. For some reason his conscience is telling him not to rush this, to take it one step at a time. What if for once in his life, this could grow into something more than just a fling? At the same time, another voice raises awareness for the mixed signals she’s been giving, because she hasn’t exactly sent him a private invitation. And even if she does go along with it for a little while, what happens when she truly gets to know him? What happens when she learns about his tainted past, the family drama, his flaws and missteps? What happens when she sees him for who he truly is, under the mask and the pile of bullshit? The only reason why he can live with himself is because he swept the dirt under the carpet a long time ago and keeps pretending it's not there. When she knows, she will leave, he’s sure of it, and the thought of that alone scares him already. But it’s his heart that shouts the loudest, practically begging to throw himself at her. His heart which was rooting for that kiss. His heart which finally seems to have found what it had been silently waiting for. Pondering, Dean rubs his face and glances at the desk clock on his nightstand, which shows the time at 10.47 PM. Next to it, a picture stares back, portraying his Mom with her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her four-year-old son against her chest lovingly. Like he has so many times over the years, he wishes she was still alive. Right about now, this lost wanderer could use someone to point him in the right direction.

The pining! They were so close! Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

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petersshirts · 6 years

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Late Night Talks | peter parker

summary: you end up at a party all alone and peter is there to cheer you up

words: 1523

warnings: a bit of angst and a fluff overdose

A/N: hi guys! here’s another one shot but with my boy peter! i hope you like it and as always, feedback is appreciated! :)

The music was blaring out of the speakers and everybody around you was dancing, having the time of their life. You tried to make your way out of the mass of people, mumbling a „Sorry“ here and there, even if none of the drunk young adults heard you.

Finally, you made it out of the big villa and stood in front of the entrance door, that was open wide to greet more guests. You sighed and sat down on the steps, trying to have a few silent minutes to yourself.

When your friends had asked you to go to this party in one of New York’s richest suburbs, you wanted to say no. But then you thought about the situation at home and how desperately you needed a distraction from the anger that was flowing through the apartment that you shared with your dad, mom and small brother, you agreed. Your parents had fights now for over two months and it seemed like there would be no end to them at all.

The fights were stupid; about the rent and just the smallest things that seemed to fill your parents both with rage. You wanted to do something against their endless screams, but whenever you tried to calm them down, all you got was another scream directed at you so you fled into your room, just like your brother.

The only escape you had was school - when you were learning and with your friends, you could completely forget about your family. All you wanted was for them to be happy again, but you weren’t sure if that happiness could be fulfilled when they were still together. And you were really scared of a divorce because what would you do then?? Where would you live??

Your head was always full of these thoughts so you accepted every distraction that you could find. So here you were, in some rich guys house, trying to get your horrible family situation out of your mind. Your friends were somewhere in the house, completely drunk and having the time of your life. Even if you had nothing against alcohol, you were just not in the mood.

When you arrived here, a sadness set on you and didn’t let you go. But nobody seemed to notice so here you were, not knowing what to do. You didn’t want to go back to the house to party with your friends but you also didn’t want to go back into your so-called home.

„Y/N?“ Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice behind you. You slowly turned around to look right into Peter Parker's brown eyes. He looked worried and concerned, and with his eyes fixed on your crouched form, you bet that it was because of you.

Peter and you had been friends since kinder-garden. The two of you only lived one block away from each other so you used to play every day. You were also both in Midtown High School, but somehow your friends were just not the same as his friends. Even though you sometimes wished that you belonged to his friend group. They didn’t try to drown their problems in alcohol.

There was a tug in your heart when he moved closer and crouching down in front of you. You averted his gaze and focused the ground, not knowing what to do.

„Are you alright?“ Peter spoke up, not daring to get any closer. You looked completely lost and not like you wanted to be here. But your eyes also told him that there was something deep inside you bugging you and he was dying to know.

You nodded your head, but after a few seconds, started to shake your head. Tears were suddenly running down your cheeks and you sobbed, causing Peter to hug you. You gasped, not prepared for this kind of affection. But after a few seconds, you gave into his warm embrace and slung your arms around him. You stayed like this for a few moments until Peter slowly pulled away.

„Do you wanna talk about it?“ His voice was quiet but full of care for you. You wondered why he was so nice to you even if you rarely talked. But you knew that Peter was the only one that would really listen to you and give you advice, and you needed that. You just couldn’t sit on all this anymore and just push it even deeper into you. So you slowly nodded, looking up at Peter who got up and put his hand out for you to take.

„Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet.“ You took his hand and followed him. Peter walked through the house again and up the stairs. You ended up in a small room that had a door to a balcony. Peter seemed to know his way around but you couldn’t care less. All you wanted was to lift a piece of this burden off your shoulders.

Peter didn’t stop on the balcony. He jumped on the railing and climbed onto the roof. You were surprised at his slick moves but just followed him when he reached out his hand.

The view was breathtaking. From the roof, you could see the skyline of New York in the distance. It was glimmering like the city was alive. For a moment, all you did was stare at the wonderful city you called home.

„It’s beautiful, isn’t it?“ Peter's voice was careful, not trying to push you. You smiled and turned your head towards Peter who smiled at you. „It’s wonderful, thank you for bringing me up here.“

On the roof, the music was only a quiet humming and it was quite relaxing. You sighed, feeling at peace for once. Peter stayed quiet, waiting until you finally found the courage to speak up.

„It’s because of my family.“ Your voice sounded broken like it was just done. You cleared your throat to also clear your mind. „My parents have been fighting every day for a few months now. Whenever I come home, they are screaming at each other about the most absurd things. And Joe and I have to watch them, all day long and there is nothing we can do against it. I just want it to be like it used to. I don’t even wanna go home anymore, that’s why I’m at this stupid party.“ Tears were running down your cheeks again and Peter came closer and wrapped an arm around your frame.

You cried into his shoulders for a few minutes, glad that you could let your feelings out. Peter mumbled a few reassuring words in your ear, letting you know that he was by your side.

„I - I'm just so afraid that they will get a divorce and we have to decide where we are -„ But Peter interrupted your thoughts when he pressed a kiss on your forehead, startling you. „Maybe they don’t love each other anymore. Give it time. And I know this sounds horrible but you can’t force two people to be with each other when there is no love anymore. That would be just much worse. You will figure something out, I know it.“

Even when his words were harsh, you knew that he was right. It would be much worse when your parents would just ignore each other and fight all day rather than moving in two different apartments. The situation would be much more enjoyable, for everyone. You were afraid that you could lose contact with your Mom or Dad, but you knew that they loved your brother and you a lot and they would never give up on you. It was something between the two of them, and you were just bystanders.

You looked up to Peter with a slim smile. He was only illuminated by the moon and he looked so beautiful, but you were way too shy to tell him that. You had always liked him a bit more than just friends, but this moment was not the right one to tell him about your feelings.

This was a moment of bonding, of finally being real friends again.

„Thank you so much, Pete. No one else could have helped me like that.“ Peter blushed but just pulled you closer to him.

„Do you wanna get out? Maybe come over to my place for the night to sort out all your thoughts? Have a sleepover like we used to?“ Memories flashed in your mind of the two in Peters’ room, building a fort and just having the best time. You realised that it had been really stupid to turn away from your best friend when he was the only one that felt so close to home.

„Let’s go.“

And with that, the two of you got up, hand in hand. Two friends but there were some words unspoken that none of you two dared to say. Words that promised that there would be more.

But this was for another Late Night Talk.

__________________

Permanent Taglist and some Mutuals:

@smexylemony // @ive-got-more-wit // @lou-la-lou // @loxbbg // @seanna313 // @underoos-shield // @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight // @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 // @ixchel-9275 // @thejourneyneverendsx // @sideeffectsofyou

@peterpumpkinparker // @underoos-shield // @onedustyboi // @twilightparker // @h-osterfield // @moonkissedtom // @curlytoms // @holland-peters // @spideyshere // @fratboievans

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one-night-story · 6 years

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Echoes of You (Spike Spiegel)

A/N: The formatting on this is h e l l. But when nostalgia slaps you and says “Fall in love with Spike Spiegel again.” You do as it’s says. Thus this

Roman Holiday had changed who she was so many times she didn’t remember who she was when she started. She’d been a drug lord, a spy, an informant, a bounty, a runaway. But these days, with blue and purple hair and a coat large enough to hide a pistol, she settled on being a ghost among the streets, listening and picking up information as she went. She found herself on Mars, mourning friends and paying dues. She was going to have to disappear again soon. But first, she needed food, scissors, and some hair dye; though she was uncertain what color. She tried walking into a convenience store when she ran into someone.

“Sorry about that.” The guy said. From that one comment Roman almost got whiplash. That voice shouldn’t be talking to her. That voice should’ve been dead. If not from the first time, then definitely the second time. She looked up at him and sure enough it was him. Spike Spiegel in all his blue suited, disheveled glory. And he looked just as shocked to see her. “Ro-?” He didn’t get to finish her name because she took off, sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as she could. He of course went after her, he always would, and she scaled a building to get to the roof. She pulled her pistol and waited for him to catch up.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Ro don’t do this.”

“Tell me! Stop playing cruel tricks and just tell me!” She yelled. It couldn’t be him, it shouldn’t be him.

“Roman, it’s really me.”

“Bullshit, you died.”

“I didn’t,”

“Then you died again.”

“I’ve had worse.” He said with his trademark lazy smile. Roman almost let up at that. He still knew her weak points.

“Gimme the word.” She said, lowering her gun but not putting it away. He furrowed his brows and then figured it out.

“Lily.” He said. Roman lowered her pistol entirely and put it away. Her flower of choice. Julia had roses, she had lilies. Her whole form softened, though she was far from the Roman he used to know. Spike took a step forward to see if she’d let him and sure enough, she didn’t move. “It’s good to see you Roman. Glad to know you’re still picking up information.” He said. Roman shrugged and sat down, still keeping her distance.

“Nothing better to do on this dirt rock. You know you threw the whole operation into chaos, right? There’s a power vacuum with at least seven people trying to fill it.” She said. Spike sat across from her, a little closer than she would’ve liked, but she allowed it. She chalked it up to some primal part of her brain still wanting to keep him as close as she could. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

“What’s next for you then? Figure you’re not gonna stick around for that mess to sort itself out.” He said as he fished out a lighter and lit the cigarette. He took a drag and offered it to Roman. She took it and copied the movement. She never smoked unless she was with Spike. Again, she chalked it up to that primal part of her brain that was still 13 years old and hoped that she still stood a chance against a far prettier half-sister.

“I cut my hair, redye it and catch a flight out of here. I’m thinking Ganymede. Or the asteroids. Hell, I could go be a small fry in Tijuana.” She said.

“And what color will it be this time?” He asked. Roman’s mood was usually determined by her hair. She changed it with regimes, mood, the music she was listening to that month, and sometimes when she felt she had no control of anything. He watched as she thought over her answer.

“Red. Probably. Or pink. Julia always thought I’d look good with pink.” She said muttering the last part.

“You would.” He said. Roman tried to not flush to the color in question, but she never did take compliments well. “I remember she was constantly trying to push you out of the shadows.”

“I like the shadows. No one judges me there. I’m useful there.” Roman argued. Spike chuckled and took a drag from his cigarette. The motion was repeated when he passed it to her to take a drag.

“Maybe, but you have no reason to stay there. Unless you wanna start working for the police.” He said.

“I could be a bounty hunter.” She said with a shrug.

“Oh no, I don’t think I could have you competing for my dinner money too.” He said with his trademark smile. Roman laughed at his comment, a real laugh. Something she hadn’t done in a while. As she laughed, Spike watched her. Her face was lit up by the beginnings of sunset and neon. Her and Julia had no personality similarities, but sometimes they did have physical ones.

“I haven’t done that in forever.” She said when she finally calmed down. Spike smiled at her. She seemed lighter now, more at ease. It was like the laughter fit had locked her into a time machine and she had shed so many years of cynicism with ease. “What about you? What becomes of the great Spike Spiegel? Now newly undeceased again.” She asked. Spike thought it over. He wasn’t certain. He didn’t know if he could go back to the Bebop. But he didn’t know any other way of life. Maybe just him and Jet could strike out again. Maybe he needed to go forward. Maybe he needed to disappear.

“No idea. Maybe dye my hair and change planets.” He said. Roman rolled her eyes.

“Hey, don’t steal my one thing.” She said. Spike chuckled and actually gave her a genuine smile. They were silent for a minute, casually passing the cigarette between themselves. For a moment they felt like teenagers again, sharing cigarettes and sharing a moment of uncertainty. At least that’s how Roman always felt in moments like these. Until finally she broke the tension.

“Annie told me you came to see her.” She said as she looked down.

“Yeah. Thought I might finally kill him.”

“Ignored my bounty then.”

“Always did. Whenever it came up, no matter what the price, no matter what name you were under. I wouldn’t do that to you Roman.” He said. It felt like a whisper on the wind. Like if he said it any louder, he’d lose her like he lost Julia. Roman leaned into this, allowing one of her knees to knock into his. She needed this. She needed him. Outside of just that primal part that told her she was once 13 and crushing on the one person in the whole galaxy she couldn’t have.

“I look at you and I think… god what have we done with our lives? And what did it get us?” She said with what Spike could only describe as the truest form of sadness he’s ever seen from her. Roman Holiday kept all her cards close to her chest until one day, she’d die. But now? He felt like he was peering through a brick in her wall. “I loved my sister more than anything in this life. And I chose her happiness over mine, time and time again.” She scoffed and leaned back on her hands. “God I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“What?” He asked. He wasn’t sure what was coming next, but curiosity killed him to know.

“A million years ago, she said to me “this one’s mine.” So, I stood by.” She said. “And I knew I shouldn’t do anything, I should just leave and pretend I never met you. But Julia,”

“She was too kind for that.” He said as his brain was slowly putting the pieces together. He had always wondered when they were kids, even before Roman became a shadow figure, why she always seemed to fall into that point, even when Julia brought her out, or when he tried to talk to her. But now he got it. She’d been hiding pain this whole time.

“I should go.” She said. She stood up and dusted herself off. Spike stood up as well and grabbed her wrist before she could go anywhere.

“Don’t disappear again.” He said. Roman looked down at her beat up shoes, trying to hide what had just come to pass.

“You can’t ask that of me.” She said.

“Ro, you’re all I’ve got left.”

“And who’s fault is that?” She snapped. Spike wanted to get offended. But he remembered an incident when they were younger, where he’d gotten too close and she’d snapped, and he retaliated. They didn’t speak for a month. Not until Julia forced them to, and not until after he’d brought her lilies. He sighed and plucked the nearly burnt out cigarette from his teeth and passed it to her. She took a drag and then stomped it out. She was still looking down at it when Spike brought her face to look up at him. Roman unintentionally leaned her cheek into his hand, blinking at him a couple of times.

“I won’t let this be the last time I see you Roman.” He said. Spike, at his core, was a deeply sentimental person. He couldn’t lose Roman. She reached up and brought his face to hers, giving him a small, soft and what Spike could only describe as a ghost of a kiss. Like she was afraid of what fully kissing him would mean. He kissed her cheek in turn, letting it sit there a little longer than either of them expected. When they separated, they put the distance back between them. Once again, afraid of what the closeness would do to them. She tossed him a comm unit she had pocketed off some guy and he caught it with ease.

“Call that ship of yours.”

“Wouldn’t that be going backward?” He asked.

“One step backward to go miles forward? I think it’s worth it. Call them Spiegel.” She said. Spike nodded.

“Remember, pink.” He said. Roman gave him a small, soft smile and nodded.

“See you Space Cowboy.” She said as she ran off the edge of the roof, scaling down the building to go buy some scissors, some food, and some pink hair dye.

#spike spiegel #cowboy bebop #spike spiegel imagines #if that’s even a thing #cowboy bebop imagines #in which em writes

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thefloatingstone · 6 years

Text

A weeked at a hotel is quiet and alone.

A long walk or a going to a movie that starts after dark helps.

A four hour or longer bath where you sit in the water helps. Even if it doesnt helps it helps. And you smell good at the end of it which is nice even when you lack appreciation for nice things currently.

Do new things - feeling trapped or in a rut or the need to escape can be alleviated by feeling like youre making some sort of progress or have control over something in your life.

Sleeping more doesn’t help. Sleeping less doesnt help. Both are enough of a change/ strain on your body that they make you think they are but really they just increase problems and make the days pass quicker or slower.

Make goals. Meet goals. Cant get to goals make smaller goals to get there.

Focus on the things you can do and help and control and if you can’t do anything about it aknowledge it and let it go.

Hydrate. Youre not doing it enough, no one is.

Eat regularly, just like you should sleep regularly and for 9 hours - your body and therefore your mind functions better on a schedual.

It may not help but i can garrentee you not doing these things makes it harder than it needs to be.

Can also play games or read or watch shows until it passes, if it passes but thats just a… Temporary solution not an actual fix action.

But sometimes you don’t need a fix action you need a distraction to be immersed in and thats okay.

Get someone to talk to. Professionally.

Friends and family can help but we’re all not really great at healthy coping - and we know what works for us or what we’ve learned but we can’t always give you personalized tips that will help YOU get through your dips.

Clean/ reorganize your room - this just makes you feels self satisfied if youre lucky and if you arent well theres a little less mess and your mind feels less cluttered if you make even a little progress. Your environment can add to the strain.

Open a window idk why fresh air helps.

Candle with a scent you like - light it. Pet fire keeps you company.

Bake. Idk why but it helps, doesnt matter what youre making but if it makes a mess for you to clean up while you wait for it to be done its a win.

Plus baked goods are nice to have and eat or give away which makes you happy… Especially since half the time you dont feel the need to eat whatever youve baked.

Blast music. Loudly. Especially dark depressing shit or especially lively rebelling shit.

Or just play classical piano in the background because it helps…. Filter. Which is nice.

It gets better. Even if it turns out to be something youll struggle with it gets better because youll learn to manage it and it can’t take away the good even if it tells you it can.

Youve survived every horrible thing thats happened to you. Youll get through this too keep that in mind.

Also watch what youre telling yourself. Something as simple as telling yourself not “i can’t deal with this -emotional pain/situation - ” but “i dont want to deal with this” can in time make it easier to get past it because youre not bogged down in trying to… Reject how you feel.

Youre allowed to feel this way. Like. You may not want to but. You do so youve got to accept it on some level in order to beable to get past rejecting reality and figure out how best to approach it.

Emotions arent unreasonable. Like. Logically you’ll say they are but youre not depressed or whatever for no reason. Either theres something effecting you or your brain chemistry is off either way there is no “i shouldnt feel this way”

So like. Really dont talk down to yourself. Or if you do at least try to tack on something like “alright try again” or idk something positive or at least foward thinking.

And remeber you’re not alone.

Reach out. Message people. Sit on silent calls and share dead air with others. You may ache like a raw nerve or feel left out or ignored or a hundred other things but just. Attempting to be apart of your friends life or just hearing another person can do a world of difference. If not… In the moment than later it def gives you something to build on.

And youre not… A bother. Youre not… Responsible for making decisions about other peoples emotional wellbeing. Theyve got to tell you ‘hey i dont/ cant talk about this right now lets just bs about whatever instead". You need help or a distraction or anything ask the people you care about.

Youre not alone and isolating… Usually makes things worse.

Like alone time can help but isolatings a different ballgame entirely and youll know which youre doing.

Hell just posting on here and asking for tips is great and Im proud of you.

Sorry if that or any of this sounds condescending - im just. Summarizing shit ive learned and tried and had to talk myself into because i really thought my mental health was bullshit and i shouldnt need help with basic things.

But people do. Like. We’re not made to fuction the way we do and we’re not taught a lot of really simple things and how they effect us or the difference between coping healthly and not.

… Fuctioning can only get you so far so long, you’ve got to actually take care of yourself you know? I mean dont beat yourself up because taking care of yourself doesn’t line up with what you think that should mean is all.

Sorry to bug and do hope you get to feeling better soon.

This is an incredibly in-depth and helpful message. Thank you so very very much for taking the time to write it out for me. I’m posting this to prevent it from getting buried

Also, again, I want to thank everyone for sending me responses and messages about this. I’m sorry I’m not replying to all of them individually, but I am reading all of them <3 a lot of you are saying the same things like taking a walk or doing some light exercise, drinking water (I haven’t been doing that enough today) and things like that. As I said, I can’t do exercise tonight since it’s late, but I’ll try and take a walk tomorrow if the weather is good. And I’ll try and get some water in me.

I’m afraid talking to someone professional isn’t really possible right now, but hearing I can just go once makes me feel a little better. I’ve never realised I don’t have to try and afford an ongoing therapy thing. I can’t do it right now, but I’ll see if I can figure something out at some point in a few months if I can.

But thank you again for your help, guys. And although I feel bad for asking... but I’d really appreciate if you guys could continue to give it. Not because I want instant gratification or anything, but just because I don’t have much support elsewhere, and I want to get past this.

and thank you for being patient with me. I’m trying, I really am.

#C-Puff answers #Depression #Self care #submission

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kendrixtermina · 5 years

Text

Disclaimer For Potential Partners (f/m/x)

Writing this down as much to gather my thoughts and go into this with clear priorities as for possible future reference.

My mother always told me that if you wanted everyone to like you, you’d have to be a 50 dollar bill. I have come to accept that I’m more like licorice. Some people aren’t gonna like me but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others who would appreciate me.

I’d rather you run away screaming NOW than in three years when we’re both invested so Let’s get all this out of the way:

I’m bisexual. Yes, I’ve dated dudes in the past. I’ve had a brief online flirt with an agender person and do think androgynous ppl are hot which I suppose would make me pan in some ppl’s books, at this point the choice in label is purely aesthetic. I’m looking for a female partner right now because I’ve always had a slight preference for girls anyways but a sufficiently compatible non-female would not be refused.

Because ppl have gotten this wrong in the past: Preference is about how likely you are to notice that someone is hot in the first place like in the early stages. It doesn’t mean my attachment to those dudes was any less “real” (or the other way around!) I just flat out don’t care whats in your pants there are other things to be picky about

From since I was young, the message I got from music, books etc is that it’s pretty bad to say “I love you” unless you truly mean it. So I don’t say “I love you” until I’m 100% sure I can do that it good conscience. It seems that it takes me a bit longer to be sure than most people, but it’s not like I’ve conducted statistics on this

I’m not vegan/vegetarian and I’m never going to be vegan/vegetarian

I’m not a pet person

I’m not a sporty person and I’m never going to be a sporty person

Go through my stuff, spy on me in any way or ask me to tell you where I am at all times and its over

I’m an antiprohibitionist and don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with taking recreational substances. Conversely, I’m not interested in that sort of thing as a full-on lifestyle either.

I try to keep an open mind and try everything once but im probably not gonna reorganize my life around new age woo-woo.

So far my folks have liked most my partners, but if our social circles don’t get along I’m comfortable with leaving them separate.

I believe in judging people as individuals first. I don’t wanna hear no paranoid shit about “the muslims” or other stereotypical carricatures but if you’re gonna be “europeans that europeans this” as if im not in the room its not gonna work.

Don’t be fooled by the foreign-sounding surname im a potato through and through. No exotic fanservice to be had here.

Barring unforseen dictatorships, I don’t want to move out of Europe. I like it here. Its full of frustrating dumbasses but so is the rest of the world. Yay for cheese and consumer protection laws! I would consider moving closer to the shore though.

It’s fine if you don’t speak German but you should not hate or dislike it. English is a plus because me, my friends and my family are into internet culture

I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. No, you’re not going to patch this up. You don’t have to ignore him too if you’re not comfortable but you’ll have to respect my choice instead of playing family therapist or throwing platitudes about forgiveness at me.

Im not counting and it depends on your definition but Ive fucked at least 15-20 people, which according to statistics is above average? Always used rubber unless it was long-term and exclusive tho. That might bother some ppl.

That said it has been my conclusion that fucking does nothing that a beer can’t do and that the real quality stuff is what you could already do as a grade schooler when you still thought of all the grownup stuff as mystical. Having ice cream together, exploring new places, having contemplative conversations in the rain, telling each other your fantasies? That’s The Stuff.

Hence while I wouldn’t turn down some fuckage along the way what im looking for at this point is someone to share life and grow old with, like there doesn’t need to be the expectation of further strings but the end goal RN is to find One That Sparks Joy(TM) that will get precedence

I’m not big on material gifts or the ritual part of dating if thats important to you I might not be the ideal candidate, but if its not thats probably good for your wallet

I’m a strong introvert. Sometimes I go weeks without talking to anyone other than my boss or maybe texting my relatives. If you’re very introverted or work alot this might be an advantage. Of course if I love you I will try my best to match up to your attention needs but if you need your partner to text you 15 times every day to feel good I might just not be your cup of tea

That doesn’t mean im not interested in going on or doing new experiences. I very much hope to do that together with you just not 5 days a week - if you can’t give new things wholehearted tries things might get uncomfortable

I like spicy food and all sort of asian cousine, but if you can’t stand the sight of cheese, asparagus and sausage it’s not gonna work either. I can obviously put less chili in your portion.

I tend to talk fast and I find it hard to stop it even if I try, if that bothers you look elsewhere

I cannot stand forced optimism OR over-the top misanthropy or snobbishness. I will gush about things, but I like my dark edgy content and I stand by it. It is an advantage if you like talking about art. If you don’t like morbid humor that might be a problem

No diet talk

No perfectionism

No passive aggressive ppl or ppl that are uncomfortable with direct confrontation. That won’t work, we’d just set each other off even without meaning to and it would just be sad. If Im doing something wrong don’t expect me to notice by magic, tell me to my face so I can fix it. Don’t be hostile out of nowhere and don’t beat around the bush.

im not religious or spiritual. I don’t mind if you are but if you want to have kids and bring them up strongly-immersed in some Abrahamic faith im not sure if this is the right adress

No anti-intellectualism (no snobbery, elitism or smartassery either - as a wise pig once said, “Knowledge is a horizon to strive for, not a prize to hold in your hand” It begins with realizing what you don’t know)

Indifferent about monogamy, but I wouldn’t say that I’m the sort of person who needs non-monogamy either. If you want to we can do it (write me out some list of where you draw the lines so there’s no misunderstandings) but if you don’t it’s no biggie. I don’t care if you fuck 10 other people - for me, respect, honor and loyalty are to do with other things, like, don’t make fun of me and don’t expect me to change because one (1) person said I’m weird or whatever.

Don’t give me diseases tho. I’ll take precautions to extend the same courtesy to you.

Potential character flaws: I can be a tad sensitive, disorganized and defensive sometimes, not gonna sugarcoat it. I have no filter and curse like a sailor. Also I have zero social skills and sometimes I come across as either angry or unemotional when its really the opposite. I find that just as confusing and contradictory as that sounds, I have like zero sense of how I come off. I try to be aware of all of these and do right to everyone to the best of my ability but if you’re sensitive about any of these point someone else might be a better fit

2 kids max. I’m not sure I’ll have ANY at this point, and most certainly not in the next 5 years. IF we decide to have some later I volunteer to carry them though, I probably have good genes, my mom popped out 4 babies in 6 years with nary a complication. Besides I’d rather it was me dealing with the gross pregnancy stuff than someone I love

My favorite bedroom stuff is fingers-in-front-cavity and butt stuff. Mild sleepsex fetish but nothing super pronounced. What I don’t like or just am not very good at is top/bottom play.

So far most my partners have had somewhat stronger sex drive than me but Id argue that I very much have one and ive never refused unless I was in physical pain, severely sleep-deprived or working on some important work-related thing that was due the next day.

It’s important - and science backs me up on this - that you can freely talk to each other in n open, natural and relaxed manner

If you think im weird just do us both the favor and stay away don’t come at me with the attitude that you’re gonna mold me to your desires - even just writing this comes off kinda touchy but im saying this because some people out there really don’t get it. Like my natural tendency is to be open, courious and realistic, but some people see that as free real estate and then it falls to me to be the reasonable one and End The Madness and im tired of that.

Like I want to be able to give love and pour out all my inner romantic shit without having to be afraid of being fucked over I want to be able to trust you with my inner harley quinn as well as my inner phantom of the opera

UGH that sounded a bit tryhard didn’t it? But its the best description i could come up with

Must remember to translate this into mordor speak later

#feelings #love #datefriend acquisition project

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twdmusicboxmystery · 6 years

Text

9x07: Details

Okay, let's talk about details.

***As always, spoilers abound for 9x07. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!!!***

Rosita/Eugene

I talked yesterday about Rosita running out in the woods alone about how we didn't see where she left Eugene behind. I'll talk about this more tomorrow because I'm going to do a predictions post, but this whole situation is still super suspicious to me.

We also saw her try to drink from empty water bottle. We've seen a lot of water bottles over the seasons that were all similar. I still have been wanting to do a post about all of them, but haven't gotten around to it. But remember that we did see a lot of all-around death. At the very least.

Jesus and Aaron find Rosita and she tells them she left Eugene in the barn. I think this is super-significant guys, but I will talk more about tomorrow in my predictions post. For now, just know that the barn reference and everything about Eugene being there is important.

Hilltop:

Hilltop is thriving under Tara and Jesus’s leadership. I don't know why Tara just doesn't take over as leader. I get that Jesus might be a figurehead for people because he was Maggie's right-hand guy, but Tara is obviously better at logistical aspects and the day-to-day running of things, so she might as well just take over that part of it.

At one point, she said they had a noise complaint from trailer seven. This is a very minor detail, but the noise came from a kazoo which is technically a musical instrument or noisemaker and seven, in terms of biblical numerology, also caught my attention.

Aaron and Jesus training out in the woods together, which I think is kind of cool. I noticed at one point, one of them said "Same boat, my friend." So, another boat reference, but also a call back to episode 6x13, which was called The Same Boat. It was one about Carol and Maggie being kidnapped by the saviors. Not sure what to make of this reference, but it's interesting. (I actually have some theories, but this is such a minor point, I’m gonna wait to see what happens next episode first.)

Tara tells Jesus that Rosita will be okay. She was just dehydrated and on IV. They said almost the exact same thing about Yumiko last episode when she got hurt, and I compared it to Beth. Just feels like more Grady parallels to me. Also in this part, Tara says of Maggie, "She's not here. You are." We could relate that to the “here” symbolism and especially Morgan's Here’s Not Here episode. I won't say too much more about that except that we’ve seen these themes before.

Music/Magna’s Group:

Michonne breaks the violin while guarding Magna's group. I do still think that the musical instrument could represent Beth being shot, and I’ll talk about possible implications of that tomorrow.

The musical discussion the group has is really interesting. It’s kind of a rehash of the discussion Beth and Edwards had at Grady, but more detailed. Edwards says art is transcendent and not about survival, and Beth suggests it’s something they can and should still do. (“I still sing.”) So this was the first suggestion of this idea that, despite needing to put survival first in this world, art and transcendence are still important for the survival of the human race.

Luke says the same thing here. “They came together as an answer to defeat. They sat around a campfire. They shared their stories with each other in the form of music, and paintings. And they created a common identity. And then they, you know, built communities. And then, as thy grew, Neanderthal retreated, and then after a while they just died out…this is the one thing that separates us from the animals. For better or for worse, it brings us together. And if we’re trying to rebuild something, you can’t ignore that.” So we have a major parallel between this and episode and Slabtown.

At one point on the road with Magna’s group, we heard frogs. So just frog symbolism and more callbacks to Them.

Daryl/Carol/Henry

By far most of the details I saw came from Daryl’s scenes. (Naturally 😉)

Daryl’s camp is pockmarked with walker traps. Many of them are pits in the ground that the walkers step in and get caught. That reminded me a lot of the fire pit the Beth dug in Still.

Carol says, "You haven't fixed the boat since last time?" We’ve ever seen Daryl with a boat before, so I'm thinking this has something to do with the 6 year time jump that we don't entirely understand. But, I also can't help but remember the boats that were so prevalent in 5b at Alexandria. Sam played with one, there was one on the water with a red balloon when Rick stood beside the pond. I always thought that was a Beth thing, having to do with all the water and ship symbolism we seen around her, though we don't quite know what it means yet.

I mean, if nothing else, Daryl is pretty much living on a boat, now. Given all the boat/ocean/sailor/water imagery we’ve seen, that’s super-important.

We also saw a “wrecked” boat in 7x15 near Oceanside. There was definitely some Beth symbolism going on there, so if Daryl’s boat is “broken” it could be the same symbolism.

I said yesterday that pretty much everything I said in my dog post was confirmed here, right? Well, it occurred to me when Carol asked Daryl when he’d eaten last, and Daryl replied, "the dog ate yesterday," that was him associating himself with the dog. She asked when he ate, and he answered by talking about the dog. So, very similar to Buttons, Daryl pretty much named himself the dog. So, everything I said before, (black dog equals Daryl, white dog equals Beth) is definitely true.

Daryl shot a snake! Yep, an actual snake. I thought this was a combination of two things from Still. In Still, he tried to shoot a squirrel on a tree and missed, breaking one of his arrows. Later, he kills the snake slithering on the ground with his knife. In this case, he actually did kill the animal on the tree, but it was the snake. Then he cut its head off with his knife, similar to what he did in Still. So, I'm wondering if we should be reading into the differences as well as the similarities. Maybe Daryl missing squirrel in Still in some way foreshadowed his and Beth's arc. Like that he would lose her in some way, so the squirrel escaped. Something like that. But in this case, he hits it dead on, maybe because things will be better for him this time around. I don’t know. Just throwing out ideas.

I also noticed that Daryl specifically doesn’t bury walkers. He kills one of them and Carol asked if he’s just going to leave it there. He says yes, because it keeps animals away. So this is completely the opposite of what he was in 4B. Remember Beth taught him that it was important to bury people, even walkers and people they didn't know. This started out with the Rich Bitch lady, and he helped Beth cover her. We saw it extended after Lenny was killed by the Claimers. But now, he doesn't care at all. He’s just leaving walkers where they fall.

He also refuses to protect people. At least at the beginning. Carol asks him to go protect Henry and he flat out refuses. In a lot of ways, Henry is very similar to how Beth was when she and Daryl left the prison. He’s strong and can take care of himself, but he's also very young and very new to being outside the walls. So was Beth. So, this would be very similar to if, when the prison went down, Daryl simply refused to watch over Beth. I think that's only important to show that he's sort of in the opposite place he was in S4.

Daryl also skins the snake, just like Still. We haven't seen him do this since 4x12 so this is very significant. Also, kind of a fun reversal of 7x10, when Carol cooked for him. I’m sure they were calling back to that here a little bit as well.

Then we have Carol cutting his hair with a knife. Okay, a couple of important things to recognize here. I thought it was really significant that they specifically did not have her use scissors. We know they had scissors in Alexandria because Jesse used them to cut hair and killed kill a she-wolf. And I'm sure the Kingdom has them as well. Maybe Carol just decided on the spur of the moment to cut Daryl's hair, but even so, they could have her pull out a pair scissors or even had Daryl have one in his camp and it wouldn't have been unrealistic. But they specifically have her use a knife rather than scissors to cut his hair.

Why is that important? I think it's because scissors are Beth symbol. Tptb use them very specifically in the show for stuff about Beth and Grady, and they very specifically did not want to put that symbol in here because it was not applicable to the situation. If we’re totally crazy and reading into the symbolism way too much, Carol would've just used a pair of scissors. She didn't, which means the scissors are important and specifically could not be used in the scene.

@frangipanilove also made an amazing observation about this scene. Certain shippers are freaking out because Carol touched Daryl’s hair and face and their misconstruing that as romantic. But

1) we talked in our group about how that was very much about his scar. The show is trying to draw attention to it, and Carol playing with the hair right over it gave us an excellent look.

2) @frangipanilove pointed out that this is a PERFECT parallel to the scene in Them (5x10) where Carol gives Daryl Beth’s knife. Think about it. That was a tender moment between them too. She played his hair. And there was a knife present. That’s awesome! Not only is it a callback to a Beth scene, but I’ll talk in a minute about Henry/Beth parallels, so this works well with those as well. And then there’s my predictions post tomorrow. It works well as evidence for all three. Go @frangipanilove!

We also found out that Daryl originally went out there to look for Rick's body. That's a super-tragic development because it means that when Daryl walked away at the end of 9x05, he was already going out to look for Rick's body. That makes my heart hurt.

Carol tells him, “You have to let that go.” And I think that’s super-interesting considering he told Rick to let Carl go just before the bridge blew, and now he hasn’t really stopped looking for Rick’s body. He never let it go, any more than he ever let Beth go. Just proves that even though he was preaching that, he doesn’t let things go himself.

It's also super significant in a TD way. We’ve said for years that Daryl looked for Beth's body and couldn't find it, and eventually Rick made the whole group move on. So, it's yet another parallel between Rick and Beth where Daryl looked for the body and never found it. And, you know, Rick's alive so…

Let's talk about Daryl scars. Henry asked about the scar on his face, and Daryl is very standoffish about it. He refuses to answer and then gets up to look for his dog, sending the message that he'd rather hang with his dog than with Henry.

Later, we see Daryl's back and find that he has several new scars, including a prominent X scar on his top right shoulder, two parallel lines further down, and then another X scar in exactly the same place as Michonne’s. Yeah, that’s weird. The top X may have already been there. Back in S3, he has something similar, and they may have just changed it so it looks more prominent now. But he definitely didn’t have the same X as Michonne or the parallel lines. As I said yesterday, these are way too clean and even to be normal battle scars.

Several people have suggested they might be brands. If that's the case, we have no idea what they are, or where they came from. Who the hell could have branded Michonne and Daryl of all people? It's not like the two of them would have sat still for it. So, we really don't know what this is pointing to, but it’s quite bizarre.

Daryl’s dog (Dog) gets caught in one of his walker traps. This had major callbacks to Alone, not only because it was dark, and the dog was barking with walkers around, but because Henry's foot got caught in the trap, too, just like when Beth’s foot got caught in the small game trap.

Henry moved to kill a walker (just like Beth did) and his foot got caught in the trap like her. We even had Daryl helping Henry pull his foot out, getting him unstuck.

Which is exactly what he did with Beth. Then he asks if he's okay. Henry says yes, it's just a scratch, which parallels to Daryl asking Beth if she can move it in her saying yes.

We also had some missing foot symbolism in this scene because the walker Henry kills is originally caught in the trap and trying to pull itself out. When it does, it pulls it’s own foot off. That’s why Henry had to jump in and help him. Remember that two of the major times we saw the symbolism, specifically an unattached foot, was in Inmates when Beth saw the unattached foot by the train tracks and then with Rick and Michonne in 7x12, which was also a major retelling of Still.

Then of course Daryl says to Henry, "I told you to stay back," which pretty much everyone in the entire fandom picked up on. These parallels are pretty undeniable at this point.

Henry even shows Beth’s sarcasm. Beth said, “Thanks for the help,” while Henry says, “Yeah, you’re welcome.” Again, the fact that they’re strong and get right back in Daryl’s face makes him respect them more.

This is where things get really interesting with Henry and Daryl. Very much like with Beth, once Daryl goes through an experience with Henry, where they survive together, and especially when he can see that Henry strong, he instantly has more respect for him. The dynamic between Daryl and Henry here was very similar to Beth and Daryl’s in Still and Alone. At first, Daryl is very robotic and closed off to Henry, but after Henry helped save his dog, and Daryl himself, Daryl sat down and opened up to Henry without being prompted, telling to him about how the dog checked walker traps and thanking Henry for his help.

Then, also like Beth, Henry kind of calls Daryl on his crap. When Daryl says that if Carol needs him, she knows where to find him, Henry says she shouldn't have to. Daryl then asks if Henry truly wants Daryl looking over his shoulder all the time.

(Oh, I forgot to mention the whole chaperone thing. The Beth razzed Daryl about being her chaperone at the moonshine shack, and they use the same verbology here with Henry asking Carol if she thinks he needs a chaperone. So yet another parallel there.)

Henry replies that it's not just about him, which seems to impress Daryl. Henry really doesn't want a chaperone, but he'll do it so Carol has peace of mind, and I think Daryl seems impressed by that.

So, much like Beth, Henry and his goodness and innocence pulls Daryl out of his robotic survival state and kind of guilts him into being a human being again, which brings them back to civilization. Major, MAJOR parallels here. I’ll talk more about where we think this Daryl/Henry arc may be headed tomorrow.

Another thing to note, though it’s not specifically a TD thing, is that Carol allowed Daryl and Henry to interact on their own. She was always in the background, watching, but didn’t tell them she was there. I think that’s significant for a couple of reasons.

Carol knows both these guys can handle themselves, but she’s still around, being Mama Carol and making sure they’re okay. But I think she knew going into this that she wouldn’t be able to convince Daryl to go to Hilltop on her own. She’s not the one who changes his mind about stuff. (Think Beth: “What changed your mind.”) But Carol was hoping that Henry could change Daryl’s mind, and he did. This might be an indication of the insight Carol has into Beth and Daryl’s relationship, or if not that, into Daryl himself. She knows the effect people like Beth and Henry have on Daryl and was banking on Henry getting through to him. That’s why she didn’t interfere, and also why she was smiling when Daryl agreed to go at the end of the episode: she was right.

So at the end, we get Daryl and Carol finally getting to hilltop and kind of reuniting with some people. Michonne isn’t actually there yet, but she probably will be by the time Daryl, Jesus, and Aaron get back with Eugene, so we'll have a reunion of sorts.

So the structure of this arc is feeling very much like 4b to me. After the prison fell, everybody was divided into little groups, right? We had the same thing here. Michonne in Alexandria, Carol at the Kingdom, Tara at hilltop, Maggie off with the Commonwealth. And, of course, Daryl out on his own.

So this confirms @thegloriouscollectorlady’s 4 Arcs for 4 Communities theory. I’m also thinking about the fact that in 4x15/4x16, all the little groups reunited at Terminus. Now we’re seeing something of a reunion in 9x08 and a further introduction of a bad group (the Whisperers) to mirror the Termites.

So, we might argue that if 9x07/9x08 mirrors 4x15/16, well, we didn’t actually see Beth until four episodes after that in 5x04. So, maybe they’ll give us something in the MSF, or maybe they’ll make us wait until 9b or the finale to see her. As always we will just have to wait and see.

Okay, I’ll stop there. I have a lot more to say but it’s more about where we think these arcs may be going. I’ll talk about that tomorrow. Anything I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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icharchivist · 6 years

Text

perso-rant underneath and at first i intended it to be more light hearted but welp cant dive into myself without digging the bad stuff so just ignore this as rambling.

(idk if the cut works on mobile so as usual blacklist #ichapersonal to skip it , its quite long)

its night and im noisy and all but yknow part of the reason m/lb is such a healing show for me and i rewatch it every couple of days?

i cry everytime M.arinette's family is on screen pretty badly bc i get so envious all the time. i hate my shitty family (and often can relate to A.drien's ressentment) so just seeing such a /healthy/ family being often shown litterally brings me to tears. im like C.hat in the animan episode when he stares at the family picture with a sweet smile (another detail that stupidly make me cry who allowed th i s)

like. i dont relate to A.drien's relation to his family but some of the emotional effects is often a moment of "welp. mood." and being kinda sad /for him/ even if i can feel it for myself too. but then with M.arinette's family everytime they get to be on screen i realize how happy this sort of dynamic makes me and it makes me /so envious/.

like my mom is an artist and an excellent cook but she always barred those interests from me bc it was /hers/ and it was for /her ego/ and this attitude just killed every curiosity i had and remplaced it with a complete unability to care.

i used to bake as a kid but my mom was always shutting down everything i was doing, and if i was asking for help or recieps she would just tell le "it's a secret just watch " and never letting me know tf she was doing so i stopped lmao. everytime ive tried meals since it was only for myself and with a hard mocking from family and mom saying she had a better recieps and i should just let her do so i dont even try it often. (moreeven now that the kitchen is opened to the living room and they're super judgemental when im in it)

i was messing with drawings and paints in her workshop when i was a kid but she would always point out flaws and take my tools to correct it without telling nor showing me how and it killed it, it took me until my 14yo to start doing mindless doodles and then my breakdown when i was about 20 to seriously try back to draw and do art and try different tools (until my right hand made it impossible for me to hold a tool and the failure still feels yknow)

i wanted to sew things and make clothes (at the time for my dolls) but my mom was never letting me touch the tools (that we HAD since not only she made clothes but her mom actually had a fabrique shop. like. right next door. i think it became part of my mom's trauma hating her mom and refusing us to connect with her, more so with what happened when i was 7 and we lost contact with them but still, the damn irony. and i cant remember if my grandma ever let me close her sewing material but i was a damn kid after all) so this is another thing i didnt pursue

i wanted to pick up music (piano mostly) bc my uncle is a musician but my parents never wanted to invest in that because they already gave a piano to my sister (that i wasnt allowed to use) so ye that was dropped lmao

and i started to write when i was about 11 and it was that /one thing/ i didnt need help for from anyone, completely self taught, with my own ways and tools, and my parents were always dismissive of it, never listening to me, always telling me it wasnt important, that i should focus on something else, and after other circumstances that added to that i dropped writting around my 17/18yo and it had been painful to even try to write again since.(i came back to writing around my 20yo a bit before my breakdown but after it happened it started to die out and i felt exhausted and stopped after a few months and since then i've never been able to pick up writing again ay.)

(and im not touching the obsessive elements bc like- the fact she does it for her crush makes it different, but the sort of things she does? taking pictures and putting them everywhere in her room when she hyperfixates, making overcomplicated schedules and such? i litteraly do that with fiction. i made a freaking timeline for this show. i am currently working on organizing codex from d.a and an approval guide for christ sake. and im not talking about my multiple fandom shrines in my room and the fact i legit have one for m/lb made from pictures found on merchs.

or also the fact i have a lot of passions i'd love to share and seeing M. play video games with her dad for exemple makes me so bitter when all i get is backhanded insults from my parents when i bring it up.)

So sometimes i see M. and part of me is just in awe, loving everything about her. the other part of me tho... i feel... a bit robbed? like she's such a creative kid, she's incredible and she inspires me everyday, and i cant help but think how i would have adored her when i was a kid. (im not even kidding, as a kid i requested my mom a costume of black cat for h.alloween and a l.adybug costume for the carnaval. i have pictures of that at my dad's place sadly it kills me. also my room when i was a kid used to be covered with l.adybug stickers like. HELL my mom doesnt care about my interests but last year she bought me a M/LB winter callendar (bc its been years i was mentioning i wanted one, a selfish whim but oh well) and i had a huge double take bc i was certain she didnt remember me talking about this show- and she did not. when i asked her why, she legit told me "because she reminded me of you as a kid with your pigtails your obsession for l.adybugs". like!! i cant even stress how kid!me would have adored this show and especially LB./M.) (the pigtails too this time i have proofs around there i used to carry them all the time until i was bullied for it at school. (bullying at school instead of good friends also adds to the difference in question tbh lmao))

there is something so... weird into seeing the parts of yourself that you cut yourself from in a character, and see that the main difference is because of how the family (and bullies) treated those elements so drastically differently.

my family was always neglectful but differently than A.. the things i relate to with him is how he specifically still holds on hope that his father will do better at least just for one day and his reaction when he's left down saying he's just used to it. and like normal, not every kind of abuse are the same and all but i still relate enough to feel sad.

but M. is always a whiplash of feelings like i could have been this sort of girl in a better environment.

at 13/14yo she was already making stuff up, baking, designing clothes, doing art, she was doing so many things, even forgetting the superhero part. she was being happy being a creator at her pace and with encouragement. at 13/14yo i was starting to show concerning signs of d.epression because i was trying to handle my parents's divorces and the multiple trials that followed that /i/ had to handle by finding middle grounds, allowing some of my father's blackmail to avoid worse, and by litterally having to collect infos from mails everytime to prove against some of his arguments to the judges. and my sister refusing to talk to us for a year, which caused us basically to feel very bad thinking of the eldest sister who ran away from home, and having to handle my father's harrasment and emotional abuse of constantly belittling me (fuck this was the age he legit told me i would probably end up a p.rostitute so ye!!! fuck that!!!) andd the fact my mom was also falling apart from all of it on me and i was always supposed to cheer her up while i was having a hard time in a new school and new environment away from the very few friends i had and again feeling abandonned by my sister which freaking sucks after already had suffered that from our eldest one.

but M. makes me cry every. goddam. rewatch. its like maybe the ultimate wish fufilling story of just how i would have loved my family to be. of how i think i could have turned up.

and that realization hits so badly everytime.

there's a thing with my hyperfixations where i'll always find a way to tie it back to my traumas. i dont know if im pulling straws, or if the things are there. for having watched m.lb when it came out unfazed and only got hit with that realization upon rewatching- i feel it was more me realizing "there is something there that is touching me more than before" and having an introspection to get it.

and i think the difference is that- before my breakdown the characters and stories i related to where the eternal optimistic-yet-damaged "never give up!" type of characters. When things started to go downhill to my breakdown and since then the fictions that talked to me the most were all dealing with guilt coming from toxic environment that werent your fault per se but you pierceved that way. my way to relate were to characters who felt deeply connected to their guilt (peak being c.loud of f.f7 that even topped it with the deadly skin disease making him lose will to live (because ye that happened. still hate to watch out for that so ye), and memories issues, you would have told me at 13yo when i first watched that movie that this would be what i would relate to him about 7 years later i would have laughed at your face.), which translated with pushing people away and self destructing habits.

and i know i watched m.lb the first time around that time, when i was 20/21. and that may be why i didnt feel that. that my concerns were too elsewhere to realize that. That i was too focalized on how i felt like i failed by suddenly breaking under the pressure, having all the things i've kept burried kicking me out at once, and that i couldnt afford to be a burden to anyone. and it translated with me loving characters like that because in most cases their friends ended up reminding them of what was important - and sometimes just getting frustrated about your fav being as dumb as it forces you to pull yourself back together lmao. not always working but it was there.

now im 23. i cut ties with my father for about 3/4 years now, with all the shitty things that ensued out of the last trial where he sued me and his still-happening harrasment (sometimes silly sometimes scary). My mom and step dad are suffocating me more and more everyday. my health had become so disastrous i cant even manage to go school or find a job. And more than ever im frustrated and angry.

and i think it may be a shown of recovery? perhaps linked to therapy? of while i still have guilt of falling apart- /they/ are the reason i fell apart. and I'm yet to have proper apologizes for it. i grew furious at my family. of how much i feel robbed.

lately im so angry at everything i lost, was taken of, stolen childhood all of that- because of my parents, mainly. (hell even the bullying at school - in primary school it apparently started bc of gossips about why my eldest sister ran away from home, and in middle school it was first bc my parents insisted on sending me to private school where i was an outcast. which then had me truly embrassing the outcast persona that had made it impossible for me to be at peace in the two others middle schools i went to. highschool saved my social life tbh).

i think it's therapy and recovery that is making me shift the blame and feel so angry at them. so bitter. and suddenly i see in an innocent kid show a "what could have been". same starting personality, different people to channel this.

and this is. frustrating.

but it makes me love it even more. idk if its driving anything else than ressentment but at least for the time of an episode I'm in a bubble of a.lternative universe where i can forget about my life and feel satisfied at once.

like finding a piece of myself that i deliberately broke and burried to never think about it again, and realize far later how it missed to the whole, and how damaged this piece is now, but still is.

and there is something incredibly healing about that. i would never have thought there would be this much healing out of this anger and yet satisfaction. what a strange feeling.

fiction is funny that way. the things people can get out of it to deal with their own psyche are so different one person to the next.

it's just so weird for me to go from "i relate to the horrors this character went through" to "and fuck those horrors. let me think about what could have been if this didnt happen."

even moreso knowing i had this piece of fiction before and didnt approach it that way. there's a time and a mindset for everything. apparently now was the best mindset for me huh

.......

so ye apparently i cant like something like a normal person and have to go on about how it connects to my deeply rooted traumas lmao.

anyway it's been eating me up for weeks now and it's 4:45am i have absolutly no impulse holding me back. if you sat through this piece of work im sorry. just needed it to get it out of my chest.

i'll go back to hugging my cheap-yet-lifesaving c.laire's l.adybug pillow now

good night o/

#ichapersonal

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blackaquokat · 6 years

Note

Iv datective friends to romance

iv) Somewhere along the way of getting into bar fights together, staying up allnight with movie marathons, other friendship things, I’ve fallen in love withyou but oh my god this could ruin EVERYTHING

For @dontworryaboutanything

So, inwriting this prompt, I’ve realized this is exactly the missing piece I need forpart of my DAtective series, ‘Law and Disorder’ and here we are! If you wish toknow the origin of this pairing, I shall direct your attention to how theymet inthis series. This work also foreshadows the next installment.

Oo00oO

Abe has no idea when it began.

Not the friendship, obviously. He will forever remember thatfirst meeting at the DA’s office, the way his lawyer friend took to the case likea shark to its prey. Then later, when the two of them were supposed to rejoice a job well-done, their close-minded asshole ofa coworker decided to ruin the celebration.

Although it wasn’t sobad. Their outing did end with a rather lovely sunset.

Since then, Abe has outright searched for reasons to spendtime with them in between cases. Advice on how to talk to a victim, checking inon them at home when appropriate, and sometimes just popping by without awarning because old habits die hard and he’s not so great at personalboundaries.

They haven’t kicked him out yet though, so Abe considers thata good sign. They’ve even taken initiative and dragged him to a few films,invited him out for drinks, and taken him to the pier again to watch thesunset.

He doesn’t even understand why he’s so intent to be around them. They’re easily annoyed,reticent, and not friendly at all,not in the typical sense anyway.

But then, maybe that’s it.

They aren’t typical. And neither is he.

True, the two of them are very different kinds of different, but hey, Abe likes to think that’sexactly why he’s drawn to them. The thrill of finding a kindred spirit willdwindle eventually, but he’ll drag it out as long as he can and then they’llboth move on to being mere acquaintances.

Which is what brings him to his current situation.

They’ve just completed their second successful case together,and rather than go to the pub, he drags them to the fair taking place in thecity.

“What part of ‘I really do not like crowds’ do you notunderstand, Lincoln?” they growl as he drags them by the hand down the street.

“What part of ‘Just trust me’ do you not understand?”

“Last time you said that, it was about the fact that you licked a corpse’s fingers beforeforensics could look it over.”

“Don’t start spouting logic, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

“You told me this in the courtroom.”

“Details, details, you’re still coming with me.”

Abe ignores the groan, because they’re only a few blocks awaynow.

“Abe, I appreciate that you’re trying to get me out of myoffice more, but I’m exhausted. Ijust want to go home and take a nap—”

They cut off when Abe pulls them to the entrance to the fair,staring wide-eyed at the bright lights everywhere, the countless tents andrides. The air smells of cigar smoke and fried food. Aggressively cheerfulmusic is played via strategically placed radios.

More importantly, however, there are a rather minisculenumber of people taking part in the festivities.

“Where…where is everyone?” they ask, looking at him withhesitant excitement.

“It’s the last day of the fair,” Abe answers. “It alsohappens to be Sunday, so everyone is at church right now. No lines, not toomany screaming kids, no risk of someone bumping into you and sending your foodeverywhere.”

“Abe that happened once!”they defend. “It’s not my fault you can’t watch where you’re going.”

“I could say the same about you.”

They laugh, making an enchanting sound that sends a jolt ofelectricity through his chest. “Anyway, um, the peanut vendor is over there, Ibelieve…” he mutters.

The pair spends a good two hours at the fair, sharing a bagof peanuts, making fun of the people looking at them with judging eyes, andtrying out a handful of the games offered. Oddly enough, Abe’s companion dominates the sharpshooter tent.

“You never told me you know how to use a gun,” Abe mentions.

They shrug. “It never came up. Is it really so surprising?”

“Not really, no.” Whey they glance at him, he explains, “Youdid tell me both of your parents were in the military. But, honestly, mostpeople just dissolve on the spot when you turn your Angry Eyes on, so youknowing how to shoot a gun doesn’t seem like much of a stretch.”

The corner of their lips quirk upward, and Abe suddenlynotices that they have dimples. Why is he just noticing that now? Why does that little detail make his chest thump faster?

Matter of fact, this entire evening has been an exercise in notstaring at them for too long, because damn it, this is a side of them he hasn’tseen yet. This utter delight, a smile bright as the moon, eyes lit up likefireworks, Abe wouldn’t be surprised if they started glowing of all things.

“I can’t believe you remembered that about my parents…” Theylook around some more before seeing, to his dismay, the Ferris wheel. “I haven’tridden a Ferris wheel in years.” Theystart heading in that direction and Abe moves with them.

They’re about to get on when they notice he hasn’t tried tojoin. “You’re not coming?”

“Uh…well…nah, I don’t…” Abe clears his throat. “Not too big afan of Ferris wheels. You go on ahead.” He shoves the last of the peanuts inhis mouth before he says anything incriminating.

They gaze at him a moment longer and he just prays they don’t read too much into hiswords. “Alright.” As they enter the ride, they turn back to him with a smirk. “Foryour information, if I could make people dissolve with my ‘Angry Eyes,’ therewould be four people left at the DA’s office, including myself.”

Abe chuckles so hard he nearly chokes on the peanuts.

After that ride, he walks them home in silence, which isuncharacteristic for him, but not so much for them. Normally their strollstogether involve him ranting about a case or his fellow officers while they nodin sympathy and occasionally throw in a complaint about their own coworkers.

This time the silence feels…different. If he didn’t know anybetter, he’d think they might have something they wish to talk about.

“Thanks,” they eventually say. “Thanks for, um, bringing mealong.”

“Not at all,” he answers. “These sorts of events aren’treally fun to take part in solo anyway—”

“I’m not done,” they interrupt. They take in a deep breathand roll their shoulders. “I’ve had exactly onefriend in my entire life. Due to our current career paths, we haven’t been ableto see each other as much, so I’ve been a little…lonelier than normal. I guess what I’m saying is…it’s nice to haveanother friend and not feel like I’m, um…too strange to be around.”

Abe’s mouth opens and shuts. What the hell is he supposed tosay to that? How does one respond to the realization that you’re one of two ofthe only acquaintances a kick-ass, emotionally distant ADA has?

Whether he would have found a response or not, Abe will neverknow, because they hurry to fill the awkward quiet with, “Also, the DA calledme into his office earlier today and said he planned on retiring early nextyear.”

It takes Abe longer than it should to switch gears. “Oh, um…that’sinteresting. Why would he tell you?”

They bite their lip, almost like they’re trying not to smile.The two of them stop walking. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you this…he basicallytold me that if I was interesting in being the DA, he would back me in aheartbeat.”

Abe swings around to face them, eyes bulging from his head. “I-you’reshitting me??!!”

“I had to pinch myself to keep from leaping with joy.”

He can’t help it. He grabs them into a hug and actually spins them around a few times beforesetting them back down, both of them laughing in joy as they start moving oncemore. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have been doing something farmore high class, like eating at a fancy restaurant or crashing a prom—”

“No, I hate big fusses, you know that,” they dismiss. “I just…Ireally wanted to tell someone. I mean, obviously this isn’t a guarantee. He’sgoing to announce his upcoming retirement soon, so I really need to buckle downand get started on a campaign. I’ve built a reputation in the community andmade a few public statements about community outreach, but I don’t exactly havefunds—”

“Hey, all of that will work out,” Abe interrupts. He’s still grinninglike an idiot until a thought occurs to him and it disappears. “I guess thismeans you’ll be pretty busy for a while, huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant,but he doesn’t think it works. Much as he’s been expecting this relationship todie down, he doesn’t want it to do so this soon.

They give him a strange look as they stop walking again. Aberealizes they’ve reached their home.

“I won’t be too busy to spend time with my favoritedetective,” they assert in a determined tone. “Not when he still owes me aFerris wheel ride.”

A nervous chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Uh…yeah, yeah,definitely…”

It’s time for them to part ways, but Abe is suddenly overwhelmedwith the thought that he should do somethingbefore the night officially ends. But what?A handshake? A hug? The thought of kissing them flashes through his headjust long enough to make his face turn beet red. He desperately hopes it’s darkenough under his cap that they don’t notice.

“Well…I had a lot of fun tonight, Abe,” they eventually say. “Thanksagain. I’ll see you again soon, alright?”

It takes three gulps to actually force a sentence out of hisdry throat. “Absolutely. Have a good night.”

When they finally entire their house, Abe stares at the doorfor the longest time, feeling like a total buffoon, before cursing to himself andhurrying down the street.

He never looks back, so he doesn’t see the attorney part theshades a hint to watch him leave, a smile tugging at their cheeks.

Oo00oO

The months pass and, unfortunately, Abe and the attorney’s timespent together shrinks a rather significant amount, what with Abe’s suddencaseload and them taking on more and more court cases to further solidify theirreputation.

They make time to leave him notes though, at his doorstep,especially if weeks go by without them seeing each other. He starts doing so inreturn, though not as often, he’s ashamed to say. He’s still awfully shook upby that night, the way they looked under the porchlights and how the thought ofkissing them actually crossed hismind.

Now that it’s happened once, it’s been happening more andmore often lately.

Abe will look over a case and notice a quirky detail, whichhe then wants to share with his friend, butthen those thoughts dissolve into definitelynot friendly thoughts and he’ll endup spilling his coffee on his lap. These sorts of incidents have happened, invarious ways, more than he’d care to admit.

Damn them. This is their fault. He’s never been this distracted byanyone except three of his pastpartners, and look at how those turnedout.

He just…he can’t.

Not again.

And so time goes on in this cycle of missed calls and lettersonly sometimes answered. Before either knows it, the DA retires, gives a glowing endorsement to Abe’s favoriteattorney, and it’s only a month later that they’re elected into office by an overwhelmingmajority.

Abe wishes he could say that he was at the celebration whenthe news hit, but he was seeing someone about a new case.

His old friend Mark had finallycontacted him again, after almost two years of complete silence. Their meetingended up lasting several hours, both catching up on the latest personal events(he suspects Mark hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about why he’s been sounreachable) and discussing what Mark wanted Abe to do for him. It turns out tobe a simple recon case: check out the guests and employees for an upcomingparty Mark is throwing. Nothing too out of the ordinary, aside from the Mayor,of all people, being included in that list.

But when he returns to his car and switches on the radio, hehears the results of the election.

At first, Abe lets out a whooping cheer in the confines ofhis car. He is so proud. They’veworked so hard for this, fighting for justice in the courtroom and againstprejudice in their own office…

Simultaneously, however,he felt this awful guilt gather inthe pit of his stomach at the realization that his friend had won a positionthey’ve been struggling to reach for so long and Abe wasn’t there to celebrate with them.

So now, with these thoughts eroding his mind, he leans hishead back against the seat of his car and makes a new resolution.

Abe will finish this case for Mark, check out these peoplelike he wants.

Then…then he’ll make it up to the new DA, somehow.

For the moment, he needs space to clear his head. Otherwise, he’llruin the best thing in his life.

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @beereblogsstuff , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @musical-jim , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @cosmic–frappucino , @wkm-detective-abe-squad

Sendme a prompt for Detective Abe/DA, Damien/DA, Actor!Mark/DA!

#datective #wkm #y/n district attorney #abe the detective #kat writes #law and disorder #prompts for kat

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overbakedone · 6 years

Text

this is the first time i've ever started writing my thoughts and feelings anywhere before. this is not easy.

instead of writing things and then deleting it all because its not good enough or it sounds stupid i'm just going to write it now and stop backspacing. i guess i should start with where i am in life right now so there is some perspective.

im 25, im a bakers apprentice, i live with my parents, i have a girlfriend, lets call her ‘C’ who for the first time feels right to me despite everything, i barely have any friends, they don't ever want to see me, i don't have much time in my life right now, i work all night and struggle to fit sleep into my schedule. but things are really the best they have ever been for me. i just started an AFL 9′s competition, weird i usually have no confidence going into these things and will either quit after the first practice or not even show up, i really kinda enjoyed it and am excited for next week.

i've wanted to start writing anything for a few months now, i guess now i have some time. time is so fucked up, i wish there was more of it, i wish i could sleep without wasting my day, i wish i didn't have to compromise sleep for everything but i do, i guess its part of being a baker, its a job i am loving and i think i've found my life passion but it has its ups and downs. my partner C expects a lot of my time i guess, she can be very needy at times, demanding almost, sometimes i feel pressured by her to sacrifice my sleep, personal plans and hobbies and interests for her, but i know what she feels, she wants the same thing i do. she has problems making friends, or keeping friends, she feels isolated and alone, and she wants my companionship, and i want that too and despite anything i feel in the moment i always feel happy about her at the end of the day.

i should be grateful for the relationship i am in right now, i really should be grateful for a lot of stuff, my parents for allowing me to stay here still, being so supportive and also allowing and accepting of me and really tolerant of the shit i do. ok so i do smoke week every day right so that's already something to do at home that's difficult, i'm pretty sure they know and don't care or even agree that my life has been better since i started smoking, fuck i used to be on antidepressants, i took one every day at a certain time, it made me feel a bit better, ok sounds just like smoking right, expect when i didn't take this pill i got nausea, headaches, severe episodes of depression, i couldn't eat my appetite was so fucked up i was eating one meal a day and it was like a piece of bread or takeaway food. since the smoking started i've found some actual passion in life, i don't feel like a useless number anymore i guess.

one of the things on my mind always is my friends, since i was in highschool i havent really had a group of friends, i feel like i am a social person but then when it comes to it i feel like i just get burned. a lot of my old friends turned out to be secretly hating me and not wanting me around, some sort of pity friendship, i was an asshole in my time and honestly was not a good friend myself, do you pay for the dumb shit you do as a teenager, the people you fuck over go from your life completely yet new people you meet do the same things to you like they know. i had/have a long term best friend, J, we had been mates for years, we worked at my old job dominoes together for a bit, and kinda hung out a few times, but not until we got into PC gaming together did we form a bond. after that we would chat every day, play games together, watch the footy together, go places even though he lived across the city from me. one thing that changed massively in my life was i quit drinking alcohol, and then i felt like all my friends both disagree with my choice and resent me for it, like for some reason i have to take the same drugs they are taking at that time to be their friends. so J has just grown more and more distant, i get that we are older now, we both have partners, jobs that take a lot of our time, but then when we hang out or talk he seems disinterested, more interested with his friends that i introduced him to (from our discord server) and has seemingly replaced me, none of these guys i really like at all, in fact the only one of the new group i like is the one girl in it because she actually has interesting things to say.

fuck that was a paragraph, i guess i should talk about alcohol.

alcohol has fucked up my life, i cant repair the mistakes and stupid things i did while drinking alcohol, so they are there, i guess its just talking about it left. to start off, when i drink alcohol i have a hard time finding my limit, i feel like i swing from nothing to completely blacked out, puking, sobbing and basically hating myself very quick, i feel sick for days after drinking, barely able to eat, leave bed, move, i feel so nauseous and tired, its so fucked up what it does to your body, but oh your mind is even worse. i've broken off relationships, cheated, threatened people, gotten into fights, brawls, got my arm broken, hurt myself repeatedly, gotten arrested and a criminal record that may prevent me from going to canada next year, and is currently delaying booking flights, ive missed work, shown up drunk same clothes no shower to work, but the main thing that alcohol does to me is makes me sad. alcohol makes me so fucking sad, it makes me reach into the deepest pits i can think of and brings out all the emotions that are in there, my ex being the main one. every time i used to drink id think of her, call her, text her, go on her facebook, look up her instagram her twitter, fuck it drive my car to her house to see if her cars there like that does anything or means anything just fucking alcohol is so stupid. i never want to feel like that again, i never want to sabotage my life, sabotage and self destruct my relationships, but i guess losing my friends is the thing i have to take in consideration. australia is a fucked up place, where drinking heavily is the social norm and if you don't get fucked up or even have a beer with mates you're a loser.

i just want a deep connection with my friends. when i was in newcastle with my partner, i met her friends there that she had been living with, despite the fucked up things that happened to her there, she lost a lot of friends herself and a long time friend, had trouble finding new ones, trouble fitting in, the friends she had there were the most honest and truly welcoming, connecting people ive met, and i miss that. i miss having a friend you can just, go over to their place, sit around for 3-4 hours talking shit, laughing, listening to music, relaxing and sharing stories and shit. weird that people can have such an effect on you in a short time. the life i live here is full of making plans, only for them to be cancelled, inviting friends over, for nobody to show up, cancelled plans all the fucking time, i've never been asked to just come over and chill, never its always some group thing that i'm invited to as well. i even try talking to them about this, i told a group of girl friends i have, i miss you all and haven't seen you in so long, we need to have a casual hangout, and the message was almost completely ignored, i asked them all to come to mind to watch the grand final, the house was free, i got a big projector screen, big comfy couch, live central right in the middle of everyone, nobody even replied or brought it up again, yet the second someone else that lives in the far corners of perth brought it up everyone started chatting about their plan to go. so if that's not my friends making it obvious they don't want to see me, they only include me then thats fucked up. i don't know what to say, this happens all the time, my 21st birthday i invited 65 people, and less than 15 people showed up. its hard to keep trying, always trying, i always try to make social events, i always ask friends what they are doing, when they can see me, make plans, they get cancelled, they are busy, they say they're coming then don't show up, most of the time i never hear a word too, they just dont show and don't even apologize, is that a fair thing to do, yeah sometimes i dont go to my friends events, i'm too fucking tired or just don't feel like going, somethings come up, i tell them straight away i cant make it i'm sorry this has come up, yet i don't get the same courtesy.

am i an unlikable person

the guys at work seem to like me, so i started a baking apprenticeship, basically i started watching great british bake off and picked it up as a hobby, making cakes and stuff, actually i should go back. so i used to work in some shitty small software company in the city, 9-5, peak hour traffic, office drama, workplace bullies, understaffed, overworked, red tape and bullshit everywhere, i quit after 2.5 years for mental health reasons, i made a lot of money but had to move on, so i spent a year off , it was only supposed to be a few months, go on a holiday road trip with my then partner, S, she broke up with me via a text message right after eagles lost to melbourne at home, basically the footy game was more disappointing, we had a shit relationship, i think i resented her, i cheated on her, yeah i'm an awful person and deserve everything, she was an emotionally manipulative person, terrified of her own body and sex, tried to dominate my life and change me, im glad we broke up. so i stayed unemployed for a long time, over a year, barely looking, until i found this baking apprenticeship, not only did i apply for the job and write a completely custom cover letter (im so fucking lazy i usually close a job application the second it requires anything more than an apply button) AND i called back a few weeks later when i heard nothing, well turns out that call landed me the job, the apprentice they hired instead of me was useless, had no passion and was a slow worker. so i got the job, and basically have been killing it ever since, i get a lot of praise at work (lots of criticism too) baking is one of those things that takes time, its all about time, so i got a lot to learn but i am actually confident once in my life, holy shit i have a job i like and am good at. is this the dream?> lol

so today i started writing my feelings down, and its kinda felt good, but i'm exhausted now, and my fingers hurt, so this is the end of my first post, i hope nobody reads it, its really just for me but i don't know.

thanks for listening i guess

#self #baking #life #thoughts

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novella12nite · 7 years

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Only Us

@ghostchild-whelp-dipstick-spook , @mlsecretsanta

Merry Christmas Spooky I’m your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this Mutants AU fic I made. Your blog is full of superheroes so I wanted to do some superpower hurt/comfort. If you have an ao3 account lmk I’d like to gift it to you!

Read it here too: ao3

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Adrien went straight the restroom after Chloe spilled her drink on his shirt. She had offered to send his shirt to the cleaners, but he turned down the offer saying he would wash it off himself. He needed a break from the party anyway.

After coming to the academy he could almost say he was a different person now. No longer was he the new student with a mysterious gift. The rumors about his powers being unstable ostracized him at first, but thanks to Nino, who helped him with the transition into school, he was able to make new friends. The class party was going great but for some reason, in the back of his mind, he had a feeling that it was only temporary.

He stared at his reflection for some time. When he grinned he counted the lines that formed at the edge of his eyes. There really was nothing he could do but grin and bear it. His headmaster tried to vouch for him but the council had declined. They had decided it was safer Adrien remain in the Academy until they could properly claim his powers are stable. He was not sure what more proof he could offer, he thought he was getting better at school compared to being trained at home.Before he came to the Academy he could barely hold a glass, he can pick it up put down and drink from it. His father had sided with the council as well; Adrien sighed taking off his black gloves. His hands looked normal, but he knew if he ever came in direct contact with any object it would fall apart into ashes. The door opened and Adrien turned to see another person in dire need of the restroom.

“Marinette?”

She looked up clearly frazzled “A-Adrien! O-Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! The uh door was unlocked and I thought no one was, I’m just going to leave,” As she inched her way to the exit, Adrien noticed that she hid her right arm behind her back.

“Wait! Marinette, what’s wrong with your hand?”

“It’s um- stuck.” She stated.

Adrien scratched his head in confusion. “Your hand is stuck in your purse?”

“Actually it's stuck in another dimension, that is inside my purse.” She clarified.

That’s right, Marinette Dupain-Cheng his classmate had her hand submerged in another dimension. It was her gift. He had seen her use it dozens of times in school and he like many others were in awe of it. She could create pocket-size dimensions and store various objects that re-materialize when she pulls them out. He heard his other classmate Alya call her a “modern Mary Poppins” much to his friend’s dismay. Marinette is one of the nicest people in his class, she always there to help others and was recently elected class president. She is also well known for being rather clumsy and gets fluster easily so this was not new.

His hand shot up covering his mouth, trying not to laugh. The annoyance on her face only made her look cuter.

“Hey, it’s not funny” She pouted.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien smirked, he wasn’t going to let an opportunity go to waste.

“Don’t you dare-“

“Do you need a hand, Marinette?”

Marinette glared at him, annoyed. he chuckled at his own brilliant pun as he put his gloves back on.

“I’ll get one of the teachers to help you right now.” He stood up walking towards the door.

“No!” She cried out, “Please can we just keep this between us? I wasn’t supposed to…”

She didn’t finish, using her free hand to cover her mouth. He looked at her confused but decided to ignore it.

“Ok then, what do you want me to do?”

“Let me think.” Marinette pulled her purse inside out, her hand half submerged in what looked like another plane of existence.

“Can you grab my waist? If I just pull my hand out, the tear will close ”

Adrien hovered over her, “is this ok?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, almost hugging her from behind. There were very close. He hoped he didn’t have any bad breath.

“On my count. 1, 2, 3!”

Adrien lifted her off her feet, and with both of them pulling her, she was able to successfully release her hand, causing both of them to fall backward. The portal lingered for a moment and then vanished.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry!”

“Yeah, it’s fine Marinette,” Adrien chuckled. “I have a hard head.”

Marinette checked him, trying to make sure she did not just injure her crush. She could not believe she just fell back on Adrien! He insisted he was okay but wanted to sit for awhile in the bathroom before rejoining the party festivities. She accepted the invitation and they sat together on a nearby bench in the hallway.

“You think they’ll look for us?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Probably not, Alya and Nino are most likely doing couple stuff.”

Adrien laughed. The sound of his voice made her heart leap out of her chest. She wondered: was there ever a moment just the two of them? All day she had been trying to get a chance to speak to with him alone. Unfortunately, there was never a moment alone, especially with Chloe in the picture. She had this plan to give him a present but no thanks to her portal that has vanished, it was most likely the present would be lost forever. Perhaps Alya was right about just talking to him would be enough. Now that they were finally together, she was nervous about how to go about what she needed to share with him. They sat in comfortable in silence.

“I can not thank you enough for your help.” She finally said.

“Save me a slice of cake, I saw you brought one in earlier.” He suggested with a toothy grin.

“Kim ate the last slice, unfortunately. But I-I can bake you one!” She blurted out.

She saw his cheeks bloom red. “Really?”

She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. For a split second, it looked like he was going to inch closer and hug her. He remained at a respectful distance, though, she looked at both his hands that were planted firmly on the bench.

“Adrien, can I ask you something?” He hummed. He looked like he was in a good mood; she’d hate to ruin it by being privy, but she was curious.

“Does it hurt? Your hands I mean…”

He nodded. “A little bit. Things turn black or crumble when I touch them, there are only side effects though, nothing too serious.” He placed them up in arms’ length so she could see them from a distance as well.

She did not speak, unsure of how to respond, so he continued.

“Don’t tell anyone, but they denied my request to go home,” he babbled on. “Headmaster said it was ok, but my father said I would be safer if I stayed here in school.”

Marinette’s eyes were blown wide; she tore away from his gaze and looked straight on. She did not expect such an honest answer.

“Marinette, I think he’s afraid of me.” His voice cracked, “there’s no other explanation for why he would not want me to come home.”

“Adrien I do not-

“It’s ok, I’m okay.” He shook his head vigorously, “I would be scared of me too.”

Marinette did not believe that. She refused to.In fact, she felt more secure with Adrien than with anyone else. He looked at her like she was a mad woman. She did not realize she said that last part aloud.

“Let me elaborate; Adrien you have the most control with your gift out of everyone in our class. You know how to control your powers. While mine are unpredictable, I lose things, I summon stuff I don’t know what use I have for them. I have no control.” She looked at him, eyes filled with tears.

She reached over to take his hand. He didn’t grab it, but he didn’t move it away either. His expression was unreadable.

“What I’m trying to say, or least what I’ve been trying to get out all night is that you have a friend staying with you this holiday break.” She wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, “I’m not allowed to go home as well.”

She leaned back on the wall. The two of them sat there in silence, without words. Adrien beckoned her to lean against her shoulder.

“Well look at us, two mutants with unstable abilities who can’t go home for Christmas.”

“The world’s just not ready for us.” She answered in a low voice.

“Well, when we are ready will make an unstoppable duo.” He smiled at her, “Until then, m’lady do you happen to have any plans this Christmas?”

She wiped her eyes breaking into a smile, “Hmm I was planning to sleep until noon but after that, I have no appointments, Monsieur Agreste.”

“Splendid! I was wondering if you would like to play Ultimate Mecha Strike IV? I’ll pick you up at half past twelve.”

“Oh, Of course, but I need to bake a cake at four, for a party of two.” She played along, “I could use an extra hand. Would you like to help?” She saw his eyes shine with delight.

“You had me at cake.” He answered.

Adrien did not realize he had a crush on Marinette until New Year’s Eve. Both of them were sitting in the blanket fort they had made in the common room.

Everyone went home for break the next day, so they had the entire dormitory to themselves. They rearranged the furniture in the hallways and walked around wearing high-knee socks. Marinette challenged him to some sort of “sock-slide race.” They spent hours sliding across the empty dorm hallways. To fill up the silence, Marinette blasted Christmas music. They watched movies, played video games, baked a cake, and Marinette even taught him how to bead bracelets. They had exchanged them as presents Christmas morning.

He felt whole when he was with her like he could interact freely with stuff without destroying them. He figured she felt the same as well like she had a clearer head when she materialized objects. They supported each other and confided in one another. Adrien never felt like he could open so much about himself to another person in just days of spending time together.

Maybe it was the fairy lights they stringed up which made the mood more romantic, the way she hugged him at midnight it felt warm and he wanted to give one back in return. He could hear a small voice inside him reasoning with him. She’s amazing, she’s sweet, she’s beautiful, you are in love with her.

A/N

Marinette has dimensional storage powers: store anything in a fold of dimension/space and re-materialize. (Marinette can’t control her powers fully. She can’t predict what she can materialize and a majority of the stuff she stores she ends up losing. She also can’t close these tears so she temporarily sews them up and ties objects with string) Marinette has public acceptance but not control.

Adrien the power to destroy anything he touches. (is trained to control but is still reserved and wary around people even if their like him raised his entire life to be cautious) Adrien has control but not the public’s acceptance

#mlsecretsanta 2k17 #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #my fic

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thorne93 · 7 years

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The Right Path (Part 4)

Prompt: (From request) Hi! I was wondering, would you it be okay to request a Charles Xavier x telepath!reader? Where they have a mind link since their ability first showed up and so they already know each other even before theyve actually met and then he finds her when he first uses Cerebo and he and Erik go to her first?? Its an idea ive had for a while, but im not nearly an amazing writer like you!

Word Count: 2518

Warning: language (maybe??), child abuse, mental and physical abuse, depression…

Note: I LOVED this request. Thank you for sending it in. I am so sorry it took so long to write. I hope I did it justice dear. Plus, thank you for the super sweet note ; ) Beta’d by none other than @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling

James McAvoy: @bohemianrhapsody86 @lenawiinchester

Charles Xavier: @bohemianrhapsody86 @lenawiinchester

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So who else have you all recruited?” you asked curiously.

“So far, just you,” Charles informed, his eyes flashing to your reflection in the rearview mirror. “We have many more though that we’re going to be meeting with. Until we gather them all, you’ll be with my friend Raven.”

Disappointment settled on your heart as you sat back and your eyes cast to the floor. You didn’t wait four years for your mystery dream man to show up just to get punted off to his sister.

“Oh, okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, but the dejection had injected itself into the statement.

“Or,” Charles began again, dragging the word out, “you could join us? Meet all the new recruits.”

Your face lit up several degrees. “Yes. Whatever gets me to stay around you,” you admitted. In a quieter voice, you added, “I only trust you…”

“That’s fair,” Charles stated.

“So, Y/N, you’re a telepath,” Erik questioned over his shoulder.

“It would appear so,” you breathed, a little excited to have a name to your power.

“So can you do everything Charles can or are you different?” he asked.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I can hear people’s thoughts and can’t get it to stop. It’s like I’m tuned into a hundred radio stations all at once,” you informed. “What all can you do Charles?” you asked curiously, now that Erik made the statement.

“Alright, alright,” Charles delicately admonished. “Poor Y/N doesn’t need an interrogation. She’s been through quite enough,” he ordered softly.

“No...I don’t mind. I’ve never had anyone to talk to about this. The only people who ever knew were my parents and they...didn’t accept me. I would love to talk to you all about this.”

Erik looked back to the driver. “See? She’d love to talk about it!” he boasted, clearly proud of himself. “So how far can you reach?”

“I think about half a mile…” You closed your eyes and let your mind relax to hear the furthest mind you could. “The man in that red and brown Buick,” you said pointing. “Anything beyond him I can’t hear,” you informed with a half smile. “How about you, Erik? What can you do with metal?” you questioned innocently.

Erik’s face twisted to a mask of question before realization took over. He gave a small nod then smiled and said, “I’m not too sure yet. I can move just about any object big or small.”

“Like a tank?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“What about the metal from a bobby pin?” you asked with a coy grin.

In two seconds, a bobby pin was in Erik’s hand.

“Would you like this back?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eye.

You felt your hair, and yep - a pin to pin your sides back was gone. You laughed lightly. “That’s amazing,” you acknowledged sweetly before reaching forward to retrieve your pin and fix your hair.

“That’s a shame. You looked so great with your hair down,” Erik noted with a dreamy look on his face that made you blush like a madwoman.

“Uh...Uh..Thank you,” you quietly said.

Charles gripped the steering wheel a little harder, his knuckles turning white but you didn’t see that due to staring into Erik’s eyes and getting absolutely lost in them.

A rough clearing of the throat broke the trance you two had.

“Uh, Y/N, I thought you’d be interested to know that we’re going to work on making it so your gift is more controllable,” Charles stated suddenly with a nod. “I feel that you and I should be able to get a great deal done together.”

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Absolutely.”

“Will I be able to do everything you can?” you asked quietly, so quietly, in fact you weren’t sure they heard you.

“Perhaps,” Charles granted after a moment of thinking. You tried very hard not to invade either of their minds but you and Charles were very much linked. You could hear every thought he had but you tried to tune it out like a radio in the background, but it was almost as if the radio was on full blast and both speakers were beside your ears.

It was hard to ignore.

“With training, yes, you should be able to do most of what I can do,” he stated.

“And you can stop time, project yourself...make people do what you want…” you listed, the abilities he had were just in your mind. You weren’t sure if he had thought about them or if you simply knew what he could do, but you just knew.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s right. Can you read my mind right now?”

“I can read everyone’s mind....all the time,” you sadly informed, your eyes drifting to the car window as you watched the scenery blur by.

“That can’t have been easy,” Erik commented softly while he stared at you.

You shrugged and looked back to him with pained eyes. “It’s not the reading the mind that hurts...it’s the reaction to the ability to be able to. For seventeen years, I was a normal girl. I went to school, got decent grades, had friends...And then one day, I get this totally groovy ability, right? I can read minds. I’m suddenly...different. In my mind, this is a good thing. I’m finally different from all the other girls on my block or in my school…” You stopped, recalling the first time you discovered your power. “But then suddenly...It’s not as cool as I think it is, you know?” you asked rhetorically, your eyes drifting up to his. “My parents thought I was possessed, my friends saw me as a reclusive freak, neighbors whispered about me. This power that I suddenly had, that I was thrilled for...instantly became the reason for me being an outcast. It did the opposite of what I wanted. Instead of being cool and powerful, I just heard judgement, ridicule, hatred, cruelty wherever I went. Even if it wasn’t for me, it was for people around me…” You shrugged again, laughing quietly without humor. “I just….I had always wanted to be different, to be special, but when I got my wish I lost everything else.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik offered after some time passed and no one had said anything.

You smiled. “It’s fine. If they can’t accept me for who I am, I don’t need them in my life,” you explained. “I don’t blame the power. It isn’t the telepathy’s fault that my family and friends hated me.”

“You’re very brave for feeling that way,” Charles commended sweetly. “A lot of people wouldn’t see it the way you do.”

You nodded and laughed again. “I know….That’s what the sad part is.” After a moment, you piped up again, a cheerier tone in your voice. “It’s not all bad though. If I didn’t hear all the bad things people think, I wouldn't understand that lots of people are going through their own trials. People are usually only nasty to other people because they can’t deal with what’s being thrown at them. It’s given me the gift of compassion.”

The car seemed to be statically charged with sorrow and tension.

You took a deep breath. “Well enough about me. Charles, when did your powers come about?” you asked, changing subjects to get to know the man you had desperately yearned for for years now.

-----------------------------------------------

After a few days and driving all over the east coast, Charles and Erik finally finished their recruiting process. Now the group of the recruits they had gathered were in a room at the CIA. You hadn’t been told much except to stop this Shaw man, but none of you knew exactly how you’d be helpful.

While the other’s carried on and talked about themselves, you couldn’t help but focus on Charles, thinking of all the things you agreed on or loved. It turned out that you two shared more in common than just your mutation. You loved the same books, movies, music, even shared political views, though you didn’t touch on them too much.

But on the other hand, you and Erik seemed to get along swimmingly as well. It was peculiar. He was dashing, charming, and kind. You couldn’t help but feel a pull to him as well, after all, he’d been tormented for his powers just as you had been. That alone seemed to bond you two.

The team of recruits had been prattling on about all sorts of things but you kept to yourself in one corner, as you always did. It was easier this way. Even if these other young adults were mutants, that didn’t make them your friend. Charles and Erik, they were your friends. Charles had known you a long time, Erik shared the pain of rejection from peers, and worse. They were your allies. These people...well, being mutant didn’t make you bonded.

The girl that Charles treated like a sister suddenly spoke up and said, “We should think of code names. We're government agents now. We should have secret code names. I want to be called Mystique.”

Another boy named Sean responded, “Damn! I wanted to be called Mystique.”

She suddenly transformed herself to look exactly like him and stated, “I am way more mysterious than you.”

Everyone clapped but you merely shook your head and looked back down at the chair you were in. You knew all of their powers. To be honest, you’d been picking their brains the entire time. You tried not to do that in day to day life, but being with other mutants, you couldn’t help but be fascinated and wonder what they could do, how they thought, their story, their life. So far, they all had their fair share of being left out, being left behind. That might be why they were trying to form this brotherhood, this comradery. But you just couldn’t join in on the spirit.

They went through their powers, discussing code names.

Sean whistled and broke the glass and your old habits came back hard, reminded you of the beatings your father gave you when the slightest thing went wrong.

“No!” you suddenly shouted. Everyone turned to face you.

“You okay?” Raven asked.

“No! You just broke that. Do you know what you’ve done?” you asked in a panic.

“Relax. It’s just a window,” Raven assured.

You shook your head and turned your back to them, effectively ending the conversation. You wouldn’t be held accountable for their miscreant behavior. They went back to practically ignoring you, which was fine by you. A few more minutes passed before they were suddenly cheering the Summers boy on to perform his mutation. He stepped out of the broken window and you saw in his mind what he was going to do, the sight alarming you. You jumped up and jogged to the opening.

“Wait! Alex, don’t!” you pleaded.

“What’s the big deal?” Angel asked.

“He’s going to destroy that statue,” you informed, gesturing to the item in question.

“Big deal? We don’t know him. Go for it, Alex!” Sean encouraged.

He told everyone to get down, so you ran back to the corner, ducking and covering your head until you heard his energy whirl out and strike the bronze statue, slicing it like hot butter. They cheered but you stood up, getting more and more frustrated. They were going to cause more destruction, think it was fun, and end up getting you all in trouble - or worse. You’d spent most of your life tiptoeing around and being more than extra cautious, you wouldn’t let this group of misfits destroy that.

When they were done cheering for Alex, they turned to you.

“So what about you?” Raven asked.

“What about me?”

“What can you do?” she wondered.

“I...read minds,” you stated quietly, your arms drawn over your chest.

“So you’re like Charles,” she assessed, a sweet glimmer in her eye.

You shrugged. “Not as powerful and I can’t do everything he does.”

“Like what can’t you do?” Hank wondered.

“I can’t project myself into your mind and make you see me. I can talk to you, I can hear your thoughts, shift through memories, and maybe make you do something you weren’t going to do on your own...but I can’t practically stop time or make you forget things…”

“Make me dance,” Sean instructed with glee.

“I don’t think any sort of mutation will help that,” you teased lightly as you saw in his mind’s eye what he could do as far as dancing went. The group laughed at your witty remark.

“So what do you want your codename to be?” Raven asked excitedly.

You shrugged again. “I don’t know.” Codenames, friendship, all of this was foreign. You just wanted to help Charles and move on.

“What about Voyance?” Hank asked.

“You mean like, clairvoyance?” you questioned, liking the sound of it.

“Voyance is french for vision...so…” he said, offering a small smile.

“I like it,” you commented.

---------------------

The rest of the group continued to party and talk, nearly tearing the room down. You had nearly begged twice for them to stop. They were showing their powers off, partying, drinking, hitting each other for fun...It was a madhouse.

Suddenly, Charles mind was near yours. He wasn’t speaking to you, and you weren’t trying to hear him, but his voice stuck out to you like an old friend’s in a crowd. Your head snapped up and you heard his and Erik’s conversation. He was trying to convince Erik and the agent Moira that the group was up to the task of fighting Shaw.

They rounded the corner, to behold the sight of the kids behaving wildly. Their eyes went wide with confusion and anger.

Moira spoke first. “What're you doing? Who destroyed the statue?”

Hank quickly ratted him out and said, “It was Alex.”

Raven retorted, “No. Havok. We have to call him Havok. That's his name now. And we were thinking, you should be Professor X, and you should be Magneto.” She was pointing to the both of them.

Erik shook his head in disappointment. “Exceptional,” he sarcastically remarked.

“I expect more from you,” Charles noted. His eyes shot to yours, and you could feel him reading your mind. Probably trying to see if you had anything to do with the shenanigans. When he saw that you didn’t he spoke to you. “Y/N, come with me,” he instructed with a gesture of his head.

You hung your head a little lower as you realized he just chose you over Raven. You scurried across the room as he took your hand and helped you over the glass.

“Careful,” he softly said, his face remarkably close to yours as his striking blue eyes gazed into yours. You felt safe and happy around Charles. As if you could take on the world. As if nothing could stop you. You’d never felt that way by yourself or around anyone else. He gave you strength you never knew you had.

#the right path #Charles Xavier #charles xavier fic #charles xavier x reader #Erik Lehnsherr #erik lensherr fic

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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1102: Cry Wilderness

Cry Wilderness is, in my humble, unprofessional opinion, the worst movie of Season 11. Every other film on the list had some kind of redeeming quality. Avalanche had nice scenery. The Christmas that Almost Wasn't took a look at the weird relationship between generosity and greed during the holiday season. At the Earth's Core had Peter Cushing filling the caverns of Pellucidar with the fucks he did not give. The Beast of Hollow Mountain proved that dinosaurs really do make everything better, even boring cowboy movies. The only serious competition comes from Carnival Magic, but I'm giving the Garbage Crown to Cry Wilderness on the grounds that Carnival Magic was a bit less racist.

Last summer a boy named Paul met Bigfoot, and they became best friends – or at least, Paul became Bigfoot's coke dealer. In the autumn when Paul has returned to boarding school, he wakes up in the middle of the night to see Bigfoot standing outside his window, telling him to go find his father immediately. You don't just ignore a message like that, so Paul hitchhikes across the country to the national park where his dad works. There he learns that the park rangers have been ordered to hunt down a mysterious predator that's decimated the local wildlife. Could that be Bigfoot? Paul certainly seems to think so, and he does everything in his power to thwart the hunters' quest.

This movie's Bigfoot looks really, really stupid. Remember that episode of The Simpsons when Homer got covered in mud and moss and mistaken for Bigfoot? If you've ever wondered what that would look like in real life, this is the movie for you.

It's tempting to compare Cry Wilderness to Pod People. Both are set in the woods, have weirdly irrelevant titles, and are about a lonely child's sugar-based friendship with a furry humanoid that doesn't talk. I find, however, that Cry Wilderness reminds me more of Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders, in that it's just uncomfortable to watch. The movie feels forced, as if the actors are doing all that awkward laughing at gunpoint. The best metaphor I can think of to describe this is to draw your attention to the skin tones the makeup people used for Red Hawk and Jim – these don't look so much 'Native American' as they do 'nasty sunburn'. The whole movie is like that. Everything it aims for, it misses its marks in ways that are gross and kind of painful-looking.

Yet for all Cry Wilderness is tremendously, tooth-grindingly terrible in every possible respect, I have to say that it actually does one thing pretty well. It is better than Boggy Creek 2 at making us wonder about Bigfoot's status within the animal kingdom.

If you'll recall, in Boggy Creek 2 Lockhart spent a lot of time wondering if Bigfoot were man or beast, while events completely failed to back him up. The Bigfoot of that film stole food, defended its territory and its young, investigated new objects, and feared fire. The audience got the impression that Bigfoot was probably about as intelligent as a bear, which really isn't bad – any zookeeper will tell you bears are bright, curious animals that learn quickly. What Boggy Creek's Bigfoot was not was especially human-like, not even in the ridiculous way sometimes presented in killer animal movies, like when the creatures of Bats somehow know that attacking power lines will leave humans unable to see in the dark (more on this when I get around to Phase IV).

Cry Wilderness, on the other hand, sets Bigfoot up as an ambiguous figure right from the opening scene. When Paul describes his friendship with Bigfoot, he mentions two things the creature really likes: Coca-Cola and a radio. A lot of animals, from insects on up to great apes, like soft drinks, and for exactly the same reason humans do – namely, soda pop is full of delicious diabetes and since sugars are the easiest source of calories the brain is programmed to seek them out. One can imagine a monkey or raccoon learning to open a pop-tab can to get at the contents. That doesn't really require a lot of higher cognitive ability, just dextrous fingers. The radio, however, tells us that Bigfoot likes music. A lot of science has been done about how animals react to music, but we still tend to think of it as characteristically human and that is how it is used in Cry Wilderness. The suggestion is that a Bigfoot who enjoys listening to the chart-topping hits of 1987 can't be all beast.

Having thus established Bigfoot in this netherworld of 'neither man nor beast', the movie then goes to some trouble to keep him there. As the hunters close in, Bigfoot tries to evade them but leaves tracks and traces they can follow and makes no attempt to outsmart them, suggesting that he possesses no more than an animal's cunning. At the climax, however, he turns back to save Paul's father in an act of human-like altruism. If this movie had Lockhart narrating at us about The Creature being More Man Than Animal, it would... well, Lockhart himself would still be an insufferable jackass, but he would at least seem to have a point.

But you guys have all seen the movie, so you're just waiting for me to get to the part where Bigfoot fucking talks.

There are two scenes in which Cry Wilderness presents Bigfoot as more of a supernatural entity than the mere undiscovered primate that the History Channel has sought so long and so fruitlessly. The first is early in the movie, when Bigfoot appears outside Paul's window in the middle of the night to deliver his message in spoken, colloquial English. This is very uncomfortable, as it makes Bigfoot just a little too human. If he can talk, it becomes incredibly creepy that he's tracked a little boy down to where he sleeps. The school principal argues that this sequence was nothing but a dream and I want to agree with him. I feel better about it that way.

The second scene is at the end of the movie, when the formerly strict and skeptical principal gets a complete personality transplant and Bigfoot reappears, surrounded by deer and raccoons, to the delight of all. I want to say this is a dream, too. It seems like a piece of wish-fulfillment for Paul – he gets to prove that he's right, and the principal turns out to be not so bad after all. Unlike the previous dream sequence, however, it doesn't begin and end with Paul in bed. It is presented as something that happened in the movie's real world, as if Bigfoot appears like Bloody Mary when you say his name.

If this is so, we seem to have a third possible identity for Bigfoot, which would make him neither man nor beast, but some kind of forest spirit. This is actually not at all unprecedented as an interpretation. Folklore is full of creatures that look like furry humans and act as guardians of the woods – there's the European woodwose, the Russian leszi, and the Chinese yeren, and of course the tales told by many Salish-speaking peoples of the American west coast, which are generally treated as Bigfoot stories. Even the gorillai of Hanno the Navigator may be a version of this archetype, rather than a reference to what we now call gorillas. Such creatures are often described as tricksters or shapeshifters, and sometimes said to abduct or even eat misbehaving children.

Bigfoot as a sort of tutelary forest spirit, however, would seem to be very much at odds with Cry Wilderness' opening scene. Here we see a Bigfoot-like humanoid in a museum, labeled as a species of primitive man. This seems to offer a Bigfoot much more like the type cryptozoologists hunt for, a flesh-and-blood creature that could have its hair analyzed and its genome mapped and be placed firmly on a branch of the primate family tree. Then again, maybe this, too, is intentionally ambiguous. Maybe Cry Wilderness is telling us that we are simply not meant to know whether Bigfoot is man or beast, spirit or flesh, legend or reality, or that it can indeed be all of them at the same time. The fact that we can't tell if Paul's school encounters are dreams or not may tie into this theme.

And that is one hundred percent of what's interesting about Cry Wilderness. The rest of the movie is a lot of pointless bullshit, animal abuse, forced laughter, and boring Noble Savage stereotypes that will have your eyes rolling so hard you'll be staring yourself in the frontal lobe. Looking around tumblr, it seems that a number of MSTies with Native American ancestry were very uncomfortable with its inclusion in the new series. I kind of understand why. Some things just don't deserve a wider audience, even if that audience is going to make fun of them. A movie in which a child tells a man he's “just a dumb old Indian” and is never even reprimanded for it is arguably one of those things.

In closing, I would like to say that as a resident of the Rocky Mountain foothills, I do not believe in Bigfoot and I've never met anybody who does. I've found evidence of bears, bobcats, cougars, and porcupines in my back yard, but nary a sign of Sasquatch. Besides which, we live in an age when almost everybody has a camera on them constantly, and a near-unlimited capacity for sharing the photographs they take – if Bigfoot existed, we'd be slapping puppy ears on him in snapchat. You know we would.

#mst3k #reviews #cry wilderness #all these movies have bigfoot in them #80s #cryptid cinema

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