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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything. I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time. Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement.

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face.

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight. “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @symphony-butterfly @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @baby-iyania @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @pinkhairedsapphic @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @maybe-im-dead-idk @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @chaoticgayandnerdy @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @amysingh2512 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @faepetersen @namikhai-i @nastiablr

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sunnysidevans · 4 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

Summary: Ransom has time to reflect on his relationship with you and all the things he put you and your relationship through.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW themes, slight knives out spoilers, fluff, swearing, angst.

Authors Note: This idea has sat in my brain for a few days and I thought it was a good idea so I hope i did it justice and you enjoy it. I also did leave some parts out from the movie just for the sake of storyline, some things are also not 100% accurate. enjoy :)

READERS POINT OF VIEW

TWO YEARS PRIOR

The leaves had just started to fall in Massachusetts, it was finally fall and you could break out the fall sweater and finally ransom could pull the cable knits out from the back of the closet. Ransom hid them really well in the closet before fall because knowing you, you’d find them and hoard your favorite cable knit because it always smelled like pine and all things Fall. After much convincing Ransom agreed to go to a family party at the thrombey house. “Babe” he sighed, sitting back on the bed, against the headboard in his Calvin Klien underwear, watching as you rummaged through your sweaters deciding on what to wear to the family gathering. “What?” you turned, hand on your hip watching the smirk on his face as you stood in just a pair of underwear in front of him. He held his hands out to you in a grabby hand motion as you smiled walking to him climbing in bed and straddling his waist, crossing your arms across your chest “what drysdale?” you giggled smiling as he put his hand on your hips “I want to admire this view duh..” he grinned moving your hands to cup your breasts, causing a shiver to run down your back “baby.. Your hands are cold” you tried to push his hands away from your chest as he continued to run his fingers over pebbled nipples. “Ransom..” you sighed as he quickly rolled you onto your back and hovered over you, smirking down at you “I know you can't resist me missy” he smirked kissing down your neck as you tangled your fingers in his short brunette hair that had gotten slightly messy as the seasons changed. “C’mon baby we agreed to go to the party we should probably go” you gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth smirking at the gasp circling his tongue around the nipple biting it slightly, pulling away he smirked “what was that again baby?” he chuckled watching your face as he kissed you passionately.

Arriving at the party in true ransom fashion you were almost half an hour late. “Ransom!.. Oh- (Y/N)” Ransoms mother Linda greeted you as you arrived “hello mother” he sighed, giving her a wave as he tightened his grip on your hand. You waved to Linda and gave her a smile as you entered the family room at the Thrombey estate which held, majority of the thrombey family, including ransom’s grandfather Harlen. “Fran” Ransom snarled, snapping for the housekeeper, a heavy sigh followed “Yes?” she snarled as ransom and you sat down “can you please get me a drink” He sat back, arm around your shoulder as you shook your head quickly “don’t worry Fran, I’ll get it!” you smiled at her, walking to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen Meg, Ransom’s cousin had walked in and greeted you, She was always one of the kindest Thrombeys. “I really do not understand why you date him” she sighed leaning against the counter watching as you poured two glasses of bourbon for you and Ransom. You turned to face her smiling softly “He is just a man, hard headed and ignorant, It took a lot of convincing to even get him here tonight let alone even to sit down and have a drink” you smiled at her and nodded “I’m trying to get him a little more family oriented” you smiled at her again as you walked toward the family room again “You look great meg, I hope school is going well” you nodded to her. As you entered the living room a screaming match had begun between Ransom and his uncle Walt. “You are just a selfish prick who doesn’t even know how to do anything!” Walt screamed at ransom in which ransom laughed in response “I don't know how to do anything?! How does it feel to ride daddy’s coattails! You run a publishing company that publishes like what? One book a fucking year?! Really smooth Walt real smooth!” as walt’s wife spoke up “Don’t use that language in front of our son ransom!” she pitched her hand on Walt's arm for support. “Enough!” Harlen spoke from his chair, standing in the front of the room, “You both are old enough to act better than this” he sighed shaking his head as he pointed to ransom “My office, now.” he sighed walking to the office, Ransom following like a lost puppy. The yelling continued in Harlens office, as you sat on the loft stairs waiting for ransom, it didn’t seem promising as the yelling continued. Twenty minutes later ransom stormed out of the office, coat in hand storming to his beamer, leaving you and the thrombey house in his rearview.

A YEAR & A HALF LATER.

You sat in ransom’s home, watching the news as you did every sunday morning, it was rainy, May showers had finally rolled in. After a long eventful night in the sheets with ransom, you woke early and had a cup of coffee under a blanket when the news had a report. The news anchor sat behind the news station, it felt he was right in front of you. “Renown Author Harlen Thrombey has recently passed, News broke this morning that Mr. Thrombey had passed early into the evening” You couldn’t believe it, “RANSOM!” you stood setting your cup down on the table as you ran up to the bedroom quickly barreling in the bedroom to ransom. “Hey..” you whispered, shaking him gently as he groaned “ugh what” he groaned rolling over to face you “baby.. Your grandpa he’s gone” you whispered rubbing his arm and ransom rolled over with a mumbled “so”.

After a few days Ransom finally agreed to head to Harlens estate to see his family, in the mourning process of his grandfather. “I know you don’t want to go babe” you sighed watching him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze “I don’t, I think this is stupid, we both know he’s dead” he snarled ripping his hand from yours. Arriving at the estate was much more of a dread than you had thought. “Hugh Drysdale?” A man in a black suit stood at the top of the steps as ransom stepped towards the house “Call me ransom it’s my middle name, only the help calls me hugh” as he pushed through the detectives you stood there, watching him walk in shaking your head slightly smiling at the detectives. “And you are?” the one asked, “I’m (Y/N), Ransom is my boyfriend” you smiled softly, shaking their hands and nodding as they took your name and progressed into the house.

In true Thrombey fashion Ransom sat down for a total of five minutes before a screaming match had begun between the thrombey family. “You know what? Eat Shit” Ransom snarled, sliding the cookie into his mouth “Oh that's real rich Hugh” Meg snarked back as Ransom laughed “Up your ass” he sassed back to her as the both of them continued to fight you watched from the back, beside Marta. “Well how nice of you to show up on time for the will reading Hugh” walt snarked to ransom as he sat back “Son” Richard, Ransom’s father pitched in “Father”. “Why don’t you tell em Hugh, huh?! Because good ol grandpa cut you out of the will! Jacob heard everything from the bathroom” Walt pointed to Jacob, his son sitting in the chair as he looked up from his phone and whatever phony news he was reading. “I also heard ransom say.. “I’m warning you”``Jacob nodded quickly in response looking between them all. “Ransom, is that true?” Linda spoke up as ransom sighed “yep” popping the p, watching everyone in the room as they laughed “well.. Maybe this will teach you a valuable lesson and maybe have you grow up a bit” Linda sighed.

After a week of fighting and constant nagging. The family was called back to the Thrombey estate. “I just want to thank you all for being so good to me” Marta began to address the family as you stood beside ransom, rubbing his arm in support. Marta’s speech was over before it ended before the detective pulled her into the room, leaving everyone confused, until a detective came back for you and ransom. “Marta I’m so sorry” Ransom replied as the detective sat him in a seat and stood beside you. “You switched the bottles” the detective began watching the straight look on Ransom’s face and the utter surprise on yours. “Marta” he sat, rolling up his sleeve, “go ahead and tell me what you did for Mr. Thrombey” he nodded, as Marta did her routine she did every night for Harlen, he nodded “you knew what the right thing was, because you did it so many times” he nodded to her as he stood turning to ransom. “Marta knew what she was giving Harlen because she had done it so many times before, but when you didn’t show up for the funeral, you left one thing out, Fran saw you, Fran saw you switch the viles while no one was home. This was because he cut you out of the will” he nodded as Ransom huffed his chest and stood as Marta took a phone call “Thank you doctor we will be there soon” she hung up the phone looking between them. “She’s gonna make a full recovery” she nodded, smiling at them as the detective turned to ransom “I’m going to say this just to you, no cameras no courtroom, just you because you know it's true, we allowed you into our home, we let you watch our granddad, we let you into our family, and now you think you can steal from us? You think I'm not going to fight to protect what's mine?” Ransom approached Marta, hands on his hips, his nose flared as the detective started to laugh. “That is a bunch of crap and you know it” ransom rolled his eyes turning to him angrily “yeah I killed Fran, But I guess I didn’t so you get me on what? Attempted murder-” you spoke up “ransom..” you whispered watching him turn to you quickly, shaking your head biting your lip watching him turn back to the detective and Marta “Arson for the building which with a good lawyer, Which I have I’ll be out in no time” he laughed as Marta began to gag, not holding her lies very well. A confused ransom turned as Marta had puked up her beans on him, wiping her mouth she whispered “Frans dead”

You stood on the end of the thrombey staircase, watching as your boyfriend of three and a half years walked out of the house in handcuffs, You watched him confess to killing his grandfather and the housekeeper. As ransom turned back to you, you shook your head, wiping your face with your sleeve turning away from him. Getting into your vehicle before the cop cars drove off and drove off from Hugh Ransom Drysdale and the Thrombey Estate.

PRESENT DAY.

You walked into your apartment after grabbing the mail as you looked through, in which was mostly bills but one caught your eye, Massachusetts Correctional. You bit your lip as you debated even looking at it, You didn’t know what to do, deciding against your better judgment you opened the letter.

(Y/N),

I wanted to write this to you, I know this is probably much overdue.. I don’t know where to start. As I sit behind these bars I realize how terrible I was to you.. You went through this whole process and I am so sorry. I know I was a terrible person then and still am, I just want to apologize for the man I was, for closure for you, I hope you are well and I just want to apologize again.. You deserved a much MUCH better man than me. Much better than me,

Ransom

As you sat in your kitchen reading over ransom’s handwriting you thought back to that time in your life, when you were in love with a cable knit wearing asshole and not a criminal, You did deserve much better than him, but sometimes thinking back about that, you missed the cable knit sweater wearing asshole. Even if you did deserve better than him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic

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giurochedadomani · 3 years

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Fic-in-progress type of update that has gotten a tiny, little bit out of hand but I regret nothing and I really want to share it

I’m doing the third and final part of this.

When I do get to finish this I feel like it’ll work just fine as a one shot, but. Just to give you some context: this scene of the story takes place after a botched plan ends up with the son of a rival capo dead at the hands of? Leonardo? I never bothered to write out what exactly happened on That Fateful Night and now I’m taking 100% advantage of that.

The thing is, the other mafioso certainly blames him. When Primo manages to keep Leo out of jail by putting the blame of the murder on the son of the town’s mayor, their rival decides to take justice into his own hands, failing to consider how little Primo is likely to stop until he owns the city and ends with every kind of threat vaguely pointed in his direction, Leo’s or this family he has adopted himself into. Enter:

[Gioia Tauro, Saturday night]

Uhhhhh there are things I can tag for: mentions of abuse re: Primo’s childhood, discussions of murder and other Mob related stuff, but there are other things that I can’t really tag without spoiling away what happens, so I’m gonna highlight that this story is basically about a mob war and that violent stuff happens and use the handy ao3 sign of ‘Author decided not to display any warnings’

“Do you want me to tell you, or not?”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing quite well on your own”.

It comes off way drier than Leonardo means to, and the without me goes over them, unspoken. He bites the tip of his tongue and stands his ground and tries not to picture the hint of hurt that passes over Primo’s face as Leonardo goes through his business, picking up his suit’s jacket and the briefcase from the sofa as the other looks at him like some kind of gargoyle while he fusses through the office.

“A bomb. In his office”, Primo explains, slow, after a moment, blatantly ignoring him. “Next week, we’re aiming for Friday, although Fiore needs to tie up some loose ends”. A beat of silence. “I insisted on it being Friday. Less people in the building that day, like you said”. Leonardo won’t give in to Primo’s unsubtle attempts to win him over. “I was going to tell you”.

He gives the other a sharp look. What he means to be a sharp look, really. It’s kind of endearing that Primo cannot withstand a grand total of half a minute of silence treatment. No, Leonardo’s still pissed that he didn’t call him into the meeting.

“What loose ends?”, he asks, tone clipped.

“ID passes. He wants to get a couple of original ones”, rob some innocent cleaning lady of her own pass, more likely, Leonardo thinks, as if he were in some shape or form morally superior to that, “and just modify the photos, keeping it simple. He can’t do that a week earlier, it’d be...”, Primo trails off, looking at him with a tinge of—

It’d be less likely to call on any unwanted attention, that’s for sure. And truth be told, they’ve never been lucky with forgeries. It’s not as if they’re trying to enter the fucking Quirinale, and one would think that a sleepy guard on a Friday morning wouldn’t pay much attention to some cleaning staff’s passes, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little bit extra cautious: Romano has proven himself to be able to become quite the headache. And he can’t help feeling a little satisfied at how Primo is not diving head first into danger for once in his fucking life— no. He’s annoyed.

Leonardo hums, pensive. He locks the door of his office after they step outside, and speaks again once he finds another direction in which to funnel his irritation.

“What’s their story, if they’ve got to flee the scene”.

Primo frowns. His patent confusion vindicates Leonardo, for some fucking reason. He focuses on that instead on how much it pisses him off that he already knows that Primo will avoid simply saying that he’s sorry, as if the words were fucking poisonous.

“They don’t manage to do it, what do they do”, he insists.

The eerie stillness of the building, empty at that hour, just makes Primo’s silence louder as they walk to the elevator.

“Why, if someone had thought to ask just that”, Leonardo concludes, sarcastic, stabbing the push button.

Primo huffs. He can behave like a child all he wants, Leonardo is not going to give in. He’s fully capable of becoming as difficult as Primo can be, when he puts his mind to it. Let’s see if the other can take his own medicine—

“Her name’s Lucrezia”.

…

Leonardo is so thrown off by the non sequitur that he almost manages to momentary forget about his exasperation. He stares at Primo for a long moment, the doors of the elevator opening and staying open for them. “...She’s one of his classmates”, Primo adds, as if that clarified anything.

Leonardo’s bewilderment must be patent on his face because Primo makes a whole show of rolling his eyes, looking up as if asking God for patience. He grabs him and pushes him inside the elevator, pushing the button to the ground floor.

“Francesco”, he starts again, slowly, once the doors close off again. He’s probably aiming to be more comprehensible, but doesn’t manage to make it look as if he’s not in some way explaining things to a baby. “He’s not out there doing…”, he has to think for a moment to land in something Leonardo could possibly be pissed off about, and he’s not entirely convinced when he says: “...Drugs, or whatever the hell you’re worried about. He’s just got himself a...”, he trails off again, does a florid gesture with his hand as if he could grab the right word, ends up saying a very dubitative: “... friend”. He shrugs, as if deeming it a suitable enough explanation. “So yeah. You can stop being insufferable now”.

Each button keeps getting illuminated as they descend, a little peep sounding each time they pass a floor. So that’s what was up with them both. Leonardo feels tranquility washing over his surprise, before his gut settles on uneasiness as he continues looking at Primo and the stiffness of his shoulders.

He passes a hand over his face.

“Francesco’s got a girlfriend”.

“You’re not this dense on the usual”.

“And he told you about it”.

He’s well aware that Franceso regards Primo with an undercurrent of hero worship. He’s also intimately familiar with how despite the fact that Primo is a man of many hidden talents, romance is, to put it mildly, not the subject he feels most comfortable with. The other is fucking with him in some way, he can’t help feeling sure of that, and it makes him kind of tense not being able to point out exactly where.

Uncharacteristically of him, Primo feels the need to fill the silence.

“Don’t be jealous”, he starts once the doors open, and he sounds a tad arrogant, as he always does when— “I told him to do a formal presentation at some point, bring her home to have dinner and all that stuff, let Regina gush and… yeah”. He turns to face Leonardo once he realizes that he has stopped on his tracks, adds, defensively: “You have been weird all fucking day. That’s why I didn’t tell you to come into the meeting”.

“Lucrezia”, Leonardo repeats. The name sounds familiar. It’s Primo’s closed off expression what makes realization fall onto his mind like a circuit breaker blowing up the fuse: a scratching sound and then fade to black. He stares at Primo in disbelief, mouth hanging open until he can work around the knot at his throat.

“Brambilla. Lucrezia Brambilla. Brambilla, as in. The daughter of the—”.

“Yes”.

A well-mannered girl, soft spoken and sweet. He has seen her in passing, disappearing behind the tinted windows of his father’s fancy car at the entrance of Francesco’s high school. He knows her father better. Sergio Brambilla.

Prosecutor.

“And you told him it was a good idea?”, Leonardo asks, in which he’d defend as a very reasonable tone of voice, given the circumstances, but doesn’t perhaps quite manage to hit the whole discreet thing, because Primo makes a sharp movement in the general direction of the night guard booth.

“What’s exactly bad about knowing what the fuck happens in that house?”

Of course. Of fucking course Primo would think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised except that for the very little, trivial fact that he cannot believe what he’s hearing!

“You had a hand on it!?”

Primo has the sheer audacity to look offended.

“Me? In what? How the fuck could I possibly— As if it were my fucking fault now that your kid likes blondes!”

“I swear on everything that’s holy, Primo!”

Primo throws a look to the booth over his shoulder, then at him, then promptly grabs his arm and pushes him forward, making him advance towards the garage entrance, past the night guard, who takes a look at them and searches to fade with the wallpaper behind. He loves Primo, God damn them both, he does, but sometimes he’d hit him with a fucking chair, but also no, because someone’s got to keep a levelled head and he refuses to go down the level of a machiavelian, manipulative jerk who deems feasible to intervene in his son’s life like—

“Shut up for a fucking minute, will you”, Primo says, which is fucking rich. Leonardo shoves him off the moment they’re passing the first row of cars, the itch of a fight bubbling right under his skin. Primo doesn’t continue after seemingly making sure that he’s going to listen. He takes a deep breath before doing so, evidently to rile himself in, which would be the most annoyingly petulant thing in the world if he were any other person. “He took a liking to the girl on his own. They’re classmates, as I said. They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”, he shrugs, ostensibly. “She’s also going to study in Rome, it seems”.

It hurts. The fact that not only did Primo know before him about it, but that he has done so for such a very long time.

“And you planned to tell me when, exactly?”, Leonardo can’t help but to interrupt.

Primo copies his sarcastic tone when he answers: “When you’ve decided to make a problem out of it, perhaps?”

He knows in his heart that Primo trusts him, and that he does so seemingly to a further extent than anyone else. That he loves him, in his own peculiar way, and that he’d move heaven and Earth to protect him, and his family. That’s why it’s so hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he wouldn’t even bother to mention something like this. Besides, the careless way he’s speaking about it doesn’t really sit well with Leonardo. As if he had landed himself had single handedly on court when he came to know the girl’s father: “You remember that Brambilla accused me of murder, don’t you?”

“You were acquitted”, the other replies, instantly, tone tense. “You’re a model citizen, for all the guy knows”.

“He defended that I’m a mafioso”, he insists. He remembers the charges line by fateful line. Refusing to talk about it won’t make him forget what happened, notwithstanding Primo’s look on the subject. “He said that I planned to set up a cocaine distribution ring with the money I supposedly stole from—”.

“Nothing about them getting together forces you to have a good relationship with Brambilla”, Primo points out, exasperated, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s Francesco the one who’s dating his daughter”.

Leonardo limits himself to stare at the other from the other side of his Berlinetta when they reach it.

He should have confronted Francesco directly about it, but no, because the kid’s got an angelic face of never having done harm to a fly and he’s soft. Regina has a sixth sense for these things, she would have been a better option, except that he feared that Francesco would have gotten himself in bigger problems than a girl. It’s not a girl, though, not just like that, and really, there’s probably an option that he has somehow missed that would have prevented him from ending up in a parking lot, being looked at as if he’s hawk’s prey.

He sighs, opens the car and gets in, going through the usual motions as Primo follows him suit, putting the briefcase on the backseat, his jacket covering it after he fishes out his keys from one of the pockets.

Francesco could easily say the wrong thing, in the wrong moment, to the wrong person, and neither of them would be none the wiser. He could rat them out in a bid to brag, or because he thinks that he can relax his guard. What if he breaks the poor girl’s heart and she wants to take revenge? He remembers how stupid young love can make you, how blind.

“Telling Francesco that he can’t do it won’t work”, Primo says, serious, but not quite as biting. “You’ll just be handing him over the perfect excuse for him not to tell you shit in the future”.

Leonardo wonders if it’s the girl sticking it to her father what appeals to Primo so much about the whole thing, he supposes the other could appreciate a kindred spirit. It’s obvious that he’s talking from experience, and Leonardo doesn’t know if he feels more insulted by the possibility that Primo might be comparing him to Salvatore, of all people, or to Primo’s own dad, of all fucking people, as if he had ever given the slightest indication that he’d beat— That he’d— Just considering the idea that he might have to explain to the other that not every son has quite the same relationship with their father as Primo did with Angelo Nizzuto makes him kind of nauseous.

Primo must sense where his mind’s heading because he ends up adding: “Doesn’t matter if you’re nice about it, but you can be my damn fucking guest if you want to try”. He shrugs, then looks out of the window, as if he were washing his hands out of the situation instead of biding his time, as Leonardo is completely convinced he’s doing.

This is a lost battle, if Primo has already taken such a defensive stance on the subject. He’s got months on him, despite all (“They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”), more than enough time for him to look at Francesco and Lucrezia from every possible angle and to collect every single argument in favor of their relationship before quick starting a confrontation with him. And really, he’s just so blind sided by the whole thing. He must be a really bad father not to suspect a thing for months.

Leonardo puts the ignition key on, but Primo speaks again before he turns it.

“I’ve just told him to be smart, to pay attention, and not to run himself into problems” he insists, softer. “Your kid can do that. You know he can. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on him”, he turns to face him, “You can at least trust that, don’t you?”

That’s very unfair of Primo. It’s not a question of trust. Francesco’s a very inexperienced hot head. He’d be up to his knees in problems before he recognizes the first signs of danger, let alone ask for help.

“He’ll tell me himself if he does fuck up, you can be sure of that. Holy hell, he just won’t stop talking about the girl, you know? Lulu this, Lulu that”, Primo continues, as if he knew full well that he’s picking at his reticences little by little. Leonardo’s running out of excuses not to associate the pang in his chest with the notion that he’s been kept outside this little secret. “He calls her Lulu”, Primo explains, seemingly flabbergasted at the notion, which is very boldly rich coming from him, and kind of makes Leonardo want to ask him what exactly makes Lulu any more ridiculous of a nickname than Leo.

He snorts, despite himself.

Primo smiles a little when he sees him doing so, as if he’s just proved his point. It’d be so annoying, if it wasn’t so genuine.

“Better to wait the whole thing out. Let him go to Rome. There are more options in Rome. He’ll just grow bored, with time”. Leonardo raises an eyebrow. Primo’s smile takes the barest turn to playful. He deadpans: “Worse case scenario, they do end up getting married and we need to find you a proper suit to wear. You look hot with a suit. I don’t see a downside of the situation for anyone involved”.

Just like that. As if it were so easy.

He’d like to have a smidge of Primo’s unwavering faith in their future, of his unstoppable conviction that they’ll always come up on top, though he’s reduced to trust that the other knows what he’s doing and join for the ride.

Leonardo’s done so many bad things in his life, this is surely his God given punishment.

“When I told you to solve this I didn’t mean, like, personally”, Primo interrupts his train of thought making a vague gesture towards the backseat. “We’ve got people for that. You keep insisting on that: a good boss knows when to delegate”, he adds, in which Leonardo’s forced to interpret as his attempt to mock him. It’s very unfair, given how different is delivering the suitcase from when he told Primo that, that is, when he had to keep him in bed after getting shot, but he knows where Primo’s going with this. He knows this kind of dance.

He looks at him and keeps silent, so Primo’s forced to elaborate. If he wants to have dinner with him, he can just ask. Primo purses his lips, frowns a little, but finally says, slowly:

“I have an idea. That I want your opinion on”, then he stops for a moment, seemingly to revise what he’s going to say, and adds: “That we could discuss, with wine”.

“You want to have dinner at the Olimpo, then?”, he insists, just to hear Primo say it, and not be the slightest bit surprised when he ignores him.

“It’s got to do with your cousin. Does he still want to work for us?”

“Antonio? Yes”.

“How fluent would you say that he’s in Spanish?”

Leonardo takes the ignition key out.

___

An hour later, Dante would finish his cigarette under the street light by the back entrance of the office. He would take a quick look at his watch, and he would get into the car after checking the backseat, adjusting the jacket slightly over the suitcase. If he came back soon enough, he could have dinner with his girlfriend, he’d think, fishing for Leonardo’s car keys in his pocket. Maybe he could take her out next weekend, treat her to somewhere posh by the port. He’d turn the ignition key on.

…

KA-BOOM!!!!!

#trust fx #primo x leonardo #Lau writes #this is awfully domestic truth be told #if you made it to the end: I’m sorry but also I’m not sorry at all #Working title: My daddy’s got a gun (you better run)

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reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

Text

weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

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toogoodmusic · 3 years

Audio

THE TOO GOOD TEN with MADS LANGER

Growing up in the countryside near the small town of Skive, singer, songwriter and musician Mads Langer grew up always knowing he’d be in music. From singing songs at the age of 18 months in his own language to his latest release, “Lightning,” the new dad has been pursuing the dream for a long time now. Through honest, original and disruptive music the Danish singer has been able to be reborn time and time again through his music and continues that creativity as he looks to the release of his upcoming EP, Where Oceans Meet. The boundary pushing message of love is love in “Lightning” serves as a taste of the upcoming EP and contributes to the already 38 million streams and 506k monthly listeners he’s amassed across his career. He takes a break from his world domination to take on the latest Too Good Ten. Check out the full interview below to learn more about the latest release, “Lightning,” how becoming a dad has changed his perspective on life, how he rebounded from getting dropped by his girlfriend and label around the same time and much more.

The Too Good Ten. Ten Questions. One Artist. Too Good.

1. Looking at the beginning of your career – what was it about music that inspired you to pursue a career in it?

MADS LANGER: Expressing myself through music has been a fundamental part of my language for as long as I remember. My parents have recordings of me singing my own songs in my own language when I was 18 months old. I always knew that music was going to be my path in life. It wasn't a decision that I made at a certain time. It was more a realization that I was not gonna be able to pursue any other career even though I’ve always had plenty of other interests. I could have been in politics, in sports, in science and many other things. I could have been a teacher as my parents, my grandparents and my great grandparents were. And then again, none of these career paths were ever up for grabs. Music was and always will be my thing.

2. You got signed and had an album that you ended up describing as “flopped” and had to start over and spent time busking all over Europe. How did you come to the decision to busk in the wake of “starting over?” What did you do to keep your internal mental conversation strong through the hardships that I assume came with traveling around?

ML: I got signed when I had just turned 18. I went straight from living in my parents house, in the countryside of Denmark, to living a life full of pressure and expectations in New York City. That was quite a shocking change of scenery to be honest. Looking back, I was definitely too young at that time. When a major label first wants you it’s the end of the innocence. I had to grow up overnight and try to keep up with that big machine that started dictating how I was gonna live my life. When my first record didn't succeed commercially and I got dropped I think I saw it as an opportunity to do some of the stuff that most of my friends had done after finishing high school. But most of all that whole 6 months of busking in my old van all over Europe was an escape from heartbreak. My first girlfriend had dropped me around the same time that my label dropped me. She fell in love with a really cool guy in Paris who was older than me and he could grow a very impressive beard, hahaha…

As far as keeping my internal mental conversation strong, that's has never been problem at all and as you can imagine I had plenty of stuff to think about, write about and then finally sing about in the streets of all of these beautiful cities that I got to visit on that trip.

3. “Lightning” is the latest release and gives fans the first taste of your upcoming album Where Oceans Meet which is due out October 1st. How did you decide to release this one as the lead single? What was the inspiration behind it?

ML: In many ways, I think “Lightning” is a song that represents that certain place where the oceans meet on my album. “Lightning” is a song about recognition. When I wrote this song, I thought about all those moments in my life where I really felt recognized on a deeper level. When I met my wife. When I looked my newborn daughter in the eyes for the first time. In concerts when my music meets the audience and it feels like we're all getting struck by the same lightning. Those kinds of moments.

CHECK OUT THE FAUSTIX REMIX OF “LIGHTNING” HERE.

4. Speaking of the upcoming album – what’s the meaning behind the album title? How many songs? Any collabs? Is there a song on the album you’re nervous about releasing out to the world?

ML: Where Oceans Meet is a metaphor. The entire album circles around the different contrasts that we all face in our lives. The light, the dark. The head, the heart. Hopes and fears. It’s about loving and longing at the same time. Where Oceans Meet represents the idea of the place where all these contrasts meet and embrace each other.

5. “Lightning” follows up “Hanging With You” which peaked at #1 in Denmark radio. What’s the story behind when you first heard one of your songs on the radio? Does it ever get old?

ML: It never gets old. Every time I listen to the radio, I must admit that I hope that they will play my song. It's the best feeling ever. This might be a little far-fetched, but it's kind of like when you give someone you really care for a present for their birthday. And it's not just any kind of present. It’s a present that you put all your time, thoughts and heart into. And then one day you randomly turn on the TV. Look who's there. Is that special person that you gave the present to. She’s actually wearing that sweater that you spent five years learning how to knit. After endless attempts, you finally managed to knit a sweater that you would give her without being scared that she would think it was a joke. She’s not wearing it because she feels like she has to, because you’re on a date with her. She’s wearing it because she likes it. And she just put it on that day that she randomly got stopped by the tv-station and interviewed in the streets of your hometown. That is close to the feeling I get when I hear my songs on the radio. And no, I have no clue how to knit a sweater, but I like the image.

6. The past year in the pandemic had a lot of its own challenges but it also had some beautiful moments like the drive-in concert you organized in Denmark last May. Why did you feel it necessary to put something like this together during that time? Being the first one to do so, how did you figure out logistics, etc. for the entire event? Anything you would’ve changed about it looking back?

ML: I had just started touring when the pandemic hit us all. I had spent months preparing the show and I was extremely disappointed when I had to turn around the tour bus and go back home after only playing 10 out of 100 shows. I had a couple of weeks where I was feeling really depressed. But then I decided to see if I could turn this whole thing into some sort of an adventure. I made a list of stuff I wanted to do. On that list I had drive-in concerts for some reason. I know a couple guys who are really good at putting together big events that include live music, so we talked about how we could make this happen. All credit to them for putting logistics together. I just played the shows. I had no idea that I would be the first one in the world to do a drive in concert. But it was really fun and I would not change a thing. In my shows, everyone was on the same video conference call. I loved that because I could talk to the people in the cars in between the songs. The people in their cars requested what songs of mine that they wanted to hear. And often they had really personal stories to the songs that I never heard before. So that was something that I will never forget.

7. The past year also brought about a new baby for you – congrats! What’s been the most surprising thing about having a baby that you might not have known before?

ML: Thank you so much. Yeah, that's truly a life changing event. My little daughter is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm so grateful that I got to receive a little soul with my wife. Even though it has happened billions and billions of times already it still feels like a miracle. I think the biggest surprise is the fact that your whole perspective changes in the blink of an eye. She is now the single most important thing in my life. I thought that would be something that would happen gradually, but for me it really happened at the moment that she was born.

8. What do you hope to accomplish with your music in the future that you may feel you have not done already? Have any of those goals or aspirations shifted with the new addition to the family?

ML: I really hope that people will recognize themselves in my songs. Obviously, the goal is that my songs will travel and become part of people's lives in new territories. I have spent so much time in the US since I moved away from home. I lived in New York City and in Los Angeles and I spend at least three or four months a year in the US working with all the talented people that I have met over the years. Building an audience in the US is a huge dream of mine. Hopefully this album will help introducing me to people all over America.

9. If you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life, who would they be?

ML:

The Beatles

Pink Floyd

Keith Jarrett

Mozart

Radiohead

10. What’s the rest of 2021 and beyond look like for Mads Langer?

ML: My album comes out in October. That is obviously a huge event in my life, and it looks like I'm going to be very busy talking about the album and singing the songs from it in many different places all over the world. Apart from that I will be changing diapers on my newborn daughter. Kissing my wife. Learning Chinese and writing my first score for a movie that comes out in 2022.

A HUGE shout-out to the talented Mads Langer for hanging for this latest Too Good Ten interview. Keep up to date with everything he has going on by following the links below and be sure to be on the look out for his latest EP, Where Oceans Meet due out October 1st.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Facebook

Instagram

Twitter

YouTube

MUSIC:

Apple Music

Spotify

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

even when my body blows away, my soul will stay (1/1)

Summary: Four days in NYC away from her very pregnant girlfriend feels like a lifetime. But at least Beca has the cutest travel buddy ever—her two-year-old baby.

Word count: 4,539

Notes: Title from Ingrid Michaelson’s “Home”. I don’t really know what this is...just go with it. For @asimplefavors. This is a bit into the future (obviously) of this universe and subsequently reveals a lot more about Beca and Chloe's relationship and where it is.

Hope you enjoy and sorry this isn't smutty.

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

Age: 31/32 New York, New York February

* * * * *

Emma trots in front of Beca, just a step or two ahead, happily wielding her miniature purse like she knows exactly how to pose for cameras already. Beca tilts her head with a smile, wondering just when Emma grew up so quickly right before her eyes.

As always when she thinks about Emma, she thinks about Chloe, back home in their Los Angeles villa...and, of course, their newest family member who is well on her way.

She thinks of Chloe’s decidedly grumpy face as Beca and Emma left just yesterday morning, but Chloe is simply too pregnant to travel and Beca’s press obligations for her voice-acting role in an upcoming animated film seemed like a good opportunity to get Emma out of the house. Also, some much-needed one-on-one time and a break for Chloe and her seemingly endless patience for Emma’s incessant demands as to when her (Emma had somehow taken a liking to referring to their incoming family member as her own baby, which despite Beca and Chloe’s endless efforts ) baby would be ready to play. Or whether Chloe would let her balance her blocks on her stomach again.

Still, Beca misses Chloe terribly and more than ever, wishes she were back on the west coast cuddling with the love of her life in their comfortable home. She winces as the sound of cars rushing all around them and quickly reaches out to hold Emma’s hand.

“Stay close to me,” Beca instructs when she sees the paparazzi ahead of them, already snapping photos. They seem docile for the moment, only occasionally shouting out questions. Beca somewhat recognizes their faces as regulars whenever she comes to New York. She only hopes that they keep their voices low and their words appropriate as to not startle or scare Emma.

Not that it seems like Emma is paying them any mind. Beca’s grin grows again when she notes how big of a fucking ham her kid is, playing it up for the camera. She just knows Emma got that from Chloe, somehow. All that confidence and taking everything in stride. It had taken Beca years before getting used to the entire atmosphere of being famous and most days she’s still not used to it. She’s not quite sure how she feels about Emma adapting so easily to all of this, but for now she’s just happy that Emma is content.

She makes a mental note to tell Chloe about it and maybe perhaps even break their code about looking at paparazzi photos because she’s pretty damn sure that the fact that Emma’s jacket matches her own jacket is something that might be so ridiculously cute that Chloe will demand they print a few copies. Beca makes an additional mental note to thank her stylist for pulling strings and getting almost an exact miniature replica of the designer suit jacket Beca has on. It looks adorable on Emma and Beca isn’t afraid to say it.

“We say hello?” Emma asks, slowing to a stroll as they near the wall of people waiting for Beca just at the entrance to the building.

“Not today, Em. Maybe one or two, but mama has to go inside really quickly, okay?”

Emma smiles at her. “Okay, mama.”

Beca smiles back before bending down to pick Emma up quickly. “Don’t look at the lights, baby.”

Emma tucks her head against Beca’s shoulder in a brief show of shyness before she nods. “Okay, mama,” she repeats like the absolute angel she is.

It turns out that her daughter is a bit of a trickster too because the moment they get close enough for somebody to fire off a question, Emma’s head immediately pops up and she responds animatedly as if Beca’s words had no meaning whatsoever.

“Beca! Beca—what’s next on the agenda for you?”

“Is Chloe with you? Is she supposed to be travelling?”

“Beca, how’s the wife?”

Beca chuckles at that particular question without responding. She knows it is something that is purposefully brought up time and time again simply because the world refuses to let go of the fascination surrounding her and Chloe’s decision to not get married before having Emma. She supposes now with a second child on the way, the rumour mill is exceptionally full and just desperate in its desire to unleash something particularly spiteful.

“No comment,” Beca says at large, smiling apologetically at the one fan who managed to sneak her way into the throng of paparazzi. She would stop but with her arms full of precious cargo, she doesn’t feel like risking a potential injury, especially for Emma with all the heavy equipment around.

Emma grins at the closest reporter before she begins to wave, cheerily saying, “Hello!” and “Bye-bye!” like she is absolutely a pro at delivering soundbites. Then, to Beca’s horror, Emma says, “butter on mommy!” with absolutely no context because she’s, well, two, but Beca’s face heats up immediately, already envisioning future headlines. Beca Mitchell—butter kink? It is possibly still the cutest thing ever however because Emma says it with such determination, but because of her tiny high-pitched voice, it comes out sounding 100 times less incriminating than if Beca had said something like that herself.

To be fair, Emma is referring to how she has recently been allowed to help Chloe apply body butter to her growing stomach. Unfortunately that is not easily contextualized. Still, Beca hastens to correct that before it gets back to Chloe who probably won’t be too happy with that characterization. “She means, like, lotion,” she explains hastily before pulling open the door and darting inside, still unsure if that was a better explanation at all. She chuckles at Emma’s bewildered expression upon not being able to talk with her ‘friends’. “Told you we had to be quick.”

The security guard gestures towards the elevators. “Right this way, Ms. Mitchell.”

Beca pauses in her blatant adoration of her child and slips on her professional mask. “Right, thank you.”

“Mama work?” Emma asks as they enter an elevator. Then, sadly, “Mama bye-bye?”

“Yeah, just for a bit,” Beca says, reaching up to brush at Emma’s hair. “But you can play with Julia,” she says excitedly, referring to her publicist who somehow manages to hold lengthy conversations with her toddler. It is a skill that few adults seem to be able to achieve with Emma, outside of Beca and Chloe.

“Juwia,” Emma repeats.

“Julia,” Beca attempts to correct even though she thinks Emma’s speech is the cutest ever. She wouldn’t be opposed to hearing those little blips and the sound of tiny voice for a little while longer.

“Juwia.”

“Okay,” Beca laughs.

Emma laughs back like she’s sharing a secret joke with Beca, reaching up to touch Beca’s cheek tenderly before she sighs and rests her head against Beca’s shoulder. Before Beca can do something totally embarrassing like take a million selfies just to send to Chloe, the elevator dings open and Beca mourns the loss of their little bubble being burst as light floods into the small space. Before she knows it, she is already being ushered off into the little green room where she’s meant to get ready with her team.

Emma giggles delightedly upon seeing Hannah who immediately squeals in return and drops her make-up bag on the closest chair and reaches out to pull Emma in for a kiss and a hug. Beca should be concerned at how easily her kid willingly just goes to other people, but she warms at the sight of a group of people she trusts interact so freely and wonderfully with her baby.

And another one on the way soon, Beca’s mind reminds her as if she had somehow forgotten.

“Missing the wife?” Hannah asks knowingly once Emma scurries off to find Jill who is likely hanging up a few of Beca’s clothing choices. She smirks at the way Beca bristles.

“The wife,” Beca says with emphasis and an eye-roll. “Is, unfortunately, a bit too pregnant to fly without me popping an aneurysm on the flight. So she’s at home. And yes, yes, I am missing Chloe, but Emma and I have some time, which is nice.” Beca shrugs, trying to play off exactly how much she misses her girlfriend and tries to get back into the professional mindset.

“Jill has a couple fun outfits for you,” Hannah announces, deftly changing the subject. She hums and reaches out to examine Beca’s hair. “Both of you in case your mini-me wants to match again.”

Beca is secretly excited at the prospect of matching with Emma, mostly because she knows Chloe is going to love it (and likely cry over it, but Beca knows how to soothe her at this point). Outwardly, she simply tries not to smile too much as Hannah begins to fiddle with her make-up and guide Beca over to the miniature sink so she can first wash her face. Beca sighs, knowing that she has to get this over with. She lets the sound of Emma’s delighted screams in the distance soothe her.

* * * * *

“Hey,” Beca murmurs, settling on the couch quietly when she has a moment to spare. Chloe’s voicemail had been a disappointment, but she can’t blame Chloe for taking the opportunity to sleep in without a rambunctious two-and-a-half-year-old in the house. “I guess you’re still sleeping, but I just wanted to call to say I love you and I miss you...and Emma can’t shut up about you. We’re basically falling apart without you, hope you’re happy.”

“Mommy?” Emma chimes in from Beca’s immediate left. She reaches for the phone and peers at the screen confusedly as if expecting Chloe’s face to be there. “Mommy,” she repeats, looking up at Beca.

“Mommy’s sleeping so I’m leaving a message for her before I go to work,” Beca explains. Emma is accustomed to FaceTime and seeing Beca or Chloe’s faces on the small screen. “Want to tell mommy you love her?”

“Kisses!” Emma exclaims before planting a huge kiss right on Beca’s phone screen. Beca winces at the amount of spit that ends up on the screen and makes a note to teach Emma how to kiss with her mouth closed. “Kisses for mommy,” Emma declares before handing the phone back to Beca with no small measure of pride.

Emma darts off again, endlessly entertained. Beca wipes the screen hastily before pressing the phone back to her ear.

“Okay, Emma says she loves you and she basically just licked my phone screen to do so...hope you’re happy, Chlo.” Beca chuckles, her heart clenching unexpectedly when there is no Chloe to respond in kind. She misses Chloe so much already and they’ve only been away for a day. “I miss you,” she says again. “Hope you and baby are doing okay. I’ll call you later. And if you’re bored without us, don’t clean the whole fucking house,” Beca instructs, making sure to lower her voice in case Emma is nearby again. “Just chill out, okay? Okay,” she repeats, mostly to herself because it’s weird not hearing Chloe’s voice agreeing with her or bantering back and forth with her. “Bye, gotta go.”

Tapping off the call, Beca sighs. She rests her phone on her lap and closes her eyes for a moment.

A throat is cleared. “Are you ready?”

She opens her eyes and clicks her phone open so she can just take in the photo she has as her lockscreen: Chloe and Emma and herself all at Santa Monica Pier. If Beca takes a moment, she can remember exactly how the sun had felt against her skin; how tightly Emma had gripped her hand as Chloe and her had swung their baby around, walking up and down the pier; she can feel the gentle press of Chloe’s lips against her cheek just after this photo was taken, cold like the ice cream she had just finished.

She can see it all—the endless miles of past memories and future memories—and she feels so incredibly lucky to share it with the love of her life.

She just has to make it through these next few days and she can return home and their family can be together again. The separation anxiety is likely only raring its head in such a horrible way this time around because Chloe is so close to her due date and Beca is feeling exceptionally protective and anxious. That much she knows. But she really, truly hates being apart from her family at all. She didn’t expect the day to drag on so long...and it is still technically morning.

She gazes at the photo again, hearing the echo of Chloe’s laugh in her ear.

“Yeah,” Beca finally says. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

The next two hours of press junket interviews drag on, but Beca wills herself to keep a smile plastered on her face throughout the entirety of the time period, lest her publicist chide her for being too overtly wry or grim for a children’s movie. Beca pretty much is only doing this for her own kids (kids! plural!) because she wants cool mom points and it seems like doing voice work for major animated movies is the way to go.

Also, singing.

She is mulling over an interview opportunity that had just been suggested to her when she finally hears the sound of Emma’s giggling from behind the door.

“Ugh, finally,” Beca drawls out loudly as to announce her presence to her giggling child. She pulls her hair free from the loose up-do she had, shaking it out as she enters the green room only for Emma to dart out to greet her instead. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Apple,” Emma says, holding the banana up for Beca to look at.

“Banana,” Beca corrects.

“Apple,” Emma insists before giggling at Beca’s inability to recognize the fruit in her hand. Beca reaches for her and she screams, darting off. Beca makes a mental note to ask if Julia had slipped some alcohol or sugar to her kid because what the hell? Beca shakes her head, pulling out her phone to dial Chloe’s number while she has down time before her next round of interviews.

Chloe picks up just as Beca is totally prepared to leave another message. “Finally,” Chloe complains jokingly. “Thought you’d never call me back.”

“Chlo, hi,” Beca says breathlessly as she chases after Emma who is rushing at a surprisingly fast pace down the hall. She offers an apologetic smile at one of her costars who looks entirely too amused at Beca power-walking down the hall in heels. “Your kid is literally running away from me right now.”

Chloe’s laugh is like music. “My kid now? Pretty sure she came out of you.”

“Shut up, she’s yours when she’s crazy fast.”

Chloe sighs like she is reclining comfortably on their bed. Beca is immediately envious. “Hmm, pretty sure you were the one on the track team, babe.”

“Hey, one of the outlets had a fun idea for an interview,” Beca says, finally catching up with her baby. “What would you say to letting me and Emma do a little interview? It’d be like a behind the scenes bonus video for YouTube. Julia thinks it’s a good idea but I dunno…”

Chloe laughs. “That sounds crazy enough to go viral.”

“But the exposure,” Beca worries.

“I know,” Chloe agrees softly. “I don’t want it to be too much for her but…”

“We can request that they turn off comments for the video,” Beca suggests. “But if you think I shouldn’t, then that’s totally fine. I want to know what you think.”

“God, she really is such a ham for the camera,” Chloe murmurs. Beca laughs, wondering if Chloe is looking at the earlier photos.

“Definitely didn’t get that from me,” Beca mumbles.

“Alright, miss Vogue covergirl.”

“Chloe,” Beca whines. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop flirting with me and answer me!” Beca jokes, feeling a light pang in her chest as Chloe laughs along with her.

“Bec, it’s fine. I trust your judgement and honestly it doesn’t sound horrible. And maybe I just want to see how cute my girlfriend and daughter are on screen together.”

For some reason the word “girlfriend” stands out to Beca in full force today. Whether it’s because she just happens to be missing Chloe more or because she feels an itch to settle down more than ever before, she can’t be sure. One thing is for certain, Beca knows she needs to have a conversation with Chloe sooner or later.

“Okay,” Beca finally says. She sighs. “I just...wish you were here. I wish you could be here.” She holds on to a squirming Emma. “Want to talk to this little punk?”

Chloe laughs. “Sure, put her on FaceTime.”

Beca does so and immediately wishes she had thought to FaceTime Chloe right at the beginning. She breaks into a smile at Chloe’s face appearing on her screen. “Emma! Baby, look! It’s mommy!”

Emma gasps dramatically and immediately grabs at the phone, dropping the “banana” she had been holding on the floor. She holds the phone away from her face at arms-length, smiling so widely that Beca wonders if her face hurts at all. “Mommy! Mommy, hi!”

“Emma! You look so cute! I love your hair, sweetie! Are you having fun?”

“Mama working!”

Chloe gasps. “I know! And you’re being a good girl right?”

Emma smiles, this time shyly in a complete show of how she has both Chloe and Beca wrapped around her tiny finger because Beca can see how Chloe visibly softens even through the screen. “Good girl,” Emma repeats before pointing at herself. “Miss you, mommy,” she says, pressing closer to the screen as if she can get closer. She looks like she might kiss the screen again but she just falls silent for a short moment, content with just watching Chloe smile back at her.

Beca totally relates.

* * * * *

Emma has an intuition. At first, Beca had rolled her eyes at Chloe when Chloe had pointed it out, but now she kind of sees what Chloe means.

It’s a kind of...jealousy instinct? Beca isn’t sure how to characterize it without being totally weird considering Emma is two (and a half...Jesus, already?), but it’s that Emma kind of knows when people are flirting with Beca or hitting on her (usually totally unprofessionally, but that’s another issue)...and it’s usually before Beca herself realizes what’s going on.

She isn’t expecting it to flare up during this press tour considering Beca’s just there for work and she isn’t even dressed to the nines, but Beca notices that Emma suddenly takes to cuddling close to her while she is in the middle of interacting with an over-enthusiastic interviewer off-camera, off-record.

“Hi you,” Beca greets, reaching down to lift Emma into her arms. She smiles apologetically at Angela (or was it Amy?). “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Oh, she’s adorable. Yours, right? She looks exactly like you.”

Before Beca can respond with an awkward thank you (she still doesn’t know how to take compliments even though she wholeheartedly agrees that Emma is the cutest baby on the planet), Emma is grabbing her cheeks with both hands and saying, with startling firmness, “mommy kiss.”

Beca isn’t quite sure what to make of that and gently shakes her face out of Emma’s grasp, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you mommy?” the interviewer asks with a laugh, none the wiser.

“Mommy kiss!” Emma repeats before turning to stare at the interviewer with a look that Beca has definitely seen before...on Chloe’s face.

Oh.

Beca’s face heats up. “Um, yeah. I’m...yeah,” she lies before laughing awkwardly. She takes a quick step back feeling guilty for no real discernible reason, but now that she’s actually looking, the body language is—yeah. Awkward. “I think she’s a little cranky, I’m just going to let her lie down for a bit, but it was nice talking to you.” Beca can’t quite make it away fast enough, barely resisting from bursting into laughter as she exits into a quiet room, away from prying eyes. “You’re horrible, you know that?” she tells Emma affectionately. “No,” she sighs. “You’re not. You’re like...ridiculously perfect.”

“Sleep now?” Emma asks eagerly. “Sleep, mama,” she insists, sounding so much like Chloe that Beca has to do a double take.

“Soon,” Beca promises.

* * * * *

By the third night, Beca is so exhausted from all the running around that she can barely keep her eyes open. However, Emma is rolling around in the large bed, excitedly playing with the stuffed Pluto that Beca had bought her from the Disney Store in Times Square. Emma makes little shrieking sounds that Beca thinks sound like barks, but she can’t be sure. Emma could just be screaming for the sake of screaming and Beca wouldn’t be any wiser.

“Read, mama!” Emma says once Beca finishes towelling off her hair.

Beca flops onto the bed next to Emma, pulling Pluto from her. “This is a dog,” she says clearly. “What sound do dogs make?”

Emma makes a barking sound.

“Oh, so you do know what they sound like,” Beca mutters. She grins and leans into press kisses against Emma’s rosy cheeks, eliciting giggles and flailing arms as Emma tries to push her away.

“Mama, stop!”

“Okay, okay,” she relents. She can’t help but kiss Emma’s cheek again, revelling in the soft scent of soap and baby powder that fills her nose. “Do you want a story before bed?”

Emma nods. “Story,” she says slowly. “Please.” Beca melts because Emma hasn’t quite mastered all her “l” sounds, so it comes out more like pwease and Beca never thought she’d be that mother but she absolutely wants to record every last thing she does.

“What books did we bring with us?” Beca asks aloud. She reaches over to the backpack leaning against the bed, pulling out a series of picture books. “Which one tonight?”

Emma points immediately at her favorite, a story about farm animals which means that Beca will have to make all the animal noises as best as she can.

She’s horrifically bad at that. Even after years in the music industry and literally doing voice work, she still feels woefully inadequate compared to Chloe.

“Are you sure?” Beca tries. “What about this one? There’s singing!”

“Dis one,” Emma says immediately and firmly. Unfortunately her daughter prefers animals over singing. Chloe’s child through and through, Beca thinks with mock-betrayal in her mind.

“Okay, fine,” Beca says. “But you owe me.”

Emma nods like she understands.

Together, they settle back in bed. Beca loves these moments the most, especially in the liminal spaces of the hotel rooms she often finds herself in. Most of the time she’s alone and she longs for the comfort of home. Now, she at least has Emma’s warm body snuggled against her side. She and Chloe have been slowly weaning Emma off from falling asleep in their bed with them, so it’s something that Beca has begun to miss a bit more with each passing day. Emma cuddles into her side, resting her head against Beca’s arm, reaching up to clutch at the fabric of Beca’s shirt. Beca points at each word as she reads, wondering if any of the sentences are really sinking in. Emma giggles—each giggle decreasing in volume—with each animal sound that Beca makes until finally she is silent, her head drooping against Beca’s forearm.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of successfully helping her child fall asleep comfortably. It is better than any validation Beca could receive.

Beca flips the book closed and places it gingerly on the side table. She gently maneuvers them both so they both end up under the sheets and kisses Emma’s forehead one last time before she feels exhaustion catch up with her.

Her last thought before sleep claims her is how incredibly large and empty the bed feels.

* * * * *

Before Beca knows it, it is finally their last day in New York. Emma has unfortunately chosen this day to be grouchy and refuses to wake up early so that they can catch their flight back to Los Angeles.

“Don’t you want to see mommy?” Beca pleads, trying to pull Emma’s leggings on. Baby clothes are somehow the hardest pieces of clothing Beca has ever had to wrestle with. “Don’t you want to see mommy and baby?”

“Mommy,” Emma whines.

Beca senses an impending tantrum. “Hey, hey, we’re going home, okay? Don’t you want to tell mommy all about your trip? And how much of a big girl you are now?”

“Go home now?” Emma asks, sniffling.

“Yes! Aren’t you excited? I’m excited. We get to see mommy again!”

Emma allows her to put a sweater over her head, though she still stares at Beca with mild disdain in her blue eyes like she isn’t quite sure what she agreed to. Beca is obsessed with her.

“Come on, little weirdo.” She picks Emma up off the bed, ignoring her squirming. “Let’s go home.”

* * * * *

Emma, who had been on the verge of sleep the entire drive from the airport, is suddenly wide awake as the car pulls around the corner of their street. Beca laughs when Chloe flings the door open and has to literally hold onto the back of Emma’s shirt as to stop her from launching right out the window.

“Okay, now you can go,” Beca says, opening the door for her.

Emma shrieks happily and toddles up the path to their house right into Chloe’s arms. Chloe, who immediately bends down as best as she can to sweep her into a tight hug. As Beca approaches with their bags, making sure to shut the gate behind her, she hears Emma babbling nonsensically to Chloe about their trip, ostensibly. Beca catches the tail end of a few words like “Dog” and “Julia” and “Mama”. It almost sounds like an entire paragraph of coherent sentences. Almost.

“Hey you,” Chloe says once Emma releases her and wanders into the house, likely in search of her toys. “Oh my God, are you Beca Mitchell?”

Beca rolls her eyes, pushing her sunglasses up above her forehead. “Shut up, nerd. How have you been,” she asks, tone softening.

Chloe’s palm touches her stomach, a soft smile stretching across her face. “Still pregnant.”

“I can see that,” Beca says before she can help herself.

Chloe swats her immediately. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not!” Beca exclaims, laughing. She bends down to press a soft kiss to Chloe’s stomach, only slightly disappointed when there isn’t a kick in return.

“She’s missed you.”

“She has?” Beca asks, straightening so she can cup the back of Chloe’s neck. She smiles, leaning in for a kiss, sighing longingly against Chloe’s lips. “What about...other people? Have there been others who have missed me?”

“I’ve missed you,” Chloe murmurs, giving in far quicker than Beca expected. She pulls Beca in for a slow, wanting kiss, ending the kiss with a soft nip to Beca’s lower lip.

Beca shivers, even as the hot California sun beats down on the back of her neck.

She is so happy to be home.

fin.

*see more of this universe—now i see daylight.*

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fanfiction #now i see daylight #my fanfic #text #mine #sorry idk it was rushed #but the idea stuck and chloe had some great thoughts

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

I’m sure you’ve already gotten a bunch of asks since Manny’s Crime King interview! I’m just like confused about him saying he’s enamored by her world but honestly like how is his different (besides his obvious commitment to the game) he lives in a nice loft, takes his kid to baseball, drives a fancy car, and plays tennis at the club. It’s not like he’s living the life of a thug. I guess I’m not getting the exact contrast of their worlds.

(Rest of my ask) I’m probably missing some obvious point here which is why I’m asking you lol helllppp

I do think Rio’s enamoured with Beth’s world, yes! I think that really boils down to the fact that while on paper Beth and Rio aren’t living dissimilar lives in terms of their roles as parents, and while they obviously now share parts of the criminal world, I do think the show is actually pretty specific in how it represents those worlds, particularly in terms of the masculine / feminine, and how a part of the curiosity around each other is in viewing one another as a key that both compliments their own world, while also unlocking the other’s one for them.

The gendering of spaces in storytelling – but particularly films and TV is, hilariously, a topic that I’m incredibly passionate about and have both written it a lot in my original work, and written about it a lot for magazines, journals and media sites (I’m actually writing an essay at the moment for a literary journal about LGBTQI cinema and how lesbian romances are highly domesticised [i.e. Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Handmaiden, The Favourite, The Kids are Alright] while gay romances are usually very pointedly about keeping away from domestic spaces, moving and traveling [i.e. Brokeback Mountain, The Talented Mr Ripley, Moonlight, Midnight Cowboy, even Call Me By Your Name is heavily focused on being Americans abroad aka away from home] but that all feels like a different story, haha).

Luckily for me, Good Girls is actually about as obsessed with the gendering of spaces as I am. It’s a major, major throughline throughout the show for many of the characters, but particularly Beth and Rio, and their intrigue with the other’s spaces – her interest in his powerful, highly masculine one, and his with her deceptively innocent, strongly feminine one – is really central to their intrigue with each other more broadly.

So to talk about this, we probably need a little bit of context.

(Under a cut because this is literally 4,000 words)

Gendering Spaces in Cinema

It’s probably not a surprise to anyone here, but places and spaces in stories are about as gendered – if not more gendered – as they are in daily life. In particular, cinema’s visual and textual language has historically been very clear:

The inside is female. The outside is male.

This concept has really been around since the beginning of cinema but became very popularised through Westerns in the late 1920s onwards, and really underlined by war films particularly during propaganda cinema in WWII. Men are outside, battling the elements and other men, claiming land, building outwards, while women are at home – either literally or figuratively (if they’re actually out at war, like in the utterly fabulous So Proudly We Hail!, they’re at the ‘home base’ as nurses) – building inwards. Men protect the home while women create it.

Westerns feature these images very potently and very literally. Almost every single western dating back to the 1910s will have some combination of these two shots:

a) Woman at home, looking out into the wild:

b) Man leaving home, stepping out into the wild:

(These two stills are from John Ford’s The Searchers which is generally regarded as one of the greatest Westerns of all time. It’s………very racist and misogynistic, as many were and still are, but in terms of technicality and visual language, it’s a very well-made film, albeit not one I enjoyed).

The purpose at the time, of course, was steeped in historic sexism and invested in maintaining that culture, particularly westerns and war films which are heavily devoted to ‘macho’ narratives. Women were passive, men were active, but these images really set the stage for how the ideas of ‘space’ continues to exist in cinema. A fact that’s bolstered by broader social discourses that still exist today – schools, grocery stores, laundromats are inherently ‘female’ spaces because they are seen as an extension of the home, while police stations, car dealerships, warehouses, are inherently ‘male’ spaces because they’re about work, protecting and providing for a home, and being pointedly outside of that domestic space aka ‘the wild’. It’s not an accident that the girls are robbing grocery stores and day spas, but I’ll get back to that, haha.

These ideas of gendered spaces underpin everything we watch, no matter the genre.

Sure, these ideas can be subverted to varying degrees of effectiveness (often it’s steeped in my least favourite trope – the ‘not like other girls’ heroine), but you can’t subvert a trope without actually acknowledging it exists. Sometimes these subversions are done brilliantly too – like in Legally Blonde which was not just about Elle existing in a space that was quintessentially coded as male, but embracing her femininity and womanhood within that space; and often brutally too in films like Winter’s Bone, Room and The Nightingale which all brutalise women in ‘male spaces’ while simultaneously weaponizing female spaces against them – usually the home. The lead character of Winter’s Bone is going to lose her house unless her absent father shows up in court, the lead character of Room creates a home that is simultaneously a sanctuary and a mockery of a sanctuary to try and protect her son from reality and survive, the lead character of The Nightingale has her home invaded, her husband and baby murdered, and is horrifically raped within that home.

Hometown Horror: a divergence

This is a slight aside to where I’m going with this overall, but please indulge me, haha. I’m a big fan of horrors and thrillers, which explore this in a really stark way. In that, the invasion of a home or a domestic space – whether by ghost, demon or serial killer, is, generally speaking, synonymous with the invasion of a woman’s body and the violation of her as a person.

Films that focus on a female survivor or a ‘final girl’ are very generally focused on the invasion of her home as much as it’s focused on the invasion of her body. Think The Exorcist, Rosemary’s Baby, Scream, The Babadook, Hereditary, The Conjuring, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Panic Room. The violation of a woman’s home is the invasion of her, because cinema relies on over 100 years of movies telling us that a house and the woman who lives in it are symbolically the same thing.

Horror films that focus on men are very rarely centred in the home. It’s men travelling, or men visiting a woman’s home, or men who’ve been taken. Think of the first Saw movie which takes place in a mysterious basement, Hostel which is at a hostel, Dawn of the Dead at a shopping mall, An American Werewolf in London while two men are on holiday, The Evil Dead is in a cabin, Get Out is at his girlfriend’s family home.

There are exceptions, of course! Family home invasion films like The Purge, Funny Games and The Strangers are rooted in the violation of that home, but still. You’ll generally find that it manifests differently narratively speaking for men and women. Rear Window too takes place entirely in a man’s apartment – but it’s interesting to note that most of the ‘horror’ comes from him spying on somebody else’s home – notably a woman’s, The Descent too is very much about women and is set during cave diving. Still! These are all exceptions, not the rule.

Good Girls and Gendered Spaces

Every single space in Good Girls is gendered. It’s actually one of the things I seriously love about the show because it’s thoughtfully done, and it is deliberate. We know it is, because they tell us explicitly in the writing multiple times. I mean – hell, think of Ruby telling us (well, telling Rio, haha) way back at the end of 1.04 when they’re selling him on the idea of washing cash through Cloud 9 – “Nobody thinks twice about a woman buying her husband a TV or new tires for the minivan.” A store like that is gendered, and Ruby’s reinforcing it by saying it’s a place women go to build a home. It hasn’t been weaponized yet - - but our girls know how to weaponize it. They’re playing on the fact that people think women’s spaces are effectively impotent, and they’re telling Rio – and us as an audience – that they’re going to exploit it.

This is an idea the show revisits frequently. Women’s spaces are – both in life and in storytelling – spaces that are viewed as passive because they are representative of women, and what the show is – I believe – very invested in, is showing how those spaces are fundamentally active. If you want a house to represent a woman – well, okay. Then you get to see what’s under the rug, y’know?

I’m going to come back to the home thread – because I really do think it’s very important, and I think the way the show depicts people in those spaces (and invading those spaces) is significant – but it’s not just homes that are looked at in this way. The show is very specific about having feminine spaces and masculine spaces, with only a few in between (and usually those in-between spaces are very specifically for Stan and Ruby, showing just how in-sync they are with each other and how much they operate within a shared space). Beyond the women’s homes, there are the kids’ schools, Fine & Frugal (very important here to note that Annie emasculates Boomer in what is an associated female space and that he retaliates by attempting to rape her in her own home aka not only another female space, but a space that is symbolically Annie, something he repeats later with Mary Pat – a violation on essentially every character, narrative and symbolic level, again), the waxing salon, Nancy’s day spa, Jane’s dance recital (and actually the physical object of the dubby – being a highly feminine object lost in a very masculine space), and already what we know of s3, with Ruby being at a nail salon and Beth being at a paper / card store.

The show also has very masculinized places – I’d argue Boland Motors is one of the biggest ones – very much about ‘boys and their toys’, which is why Beth pointedly feminising it when she takes over is so significant and symbolically indicative of Beth’s claiming of that space; but also spaces like the police station, the drug dealer’s house in 2.07, the hotel suite Boomer briefly occupies, even to an extent the church. When the girls are in these spaces, there’s a distinct feeling of encroaching on territory that isn’t theirs, or being in spaces that they don’t belong in. This is often done as a two-hander too – the police station and the church Ruby doesn’t belong in anymore, not necessarily as a woman, but as a criminal.

Nothing though, from a technical standpoint, is more masculine than the spaces that are shown to be Rio’s. From the warehouse spaces to the bar to his loft to his car, Rio’s ‘places’ are distinctly masculine and generally placed in direct contrast with Beth’s femininity. But I’ll come back to that point too.

Home, Identity and Invasion

Almost every female character on this show has a very defined domestic space, from Beth, Ruby and Annie, to Mary Pat, Marion and Nancy. These spaces are representative of not just who they are, but who they are as women, and really comes to routinely represent the interior lives of these characters. This is probably the clearest in 2.09 when Beth is uncharacteristically messy following Dean taking their kids, and in 2.06, when Beth and Dean switch roles, and Dean is incapable of maintaining that domestic space because it’s not his. But let’s not start there.

Let’s start with Annie.

Annie’s apartment is fun, feminine (but not overly so), youthful, sweet, and generally a bit of organized chaos. It’s often underequipped – there are several mentions of the pantry being understocked – but it’ll always do in a pinch. More than anything though, Annie’s apartment comes to life when her son is in it. She’s happiest when he’s there, and when he’s not, her loneliness drives her to pulling people into the space with her, whether that’s the electronics guy, Greg, or Noah.

This is particularly significant when Annie’s forming bonds with people. The show has symbolically relied very heavily on Annie’s moments of vulnerability and connection being grounded in her apartment or an extension of it – usually her car. There was her reconnecting with Greg over YouTube videos in s1, there was Nancy and her talking about pregnancy in 2.02, and there was Noah settling in across season 2. These are all substantial moments in terms of Annie’s interior life that are represented through her home – she lets them all in. Which is why it’s significant what people do when they are in. Particularly the show marrying Noah getting to know Annie while simultaneously rifling through her belongings, trying to know specific things about her.

This is only reiterated by Noah’s scenes with Sadie later in the season – always at home, reiterating just how much Noah’s invaded Annie’s life, how much he’s inside her, how much he’s using everything and everyone who’s important to her, and how much he’s a threat to all of that too.

Ruby and Stan are a little different. Ruby’s house is the only one that’s genuinely shared with somebody, and the show represents this across the board – Ruby and Stan wear similar colours, the house feels like theirs, and the parts of their worlds that are separate are still frequently pretty defined by each other (even when Ruby’s acting away form Stan, the show makes it clear that Stan’s at the forefront of her mind, and vice versa). This indicates their partnership, but the house really still is symbolically tied to Ruby. This is particularly represented by the effect of having Turner in the house, but, more than that, it’s underlined symbolically by Turner arresting Stan at home. If the home symbolically carries the meaning of the woman, Turner arresting Stan there is starkly about Turner taking Stan away from Ruby. That image would not hold the same weight if he was arrested at, say, the park or the police station, because the locations don’t hold the same meaning.

It’s also why there’s significance in Stan and Turner’s showdown narratively speaking happening at the police station. It needs to, because symbolically it should occupy a masculine-coded space, because that showdown isn’t just about who they are as people, but who they are as men.

Beth and Beth’s house is very, very different to Annie and Ruby’s, and holds a more substantial narrative and symbolic function. From the very first episode, the potential of losing her house is key to her arc, and key to her identity as a character.

Beth is a lot of things, but a recurring image with her as a character is that she is invested in projecting a dated idea of ‘perfect womanhood’, and, within that, actually pretty perfectly creates parts of it for herself. For Beth – as somebody who was a housewife for roughly twenty years – her house really is her in every sense of the word. Every threat to that house, every disruption, every wrinkle, every intrusion, every theft, every invitation is personal. Dean might have at least two rooms in the Boland House, but that space is Beth’s on almost every symbolic level. When people pop into it, it’s a direct invasion of her.

This is something that the show has revisited time and time again, particularly when it comes to Beth’s bedroom. When people want to be close to Beth, that’s where they go. Annie slept there across season one when she was vulnerable and lonely, despite Beth telling her to go home, Jane broke into Beth’s closet there when she felt she was being neglected, Dean’s constantly trying to sidle into it (and – pointedly – only really in it when they’re fighting and Beth is revealing something / letting him in on something – that they’re out of money, that she has Rio’s money, that she knows about his affairs). When Beth has been at her most vulnerable, she lets Ruby and Annie into it. That said, the only character who’s been explicitly invited into it has been Rio – significantly both in fantasy, and in the show’s reality.

It’s not just about inviting people in though – when she kicks somebody out of it, the act is loaded.

She’s not just pushing somebody out of a space, she’s pushing them out of her.

It’s not just her bedroom of course (although I do think that’s the most significant space on perhaps the whole show). Rio and Turner between them have regularly invaded Beth’s living room, dining room, her kitchen, her yard. These are often distinctly tied with her doing something domestic and / or distinctly feminine. She’s bringing groceries home, she’s baking, she’s trying on jewellery, she’s mothering her children. Symbolically, this is often when Rio and Turner both are at their most masculine and their most threatening, which just serves to underline the invasion of Beth’s space.

It’s not just the girls though, as I said above. Female domestic spaces on this show are significantly coded as belonging to women, even if they share those spaces. Think about Nancy and Greg’s house – which is Nancy’s space, not Greg’s, and throughout season 1, Annie was pitted as the outsider to that. She’s a smear of hair oil on Nancy’s perfect couch. It’s made all the starker when Nancy kicks Greg out, and when Annie helps Nancy give birth in that house – a distinctly female, intimate act, that not only operates as a significant feminization of that space, but also about Annie fighting for Nancy to let her in again.

These spaces all keep secrets for the women they belong to too – Mary Pat’s husband’s dead body, Boomer’s very much alive one – because, again, symbolically, they are these women.

Rio’s loft is a really interesting one to look at in this context, because not only is it hyper masculine, but the show underlines that it does not hold the same significance that the girls’ places have for them. Beth does not learn Rio by being inside him – something made stark through their game of twenty questions. In fact, being in Rio’s loft, in his space, only serves to point out how much Beth doesn’t know him. Not only that, but Beth’s inability to lose her house (which is really central to her arc) is paralleled exactly with how easily Rio can separate from his.

The domestic space is not male.

Rio exists outside of it.

Beth x Rio and the Feminine x Masculine

Rio and Beth are basically at polar opposites of the masculine / feminine spectrum, and it’s something that this show often casts in a really stark light through dialogue, visual language, character coding and symbolism.

Beth epitomizes the old archetype of femininity and the female world in a way that I don’t think Annie and Ruby do (although I do think Ruby does in some respects). This is coded into almost every part of her character – from her long history of domestic servitude and marital submission (letting Dean control their finances, not working, keeping the house, etc.) to her fertility (four children!) to the way she dresses in floral, bakes, to certain traits, namely her nurturing tendencies, overt empathy and guilt (not being able to kill Boomer). Even in terms of the casting – Christina is somebody who has a very distinctly feminine body.

On the other hand, Rio, in many ways, epitomizes the old idea of masculinity and the masculine world. He’s coded that way almost as much as Beth is coded as feminine – he’s physically strong (beating up Dean, holding Beth up while they were having sex), assertive, dominant, capable and collected. That’s not even touching on the fact that the golden gun is incredibly phallic, haha.

The show loves to place Beth’s femininity in direct contrast with Rio’s masculinity in a way that it doesn’t do with the other girls or – in fact perhaps more notably – with Beth and Dean (if anything, Dean’s frequently emasculated around Beth, but that feels like a whole other thing, haha), and it does this frequently, and often even in the same shot.

Most notably, think of her pearls on the warehouse door handle:

Their cars parked side-by-side:

Her necklace, his gun:

Her light, his darkness:

Her floral, his solid colours:

Interestingly though, these things are very rarely in competition or combative (although occasionally they are – Rio trying to use her femaleness and his maleness / their sexuality to literally bend her over a table in 2.06 being the clearest example of that). Generally speaking, the show’s visual language though shows us how these things compliment each other. They occupy different gendered spaces, so they can ‘crime’ in different ways – Beth using the big box stores, the secret shoppers, robbing the day spa, are all things that are highly feminised, and give Rio by proxy access to a world he ordinarily wouldn’t (albeit it’s not always a world he’s interested in – like it wasn’t with the botox), and the reverse of that is that Rio gives Beth access to spaces that are highly masculinised and that she ordinarily wouldn’t have access to (again, not always a world she’s interested in either). It’s why when they’re working together, and acknowledging they have different departments, they actually become something really whole, comprehensive and effective.

It’s the exploration of this that I find really intriguing generally, and particularly a thread that I think is reiterated where Beth’s usually at her worst and her most ineffective when she’s trying to emulate Rio’s masculinity. We saw that at the end of 1.10 and the start of 2.01, and I think we saw it at the tail end of season 2 too. When Beth’s succeeding, she’s typically doing something that revels in the strength and power and the underestimation of femininity and female spaces, and turns places that are typically viewed as passive into active ones.

The Secret Shoppers (which worked briefly! And fell apart because she couldn’t handle Mary Pat. Notably almost every scene with them was inside Beth’s house):

The day spa heist:

The Boland Motors takeover / reclamation that focused on feminising the place:

Pretending to be somebody’s mum to get into the kids’ space (which would’ve worked if Beth and Ruby hadn’t started fighting):

Breaking into Rio’s loft:

Again, this is something that seems to be being teased out already in s3 with the paper store and the nail salon, and I’m sure we’ll see it coming up again and again beyond that.

But yes! Your question, haha. I think Rio is enamoured with the strong, feminine space and the untapped female world that Beth exists in, and the ways that she is actively capable of utilising her femininity and her womanness in a way that is completely impossible for him. She can manipulate these spaces – either those already female, or those she makes female aka Boland Motors – in ways that he can’t, and in a way that, at the end of the day, lines his pocket, in the same way that giving her access to his powerful, masculine world lines hers. It’s market development, y’know? But it’s also something that could be a true and successful partnership if they could stop, y’know, playing games and trying to kill each other, haha.

I think it’s worth noting here too that the show has shown us explicitly that Beth absolutely gets off on Rio being highly masculine, and while I think Rio absolutely gets off on Beth being a boss bitch too, it’s also important to note how he responds to her when she’s displaying vulnerability in a way often defined as very feminine – namely crying – and how that display of femininity not only affects him, but often makes him want to touch her (and more and more, follow through on touching her).

Basically I think they’re as obsessed with the contrast between the two of them as we are, haha.

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travllingbunny · 4 years

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The 100: 7x02 The Garden

I love this episode. Mostly for the beautiful and emotionally complex Octavia-centric flashback story, for all the exciting revelations about the nature of the Anomaly and time dilation and the overall story of this season (all the exposition was done in a surprisingly natural way and never bothered me), and the way the two timelines were interwoven. It says a lot that I wasn’t even bothered by the lack of Clarke or Bellamy - or the fact that this episode featured only 6 characters (plus some extras in suits), one of which was a deranged minor character we’ve never seen before. Episodes focused on a small number of characters and plots often feel more coherent.

Comparisons between The Garden and Eden are obvious, the two even have basically the same title, and many similarities and contrasts, so I rewatched Eden yesterday, and I’ll be writing a post about that episode soon, too. I rewatched the entire show just before season 7 started, but season 5 is the only one I’ve never written reviews of, so this seems like the right occasion. it will also be interesting to rewatch Red Queen after this.

One of the things that I noticed rewatching season 5 is how well the cinematography has been used in seasons 5, 6 and 7 and how it differentiates different worlds. The ruined Earth in season 5 was mostly in sepia, yellow and grey tones, looking like a gloomy desert - except for Eden, which had normal colors. Sanctum has bright colors - it’s beautiful, but a little too colorful, almost psychedelic, dangerous. Skyring in this episode mostly seen in soft light and blueish-green colors - a peaceful paradise.

Or is that a prison? A solitary/house arrest? I love this duality - it can be both. The most beautiful place can be a prison that drives you insane, if you’re all alone.

One garden, two serpents

Isolation is a theme we’ve seen on The 100 with many characters: Clarke was in a solitary for a year, distracting herself with drawings, then alone roaming around for 3 months, then forced to spend 6 years on a deserted planet, but she was only completely alone for the first 2 months, when she was fighting with nature and lack of food and water as much as with loneliness, and she was talking to Bellamy every day - who couldn’t even hear her - and hoping to see him again. Murphy was alone for 3 months in a fully stacked bunker on Becca’s island, but comfort is no help when you’re all alone, only have one and the same videos to watch and music to listen to, and you don’t know if you’re getting out. Octavia was the Girl Under the Floor for 16 years, and she had her mother and brother, but no one else; then she was locked up for a year; and after all the fighting, including the 6 years in the bunker with 1200 people she ruled over (which was maybe the time when she was more lonely than ever!), she ended up spending 10 years of her life on a planet with a family of two people - again - and no one else, and - just as when she was a child - with little hope that she will ever have a chance to meet anyone else. And here we see the effects of a prolonged isolation from everyone else, with poor Orlando (that’s what he’s called in the end credits), the prisoner who dug out dead bodies and used a creepy doll just to have an illusion of friends.

Unlike Clarke in 5x01, Octavia did not have to struggle with loneliness or fight to survive, but the paradise in which she had accidentally ended up in was also a prison of sorts, since she could not get out of it and was likely to spend all her life there, without ever seeing her brother or any other people, except for Diyoza and Hope. Like Clarke, Octavia found a family, and a child to take care of, but unlike Clarke, Octavia did not become a little girl’s adoptive or substitute mother.

The title evokes Diyoza’s line from 5x13: “One garden, two serpents. Eden never stood a chance.” Instead, they got to have their paradise here, until Octavia’s attempt to send her brother a message brought the Disciples from Bardo there to capture them. I’m not sure if that was a bad or a good thing - since that was probably their only way out of Skyring.

(There’s also a literal garden in the episode, and this was the first time we saw Octavia farm the land since 4x09, when she learned how to do it on Ilian’s farm. That was the last time Octavia tried to escape her darkness by having an idyllic farm life and a relationship, at least for a few days before the end of the world comes, but her past came back in the form of those people who recognized and attacked her - and she realized she wasn’t cut out for peace and rode into Polis looking for a war. She wasn’t ready at the time to give up violence. In season 5, she insisted that “Farmers won’t save the world, warriors will” - which Monty proved wrong. And now, Octavia has become a farmer.)

But Octavia’s paradise was forced on her, and it was clear that she and Diyoza didn’t really feel the same about living the rest of their lives on Skyring. The difference is, Diyoza doesn’t have anyone else in the world she cares about - everyone she once cared about has been dead for centuries. and she has given up on trying to change the world. She obviously wanted to do it once, when she was fighting “the fascist government who tried to take my home” and blowing up buildings, but she’s now tired of the violence, after being a terrorist/rebel, then a prisoner of a big corporation, again a rebel fighting against that corporation to save prisoners from being left to die just because they were deemed expendable, then she led another war - which ended with her baby-daddy destroying the Earth, and now she’s tired of the violence and wants to have a different life in peace with her daughter, who she didn’t even want to teach fighting of any kind. She’s also content to live without ever reuniting with the rest of the human race. Maybe partly because she was quite hurt to learn that she was supposedly in history books as one of the worst people ever. (Which she really shouldn’t have taken seriously - since it was Russell who said it, so these “history books” can only be Sanctum history books, written by Russell or his family members or other Primes. They left Earth around the time when Diyoza was just arrested, so it’s unlikely they even knew what history books said about her in the next few years - and even if those history books said so, they would be history books written under the same government Diyoza was fighting against.)

Octavia, on the other hand, still has other people she cares about in the world, most of all her brother. Not only did she leave a time when she knew Bellamy and others are likely to be in danger from the Primes - and she had no way of knowing they had learned the truth about the Primes by themselves - but they parted on bad terms and with unresolved issues and with no catharsis, and Bellamy would probably be left thinking she really died when he left her on Alpha - instead of learning that she did resolve her issues and find peace. She didn’t know that her attempts to get back the way she came, through the lake, would never work - if she had succeeded, she would have probably ended up on Bardo instead. Ironically, only when she made peace with the fact she couldn’t go back and sent a letter in a bottle, it ended up alerting the Disciples - but it all eventually resulted in Octavia ending up back on Sanctum in the same place she left (whether she escaped and came back from Bardo or through some other planet?), and got the chance to tell Bellamy in person that she understands him now.

There’s some ambiguity about Octavia’s relationships with Diyoza and Hope - at times it seems that Octavia is Hope’s co-parent: she lives with them and is closely involved in raising Hope, after all - not exactly like an aunt who just occasionally visits and plays with the kid. All three of them are shown as a close family unit. However, Octavia does not see herself as Hope’s mother - nor does Hope see her that way. She is “Aunty O”. Hope has a mother, and not an absent or inattentive one, but someone like Diyoza, fully focused on raising her daughter. Octavia and Diyoza may be seen as sisters - with “Aunty O” and Octavia telling Bellamy in the letter that she loves her like she loves him even though she’s a ‘pain in the ass’. Or they could look like “an old married couple”, as Diyoza called them back in season 6 when they were finishing each other sentences.

(But if we’re supposed to think that Octavia’s and Diyoza’s close relationship never got sexual in any way, in spite of the fact they lived together for 10 years without any other adults around and with almost no hope they would ever see another adult, then I guess one or both of them is really extremely heterosexual, real 0 on Kinsey’s scale. If we’re supposed to think that. Technically, we don’t know for sure.)

Anyway, this ambiguity of whether Octavia was a co-parent to Hope or not has caused some debate on Twitter about what degree of responsibility Octavia exactly had towards Hope and whether she was allowed to leave her. But even if Octavia is seen as a co-parent, I don’t subscribe to the idea that every adult, especially a woman, who comes into the situation of taking care of a child must immediately forget about all other relationships, concerns and desire and subjugate their entire life to taking care of that child. Especially when it also means that the child will be isolated from the world at large. I didn’t think it was healthy when Bellamy’s whole life revolved around protecting Octavia, either, or when Clarke, after escaping Polis in season 5, thought for a moment that her and Madi living all alone, as they did during those 6 years, would be an OK future for either of them.

Octavia may not have thought the whole time dilation through (yes, it’s quite likely Hope would be old or die before she returned from Sanctum with the other people, since she’d need time to find Bellamy and others, explain things to them and back them go back, but she still had hope (no pun intended) that both she and Hope could have more of life than and was still fighting to make contact with her people on the other side. Diyoza may have been right about the time dilation, but how did she imagine Hope’s life was going to be in the future? Yes, if Octavia left, Hope would end up alone after Diyoza died. But if Octavia stayed, Hope would still be left all alone after Diyoza and Octavia died, and never got a chance to meet anyone else, have any other kind of life, be a part of the human race.

One may argue Diyoza was being selfish, trying to keep Octavia there, and she certainly did take away Octavia’s choice and forced her to stay. Though, in her defense, she thought she was saving her life - but it was still was one of those “I’m making choices for you because I know what’s best for you”. And it wasn’t her whole motivation - it was mostly about wanting to keep Octavia there as a part of their family unit. Octavia called her out on the fact that it wasn’t all about Hope, it was about their relationship, too. Which certainly seemed emotionally intense, with Diyoza being hurt and sort of jealous at the thought that Octavia would leave her and Hope and that she may love her less than she loves her brother.

The episode played a lot with the parallels between Octavia and Bellamy, with O using what she had learned from Bellamy to take care of young Hope the same way. And the parallel between Octavia and Hope as “Girls Under the Floor” were even more obvious, even before Hope literally had to go under the floor to hide from the Disciples. That would put Diyoza in Aurora’s role and Octavia in Bellamy’s. It’s not a perfect parallel, as Bellamy didn’t have any other strong attachments to anyone or any other family while Aurora was alive. But, while Aurora seemed to have no other vision for the future except focusing fully on hiding Octavia, Bellamy tried to give his sister an opportunity to meet other people and live a life - by taking her to the dance - and Octavia was similarly the one who wished to bring other people to Skyring and was giving Hope the hope (!) she would meet them.

The Three Stooges and the Anomaly

(Thanks @jeanie205 for that moniker LOL) The one thing that brings down this episode (I’m taking away half the point from it) is the very unlikely degree of plot-induced incompetence that the trio of Hope, Echo and Gabriel displayed throughout this episode - so they could get stuck on Skyring, maybe for 5 years:

Hope knew the bridge was under the lake - she should have known the note could get washed up!

How come Hope didn’t know there was more than one door to the cabin? Or if Orlando built the other door, or someone else who was there while she was away, how come none of the trio noticed that other door?

Even the windows looked big enough for someone to come in. Why didn’t at least one of them stand guard in the cabin? Or at least somewhere close where they could see what’s happening in the cabin? Why were they both sitting somewhere outside? They weren’t even close to the door. Did they think Orlando could only come into the cabin from one direction?

Why didn’t Gabriel take the memory viewer with him when he ran out? Come on, dude, that’s one of the most important things you have there, and you know there is a deranged guy outside, and you just leave it there?

Still, I enjoyed this part of the story, too, especially with all the new info we got - which got me speculating the whole week - see my theories here.

Gabriel is so adorable as an old man scientist in a young body and even the fact he is more interested in the Anomaly than in any living human is kind of endearing. We also got a glimpse of the nerdy young doctor who was once crushing on Becca before going to the mission and meeting Josephine.

Echo is finally starting to justify her main character billing this season, getting an actual storyline rather than tagging along around Bellamy, and she is already a much more enjoyable character. She hasn’t actually changed much yet - but she’s now put in the position as an audience surrogate, wondering what the heck is going and asking question like “Where is Bellamy?” while Hope and Gabriel spout exposition (they do it so well though that you don’t even mind it). It helps a lot that she’s not around any of the Spacekru, so we don’t have to deal with the forced “we’re all close family due to the 6 years off-screen, which we spent in utter boredom and without any actual dangers we’d have to deal with” dynamic. Instead, now a character she’s interacting with (Hope) and Echo’s own hallucinations are constantly calling her out on her past actions, which helps fix the issue that season 5 created - the impression that Echo is the one character who doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of her past actions, with her past being simply waved away with “they spent 6 years with her and she’s now one of the good guys” (Although, while I like Hope calling Echo out, Hope got it wrong - Echo didn’t kick Octavia over the cliff after stabbing her, Octavia tripped and fell. But that’s not the first time in the show the writers Octavia has misremembered an event.)

This will be the second time Echo is stuck somewhere in a peaceful place with just a few people for 6 5 years. How much of this will be off-screen? It certainly helps that we’ve already seen her interact with Hope and Gabriel in two episodes, and the dynamic between Hope and Echo is developing, with Echo starting to comfort Hope when Hope showed vulnerability behind her fast-talking snarky exterior.

Echo still doesn’t seem ready to “face her demons”, since her reaction to her own hallucination telling her she’s still just a killer and asking her who she is if she doesn’t have someone (Bellamy) to follow, was to ignore it and try to kill people and now swear she’ll kill everyone she needs to in order to get to Bellamy. But I assume this is just the beginning of her long overdue character development.

Was there significance to Echo plucking the flower and then looking at the sky? Was it simply her starting to appreciate the beauty of the planet? t It reminds me of how Clarke was touching the flowers in Eden in 5x01.

Other observations:

Technically, I guess this episode was really Hope-centric, since she was the only character in both timelines.

I’m not sure what exactly the scientific explanation is for Octavia’s arm healing the moment she got to Skyring. How does the whole temporal flare thing work?

"What is it about Bellamy that makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for him?” - I see what they did there. I bet this is a hint about what the focus of a lot of this season is. Hope meant Echo and Octavia, but we know that Clarke’s storyline will also soon become about looking for Bellamy “her missing people”, “her family”, “people she loves”. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much it makes sense for Hope to ask that - she must have heard Octavia’s stories about Bellamy, so she’d know what it is about him that’s so special - his devotion to those he loves and how ready he is to do anything for them. But maybe Hope felt some of that same jealousy Diyoza did, or her mom’s jealousy rubbed off on her, because Octavia kept trying to get back to her brother.

It’s interesting that Octavia named “Bellamy, Clarke and Madi” as the main people she wanted to bring here. She didn’t mention Raven or Miller (as she would if she was talking about the Delinquents as a family going back to season 1, or even her mentor Indra, or friend Niylah. Just Bellamy and Clarke and Madi - as a part of her family she wants to bring. There’s no reason why she’d see Madi as her family but not Indra, so this definitely seems like Clarke and Madi are seen as Bellamy’s family and a package deal in Octavia’s eyes. (And that’s before she even witnessed what happened in 6x10.) Not that surprising considering Octavia’s “another traitor who you love” comment from 5x08 and her dislike of Echo. Ironically, almost killed all three of them as Blodreina, which is maybe also a sign of how much she’s disconnecting from that role - even though she hasn’t gone through her 6x09 Face Your Demons hallucination yet.

It turns out Octavia was older than Bellamy in 6x09-6x13. The green box was probably her peaceful life on Skyring that she did not remember. But the red box was the unfinished business with her past. It seems that she was changed psychologically by her time on Skyring even without remembering it.

Hope is now the third child raised on stories about the Delinquents. Little Hope liked Murphy, just like Jordan did during his “rebellious phase”. Madi, however, was an Octavia fan.

I guess Orlando saw Hope’s name written on the door, since it doesn’t seem they ever met before. But where did the creepy doll come from?

If prisoners all end up insane as he did - and they probably do, after such long periods of complete isolation - that’s a really messed up way of making people into “true believers”, by breaking them completely. A solitary confinement that’s years long? Cruel.

The Bardo symbol (Phoenix) was seen in the bucket and bottle Octavia was using, which proves that the Bardo people had already been on the planet before Octavia and Diyoza ended up on it.

If Orlando had no one else to dig out, I guess they always make sure to bring the prisoners back after they’ve served their sentence. But they probably killed Dev. I hope we get the story about Dev and Hope in flashbacks. Seeing what his facial expression was at the time of death, that guy certainly didn’t die a natural death.

The Becca cameo was cool, and this was a whole new face of Becca, kind of cheeky and funny. But her comment that time dilation is “sexy as hell”... um, OK, Yeah, how lucky you get to “get to the future faster” and possibly die before getting a chance to ever reunite with anyone else you know? To be fair, she did not expect all the others in the mission to die and leave poor Colin on his own.

Gabriel “had to be sure she (Josephine) was really gone”. But maybe a part of him deep inside hoped she wasn’t..

So the Anomaly was already there when Colin Benson crashed on the planet. Hmm... that seems to go against my theory that the Anomaly Stones were made by humans at some point during the previous 230 years, but I’m still not giving up on it. Eligius 3 must have travelled longer to Skyring, if it is so far away from Earth and Sanctum, I don’t think that “Beta” meant that Skyring was the second stop of Eligius 3 - maybe the planets were graded by how good conditions they had for human life. Which would put Sanctum and Skyring at the top, but Sanctum was closer. And with all sorts of time shenanigans going around, maybe there’s some way that the Anomaly Stones could have been placed there by humans. I just can’t believe that it was really some alien race millions of years ago, especially with the Anomaly symbols looking like Greek letters, many of those used in physics or math, the gender symbols, and the infinity symbol is there, too.

This was one of the rare episodes of The 100 where no one died. Though we did learn about some people’s past deaths.

Rating: 9/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x02 #the garden #the 100 season 7 #octavia blake #charmaine diyoza #hope diyoza #gabriel santiago #octavia x diyoza #echo kom azgeda #bellamy blake #madi griffin

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captainillogical · 5 years

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Devil’s Ballroom ch.1

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

Beach City was a small, lovely town, where pretty much everyone knew each other from the inner city to the boardwalk. You've lived your whole life there, and you loved it. It was home. It was also a really strange town, and you're pretty sure the world almost ended like six times in the last 4 years. Although honestly, you never had to worry about that much, since Beach City was also home to the Crystal Gems, and that Steven Universe who just always managed to save the day. So you’re told. Steven was a fun kid, and grew to be one of your good friends (he’s so insistent on being everyone’s friend. It’s very charming and you love him for it), but you’ve mostly spent your time at work this summer.

One of the easiest jobs to get is Funland, since that always tired Mr. Smiley is chewing through people constantly as the pay is shit, the hours are long, and it’s so hot. Like Mr. Smiley says, "Funland is funderstaffed". You feel like he says that to mock you a bit, since there’s just the two of you here. You really only cared to work there on your off season to help dad out with bills, and to see your best friends. Except THIS summer you guess, since all (2) of your best friends had to go out of town for summer either because of family get togethers or romantic getaways. Those bitches. And you were finally of drinking age this summer. You weren't about to let that get you down, or ruin any plans you’ve made yourself in the next upcoming weeks though.

You’re on the last forty minutes of your shift doing the work of four people. Emptying tills around the food court, cleaning tables, emptying trash cans, and jesus christ this task list seems longer today. It feels ever so fucking slow. And warm. You’re melting, you feel disgusting, and you just want a shower. Thank god it’s payday and you have the next two days off, because you seriously wanted to go out and unwind. See, there’s this newly renovated piano bar you’ve wanted to go to for weeks here locally in town, and you had planned on going with your friends.. but. You know what? Screw waiting on them. You’re going tonight. And besides, who knows! Maybe you’ll meet some new people and make a friend, or show your best friends that you can finally get a girlfriend!! Haha.. or at least get drunk enough to ignore the growing loneliness you’ve been feeling as of late, and desperately trying to ignore.

Funland never truly got busy, so you quickly closed the food court that had been dead for hours down. The last 15 or so minutes you spent sitting at the ring toss booth, and very thankful for the protection from the beating sun on your face.

"YOOOOO (Y/N)!!!" You hear a familiar voice shout from your left. You put down your phone (obviously looking at memes) and lean over the counter just in time to see Amethyst, accompanied by Steven, jogging over to your booth.

"Oh, thank god. Finally some human interaction." You responded to the purple gem as they reached your booth. Steven smacked down some tickets for the game and grinned.

"Just spending some time away from the temple". He says, and you nodded as you handed him two stacks of rings. He joyfully pulled them towards himself as Amethyst snickered.

"He means to say his A/C broke, and Pearl got tired of hearing him groan about it so she kicked us out." The short gem elbowed Steven playfully.

“Us? Why’d she kick you out too?” You say, giving Amethyst a pointed look. “That’s because Amethyst brought up like 7 of the junk fridges from her room to try to create some sort of.. open fridge cold air whirlwind right in the middle of the living room. It didn’t work as intended at all, though. I’m pretty sure those fridges were really old, or something, because 3 of them caught on fire and now we have scorch marks all over the floor. Anyway, Pearl was pretty mad about it. Sooooo, now we’re here!” Steven says while laughing, and attempting to toss the rings onto the obviously not rigged bottles.

"So anyway," Amethyst turns to you and leans her elbow on the counter. "Any big plans for tonight?" She steals half the stack of rings from Steven and starts chucking them in the most violent way possible without actually breaking anything. She somehow gets 3 perfect.

“Ughhh, yeah actually. I sort of convinced myself I’d go out and drink tonight.” You say with a tired grin. “I’ve been kinda daydreaming about not being here all day, and I’ve been wanting to try that one place.. the uh.. piano bar. That new one.”

“Isn’t that the place Bismuth helped fix up, and now bartends at?” Steven says to Amethyst. “She said this place was 1930’s themed with a stage, a spotlight, a piano and everything! It sounds like fun and I want to go.. a lot of the gems from Little Homeworld hang out there. Bis says I’m too young.” “Yeah,” You say, “You’re what, 17? You’re still just a baby, dude. If you want, I can try convincing Bismuth to let you in sometime just to sing.” You say to him and wink. Amethyst bursts out laughing. “You can try!! Bis won’t even let Peridot in!” She laughs. “She says her maturity ain’t the right fit. Whatever that means. She lets Lapis work there sometimes though when she wants, and Peri is still mad about it.” You watch Steven miss every single shot. How can this kid be the person who saved the planet? His aim is terrible. Amethyst also misses the rest of her shots.

“Have you guys actually ever won anything here?” You say out loud. “Only when Amethyst cheats.” Steven says. “And anyway, I really want some food. Amethyst. Pizza?”

“Duuuuuuuude. I could eat at least 10 pizzas right now. PLEASE.” She slaps her hand down on your booth. “Y/N. Go out tonight. Have some fun for the both of us, because it’s my turn to clean the kitchen, and if I skip out again Pearl WILL make me do my own laundry.”

“Wooooow, jeez, it must be so terrible to be self-sustaining and clean your own shit,” You’re smiling while chiding her, “and yeah, I will. Maybe next time come with me?” “And leave me all alone!?” Steven whines while starting to walking away. “Go hang out with Connie, you turd. At least you HAVE a girlfriend!” You reply. “You’ll find one eventually Y/N!! Maybe tonight!!” He yells back while waving before they both disappear from your field of vision.

“I really fucking doubt that.” You say to yourself, alone.

You busy yourself cleaning up, and walk over to the main building to clock out. You check your phone, and it looks like the group chat pinged. It’s Harper. FINALLY. Harper has been MIA for the last week. Well, not missing, per se, but she’s been on a roadtrip with her girlfriend of 6 months and didn’t invite you..or your other best friend, Alex. And yeah, you would’ve had to decline because your dad needs you to pick up some slack while he’s out on business, but.. STILL. Shit kinda hurts. But it seems like she finally got service and remembered you guys exist. It’s actually just a selfie with her and her girlfriend with a mountain in the background. She captioned it “I wanted to dive right into mt st helens but she wouldn’t let me get close enough.” You grin and decide to reply with, “Maybe next time Leah won’t let you pussy out”. Honestly, you really didn't mind being the 'single' friend most of the time, but sometimes you wished you could finally meet someone. Then you could also be sending cute couple pictures to your idiot friends, and finally feel like maybe you’re worth someone’s time.

Alex just responds to the chat with 14 flame emojis in succession. Before you can send any knife emojis back, your phone lights up with a call from your father. You answer on the second ring.

“Hey dad. What’s up?” “HEY KIDDO!!” Jesus. Your dad is enthusiastic and as loud as ever. “HOW ARE YOU TODAY, my sweet, dear offspring?”

“I’m chill. Getting off work. You?” You smile to yourself while grabbing the rest of your things to leave for home.

“Just got out of like, my fifth meeting today. It’s awful. I think they’re trying to kill me over here? I’m pretty sure they only paid for the plane ticket because they’re going to reap my organs after they LITERALLY bore me to death. I’m 100% sure my presence isn’t even needed for any of this.” He rants into the phone.

“Dad. You’re the lead project planner. You have to be there. It’s like.. your entire job.” You laugh into the phone. “I thought my entire job was so sit there and look pretty?” “Really? You think they’d choose you for that when they have Brian? Dad, come on. You know how beautiful he is.” You hear your dad sigh wistfully. “Yeah, that gorgeous bastard. Anyway. I’m real sorry in advance, but they’re extending my stay for another couple of days, and instead of being back tomorrow, I’ll be back next thursday.” He says, sounding apologetic.

“Oh, okay. That sucks.” You try not to sound disappointed. “Kiddo I’m sorry! If I could come home tonight I would get on that plane in a heartbeat. I hate this as much as you do.”

“I know. And it’s alright. I’m going out tonight anyway, and I’ll hold down the fort until next week yeah?” “You know you’re my favorite kid, right?” He says. “Dad, I’m your only kid.” You scoff into the phone. “That YOU know of! Love you!” and he hangs up. You roll your eyes, stuff your phone into your pocket, and head out.

Your house wasn't very far from Funland, meaning you could walk home alone safely even at night. Not that Beach City was ever an unsafe town.. if you conveniently happen to forget the aliens trying to destroy the town several times.

Within minutes you were unlocking your front door, toeing off your work shoes, and heading up into your room. You drop all your shit onto the floor, and flop on your bed. You wonder to yourself, should you be putting more effort into your appearance tonight? Steven did say it was 1930’s themed.. you don’t have very many dressy clothes. You feel like the only color you look good in is black, so you get up and open up your closet. Flowery dress.. God no. Overalls? Noooooo. You swipe through too many sweaters, honestly. There’s a couple decent things in here to put an okay outfit together, or.. wait. Ha! There. That cute black dress you wore 2 years ago for your aunt’s funeral. It’s the best you’ve got, you admit to yourself. And you even still have those black flats! Look, like basically zero effort involved.

You head to the bathroom with your things for tonight and take a shower. It feels nice to scrub off the layer of sweat and grime that come specifically from working at Funland. Oh and, not having to smell like carpet deodorizer and stale caramel popcorn is always a plus. Once out of the shower, you dry off and get into your clothes. You style your hair in your favorite way, and just put on a small bit of makeup. You know, small efforts help to feel less like a paper bag. You look nice for once, you admit to yourself.

You head downstairs, stuffing your phone and wallet into a small shoulder purse. Grabbing your keys, you put your shoes on, say goodbye to your cat, and walk out the door, making sure to lock it behind you. With your keys safely stored in your bag, you headed into town. The bar was roughly ten to fifteen minutes away, so you decided to hoof it. No need to waste money on a taxi when you had two perfectly toned legs, ya’ll.

#Spinel #spinel x reader #Spinel SU #Steven Universe #spinel self insert #su fic #fic #my fic #devils ballroom

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poeticandvaguelysweet · 4 years

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it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away) –– #3 Slip of the Tongue

@paulsenmagic + @darveyxoxo were talking about a fic where ‘Donna pranks Harvey with a pregnancy announcement and he genuinely gets upset when he finds out it’s not true’ and I honestly couldn’t help myself. So, here I am.

It’s not 100% how I wanted it but it’s taken me so long to write it I’ve just had enough (which is not a very good writer thing for me to do but ya know).

SLIP OF THE TONGUE

AO3 - ff.net

Since getting married and moving to Seattle, Harvey made a vow about his work hours. In a new home, new stage of their relationship and new city it was vital now, more than ever, that he come home at a reasonable hour. They needed routine and ritual as well as a divide between home life and work life.

Some nights it couldn’t be helped. Trials needed to be prepped for, clients were difficult, and things simply had to be done then and there, in the moment. Donna usually stayed back a little later, simply to have dinner with her husband before heading home to let him have his space to work. Nights like that found her curled up on the couch, a throw blanket over her lap, a glass of wine in hand and Netflix rolling across the TV screen. She waited up for Harvey, either in the living room or in bed, on occasion, when he got back earlier than usual, he found her in the shower.

That night the TV was paused, Donna’s phone pressed to her ear as her friend chattered down the line. She had thought about inviting Rachel over when Harvey said it was going to be another late night but had eventually decided against it. When Rachel called and upheld conversation for well over an hour, Donna regretted her earlier decision to not make it a girl’s night.

‘Promise you won’t tell him,’ Rachel bargained, whispering secrets down the line. They were whispering like little girls on a sleepover despite the fact that Donna was sitting in an empty house, her only company the fictional characters currently paused on her screen.

Donna sighed, a smile pulling at her cheeks. She would never dream of spilling a secret Rachel asked her to keep. Unless it was for her own good. ‘Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not––’ She heard the front door click shut, body jumping at the unexpected sound. ‘––Harvey’s home, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’ Her heart picked up a flutter in her chest, finger pressing end call on her phone screen as she listened to the sound of Harvey’s footsteps in the hall.

He looked tired when he appeared from around the corner, exhausted by the long day he miraculously managed to slog through. ‘Hey,’ Harvey grinned, eyes lighting up once he saw her. He moved for the couch, hands bracing himself against the top of the structure before he leaned in to drop a kiss to her lips in greeting.

‘Hey,’ Donna echoed back, voice soft. It baffled her to find how easily he could render her to nothing stronger than jelly. Even after a year, he still took her breath away with a simple kiss. ‘How’d you go tonight?’ She asked, hand wrapped around his wrist, limb following his movement as Harvey stepped around the couch to sit beside her. His hand landed on her knee, squeezing as Donna shifted closer to his body, legs almost in his lap.

Harvey sighed, ‘good enough’. It was Donna’s turn to lean in and kiss him, her lips a little more persistent than his had been as her body pressed itself closer. He was home, a whole hour earlier than she expected. There would be no questioning that. ‘Who were you talking to?’ He asked, faces still close as she pulled away from their kiss.

‘Rachel.’ The name didn’t concern him anymore, not now that the two women had more personal contact since the move. Before that, he had poked her about the secrets she was sharing with her best friend as soon as they had happened. Harvey had caught Donna a time too many detailing her sex life to her quasi sister, sure these details used to be shared in person before she moved to Seattle. ‘Just talking about stuff.’ She shrugged, offering an answer before he could ask a question.

‘Oh yeah,’ Harvey hummed. ‘What kind of stuff?’ His hand was heavy on her knee, thick fingers squeezing as he stole her wine glass right out of her hand and took a sip.

Donna shrugged, ‘just stuff’.

He frowned, lip twisting and brow curling as he looked at her. Donna wasn’t usually so hesitant to be forthcoming. ‘Okay …’ He drew out the word, watching her with intrigue as he finished off what was left in her glass. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that it’s Mike’s birthday in a few weeks, does it?’

Donna shook her head, red hair bouncing around her face. ‘Nope.’

‘Rachel must be planning something big.’ He chuckled, sitting forward to place the wine glass on the coffee table, out of his hands and out of the way. From the corner of his eye he could see Donna squirm, for an actress she had a lot of tells when she was lying.

‘I’ll have you know,’ Donna started as Harvey sat back, his fingers sliding around her calf and pulling her legs into his lap. ‘We weren’t even talking about Mike. We were talking about me.’ Harvey raised a brow that only made Donna sit up straighter, hips wiggling as she did so, determination climbing up her spine and setting itself across her face. She bit her bottom lip, rolling the tissue into her mouth to hide the tell-tale sign that he had her. Donna was stubborn and she wouldn’t let him read her that easily. ‘Because I’m pregnant.’ The words were out, tumbling from her lips in a desperate attempt to be one step ahead of his cocky, all-knowing grin.

The air around them seemed to stop. Nothing moved, Harvey’s breath caught in his chest as Donna stared at him, shell-shocked that she even said those words. Slow, like the Cheshire Cat he could be, Harvey’s grin grew. It tugged at the corners of his lips, sliding up his face and spread deep into his cheeks. There was a light in his eyes that made Donna’s heart stop.

‘Oh my god,’ she breathed, forcing the words out around a tight throat. ‘I don’t know why I just said that.’ Her hand covered her mouth. ‘I’m not pregnant, Harvey.’ It was there that she caught it, staring at him from beneath her disbelief, the split moment––barely noticeable––where his face fell into the depth of upset and her stomach plummeted in response. ‘We were talking about Mike’s birthday. It’s just that Rachel asked me not to tell.’

His hands were still on her leg, the pressure light as if he wanted to pull away but had nowhere else to place them. ‘You could have just said that.’

Shit. ‘I’m sorry. I just––I panicked.’ Her hands reached for his arm, fingers squeezing. ‘I didn’t even think … it just came out.’ She was looking for a way to get him off her back, their playful banter reaching a corner where she knew she would spill the beans Rachel asked her not to spill. But Donna hadn’t even thought of that before the words slipped past her tongue and sucker punched her husband. ‘Wait.’ She stopped, fingers loosening their grip on his forearm, eyes flicking back to his hurt ones. ‘You were happy?’ His face lit up like New York City on the last second of the year when she had said those words.

‘Of course, I was happy!’ He sounded defensive, hurt that he had been caught in a moment of weakness. ‘Why wouldn’t I be, Donna?’

She felt her heart sink a little further, her eyes watching his shimmer with nothing but honesty. Donna shrugged, teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek. ‘We’ve never really talked about it, I guess. I just didn’t know.’ She knew enough to understand that her husband wouldn’t force a decision on her if the time came. She knew that he wouldn’t hate the idea of a child, especially now they’re married. Donna just wasn’t sure about the level of his excitement. He had a rough childhood, a somewhat absent father, a mother who made him hold adult secrets, maybe he just didn’t want to have kids. They had been too busy settling into hurriedly married life, moving to Seattle, getting married a second time, honeymoon and finding their place in a new city with new jobs. Babies had been the very last on a long list of things they had to shuffle through.

‘I know time is kind of running out and all that, but I love you and raising a family with you would make me the happiest man in the world.’

‘Really?’ She felt breathless, tears burning in her eyes. Harvey Specter wasn’t known for his emotional confessions and there he was, sitting right there with her legs in his lap, telling her he would be happy to have babies with her. ‘Do you want to try?’ She asked hesitantly despite everything he just said.

Harvey looked at her, head tilted to the side as if he was taking a moment to think. His face split into a wide grin. ‘Yeah. Do you?’ Donna wasn’t sure if they would have walked this path in New York, but then again, she hadn’t been a married woman while they lived there. It was just cosy Seattle had left her with a lot of downtime that suddenly felt empty.

Donna bit her lip, a habit-forming inside this conversation. ‘We’ll be in our sixties when she’s graduating from high school, nearing seventy when she finishes college.’ Her eyes dropped away from his.

‘We won’t be the only ones.’ He gave her thigh a squeeze.

‘I don’t know if I want my kids to worry about my health.’ She took a deep breath, her chest stuttering as she did so, tears building up once again. Harvey opened his mouth and Donna knew exactly what he was going to say. It could happen no matter her age. She could have had kids a decade ago and ended up sick, had an accident, been hurt. His mom wasn’t all that old and yet a heart attack took her. One day she will have to look at putting her parents into an assisted living facility, or a retirement village where they would continue to wither and age. It just happens.

‘Do you know the success rate of getting pregnant after forty-five is only around three per cent?’ Donna felt her throat contract around her words and a second later Harvey was giving her a supportive squeeze. ‘Fertility treatment can take years. I just––I’m scared of wasting our time in going down that road, Harvey. What if I can’t get pregnant? What if I can but my body can’t support it. I don’t want to get our hopes up for us to only have nothing at the end of it.’ A tear fell, sliding down her cheek before stopping at the corner of her mouth. ‘I would have liked to have a baby. Why did we waste so much time, Harvey?’

When a whimper wobbled past her lips, Harvey moved. He pulled his wife into his lap, arms wrapping around her as he kissed the side of her head. It felt like he could only say sorry so many times before the whole thing became redundant. They weren’t ready, they hadn’t been ready and he hated himself for not fixing it sooner, especially now as she cried in his lap.

‘Hey,’ he brushed her hair back from her face. ‘It’s not too late. What if we spend the rest of the year trying, but not actively trying? We’ll throw the contraceptives out, eat better, limit the alcohol, take our vitamins and if it doesn’t happen by January, we call it off and wait for Mike and Rachel to have kids.’ He knew they would have a better chance with fertility specialists, but that was another layer of hope Donna clearly didn’t want to have stacked on top of her deck.

‘I’ll be devastated if something goes wrong.’ She whispered the sound part whimper and Harvey felt his chest crack open for her.

He kissed her cheek, hands still moving through her hair. ‘I know.’ If he could turn back the clock, knowing what he knew now, he would have come to his senses sooner. ‘We don’t have to. I just, if it’s what you want, I don’t want to miss our shot.’ He also didn’t want his wife hurt.

Donna nodded; lips pressed to the curve where his shoulder meets his neck. ‘Fuck it.’ She said, kiss trailing up his throat, nipping at his skin as her touch climbed.

Harvey steadied himself with his hands on her hips. ‘Are you sure?’ Donna nodded before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, her touch tasting of the tears she had shed. ‘Because we really don’t have to.’ He managed to breathe when she broke the kiss.

‘Harvey,’ Donna paused her hands on his shoulders, body centred in his lap. ‘Shut up and get me pregnant.’

#darvey #suits usa #darvey fic #donna paulsen #harvey specter #suits #donna x harvey #harvey x donna #it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away)

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eskalations · 4 years

Text

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 2

A/N: I was not going to post this chapter so quickly after the last, but life happened and I needed a distraction. Earlier, my sweet dog of 17 years, passed on and this has been just about the hardest day of my life. His passing was peaceful, but it didn't make things any easier. I was in the middle of writing this chapter when I received the news, so this piece will always have a special place in my heart. I'm still not sure if I'm back in the swing of things with my writing, but I'm planning on going back and editing when I'm feeling more like myself.

So, today we have the meeting of Ray and Raina. While I wanted to do a chapter where there was more interaction between the two, this chapter seemed necessary for backstory purposes. I also realized I never specified the age changes for our lovely characters. Since Roy was born in 1885 and Riza was born in 1889 (canonically), I just decided to swap their ages. That's pretty much the only big change there is.

Please let me know how you enjoyed this chapter! I love getting feedback!

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to Skippy (May 18th 2003 - May 29th 2020)

Augenblick, East Area - Summer of 1903

The town of Augenblick was less spectacular than she could have ever imagined.

'Blink and you'll just about miss it' The man had said as she exited the train earlier that day. He must have seen the look of surprise on her face at such a small station existing in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. There was no town in which the station was on the edge of, no bustling streets with families doing their Sunday shopping, no cars puttering down the road to their destination – all she could see were fields stretching out endlessly in every direction.

The man who had gotten off the train with her was long gone by the time she pulled out the booklet the Madame had given her. Honestly, she should have realized what this small blip of a town was going to look like by the map in front of her – there seemed to be nothing but green bleeding across the wrinkled pages.

At fourteen, she wouldn't call herself incredibly resourceful – but at least she could read directions. The Madame had circled her destination with a fat, red marker – making it stand out amongst all the greenery it was surrounded by.

The girl started walking and hoped that she was traveling in the right direction.

The dusty road crunched beneath her shoes and she had to cringe as small particles of dirt made their way between her toes. Maybe wearing the new shoes she had bought for this occasion hadn't been the best idea...but it was too late to change them now. She had wanted to impress Master Hawkeye by dressing as professionally as a young girl could, but now she was beginning to see why the Madame had kept insisting that she needed to wear something a little more comfortable.

'I want him to see me as a lady,' She had shared with her foster mother while buttoning up her crisp new blazer. All her clothes had been starched earlier that morning before she was set to be at the station and even her usually black unruly mane was combed and slicked to perfection. 'I want him to see me as an apprentice worth taking.'

The Madame had simply smiled at her young charge's determination, smoke pouring from her lips as she spoke.

'My dear – with the amount I'm paying him for your lessons – he would take you on even if you were a newborn baby,' The words did little to abate her nerves.

She didn't want the man to pour his efforts into her because he had to – she wanted him to teach her because he saw potential.

The amount of information she had on Master Hawkeye was scarce. She knew that he was an excellent freelance alchemist, who's early research had been compiled into a single publication that had made waves in the alchemy community.

However, that was it. After his first work was published, he retired to the country and was now known as a bit of a recluse. From the Madame's information, it seemed the military had propositioned him multiple times to become a State Alchemist, but to no avail. Raina found it hard to believe that he wouldn't jump on the opportunity since with that grand title also came grand funds for research.

The only other piece of information she had received from her source was that the man had a son who also lived with him. The age of said son was unknown to her still.

'Now you must be careful, dear,' Her older "sister" Margaret had warned her that morning, patting her head gently in an endearing fashion. 'You will be the only woman in the house – so, you must make sure they are treating you right. If they try anything funny, you have to promise to call us immediately.'

Madame Christmas had scoffed at the idea.

'Once they get her riled up once, they'll know better than to mess with her,' Madame Christmas insisted without worry, taking a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'We've taught her well. She knows how to defend herself.'

Her foster mother wasn't wrong; she could defend herself. However, it had been a long time since she had lived with a male counterpart. She couldn't remember her father (her parents had died when she had been just three years of age) and the Madame rarely housed young men in the bar.

The thought of living alone with two men had caused her quite a bit of anxiety, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. Even as she trudged down the road, sun beating down mercilessly upon the top of her scalp – her gait was confident as she embarked on this new chapter of her life.

She had been walking for about half an hour before she came upon a small town. A groan unknowingly slipped from between her lips at the sight of it.

Augenblick was small – so small you could hardly justify its place on the map. From what she could see, it was comprised of one long row of buildings lining two sides of a dirt road that spanned just about 100 meters. From the looks of the way the lots were set up, it seemed that they were all commercial.

A few people milled about, swinging bags full of produce as they went about their morning routine. There were stands set up in front of the buildings where farmers were selling their goods to residents and chatting merrily with their neighbors. This version of the Sunday Market was very different from the bustling one back in Central that Raina was familiar with.

Gripping her suitcase tightly in her sweaty palm, the girl continued to trudge forward. She had passed a school house and a general store before finally getting stopped by a curious shopper.

"Can I help you, dearie?" An elderly woman asked, taking notice of the map clutched in her hands. After giving the girl a once over, she continued with her line of questioning. "You don't look to be from around here – are you looking for something?"

Raina was caught between wanting to find the Hawkeye residence on her own – to prove her status as an independent young lady – and wanting to get some help since the map's lines were starting to bleed together in the heat of the midday sun.

"Yes," The girl said, accepting that this was a small concession to make in her journey to becoming a worthy young apprentice. She could always be independent tomorrow. "I am looking for the Hawkeye residence."

The woman looked at her strangely for a moment. Raina's confident stance did not waver though – she knew it probably looked strange for a young girl to seek out an older man, but she wasn't here to worry about appearances. After a brief pause, the woman answered her cautiously.

"It's just down main," The elder spoke slowly, still unsure of what the young girl's motive was. "If you keep walking that direction, you will come to a fork in the road. Take a right if you're looking for the Hawkeye residence, take a left if you want to traverse the desert."

Raina laughed nervously at her dark humor. At this point, she wasn't sure which path the woman considered to be more dangerous.

"Thank you!" Before she could take her leave though, the woman's hand reached out to grab her wrist. This stopped the young girl dead in her tracks as she was met with a serious set of dark eyes, concern evident in the way the woman drew her near to speak quietly in her ear.

"What do you want with that old man, child?" Her voice was low, suspicion blending with worry. Raina glanced nervously at the shoppers who passed them, but none even batted an eye at the strange scene in front of them. The woman tightened her grip again, forcing the girl's gaze back to her own. "If you need any help, all you have to do is tell us."

Shaking her wrist from the woman's grasp, Raina brought her hand protectively to her chest – map and all.

"I am an apprentice, ma'am," The girl insisted, tone bordering on rude. These country folks may be fine with lecturing young ladies and manhandling them in the streets, but she certainly was not. "I am here to learn alchemy from Master Hawkeye and that is all."

She could tell the older woman was affronted by such a brash response, not used to a girl speaking to her elders in such a way – however, she recovered quickly. The surprised look on her face morphed into one of sympathy.

"I didn't mean to offend you, child," The lady insisted, picking up the bag of vegetables she had dropped to her side at the beginning of their conversation. "I just know that the elder Hawkeye is not one to be trusted. Ever since the death of his wife, his behavior has been strange. We've rarely seen him for the past few years – the only one that ever comes into town is his son."

The people mulling around the market were now eyeing them – pausing at the stands nearby to watch the encounter while still attempting to appear casual. They would pick up an apple, turn it in their hands to check if it had any soft spots, and then glance quickly over at them. She could tell by her faces that, at the mention of Berthold Hawkeye, she had set the subject for Sunday gossip amongst the small populace.

"Just because someone does not wish to mingle with others does not mean they are any less trustworthy than you or I," Raina insisted, defending her new teacher from the accusations of the lady in front of her. Already this town was a little too judgmental for her taste. "I could care less how social he is as long as he is a dutiful teacher."

"Child," The woman pleaded, a hint of desperation in her tone as Raina made to walk away, suitcase swinging in her hand. Luckily, she did not grab her this time – however the fear that infused her tone, had the young girl turning to regard her once more.

"I know it seems like I am simply an old gossip who has nothing better to do," Raina fought the urge to raise her brows at the expression since that was precisely what she had pegged the woman as. "But you must listen to me – there is something wrong with that man."

The genuine concern in the woman's voice caused a shiver to run up her spine. Raina would have argued it was just a chill – however, in the middle of summer, that was unlikely. Seeing that she now had the young girl's attention, the woman continued.

"His son was so gaunt during the first few years after his mother's death, that it looked like a breeze would knock him over," The woman revealed, her voice so low that even someone walking past them would have to strain to hear her words. "He finished school early and after that – well he just disappeared. We didn't see him for months then suddenly one day he walked up to Mrs. Roth's stand to buy potatoes. By that time, he had filled out a bit – but there was a haunted look in his eyes."

Raina's curiosity was piqued, though she couldn't help but have some doubts in regards to the woman's claims.

"Madame," The young girl began carefully, lowering her tone to match the volume of the elder. The townspeople were still watching them – however, their interest seemed to have lessened once their conversation had become harder to hear. "I don't think it's fair to assume that something bad happened to him during that time. He and his father could have taken a vacation."

"No one left that house." The woman insisted, causing another chill to run through the girl. The older woman spoke with such conviction – like she knew that whatever it was she suspected was true.

"Maybe they were just enjoying some time alone together after the son finished school?" Raina tried to reason with the woman, desperately grasping for straws in an attempt to abate her fears. "Why does his disappearance have to mean something bad happened?"

The serious look in the woman's eyes was one that Raina would remember for a long time after.

"Because he was covered in bruises when he returned."

It was this conversation that had Raina shaking slightly on the doorstep of the Hawkeye residence. After the old woman had finally let her continue on her way, she was left with more fear and anxiety than before. She was more fearful now than she had been when she had originally been told she was being shipped out for alchemy instruction.

The house was nothing spectacular. It looked like it could have been grand once upon a time, but the broken shutters and overgrown garden implied that once hard times had hit, all efforts of upkeep had been abandoned. Even so, the view from the porch was one that's beauty couldn't be denied – the rolling green fields that surrounded the home for miles looked as though they were straight out of a painting.

Raina took a deep breath. She could do this. No amount of town gossip was going to keep her from doing what she had come here to do. She had been waiting her whole life for this and that old biddy was not going to ruin her chances of becoming a great alchemist.

As far back as she could remember, she had been studying alchemy. Madame Christmas liked to joke that the young girl had practically forced her to read alchemical essays to her at bedtime before she was able to read them on her own. One of her favorite alchemical works had always been the book of research Berthold Hawkeye had published a few years before her birth. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined she would have the honor of studying under him.

It was this realization that had her fist raising resolutely to the door. She was not timid. She was not shy. She was not scared. No one could deter her from the goals she had already set out to achieve. She would knock on this door and accept whatever fate lay on the other side.

But before her hand could even come in contact with wood, the door was swinging wide open in front of her.

Raina stood frozen. Well, she certainly hadn't been expecting that. Her fist fell swiftly to her side.

Standing before her was a young man only three or four years her senior. He was tall – certainly taller than she was – with a sturdy build that marked years of hard labor. His skin was golden, much like his hair, and there seemed to be a fine sheen of sweat covering him as if he had just come in from the fields. She watched as a droplet traversed down the weather worn features of his face before dropping off his sharp chin.

She had begun to sweat herself at his sudden appearance. She tried to tell herself that it was from the heat - but later she would question if that had really been it at all.

Despite his humble background, the man's spine straightened automatically at the sight of the young girl on his doorstep. Assuming the role of a gentleman – though looking nothing like one in ripped pants and a sweaty white shirt – he bowed his head in greeting to her.

"I must apologize," His voice was deep, much deeper than the voices of the boys she had gone to school with. "I did not realize you had arrived, Miss Mustang."

Being addressed so formally, she realized what set him apart from the boys at her school. He was not a boy; he was a man. His voice was too deep to be that of a boy's and his features were too hard to still be touched by the innocence of childhood. In the face of his own maturity, she puffed out her chest a bit before primly joining her hands in front of her.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye," She answered, clearing her throat to adopt a much deeper tone that would better match his own. "Please, just call me Raina. Miss Hawkeye sounds much too formal when we are going to be housemates."

The young man appeared unimpressed by her words, causing another bout of sweat to break out beneath her starched white shirt. Any hopes that she had conceived of the two of them being friends, seemed to be thrown farther and farther out the window as their staring contest continued. His amber eyes beat into her own, resembling those of a hawk's.

'Fitting,' she thought wryly to herself, as his gaze dropped to the suitcase she had laid to rest at her feet. Her hand itched to pick it up and turn right back around, leaving this house and his unnerving stare in the dust – but he surprised her.

Picking up her suitcase himself – the young man stood to the side of the doorway and gestured for her to make her way inside. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the grim lines of his face softened as she hesitantly stepped forward into the humid air of the home.

The inside of the house was much like the outside – dark and rundown. She could see a living area with a small stone fireplace off to the side, the furniture worn from many years of use. There was a door at the back of the room that she assumed led to a dining area and kitchen. The stairs were nestled in the corner of the area, leading to where she assumed the bedrooms and bathroom would be.

It was certainly different from what she was used to – but she guessed it could be considered cozy.

Careful to school her features, she turned back towards the younger Hawkeye. She didn't want him to think of her as a spoiled city girl. Despite their rough start, she still held on to the hope that they could be friends. She must not have covered her reaction quickly enough though, because when she met his gaze, there was a knowing look in his eye.

"I know it's not much, Miss Mustang," He emphasized his use of her formal name, pointedly ignoring the fact that she had asked him to call her Raina earlier. His words were polite, but she could hear a harsh undertone in them. "But I assure you that you will find everything you'll need to further pursue your alchemical studies within these walls."

Embarrassed at the censure evident in his tone, the young girl gave a quick nod of understanding.

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied with her quiet response, he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. She grabbed her suitcase in her sweaty palm before following his orders.

"My father is having one of his bad days, so you will have to wait until tomorrow to make his acquaintance," Raina could feel herself deflating in disappointment, her footfalls heavy on the old wooden stairs. She had really hoped she'd be meeting her master upon arrival. "However, I am sure you are tired from your journey and will want this afternoon to rest."

"Oh, I'm not tired," Raina insisted, despite the aching in her feet. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Without batting an eye, the young man turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"I'm going hunting," His words implied that he figured this answer would somehow affect her sensibilities.

Being raised in a bar though, Raina had never been the squeamish type.

"Can I come?" She asked innocently, following behind him as he led her down a hall at the top of the stairs. The strong set of his shoulders stiffened in surprise at her request, stopping him mid-step.

"I don't know," He answered slowly, clearly caught off guard by her words. The surprise on his face was short lived though as his features quickly settled back into the stoic expression he seemed to be so fond of. "Are you going to scare off our dinner?"

"Our dinner?"

The young Hawkeye had to grin as he continued to lead her forward. Like a dutiful guest, she followed closely behind – waiting for an answer.

"Surely you don't think I am going down to the market to get our food for tonight?" He finally asked, his hand turning the knob of a door leading to what she assumed to be her bedroom. A few doors down, she could just make out movement underneath the door that resided at the end of the long stretch of hallway.

"Of course not," She answered evenly as she stepped into the room, setting her suitcase by her feet. There was a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It wasn't much, but it would do. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young man studying her face. If he was looking for a negative reaction this time around, she wasn't going to give it to him.

"So," She started, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to meet his gaze once more. "When do we leave?"

His answering smirk made her heart soar – though she would never admit it.

"Half an hour."

Her heart continued to beat sporadically even after he had closed the door behind him, leaving her to unpack and dress for their outing. However, the heavy beating of her heart wasn't from the small smile he had given her or the moment of softness she glimpsed in his eyes before taking his leave.

No, her heart was beating because she had seen the bruises on the back of his arms through the material of his shirt.

Falling back upon the mattress, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Just what kind of secrets were hiding within these walls and just what did it all mean for her?

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #genderbend au #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #royai fic #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma fic #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #genderbend #my fanfiction

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leedluna · 5 years

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hello, hello !! some of you may know me already but if not, hi ! my name is mel, 19, she/they. i play so!ar’s resident gremlins luna and sunhee. i don’t have any pages up bc i’m garbage but you can find some connection ideas at the bottom if you want ‘em. legend says if you press the heart i will tumble into your ims for plotting and friendship. note: discord ( korinna #0085 ) is the best way to keep in contact with me but i’ll see y’all in ims too if that’s ur jam <3

˗ˏˋ ( kim jisoo. twenty four. cisfem. she/her. ) lee luna is a 95 liner + has been at so!ar entertainment for ten years. they have been a soloist since november, 2011. they are known by their fans to be ambitious, warm + diligent but they can also be arrogant, over critical + detached. i hope that they can make it in this industry.

tw for brief mentions of suicide attempts ( at the bottom, it’s marked. )

luna is the only child of a former anchorwomen ( jaein moon ) and idol-turned-music producer ( lee hyunwoo ). needless to say, she was the apple of their eye ! their cinnamon apple ! thei-- i’ll stop.

when luna was nine months old the three became regular cast members of a family variety show ( think ‘superman returns’ ) and the public loved them. just, completely adored their dynamic and most importantly --- luna.

the family ( and again, most importantly -- luna ) began getting commercial offers left and right. and then, when luna was five, she’d got offered her first movie role. her parents, not looking to pressure their daughter into anything, asked her if she wanted to do it and she said yes ! after all, what child doesn’t want to play pretend ?

she became the child actress, almost every movie or drama she was in won awards, she occasionally sung osts, and homegirl was just living the life tbh

then she kind of just, fell off the face of the earth ?? no one really knew what happened as there was no official announcements or anything, until someone photographed her entering solar’s building with her dad ( who, fun fact, is a producer at solar :D ) and rumors began to fly. like, is she going to act again? is she going to debut in a group? ( spoiler: the answer is neither. )

she did meet with the company with the intentions of joining as an actress, however her father and the ceo talked her into becoming a vocal trainee. not looking to disappoint her dad, she took the offer

she trained approximately for one year and eleven months. hardly ready, but the company -- with a little push from her father -- decided to just, sorta... throw her to the wolves lmao

her debut was fairly successful, with people checking the song out purely due to recognizing her name but she wasn’t really established as an artist in the public’s eye until her third year + first ep, across the lunaverse. the title track reached #3 on the charts !

things were going great, until she went on a hiatus that lasted two years - there was never a clarification for why but luna has hinted it was due to poor mental health. when she came back with her 2nd ep in 2016, she kinda ??? acted like the hiatus never happened and she’s since been #onthegrind

tidbits that didn’t fit into the above ramblings:

personality wise she’s kind of????? a mess

tries her best but she’s just...really pompous, which is honestly the after effect of being in the spotlight since birth basically

acts like a bad bitch but if you say something mean chances are she’ll sob in the bathroom. treat with care

the company banned her from vlive because she tends to talk without thinking and that gets her into A Lot of shit lmao

has that stopped her tho? no

“my company says i’m not suppose to do these but what are they gonna do? fire me? bet.”

basically the embodiment of this

highkey jealous of people in groups ( which is 100% my fault i’M SORRY LUNA ) but also ? enjoys the solo life because it means she gets more control

speaking of control - she writes all of her music !! as if right now she hasn’t written for any groups or other soloists but she’d like to

festival queen !! she’s aLWAYS performing at events

real tea (also tw for: suicide attempt mention ): the reason she went onto a hiatus after her first ep was basically because she kind of just...fell apart in a moment of weakness. despite how she acts, luna has a poor mentality and she was hit with this epiphany that she’s never done anything for herself Ever and she’s basically been controlled since birth so she kinda spiraled and tried to kill herself. her manager ( or someone else?? this could be a connection??) found her, so!ar found out, and sent her to a mental health facility

hasn’t really been the same since she came back but she tries

some connection ideas for luna !

friends !!!!!! in this house we stan platonic relationships and listen,,,,luna needs friends because homegirl rly just be out here wildin

speaking of, a good influence !! like i said luna is a mess and needs to be reeled in sometimes. pls help her.

on the flip side i’d also like a bad influence connection!! with luna being the bad influence or someone else being it for luna

frenemies, enemies, rivals, etc !!!! luna’s pretty salty about everything and everyone and i imagine there’s a few people that don’t Vibe with that. also she’s just annoying so. lots of material to work with here

a partner she broke up with in 2013 just before her breakdown?? like maybe they were dating or just liked each other and then one day luna was like “sIKE !!!!!!!! see ya!!!” and things are still awkward between them

young idols / trainees that she’s taken under her wing and sort of “adopted”.......let luna baby someone...

#hqidolintros #i wrote this a few days ago. i dont even remember what this says jdnchb

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 4 years

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Jonesy/ Beav pleaseeeee & you already know what song I want 👀

Thank you!!! AND here it is!: ‘Last Worthless Evening’ by Don Henley!!

(Send me a 🎧 with a number from 1-100 and i’ll write you a ficlet using my corresponding spotify wrapped song as a prompt. You can send any of my listed ships!!)

Time slowed at Jonsey’s place. It always felt as if he was slowly submerging himself in a hot bath whenever he spent time there and he’d never been good at relaxing. He much preferred the louder company of his good ol’ suburban neighborhood when he was right on the front-lines; movie-like comfy home and all. It was there that it never felt like he was the center of attention or like he didn’t fit in.

And out in the yard, green grass grew which would soon become his responsibility to trim. He could enjoy friendly greetings and interactions that allowed him to enjoy a limited small community while not overdoing it or being in total isolation, as this lonesome place felt. Derry was best experienced on a flourishing summer block filled with familial neighbors..it was a view that Jonesy’s sleepy and boring building could only dream about. Because Derry seemed much more horrifyingly lonely in that damn building...

Jonsey had spent many moments of his time there missing the company of someone who loved him. And then spent the following moments hating himself for creating a situation in which he had to experience losing that. He spent far too long thinking he could continue on with a situation that would only serve to slowly kill the both of them just for the sake of ‘playing house’.

But the idea of losing Carla scared him to death. So he’d attempted to live the lie to keep her. Which only made it so much worse.

The relationship hadn’t always been totally miserable but Jonsey credited that to the fact that it was just great to have a good friend living with you. Only, viewing your wife as just a good buddy and not someone you’re in love with...well, that was not a good sign. So ‘No, it hadn’t always been miserable. Yes, we did look happy, didn’t we?’ were things Jonsey had to speak to the likes of his old neighbors. It wasn’t miserable but it had been doomed from the start.

It didn’t really tear him apart to have lost Carla, a little over a year now. It had torn him up to realize he could never be satisfied with her.

The bar was smoky and full of people that Jonesy thought looked pretty chummy with each other. Derry didn’t have much in the case of fine dining or drinking but the familiar faces of your best friends older brother or the town dentist chugging mugs of good beer...that warmed your stomach.

Beaver sank his teeth into the wood of his toothpick and enjoyed the comedy stylings of George Pelsen who was truly a dive-bar champ. The greasy deck of cards the bunch of them used to decide who’d be paying for their draft Millers were dumped on the table and sprinkled with peanut shells.

Kent and Sean were particularly enthralled with whatever bull-shit George was feeding them but Beaver was not too fond on that puff and blow. No, he was sorta searching for a different kind of blow tonight...

Only, as his eyes scanned the place, he found a familiar face which cascaded the most genuine sense of happiness and nerve-wrecking joy.

From behind the crunch of another peanut, Kent chuckled in that odd horse-laughter he had. Which didn’t bother Beav in the slightest, in fact it was one of the reasons he hung out with the dude. He enjoyed shit and laughed it out. “You got an eye for the red-head, Beaver?-”

“Lucky you’s. There’s actually some chicks in here who look up to no-good so you don’t have to make it to some dude.” Sean smiled and tapped a stack of cards against the edge of their table.

The Beav rolled his lips and let himself smile, pulling out a fresh toothpick. “Oh yeah, huh?” He truly didn’t mind the dim-wits inability to comprehend that his bisexuality was not born out of convenience. Having to ‘make-it’ with guys only when good lookin’ girls weren’t near. No, his bisexuality was born with him...fresh from his mother and all covered in red goo.

It just so happened that he realized what he identified with a little later. Laurie Sue had claimed to be a tad bit intimidated by what she called ‘Beav’s large playing-field’. Laurie had been a great gal but marriage didn’t work for either of them.

How lucky, right? Baby-Green (Was that really a color, he wondered? There was a baby-blue & baby-pink?) invitations which read of a wedding for ‘Beaver & Laurie Sue’...didn’t scream everlasting love.

Pelsen and Sean craned their necks and got a couple of chucks in there too.

“It’s not like that right now, anyway. I just think I know that guy.” Beaver almost chuckled himself at the word ‘think’ because he definitely could call Jonsey from a mile away. He pitched a spare peanut into Kent’s mouth and shuffled out of his seat.

Since the man got hooked up on his relationship with his wife, Jonsey pulled from their friendship. Not so much with Henry and Pete, who the guy still remained in constant contact with. Just Beaver. It was not something Beaver caused trouble about though it did sting a little because if there was a reason for it, he had no clue. Pete and Henry did their absolute best to make-up for the odd dynamic change.

Beaver shoved the next tooth-pick between his teeth and pushed his chair in with his hip. “Don’t go crazy savin’ my seat. Might not be back for a while.” He wiggled his brows but the gang didn’t quite get it.

“Jesus-Christ-bananas.”

Jonsey turned around on the spinny bar-stool that he liked so much and faced one of the best damn friends he’d ever had.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Beaver tugged up a seat and sat upon it like a cowboy on a horse, legs spread and wiggling with excitement for the ride. It killed Jonsey when he realized that yes, in fact, it had been a while. Basically since things got kinda rocky with Carla...

“How have you been, man? Seriously? I can’t get much from the other idiots-” The Beav laughed. “And I mean...not that this ain’t good company-” He glanced around the dive and sighed.

Jonsey coughed and swallowed some more of his drink. “I’m ok, Beav.” He nodded and wondered how the hell he wasn’t supposed to just fall-apart in the Beav’s company? The man just radiated an energy so welcoming and warm that just came naturally to him. The Beav always felt like coming home...the opposite of Jonsey’s shitty apartment.

“I don’t buy shit for a nickel, Jonsey.” Beaver’s voice turned soft and genuine, which was rare. “Breaking off...-you know, a relationship like that? It doesn’t heal easily. Laurie Sue and I were like three years ago but it...-I know it can be difficult.”

Jonsey frowned. ‘Shit for a nickel’ he liked that one, was it new? Did it grow over their absence of company?

“It doesn’t much look like you wanna be here. Trust me, I know that feeling. I walked around that block. Still walkin’ it.-” He gestured behind him at the table he’d risen from. “And it’s not quite the riot it would be if it was a Derry block. Nah, that shit is...lonesome town or something like that...you get the point.” Beaver giggled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He just looked soft.

Jonsey chocked up a little and tried to conceal it. “I’m sorry, Beav. About us. I haven’t reached out to you in a long time. I feel like such an asshole-”

Beaver gave him the dopiest grin, like it truly was a wonder that Jonsey could ever think he was mad at him. It gave him a rush of that whimsy feeling. The kind especially reserved for The Beav. Maybe that had been part of the reason Jonsey had isolated him.

“Shut-up, man-” ‘He hadn’t said a word’ “It was a shitty thing to do, admit it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the reason.” Beaver rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and it was then that a horribly amazing thought occurred to Jonsey.

“I couldn’t ever love Carla. No matter how hard I tried.” He took another drink. “But..I think we were driving up to-yeah, yeah-” he nodded to himself, his memories suddenly coming out of a long since buried closet . He pushed his drink away and cleared his throat.

“-To Roberta’s to see or buddy, Duddits. And it was one of those days where the sky was that shade of blue that you adore. And you kept commenting on it, pointing and smiling like it was so important to you. Saying it was a sign that we’d have a great day and you were just so damn excited to see Duddits and Roberta. And I was laughing because it seemed kinda funny to me.” He squinted as the scene painfully played back in her head.

“But I realized just then that I wanted to be there to see every moment you were that happy. And I hoped more than anything in the world that I made you that happy...I just figured it was a self-conscious friendship thing.” Jonsey laughed.

Beaver swallowed.

“I broke it off with Carla because I’m gay, Beaver.” He nodded and felt some relief fall from his shoulders. “And maybe I pushed you away when things with Carla got serious because....” He waved his hand about and vaguely in Beaver’s direction.

Beaver’s eyes widened. “Jesus-Christ-bananas. Derry has never needed anything more than a good chuck of genuine romance, Jonsey-” He slapped his hand to his chest. After a moment of exaggeration, Beaver looked down with some nerves of his own. “Would you like to talk through some shit this evening with someone who really fucking loves you?”

Jonsey laughed, head going back. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

#ahhhhhh #is this bad?#idk #gary jones #beaver clarendon #dreamcatcher #my fanfiction #drabble #asks #dreamcatcher (2003)

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alitheamateur · 5 years

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The Grind-Chapter 2

See what you’ve missed here …

We had been meeting at The Grind on Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, & Saturday’s for the last two weeks. We discussed last names, home towns, the obvious sports, and the strange hatred we shared for cherry licorice. I took notes on the path that led him to becoming a fighter, & he filled me in on his basic training habits for a fight of this magnitude. He had been on the wrestling team throughout high school, & could’ve hand picked from the patch any college he wanted to attend, and a scholarship would’ve been offered on a silver platter. For a moment, I let myself envision Colton sporting a varsity letterman jacket marking the halls as captain of the wrestling team. The mental illustration may have produced an overdose of lust, which caused me to shift lustfully in my seat. He chose a rowdier way instead, consisting of drugs & some extra-curricular gambling debt, leaving him in need of some quick pocket cash before he quote, ‘got ran down by some greasy-haired bookie’. Enter, the dabbling inside the octagon.

The first two matches he had managed to pin down had been easy defeats to his pleasant surprise, & a blue fired flame had been lit in his core. The adrenaline. The passion. The sheer ruthlessness was something he said he became dangerously addicted to. The rush of feeling alive, yet toying with combative death, replaced his desires of betting. As he climbed the latter of men’s’ competitive cage-fighting, his mom had fallen ill in the meantime. Leading him eagerly back home to her side, and promising to lay down his habitual drug use, and shady gambling. But the fighting, no. He explained how it had become his only way a life, and an outlet amid all the worrisome stress of his mother’s illness. And his speculations of my Pilot family beaming with excitement once I dropped the story onto their desks, had been correct. Ryan, my boss, had guaranteed me a full front-page for my “excellent snag.”

This particular Saturday morning strayed away from the typical routine the two of us had settled into. Colton suggested I join him for his morning run through the city, and he’d show me around to some of the crevices of Pittsburgh I hadn’t seen. If I’m truthful, nothing about trouncing through the freezing streets of downtown Pittsburgh, in the dead of winter, at 4 a.m. appealed to my senses. However, the added minutes of Colton to my day, were ones I would gladly grasp on to. He offered to meet at my place, because it was “a real bad idea for a girl like me to be wondering alone in the streets at the break of daylight.”

Finishing my second layer of apparel, I took one last survey in the mirror dragging on the thermal elastic headpiece. My dirty blonde waves were tied in a tight ponytail, and I nixed the makeup, concluding this morning would involve ample sweating. I checked my watch spitting out the last remnants of toothpaste, assuring I wouldn’t have my running partner waiting. At that very second, I heard a heavy knock on my door. Spewing a nervous exhale, I made my way to the front of the apartment, loosening my tensed shoulders, and rolling my neck along the way. This was a simple run, not a date. He would probably have headphones stuffed in his ears the entire time, forgetting I was even tagging along at his side. So, why was my stomach twisting dopy somersaults?

I swung the dark green barrier open, and his freshly awoken, soft eyes trailed up my form. “Good-morning sunshine.” He checked his watch, “And I see you’re right on schedule.”

I slung the thick mane off my shoulder as a “take that” to his cheeky tone of surprise at my ability to flop out of bed this time of day. I squeezed the handle closing the door behind me assuring I had locked it, and we made our way down the silent stairs from my upper level abode.

“How far are we going again?” I kicked myself for only now deciding to request that particular information.

“I tracked a course that’ll bring us right back to your place. It’s just 4 miles. You think ya’ can handle it, hot shot?” He smiled teasingly & began jogging backwards out of sight without any warning. What had I gotten myself into?

Just as he’d promised, we completed his perfectly mapped out 4-mile route, ending at the very steps of my apartment complex. There wasn’t much talking along the way, but he’d shoot me a wink shaking his head, impressed that I was able to keep up. We decided to skip out on The Grind, & instead I extended an invite for coffee at my place.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the pot started.”

As I was pulling mugs & filling the Mr. Coffee, I watched him intently from afar. He began wandering around my living room looking at every picture I had framed on display. Senior prom with all the girls from the team, my best friend Sara & I on our unplanned trip to Mexico before I left home. He seemed genuinely interested in seeing more of me and his eyes smiled, meticulously observing a deeper look at my life in the snapshots. Who I really was, and where I came from. I could feel a warm snicker sneak onto my lips at the realization.

While the liquid brewed in the kitchen, I found my way back to the living room to join my guest. I dead-weighted myself onto the leather couch with a dramatic, exhausted sigh.

“And here I thought you were in shape after stayin’ on my ass this morning.” He laughed, making his way to the open seat next to me. I extended a light kick in his direction for the insult.

“Next time, my rules. Let’s see how the big bad cage fighter takes on 100 suicide sprints, huh?” Suicides were Coach Gibson’s chosen form of torture, and boy, did he torture us. I considered myself a master of the trade by sophomore year.

“Do you ever miss it? Basketball, I mean?” He propped his sculpted arm on the back of the couch and turned to face me, and his eyes held such sincere interest.

“Every day. It was my way of life. I think, maybe my injury was life’s way of telling me it was time to expand. Grow up, ya’ know? Time to make another name for myself.”

“You have no idea much I get that, Liv. Honestly. But, it looks like you done pretty well for yourself on ya’ own two feet out here.”

That was enough about me, and the basketball topic for today. Ball would lead to my parents, my parents would unveil the family drama, and it wasn’t the right time for such. I needed to shift his attention to something lighter, and quick. But the shift it took, was not one I expected.

“I still can’t seem to get warm! My whole face is numb,” I shuddered.

He reached his masculine hands over playfully to smoosh my cheeks in an attempt to warm my frozen skin, my lips forming into that of a duck face. I reached for his wrists, giving a weak effort to pry his scorching hands from my face with a chuckle. My doe eyes locked with his, and I watched them turn from lighthearted and tender, to darkly mischievous. Our bodies tensed in unison, and he lightened the grip he had on my now very flushed skin, but didn’t release. His dark shadow slowly carried itself into my personal space, and I knew what was coming next. I didn’t dare rush the intensity of this moment, nor do anything to stop the inevitable. The misty bluish orbs on his face danced from my eyes, to my lips. Eyes, to lips. Eyes, to lips. His left hand eased back a fly away strand of hair that was sticking to the apple balm on my mouth, then he coated his own lips before they finally reached their desired destination.

They were every bit as perfect, and downy as I knew they’d be. Instantly, my first reaction was to melt to doughy-like putty when his large arms slowly began to cloak my small form. I was nearly high from the sheer bliss, and my entire body appeared to lose feeling. Yet, it seemed feel everything in the air at the very same time. Limbs immobilized, along with my mouth, which was doing little to sustain its role in what was transpiring between us. I pinched my thigh between two fingers to awaken myself, & suddenly my body caught up with my mind. I reached my arm up to caress the back of his thick neck as he began to deepen the kiss, grazing my fingers through the baby hairs that laid sweat slicked there.

We just jogged 4 miles, how does he smell so good?

I could vaguely taste drops of salty sweat leftover from our morning adventure. His hands wandered over my hips to the small of my back, squeezing almost as if he didn’t realize his own strength. A glossy tongue tickled my lips gently requesting entrance. All too eagerly I obliged & opened my mouth to welcome him in with lazy a mewl of need. Our tongues danced to an unfamiliar rhythm in efforts to learn how the other moved. I could feel the build between my thighs becoming irrefutable, causing the stickler in me to pull away abruptly. I accepted this night would likely end with a forbidden visit from my battery-operated friend stored in my bedside table.

“Woah, Ritter. Let’s take a breather, yeah? Didn’t see that coming.”

His face still dangerous, minimal inches from mine he spoke. “Honest? I been plannin’ that one since the second I laid eyes on ya’, kid.” He winked & bit his pillowy bottom lip, nearly sending me choked over the edge of heated exile.

I dipped my head feeling the flush rise up my neck. Colton Ritter was pushing all the right buttons & he knew it. “How about that coffee now? Although, I’d say it’s plenty warm in here at this point...” I grinned.

I escorted him to the kitchen, seemingly walking with the legs of a clumsy fawn, and served him a dark cup of caffeine. He asked about some of the pictures he’d noticed throughout the house, & I told a few old basketball tales from my “glory days.”

“What would you say to gettin’ together again sometime, Liv? Someplace other than The Grind, & no damn sweats allowed. For either of us.”

I patiently held off on answering, giving my best effort to play it off calmly. “I think I could manage that just fine. I might even enjoy it, too.”

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