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5 Acts: Round 6 \o/

Posted on 2012.04.13 at 12:02


the female ghost of tom joad
janie_tangerine at 2012-04-20 13:48 (UTC) (Link)

oryx & crake, jimmy/crake, dub-con (.... of a sort), 1/2

Okay, premise: this... started as one thing. It became a totally different one and I have no idea what the heck it is or if it even fits the prompt at all, but I just hope it makes some kind of sense and that it still fits the bill...


Sometimes Snowman he wishes he wouldn’t dream.

His dreams are never just dreams, anyway. They only serve to make him remember how the world used to be, they make him remember that his name is different, they make him remember that he never signed for this.

Most times he dreams of things that happened. Sometimes, he dreams of things that don’t.

Others, he dreams of Crake, and those are the trickiest ones, because he never remembers if they’re something that happened for real, or something he made up.

He’s on the tree, staring at the branch on his left, and Crake is suddenly sitting on it.

“Look at you,” he says. “I wish I could be around for real. Your reactions are so interesting.”

Then he’s gone, and Snowman wakes up, and he knows that one wasn’t real.

He’s walking among the grass, feeling it grow luscious under his feet, his sheet wrapped tightly around his waist, and Crake is walking next to him.

“See, it didn’t come out so bad after all.”

Crake stays there, but he knows he can’t be real, and when he wakes up ten minutes later, he knows that.

It’s maybe days before the end, or weeks – he can’t remember.

“Jimmy,” Crake tells him, and the sound of that name makes him feel strange, makes him shiver.

“I wish I didn’t know what she sees in you,” he says, and then he puts a hand on Jimmy’s (Snowman’s) cheek, once, and when he wakes up, Snowman can’t remember if that had really happened.

Knowing his mind, most probably not.

They’re sixteen and he’s sitting on Crake’s bed, smoking some cheap weed that he bought back at Martha Graham’s, and Crake is watching him, eyes focused.

“You smelled like sex when you came back last night,” he says, nonplussed.

“It’s a free world, Crake. Sure, where I come from girls aren’t as uptight, but I’m sure you could charm any of those. You have nice eyes, And fucking physics turns them on.”

“I have nice eyes,” Crake says, stealing the joint, taking a drag.

“Well, I’m telling the truth. You have nice eyes. End of it. It was – it was objective.”

Crake doesn’t answer, but an imperceptibly small smile makes his mouth quirk up. Jimmy thinks he should smile more often, even if he doesn’t really expect it – Crake’s been all doom and gloom since they met. Most times.

He hands Crake his weed, Crake refuses and Jimmy finishes it.

That one probably had been real. A long time ago.

the female ghost of tom joad
janie_tangerine at 2012-04-20 13:50 (UTC) (Link)

Re: oryx & crake, jimmy/crake, dub-con (.... of a sort), 2/3

“Look at you, Jimmy,” Crake tells him, leaning over him, his knees locked around Snowman’s bony ones, the tree branch not even bending. It makes him not real, doesn’t it?

“That’s not my name,” he croaks back, and Crake shakes his head.

“You wish.” His hand goes to Snowman’s neck, and he might not be real but he feels like it – his fingers are warm and they almost hurt as they grip over skin and bone, not much flesh left in between anymore.

Snowman groans, his own hands gripping the sheet hard – god, he hopes he doesn’t rip it apart.

“You aren’t real,” he whispers. “You aren’t real.” Crake’s mouth is so near his now, and his hands are over Snowman’s stomach, and his grin has something not human in it.

“I’m real enough, Jimmy.” His hand goes under the sheet, touching Jimmy’s – no, it isn’t his name anymore – touching his cock, which lies spent.

“Not much action anymore lately, am I wrong?” Crake hisses, giving it a slow stroke. It comes to life briefly at that.

“Crake, I don’t – what did I ever do to you?” Snowman almost sobs, and he isn’t sure if he likes this, he isn’t sure if he likes the way Crake’s fingers are stroking him back to some sort of half-hardness, he isn’t sure if he’s doing this all himself, since Crake can’t be real. And he doesn’t want it to happen, but on the other side it feels good and he has maybe thought of him and Crake doing it, back then, back before, but this isn’t Crake, or maybe it is. And he doesn’t know how to feel good anymore.

To think that once he used to touch himself daily.

“Oh, Jimmy, it never was personal,” Crake replies, his fingers tightening and moving faster, and Snowman doesn’t think he believes it.

That’s not real.

Or maybe it is – the sheet is stained with dried seed, the next day.

“What did I ever do to you?” he whispers, and he’s crying.

That part is real.

the female ghost of tom joad
janie_tangerine at 2012-04-20 13:50 (UTC) (Link)

Re: oryx & crake, jimmy/crake, dub-con (.... of a sort), 3/2

“You’re doing it wrong,” Crake tells him as he walks towards the place where the Crakers told him he could find other humans. “They think you are some kind of god. They think that I am. That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he almost spits.

Snowman – no, no, Jimmy, his name is Jimmy – doesn’t even want to know. This is no dream – the part where he walks and his foot hurts and the weather is too hot and the Crakers chant behind him – that one is real. Crake, he might be or he might not, the same way Oryx’s voice might be or might not, but does that even matter? Even if he’s real, he’s dead. And Jimmy is tired, tired, tired, but he can’t ignore him.

He never could.

“You made them,” he says, stopping. “You made them and when you made them you forced me to this. If they aren’t turning out as you like, then it’s your own fucking business.”

He sounds like Jimmy used to sound now. And Crake’s eyes are wide, and angry, and he ruined Jimmy’s life and destroyed the world because of some mad dream, and Jimmy should hate him. He remembers those dreams of Crake on the tree, hands reaching out and taking without asking, and if it’s something that comes from his own mind (or Snowman’s mind?), Jimmy doesn’t know.

“Oh, and who told them about them coming from me in the first place?”

Jimmy takes a step closer, reaches out. Crake’s arm is real and solid and it doesn’t matter if he’s imagining this.

“Don’t tell me that you hadn’t thought about it. You left a man to guard them – I never was a genius. I never was like you. And you knew that. I never agreed to this, I never agreed to anything and I still did it. If you want to blame someone, then blame yourself, Glenn.”

Crake freezes – if he’s real and he had thought that Jimmy had forgotten his real name, then he was wrong.

“How did you call me?”

“By your name,” Jimmy replies, trying not to think about the burning pain flooding from his foot, and he sees Crake flinch when he moves even closer.

Can ghosts flinch?

He doesn’t know as he puts his dry, cracked lips against Crake’s, which are as full and warm as they were on the day he died. Crake tries to pull back but not when Jimmy brings his other hand up, his badly cut nails digging in the hollow of Crake’s neck. (It’s warm. And solid. And there’s no bone to be found between skin and flesh. Damn him.)

Crake just stays still, not reciprocating, but when Jimmy moves away, Crake’s lips part, just slightly.

And the part of him that met Crake in high school might want to lean back, but it’s a part. Not all of him.

“I can’t help you with this,” Jimmy says. “Whatever you wanted from me, you should have asked me first years ago. But you never even thought of it, did you?”

He turns his back, fingers tightening around his spray gun, and he doesn’t stay to hear the answer. It’s enough that in the end he’s done everything that Crake had ever wanted of him without even knowing that he was doing it for most of the time.

The worst thing is that he doesn’t know whether he’d have said no for sure, if Crake ever asked first.
xarixian at 2012-04-23 00:10 (UTC) (Link)

Re: oryx & crake, jimmy/crake, dub-con (.... of a sort), 3/2

Aw, Jimmy, bb <3

This pairing is so sad, but I love it.

I like the way they use each other's real names, as a way to control each other, as a way to remind them who they really are- who they were.

Thank you so much for this (: I love the pensive tone to this, the blurring of reality and imagination and memory.
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