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bigskydreaming · 1 year

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Star Trek Picard Spoilers for episode 4, No Win Scenarios

Plz don’t pull some bullshit like Jack’s unknowingly a Changeling who replaced the real Jack but doesn’t know it himself cuz he’s like a sleeper agent or something.

I don’t THINK that’s where they’re going, whatever’s going on in his head, but I am still wary of the Star Trek Overseers’ plot points in this regard after the mess that happened with Ash in Discovery. I’m gonna be bitter about their initial approach to that for a long time and its made me gun-shy lol. LET THIS BE THE REAL JACK. I’m attached to the little asshole, I admit it.

But oooof, I KNEW that ending was coming for the flashback scene. Kudos to both Stewart and Jack’s actor in the present day scenes....you could SEE the realization on Picard’s face as he finally realized where he’s seen this kid before, and like, it was so perfectly mirrored on Jack’s face as he realized yup, he definitely just realized where he’s seen me before.

This is the type of angst I’m here for though. The second flashback Picard started answering Jack’s question with NO idea it was his son that was posing it, I was like NO JEAN-LUC DON’T DO IT, SHUT YOUR PREDICTABLE MOUTH RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU SAY SOMETHING YOU’LL END UP BEATING YOURSELF UP OVER FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.....

And then of course he said the thing. Because it was SUCH a standard stock Picard response to that sort of question....when received without any of the necessary context. Such a classic miscommunication that derailed five years father and son potentially could have spent getting to know each other and changed so much else via ripple effects....but its such a basic, understandable HUMAN error.

Of COURSE Picard would answer that way to an audience of Starfleet cadets he wanted to present a certain idea for and whom he didn’t actually OWE a genuine, truthful answer about his private life or feelings.

And of COURSE, Jack - only 18 and with a chip on his shoulder, prideful, defensive and skittish - would absolutely fall prey to confirmation bias and take Picard’s words at face value as that answer affirmed everything he suspected about his father based on his father’s very public persona....because with only stories and legends of said father to paint a picture for him in his mind, he overlooked the much more vulnerable human side Jean-Luc keeps carefully guarded.....because he’s every bit as defensive and wary of letting his guard down as his son is!

*shakes fist wrathfully at the sky* DAMN YOU CLASSIC BUT PAINFULLY EFFECTIVE MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE!

I’m extremely curious to see if they follow up on this next episode or at least at some point this season - if Jack and Jean-Luc will ACKNOWLEDGE that they had that one tentative encounter five years ago and WHY it went the way it did, or if they’ll default to powering through as each convinces themselves its in the past and doesn’t matter and it won’t change anything to bring it up at this point, so they just bumble ahead through trying to build a relationship now without ever actually addressing why it didn’t happen five years sooner.

I could see it going either way, tbh.

Oh, also I did really like that they addressed the elephant in the room that is Jack’s name. Rooting it in both Jean-Luc and Beverly’s mutual fondness for the original Jack Crusher and not letting the implications that it was some weird dig at Jean-Luc fester instead.....only way to handle that, IMO. I still think its a weird choice on the part of the writers, like you guys could have picked literally any other name and just avoided all of this entirely, but making it unambiguously clear that both Beverly and Jean-Luc see Jack’s name as an homage to a man they both valued and miss and has nothing to do with their own relationship....it works, at least.

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

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Your Person

Requested?: Yep, I’m the machine that makes all of @gingeraleluke ‘s ideas come true! Tbh, I asked her for the ideas.

Word Count: 2.3K+

Author’s Note: Tissues suggested, and it’s ok that I release this because you have Jim smut and Jim happy fluff so this is allowed thank you very much.

Warning: bitter-sweet sad angsty fluff.

-- Jealousy is an ugly feature, but it’s one Y/N just couldn’t seem to wipe away. Of course, she hadn’t always been that way, she was beautiful once. Naive, sure, but beautiful nonetheless.

Her mother would have told her she was too young to be jaded, with too much life left in her to be sad or dejected. She would have told her not to put her faith in men, because men almost always tend to let you down, and as she lay in bed that night, she knew her mother would have laughed at her, said she told her so, because she was absolutely right.

It wasn’t the first time, either. Similar events had occurred in the past to lead her to the conclusion, it wasn’t just that night. No, she had a list of incidents that kept her awake, made her swing her legs over the side of the bed and walk into her kitchen to get away from the man who lay in her bed.

It wasn’t even his fault, she thought that was what hurt most. That it was simply a cruel twist of fate for her, and a lucky one for him. He was kind and smart and funny and sweet, she was quite convinced he wouldn’t hurt a fly. And he wouldn’t rip off the bandaid because they both knew it was a low blow, that it was going to hurt her like a bitch.

He was a light sleeper, he would be awake once he felt her gone from the bed, but with the time to spare and a need for some pain relief, Y/N rummaged through her cupboards and pulled out a bottle of Prosecco from a back shelf. She had been saving it for their anniversary next week, some fancy shit her grandparents had sent her for a birthday. She thought about pulling out a glass, but with a glance back at the room, a tear ran down her cheek and she decided on drinking from the bottle.

She passed the wall clock on her way to the couch: 3:24. She sat herself on the ledge of her window, the moonlight sparkling down on the city around her, the stars in the sky seemingly reflected by the dull shine of the street lamps. The snow was settling nicely, and with Thanksgiving just gone, the cold front wasn’t unexpected. She took a swig of the bottle, the cool alcohol fizzing in her throat and urging her to couch a little. She wasn’t a frequent drinker, but at this point, now was a better time than any.

She could hear shuffling in the room over, no doubt he had felt round the bed and found it empty. He was worried about her, no doubt, she usually slept like the dead, and would be out to look for her in a few moments. In response to this theory, she reached over to her bookshelf, just an arm’s stretch from the window, and pulled out a notebook from amongst the paperbacks and textbooks.

“Y/N?” A voice called from the other room, groggy from sleep but still soft, warm, inviting. In the dark apartment, it felt like he was bringing sunshine into the cold room. She wouldn’t notice, but she had goosebumps.

“In here.” She called back, careful to keep her voice steady. Last thing she needed to do was crack and lose her nerve; he would no doubt comfort and shower her in affection to make the problem go away.

His footsteps were heavy, his hair a mess from sleep, and he shuffled through the doorway from the bedroom into the living area with a silly grin on his face: he was confused by the bottle in her hand, but perhaps celebrations were in order.

“What’s the good news?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and heading in her direction, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she took another swig.

She was building up the nerve. It would be so easy to lie, to fall back into the safety of it all and fall asleep beside him, but that wouldn’t work.

So she finally brought herself to look at her boyfriend, her Jim, and gesture from him to sit on the couch across from her.

“Shall I turn on the light?” Jim offered, a little worried now. Y/N wasn’t the quiet sort, at least not around him she wasn’t, and this behaviour was off in a major way.

She shook her head at his suggestion, knowing if he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks she wouldn’t do it.

She wouldn’t rip off the band aid.

“January 20th.” She began, taking a second to clear her throat and open up the notebook. She didn’t need it, she had the dates and actions memorised, but having it helped a little. “January 14th. During a coffee break, Jim made Pam laugh. When she shivered, he offered his sweater to her.” She read out, quickly sniffing and wiping her nose.

“Y/N, what is this?” Jim asked, but she held up a hand and he fell silent. He was too kind to interrupt: she was counting on that.

“February 14th. Asked if Valentine’s plans could be changed to include Pam. You agreed. The pair fell asleep together on your couch.” She continued. “March 30th. In the spirit of Easter, Jim let Pam paint his face as a bunny rabbit. He fed her chocolate as payment.” She voice had started to crack, and Jim went to get up and move beside her. She was quicker, standing up with her book and moving away, leaving the pair stood at opposite sides of the front room.

“Y/N…”

“June 3rd. Six month anniversary. Jim spent half the evening on the phone with Pam after an emergency occurred. You drove him to her house that night.

“July 6th. Funfair with Dunder Mifflin team, you watched him win her a teddy bear, they rode the Ferris wheel together.

“August 10th. Talking, pranks all day. Jim hugged her.” You were picking out highlights from a book full of accounts, and wiping away the tears as you read faster and faster, desperate to get it all out.

“Note to self: buy the green top Pam has, Jim seems to love it. He’s been looking at her all day. Pam is looking back.

“September 23rd. You spent more time on your double date with Jim, Pam and Fred with Fred. Jim and Pam left for karaoke. Note to self: work on confidence, Jim likes Pam’s confidence. You would never get up and sing like she does.” She was sobbing now, hyperventilating as she tried her hardest to read out the rest, not seeing that across the room Jim’s eyes were watering.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Halloween. They matched, by complete accident. Jim would dress up to match Pam. Note to self, look into Jim’s interest more. If you knew him better he would want to match with you.

“Thanksgiving. Jim invited Pam and office friends to a Friendsgiving. He spent the night with Pam.” Y/N finally stopped, looking up from the notebook so stained with tears the ink was running. She stood straight, stiff, her nose flaring as she tried to calm her emotions as Jim stood across the room with his eyes on the notebook. He couldn’t look away from it.

“You say her name in your sleep, do you know that?” She finally asked, and Jim’s eyes shot up, a hand coming to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I don’t blame you, Jim, I understand. You… you were trying to move on. You didn’t mean to hurt me, I know you would never mean to do any of this but…”

“She’s my friend, Y/N.”

“You let her keep the sweater… The sweater I bought you, Jim. Your favourite.” She whispered, throwing the notebook down on the table in a burst of rage. “FUCK! Fuck, I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” the tears were hard to contain then, and Y/N quickly found herself crumpling to the floor, caught by a pair of strong arms before she hit something solid. Jim’s arms wrapped around her, his lips pressed to her hair as he took in Y/N’s scent: chocolate and apples and rain. She smelt like autumn, smelt like the changing leaves and hot coffee and walks in the frosty air.

“Baby, Y/N please…” he pleaded, lifting her chin and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “What can I do? What can I do to make you happy again?” He begged for an answer, anything that would help.

He loved her, of course he did, and had he known she was tearing herself apart over this…

“I need you to leave, Jim…” at first, Jim wasn’t sure he heard her right, Y/N’s voice was so quiet. But she wiped her eyes and broke the hug, pulling herself up to her feet. “I need you to leave, and find Pam. I need you to be with Pam, because she’s your person and I’m not going to get in the way of you finding your person.” Y/N explained through choked sobs and hiccups, grabbing the fizz bottle and taking another swig. “And before you say some nonsense about how I’ve got it all wrong, I’ve not. I know you lo-“ the word got stuck in her throat. “I love you Jim, but you’ll never be happy with me if she’s still around.”

“That’s not true!” Jim protested, taking one of her hands in his. “Look at me, Y/N, please…”

“You’ve never looked at me that way, Jim… You look at her like you love her.” Y/N raised her voice, surprising Jim enough to pull herself away. “Tell me honestly you stopped loving her!”

And there it was, the plea that left Jim frozen, left his speechless and guilt-ridden and sent tears down both of their cheeks. Because he couldn’t lie to Y/N like that, not about something so big: he loved her, yes, but it wasn’t what he felt for Pam, it never had been.

“I’m so sorry..” Was the first thing he could manage, and Y/N just nodded, her hypothesis proven true.

“We were good, Jim… But you and Pam? You’re better. And I can’t spend the rest of my life trying to be her for you.” Y/N stated simply, Jim just nodding in defeat. “I love you, I always will-“

“I love you too Y/N.”

“This isn’t anyone’s fault Jim, ok? You didn’t do anything wrong, Pam didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did I. But I’m someone else’s person, and I need to find them like you and Pam have found yours.”

Jim pulled her into a tight hug, Y/N’s arms wrapping around him and holding him just as tight. She breathed in deep, taking in the traces of his cologne and the smell of his clean cotton pyjamas, the hint of coffee that lingered around him, and Skittles: the ones that sat on Pam’s desk.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, grasping tight to one another, remembering the feeling of being each other’s arms.

“I’m going to go into the bathroom for five minutes, clean my face, pour the alcohol down the sink because it’s actually really bad.” Y/N started, the pair sharing a tearful laugh. “And when I come out, I want you gone. I can pack the last of things up for you, bring them into the office on Monday, and we leave it at that. Stay friends, but we both move on. Okay?” Y/N asked, the smile on her face faltering. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, ripping off the band aid, breaking her own heart so Jim wouldn’t have to.

“I love you so much…” Jim whispered, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers one last time. It tasted salty from tears, but for a split second it felt like nothing was wrong, like they were each other’s people.

Y/N did as she said: she went to the bathroom and cleaned her face, poured the bottle of alcohol down the bathroom sink, and she waited until five minutes had passed. She emerged to find an empty apartment, a few lights left on in the bedroom where Jim had gotten dressed and left.

He kept his side, because a moment later she heard his car leaving the parking lot downstairs.

The silence was nice, the engulfing quiet eased the pain in her chest slightly, and Y/N wandered into his room to start emptying his drawer in her dresser, where he kept his essentials when at hers, only to find it empty.

At least he took a painful chore out of it for her.

She decided to strip and change the sheets, turn the mattress, light some candles, anything to get rid of Jim’s presence from her space. She checked her wardrobe, but he had cleared everything out… Almost.

On her vanity, amongst her bottles of perfume and makeup bags, a quarter-full bottle of Jim’s cologne sat, perched beside a note with her name on it.

She sat at her vanity, lifting the bottle to her nose and smelling the scent she had become accustomed to over that last year, then opened the note:

I hope you find your person. I love you, Jim xx

The alarm clock by her bed read 4.16. It had taken less than an hour to almost completely let go of Jim Halpert. She would keep the cologne, spray it from time to time, and when it ran out she would be able to throw it away without sadness in her heart.

Jealousy was ugly, but sacrifice was beautiful, and looking in the mirror in the lamp light of her bedroom, Y/N felt like herself for the first time in months.

And it felt better.

Tagging some folks who might need a cry after the earlier smut: @im-a-writer-right @professorkrasinski @bigdesi @gingeraleluke @random-thoughts-003 @twink-jr @leahstypewriter @dxbriksx

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert #jim halpert x y/n #sad #angst #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #john krasinski

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undignifiend · 3 years

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Some notes about Dezoka’s formative experiences; why she decided to abandon her post as a changeling and join up with the Gumm-Gumms on the frontlines, what she believes is at stake if Gunmar falls, and some speculating on shenanigans during a low-key return to the surface - at least before any world-changing operations.

+As a whelp she had a knack for dodging, climbing, sneaking, and escaping, but she was not at all inclined to fight. It was figured that if she had any use, it would probably be in learning subterfuge and how to blend in with and spy on humans. Not to say that being a changeling is at all easy - it was simply the role that she seemed to have something of a shot at, particularly if she could maintain a low-level information-gathering position. Besides, if she couldn’t manage to sharpen her fangs among fleshbags, she wouldn’t last long anyway.

+In her youth, trolls and humans were constantly fighting over territory and resources. And to her eyes, the Gumm-Gumms were the only ones willing to stand up to the humans while everyone else hid. At the time, she was prone to hiding, too. She didn’t want to get hurt, but the more she thought about it, the more she despised the idea of anyone else getting hurt on her behalf, or just because she was too afraid to stand up. That was a crucial shift for her, and is the core of her idealized vision of the Gumm-Gumms and their Underlord, and why she wants to be one of them.

+That particular shift happened while witnessing a human raid on a troll village, where a small group of Gumm-Gumms were stuck fighting the humans off. She was already integrated with a human peasant family, and prone to sneaking out to trollish villages, markets, and hideouts. She understood enough to know that she wouldn’t be welcome among trolls, but it was enough to hide nearby and take in familiar sights, sounds, and scents of an older home she couldn’t quite remember. When the raid hit, she knew she might die if she tried to fight, but she also knew that if she just ran, she’d regret it forever. So she made a nuisance of herself, mostly by distracting and disrupting the humans’ tactics; tripping them, stealing their weapons, and switching to human form to avoid death by sunlight while propping up temporary shade for the real fighters. The Gumm-Gumms won that fight just as their reinforcements arrived, and she scampered off as quickly as she could, feeling like her whole world had just opened up. She knew where she wanted to spend her life, and commenced planning to get there.

+She was rather judgmental toward Dwoza for their initial “keep our heads down until this blows over” policy. The humans didn’t seem to care what faction a troll belonged to, they were ready to kill any they found. So it felt to her like Dwoza was using the Gumm-Gumms as a convenient and expendable shield against a common enemy, and she couldn’t pretend she had any respect for (what she saw as) a decision to just stand back and let others take all the risks for them. Dwoza siding with the humans at Killahead surprised and confused the hell out of her for a good long while. She’s had centuries to think (and occasionally rant) about it, and has come to think of Merlin’s Amulet as both a bribe (a powerful weapon to convince Dwoza to side with them) and a Trojan Horse (to make trolls keep themselves in line, prioritizing the wellbeing of humans over themselves). Hearing that it’s most recent champion is human just looks to her like the mask coming off. Trolls may have wielded it for centuries, but it has remained a human weapon all along.

+(Almost) nothing will supersede her loyalty to Gunmar. He’s her king, and her hero, and she believes in his vision for the future.

+The only exception that might contest her loyalty is the safety of her familiar. Dezoka doesn’t like being a changeling, but she has fond memories of her familiar’s family, and loves Danica like a little sister, and has gone to great lengths to hide her, and wants to find some way to give her a good, secure life.

+Due to her experiences, she is willing to fight and kill humans if she believes it is necessary - especially where the wellbeing of trolls is concerned, and she follows Gunmar’s judgement of that - but she also understands that humans are not so simple as to be easily summed up. If she has a soft spot for them, it’s a small one, tinged with distant memories of songs and stories around fire-pits, careful instruction on how to fell a tree, re-thatch a leaky roof, or weave fibers into cloth, scary and thrilling stories about trolls, and comforting, well-meaning arms when the loneliness of her secret got overwhelming. They’re not evil, and she doesn’t have the luxury of kidding herself. They’re just people. Albeit, people who have a tendency of causing problems for trolls.

+Secretly disinclined to eat human flesh, but not out of any notion that humans are special. If offered (and not pressured into eating it by someone of higher rank, or if not currently starving), she’ll “save it for later” and use it for bartering, bribes, or gifts. Fighting and killing them is one thing, but “cleaning up after” (while practical, especially when food is scarce) often comes with a lot of “this is your place, you arrogant fleshbags” / “we’re superior to you” baggage that ruins her appetite anyway - partly because she knows that’s exactly how she’ll be treated if anyone finds out she’s Impure. And she believes she doesn’t have to think of humans as prey, or reassure herself with stories about natural hierarchy, in order to fight them effectively. And unless it has to do with orders from her king and superiors, or keeping her team functioning well, she doesn’t give a damn about hierarchy or “one’s rightful place” anyway. She made her own.

+Dezoka has heard scary reports of what a trashfire the fleshbags have turned the Surface into while the Gumm-Gumms have been locked away. She’s upset about it, and she believes the Eternal Night is important not just for Trollkind, but for the Surface itself. As she sees it, someone’s gotta get the humans to back off, or they’ll just keep doing more damage (pollution, mass extinction, etc) until they, too, die out, and leave the Surface an even more barren wasteland than the Darklands. And having everyone (regardless of species) retreat to the Darklands just to survive a little longer would be the most tragic failure/death/defeat imaginable, in her mind. She believes that without Gunmar, that would be the way the world ends, so it is absolutely paramount that he survives and succeeds.

+She has a hard time getting close to people. Partly because death is fairly common in the Darklands, and partly because anyone finding out her secret would risk getting both her and her familiar killed, and she wants to limit those chances. She can bundle with others for warmth, tackle someone out of the way of a projectile, or appreciate and crack jokes with her fellows in grim situations, but she doesn’t yet feel comfortable with “unnecessary” physical contact or emotional intimacy. It’s not that she doesn’t like it - she sees it as a luxury she can’t afford.

Potential AU shenanigans where the Gumm-Gumms return to the Surface:

+Loses her composure over the smell of woodsmoke. It’s the detail that cements it for her that they’re finally back on the Surface. Also has a little trouble with the open sky and sometimes loses her balance when she feels like she might fall up. Closing her eyes helps. Needs a bit of an adjustment period at first.

+Due to Dez’s tactical and combat prowess as a Gumm-Gumm captain, her loyalty, and her ability to (reluctantly) disguise as human, Gunmar could (if he saw fit, and before she pulls anymore Danica-transporting shenanigans) assign her to bodyguard individuals beyond a troll’s reach during the day once they return to the Surface - especially ones who are likely to see combat and need backup. She doesn’t have the raw hitting power of a troll, but she has good pain tolerance and reflexes, generally knows what she’s doing, and coordinating with teams is where she really shines. Her usual role against tougher opponents involves knocking them off balance and provoking openings in their defenses for her team to exploit (which she will also exploit whenever she has a sufficiently clear shot). She’s like an aggressive evasion-tank. But in any 1v1, she’ll do her best to strike hard and fast and end it quickly. Slow, horrible, and painful is all well and good, but she’s got work to do.

+Remembers very little about how to blend in with humans, and acts like a Gumm-Gumm even in human form. She wants to do her job well, so she takes any instruction on the modern world very seriously, though she also tends to get frustrated when she’s confused (which is most of the time - being on the Surface again is rather overwhelming at first, and it’s not the Surface she remembers). She’s alert and effective at protecting those she’s assigned to, but also occasionally needs to be stopped from committing theft, assault, drinking perfume, climbing buildings, making cookfires and ‘ghost fences’ wherever she wants, rolling around in dust or mud baths, wearing ash and/or coal-based warpaint, or growling when she’s irritated, confused, excited, or worried. Can be taught to ‘store’ her armor and parlock spear on her trollish form so she won’t be caught unarmed if she needs to change quickly.

+Will also contend with anxiety over taking human form again after she’s worked all her life to deny that it even exists. Won’t like looking at mirrors (will only really do so if she’s checking in on Danica) or her own hands (both pinkies are missing, too), and will be all the more inclined to distract herself with work. Without sufficient distractions, she might turn to substance abuse to ease some of the stress if she thinks she can get away with it and still do her job.

+Likes to rest outside. Very light sleeper. Even cool nights are warm when compared to the Darklands, and she likes to watch the stars and feel the Earth turn. Stargazing is (despite the light pollution) one of the few things left that still feels like the world she remembers.

#yet more Dezoka notes #changeling oc #Gumm-Gumm oc #this twit has opinions #which she won't dare talk about so i gotta write them in notes #go to sleep 'fiend it's 5am again

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