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thekisforkeats · 3 years

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Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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chromes-corner · 2 years

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Filling out my cacao storyline bingo card + explanations and stuff

(Spoilers under cut)

BINGO!!!!! 🥳

Okay I’m going to go through every square and talk about them bc I have too much time on my hands (ones marked in red were ones I marked in my bingo card)

Espressoleine hint/tease

Thank god there was none of that

Dark Choco redemption/hinting at redemption

So, I think this once speaks for itself. It’s less of a redemption and more of the start of the redemption. I’m marking it down.

Affogato is a villain or at least morally grey

Self explanatory

Dark cacao/affogato ship art

Surprisingly, I haven’t seen a ton of it. I really thought a bunch of people would jumping on that wagon haha

Espresso dialogue

UGHHHH I WISH HE AND AFFOGATO INTERACTED!!!! I did like his little thing with the destroyed coffee tribe village in 13 tho

new bonds

That shits so disappointing like cmon

Insufficient Caramel Arrow story involvement

YESSS!!!! THEY DIDNT SHAFT MY GIRL!!!!!!!! I would’ve liked to hear more about her relationship with Choco but that little bit about him teaching her to fight sated my thirst pretty well lol

Dragons

WHYYYYY DEVSIS!!! YOU GIVE US COOL FUCKING LORE AND DESIGNS AND YOU DONT USE IT????? I want to know more about the black and white dragons so fucking badly. I’m assuming they’ll never have story relevance now which makes me SO MAD!!!! They’re everywhere on the cacao kingdom architecture!!!! Please tell us more about them and their significance to cacao culture!!!!! I will never not be pissed about that :/

Dark enchantress involvement

She wasn’t there lol

Cacao in disguise

Very glad they didn’t go the “omg he’s disguised nobody knows who he is” route. I like that it took him a while to get into his armor. I really hope we get the robes as a costume :)

Lack of Dark Enchantress involvement

Like, she wasn’t there in person is what I was going for with that one.

Dark Choco is kicked from the meta since Cacao is meta

Now, I almost didn’t mark this one, but I’m counting it since I hardly see Choco in arena anymore. Personally I still prefer him for stuff like guild battles and bosses, but yeah having used cacao he’s like way better lol

Dark cacao thirst

It’s my free space but still. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. God has seen it.

Impossible boss

Yeah uhhhhh that 14-30 kinda…… um…… let’s just say I miss raspberry

F2P players shafted

Yeah lol I did the math on like the first day. Sorry f2p homies 😔

Coffee tribe mention

Well, at least they were mentioned…? Still would’ve liked more. Devsis fucking sucks at worldbuilding :(

No CoD storyline mention

THANK GOD FOR CONTINUITY AND CINEMATIC PARALLELS BABY!!!

Arena saturation

Yeah self explanatory

Dark Choco has no plot relevance

ONCE AGAIN, THANK GOD

Emotionally absent father

Okay I was on the fence about marking this one but tbh this is how I interpreted it. Cacao seemingly only trained his son for battle and never really was a “father” to him, yknow?

No info about golden cheese

Kill me

No trauma resolution

I was also on the fence about this one but I decided that yeah it happened. Cacao realizing where he went wrong in fatherhood was probably as far as it could go anyway since the damage had already been done, and Choco, well, that’s an entire other post

Gingerbrave on his dumb shit

SURPRISINGLY DIDNT HAPPEN!!!!! Really happy about that. Happy about gingergangs entirely separate involvement in the plot this time. I liked seeing the others work it out on their own without fireteam mcguffin butting in with their “you have depression? Just smile :)” bullshit

Flashbacks

Surprised that there were no flashbacks. Well there was one VERY brief one but I’m not counting it. Wish we saw more cacao and young Choco interactions so we could fully understand their relationship :/

Glimpse of milk tribe

Thank you for this crumb of sustenance devsis. It will tide me over until we get some golden cheese info or another ovenbreak legendary :)

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom spoilers #cookie run spoilers

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

Text

Muse

Summary:

You're a frustrated and starving artist, disillusioned with the world you move in. Transported to a new one, you unexpectedly find a muse.

Notes:

Last Boss/Artist!Reader. Protagonist is AFAB. Oneshot, explicit smut.

I just wanted to write something short, sweet, and self-indulgent because damn, I need a break. And um, our favorite tiger boy needs more love.

Your mind was in a dark place when everything changed.

No galleries had contacted you to put up your works there. Your art blog’s viewership is abysmal, all your commissions are still unfinished, and your bank account has dried up. Such is the life of the struggling young artist; no money, no connections, and no talent, as some may think.

Every piece brought from you is something you’re grateful for. Every like, share and comment you receive is something you treasure. And yet, when you see another artist garner more attention just because what they do is trendy, or because they have connections, you can’t stop the resentment from filling up your heart.

These days, your works can’t just speak for themselves. Art is becoming a game, a competition for who gets the most paintings bought from a show, or the most number of likes within a platform.

You hate the galleries. Most of the time, they’re boys’ clubs reserved for old, mediocre men whose swelling egos are easier to rile up than their dicks. They sell their paintings at ludicrous prices, market value inflated by the connections they have to the gallery and the pretentious bullshit they write in the descriptions.

You hate social media. You hate the algorithm, you hate how these online venues to share your work is geared in another’s favor. You’ve tried to play the game for so long, posting at peak hours and sharing your work shamelessly to your friends, but nothing seems to be working.

You’re envious.

Envy is such an ugly thing.

Galleries rouse it within the small, unseen artist, whose talents are hidden due to their lack of privilege, their lack of name. Social media capitalizes on it, thriving on competition, the number game warping a person’s psyche and perception of their worth.

Curling up in a ball in your bed, you’ve contemplated countless times if playing the game is still worth it. You just can’t keep up anymore. Each stroke of your brush and glide of your pen had your soul weaved in them, and no one seems to appreciate that because it’s not something anyone can put a price tag on.

Sighing, you drag your feet to the convenience store to buy yourself dinner with what little money you have left.

Then you saw it, the fireworks.

Life turned upside down for you within the span of hours.

Weeks later, you’re in a place called the Beach and sitting as far away as possible from the pool, sketching away on your notebook, odd ends of paper sticking out from it. You’ve survived another harrowing game, and you’re trying to wind down with a nice sketch session.

In this world, there’s no galleries, no social media. There’s no people to impress or market yourself to; just survival. There’s no money to be earned to keep living in this world, just visa days. Days of worrying if anything you’d create is worthy of anyone’s attention is replaced by the need to keep forging forward. But still, to keep yourself sane, you carried around pencils and paper, drawing and sketching whatever your heart desired.

In this world, your art is just for your own consumption, entertainment, and respite. Instead of being the thing that kept you up at night, it became something that saved you from the madness of this world.

The blaring music stopped, sound abruptly cut off as the speakers crashed.

Aguni’s militants have arrived, it seems. Per the advice of another Beach resident, you’ve done your best to steer clear of them. Yet, you still couldn’t stop yourself from getting involved with one of them, the one with the tattoos on his face and all over his body.

The first time you saw him, you found his appearance striking. The facial tattoos he had made him look tiger-like, and the katana he carries around with him just adds to the dangerous air he had about him. The fact that he almost always wears his hood up and the fact that he barely speaks add to the mystery surrounding him.

You’ve learned that nobody, not even their chief, knows his true name. They just call him Last Boss, because he looks like the last boss of a videogame.

It started innocently enough. You sketched him on your notebook, tall and wiry stature contrasting with the flow of the loose clothing he wears. Then the sketches multiplied the more you saw him in the games, and in the Beach. You’ve drawn him wielding his sword and finishing an assailant off. You’ve drawn him squatting on the balcony railing, surveying the Beach during his patrols.

Last Boss had filled your sketchbook pages. He became your muse.

Maybe it’s because he stood out to you, or it’s the sheer, unapologetic boldness his tattoos have. Either way, you were intrigued by him. Sometimes, you swore he’d stare at you back, but as soon as you look at him again, he’s looking someplace else. The little game you played thrilled you, thighs rubbing together when you see him. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have impure thoughts about him; you’ve wondered just how much of his skin is covered by tattoos.

And yet, neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

It was your little secret.

But not for long.

In the lobby, you were heading back to your room after dinner to rest when you ran into one of the militants. He barked at you to watch where you’re going, and stomped away. The collision sent your notebook flying, paper scattering across the floor. Scrambling to collect them all, you crawled to find every single piece, only to bump into someone’s shins.

It’s your muse, Last Boss, and he’s found a page of your sketchbook.

“I- um, that’s mine. Thank you picking it up, I’d like to have it-”

The words left you when you realize that he’s looking at your sketch of him.

His eyes flick to you.

“Back.”

You gulped, unsure of how he would react to it. Wordlessly, he gives you back the piece of paper, and you nod at him, proceeding to pick up the rest of the pages. Embarrassed, you hurry back to the room you’ve occupied, and shut the door. Not like it would make a difference; all the locks are superglued, but it still provided you some relief.

A warm bath would be nice. It’ll definitely help melt the stress of today away.

Stripping, you entered the bathroom, soaping and rinsing the grime away as the tub filled with water. The splashing echoed in the room, and the bass pounded outside as the party raged on, making you deaf to other sounds that might register in your ears under quieter conditions.

You get in the tub, warm water soothing your sore muscles from the Spade game you participated in earlier, and your eyelids flutter shut. Engulfed by warmth, you drift off to sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, you awaken abruptly to the sound of footsteps in your room.

Quiet as a ghost, you listened carefully. The footsteps stopped, and springs creaking as a weight sat down on your bed followed after. After that, you hear the gentle rustle of paper.

As quietly as possible, you get out of the tub, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around your torso. Pushing the door open as slow as possible, you peer out of the bathroom to see who’s the intruder, and what you saw made your heart jump to your throat.

Last Boss is sitting at the edge of your bed, peering at your sketchbook. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he thumbs through the pages of the hardbound notebook, enthralled by the strokes you made on the paper. There were self-portraits, landscapes, portraits of people, figure drawing, and of course, some of them had him as the subject. Engrossed by the art, he doesn’t notice you.

Taking off the bathroom slippers, you walk barefoot, stepping out of the bathroom as quietly as possible. You were making good progress, inching away from the door, but your foot landed on a piece of paper, and you slipped.

With a thud, you land on your ass on the floor. The tattooed militant stands up abruptly, drawing his sword.

“Oh God, please don’t hurt me,” you yelp, one hand holding the towel around your chest into place, the other shielding yourself from him.

He sees you, then he lowers the sword, and tucks it away. Last Boss walks over, and you screw your eyes shut, but there was no pain that followed. His wiry fingers grasped your forearm and helped you get up.

“Thank you,” you whispered, averting his gaze. He towered over you, almost a full foot taller. You move to retrieve your sketchbook on the bed, but he doesn’t let you go. Gaze finally meeting his, you found yourself disarmed by the intensity of his eyes.

“W-what do you need?” you ask him, the tremble in your voice apparent. You’re still gauging his reactions. So far, he hasn’t done anything to hurt you, but he’s a militant. They don’t exactly have a track record for being gentle.

“You’re good. But you drew my tattoos wrong,” he finally speaks.

Eyes wide, you didn’t know how to respond, blurting out something incoherent. Then, you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. I never had the chance to look at you up close.”

“Would you like to?”

Breath hitching in your throat, you nod. “Let me just get dressed,” you say to him, but he still doesn’t let you go, eyes boring into yours. Behind his tattoos are delicate, handsome features that knocked the air out of your lungs. What stood out the most are his lips, small and well-formed, looking too soft for a man as dangerous as him.

Then you understood what he wanted.

Because you want it too.

You let go of the towel, leaving yourself exposed. But he stands there, frozen, as if he didn’t expect things to go his way.

Leaning in, you kiss him, wet body pushing against him, soaking his clothes. It started slow, and sweet, but then you experimentally dart your tongue out, and he lets out a low growl, opening his mouth to receive you.

It was sloppy and inexperienced, but the kiss hit the spot. You feel the fire pooling in your belly, pleasure shooting up your spine.

Throwing caution to the wind, you put your arms around him and his movements become more desperate, kneading and squeezing at your naked flesh, pawing greedily at every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

You toss your sketchbook to the bedside table and you hop on, pulling Last Boss with you.

Straddling him, you grind your hips against his, and he’s already hard under his trousers, making you smile against his lips as you kiss him more. Your hands guided his to your ass, and you pushed your chest against his face. Last Boss eagerly buries his face between the soft mounds of your breasts, and proceeds to latch on a nipple, hard from the cool night air.

You let out a soft moan, hands cradling his neck as he assaulted you with his lips and mouth. He unlatches from the nipple, then proceeds to leave kisses all over your neck.

Then, he lies back, and he pulls you over him, his head between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, a little bashful because of his view of your body.

He nods, and he proceeds to lick your folds, making you gasp in pleasure.“Aim for the nub,” you instruct him with a soft voice, and he does as he says, licking at your clit with abandon. You rode his face as he licked you, movements sloppy.

Soon, you were reaching your peak and you braced yourself against the headboard. Thighs quivering, you came with a cry, riding his face as you climaxed, tits bouncing as your body shook.

As you come down from your high, abruptly, Last Boss flips you over, and now you’re underneath him.

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” you ask him, smirking.

“Next time. I want you now,” he half-whispers, half-growls. The hard member pressing against you tells you that he’s serious.

You nod at him, and he proceeds to unfasten his belt, hands shaking from nervousness, or excitement, you didn’t know. It’s probably both.

He went in with a single thrust and you can’t hold back the cry that bubbled in your throat. Fortunately for you, you were wet enough for it not to hurt, but it still caught you off guard. He was slender, but that length… it made your toes curl.

Erratic and inexperienced, you had to guide him with his thrusts, and soon, Last Boss finds a steady rhythm, those penetrating eyes looking deep into you as you brushed the tattoo on his cheek with your thumb. You hook one ankle over his shoulder, and moan as the new angle allowed him to penetrate you deeper. Last Boss bottoms out, and he groans, rutting deep inside you.

You raise another ankle and pull him closer, and he’s pressed flush against you, hips desperately pounding away. The tattooed militant pins your arms above you and kisses you, tongues sliding against each other as filthy noises of your fucking filled the room. You suck on his earlobe, and whispers filthy, filthy things in his ear.

“You know, I’d been thinking about this for a while now,” you whisper, and he tilts his head.

“I always imagined you breaking into my room and just fucking me raw until I’m a mess,” you continue, and it seemed to spur him on, thrusts becoming more frantic as the seconds passed. “I’d never thought I’d get lucky tonight. Fuck, Last Boss, use me as you wish, I’m all yours!”

Last Boss didn’t need to be told twice. He fucked you at a brutal pace, sharp hips colliding with the soft skin of your thighs, and with a broken cry, you cum once again, your walls milking his cock.

“Please, please, fill me with your cum!” you cry as he continued.

It drove him over the edge. Soon after, he follows, coming with a loud groan. His body collapses on you, and he gives you another kiss, still sloppy, but it almost felt tender, something you didn’t expect from the sword-wielding militant.

The tattooed man lies next to you, and you curl into him, tracing his tattoos with your fingers.

“Can I look at more of your sketchbook tomorrow morning?” he asks, voice low and drowsy.

You smile, looking up to him. “Sure.”

Just when you’re about to drift to sleep, he speaks again. “Takatora. My name is Takatora.”

Smiling, you kiss his cheek, and say your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Last Boss is your muse. His attention, both to your body and your creations, is all you need.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #last boss #takatora samura #last boss x reader #artist!reader #smut #fluff #fluff and smut #fanfic: muse #don't mind me just pouring my frustrations in this fic

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moonbeamwritings · 4 years

Text

one missed call

Summary: You were haunted by what happened in Egypt. The loss of your friends and the disconnect from the others that came in the years afterwards weighed heavily on your mind. One night, after a horrible day at work, you find that you received a voicemail from someone you never thought you’d hear from again: Jotaro Kujo.

Author’s Note: This is a little different from what I normally post. A little less fluff, a little more angst. There are very brief mentions of blood, but they’re vague. Let me know what you think!

The second you stepped through your apartment door and closed it, you slumped back with a sigh. “Worst day ever,” you spoke aloud. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag, you collapsed onto your couch, relishing in the silence of your living room.

This time of year was always… difficult, to say the least. Not only were the holidays beyond stressful in and of themselves, but you were reminded, more so than any other time of year, of the loss of your dear friends.

Every night over the past week had graced you with images of gore, the rush of blood and water, and the whirring screech of an ambulance coupled with the muffled voices of Speedwagon Foundation medics, their hushed conversations blaring in your ears despite their quiet tones.

“Noriaki Kakyoin. Time of death approximately-”

You shook the thought from your head, feeling all the more sick to your stomach. Your day at work hadn’t been easy given your current state, but your boss refused reason, seemingly working you harder knowing that you were suffering. You were tired, in more ways than one.

You flicked the television on and disappeared down the hallway. If I’m gonna be upset, you thought, I might as well be comfortable. Tugging a warm, soft sweater over your head and a pair of sweatpants up your legs, you were ready to tackle whatever horrible tv show was on and whatever leftovers you had in the fridge.

You reheated some take-out you’d had over the weekend and dropped back onto the couch, mind slowly shutting down at the sight of a brainless, campy reality tv show on one of the stations. Perfect.

Your position on the couch gave you a clear view of your phone, resting on a small table across the room.

Blink blink. Blink blink.

The green answering machine light was on, which almost never happened. Nobody calls me, you thought curiously. You muted the tv and made your way over to the phone, a funny feeling bubbling in your stomach.

Clicking play, you felt your heart stop in your chest, completely ceasing to beat as it knocked the air from your lungs.

“Hi,” a deep, smooth voice spoke through the phone, “This is Jotaro Kujo. I hope I’ve reached the right number.”

Your mouth fell open as you heard him. It was really him. You hadn’t spoken to Jotaro since you last saw him at the airport in Egypt, 10 years ago. You would scoff if you didn’t miss him so damn much. Back then, he’d looked at you like he had something to say, but it seemed as though he opted to bite his tongue. When Polnareff had pulled you all into a group hug before returning to France, you had a sinking feeling in your chest. DIO had been defeated, sure, but something still didn’t seem right.

You moved on, as they all seemed to. You returned home, you went back to some semblance of normalcy despite the nightmares, the loneliness. You had half a mind to be pissed, to ignore the phone call and to kick Jotaro out of your life for good, dealing with the spiraling thoughts all on your own. You couldn’t do it anymore, though, and that’s what compelled you to hang on to his every word.

“I, um-” There was a pregnant pause, almost so long that you had assumed he hung up, “I hope you’re doing well.” He let out a short laugh. There was no joy in it. “Well, as good as you can be, I guess.”

“I wanted to call to apologize. Leaving you in the dark for so long, letting you live with the grief all on your own, knowing that I was going through the same things. It never sat well with me. The old man said that just telling you what’s been going through my head might help, even if you tell me to fuck off. I know my emotions are nowhere near as obvious as I think they are.”

You felt your heart start to beat again, slowly going faster and faster until it was little more than hammering in your chest.

“Yare yare daze, I guess I just-” Jotaro cut himself off again, a creak in a chair sounded in the background, “I couldn’t handle it. I know it’s a pathetic excuse and I know you must be angry with me. You might not even listen to this message. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.”

How could I not, you thought in silent response.

“I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out, well, until now. You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

You found your brows creasing in confusion.

“I was in love with you back then.” Another mirthless laugh, a beat of silence. “I guess I still am. That’s why I called. Look, I’m sorry for going radio silent, for not reaching out… for everything. I was afraid and I felt like I didn’t deserve you.”

Hot, wet tears began racing down your cheeks and you had to place a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. You closed your eyes as the message played on.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m being selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to see you, if you’ll have me.” The call fell silent again and you could swear you heard Jotaro let out a soft sound, a sniffle followed by a clearing of his throat. When he returned to the phone, you could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I’m sorry. If you get this, give me a call. Bye.”

With the click of the phone, your living room was plunged into silence, save for the sound of your soft cries. You furiously wiped at your tears as they fell, walking back to sit down on the couch to will your heart to just slow down, if only for a minute.

Your mind was reeling, sending your whole world spiraling upside down. All over just one phone call.

He’d been in love with you? Then, and even now?

It was hard to believe, which made the whole situation that much worse. Why now? Why in this way? Had he, too, been thinking about that fateful trip to Egypt all those years ago? Was November and December just as difficult for him as it was for you?

It was painful, dealing with endless thoughts all while fat, salty tears raced down your face, dampening the sleeves of your sweater with every swipe at your eyes. You leaned back against the armrest, losing yourself in the nonexistent patterns decorating your ceiling.

Thinking back now, perhaps all this time spent with no word from him was so upsetting all because you were in love with him. How stupid, you blubbered, to be thrust into such an emotional upheaval all over a boy you’d fallen in love with at 17. It’s not fair.

He hadn’t even called, or tried to. He had ten years to do so and clearly he knew someone who could connect him to you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Speedwagon Foundation’s involvement in all of this. It was frustrating, racing back and forth between anger, sadness, and elation.

You resolved to deal with this mess tomorrow. Maybe sleep will help, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, eager to shut your eyes.

Sleep did not come so easily because of course it didn’t. Echoes of his words rattled in your mind, playing on a loop as if to torment you, to make your nights even more sleepless.

Before you knew it, the sun was up.

As if to give you some sort of reprieve, you were off from work. A small treat from the universe to say, you can rest, just this once.

You practically dragged your body down the hallway, eyes stinging with a lack of sleep and unshed tears. With breakfast sorted, you sat down to listen to the voicemail again. You weren’t sure if you were just trying to make yourself more upset or if the warm, orange glow of the sun shining through your blinds would bring you some form of clarity.

The second time through did little else but convince you that you needed to talk to Jotaro, no matter how painful it may end up being.

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

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danniburgh · 4 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet, (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 1.

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel's operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn't seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +2.1k

Series warnings: talks and mentions of misogyny and sexism, cursing, smoking, drinking, eventual sex, cartel shit, watch me make some shit up to fit reader inside the narrative, guns, dea shit, feels, javier actually being a little bit more introspective, just basically me inserting reader into the third season

Chapter warnings: depictions of misogyny and some cursing

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode one. // this has been simmering in the back of my head for way too long, i even made a post about it just trying to ease the weight of my thoughts but my mind keeps racing with more things about this exact story, so here goes nothing. THIS GOES ALONG THE CANON OF THE THIRD SEASON kinda (so yeah, spoilers if you haven’t watched it yet), i actually had to watch it to write this because in the end, you’re a fucking DEA agent baby (also please keep in mind that english is not my native language, im really trying for this to be GOOD)

Read on ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

// next→

You knew you chose a difficult job, hell, a difficult career, you knew you had to prove yourself, your worth and your abilities countless times, at this point it wasn’t even that much of a surprise anymore. Every time you encountered another man in the office or in the field, you had to spend an incredible amount of time first proving you were capable and you knew what you were doing before even getting to work.

Yet you got comfortable in your previous destination, you had a team, you had people to trust and trusted you back, they knew you were more than capable, you didn’t have to tell them to listen to you or your ideas, you didn’t have to ask for anyone’s approval. You were just another agent.

But now you had to do it all over again.

“Shit” you growled, trying to unwrinkle your blazer with one hand, the flight down to Colombia hadn’t been at all gentle to you and you were tired and cold. Your feet were sore, your back was killing you, you were fighting the desire to get rid of your suit skirt and run to put some pants on, everybody was lying when they said Colombia was a hot place, the air was chilly, and the dress suit you were wearing barely provided any meaningful heat, and the fact that nobody went to pick you up at the airport made you even more frustrated. You were still pulling around your suitcase because apparently the embassy is such a fucking mess that not even one person told you where you were going to live yet.

You showed your badge to the guards at the doors and they let you in without much of a look. You walked right through the lobby into the elevator, sighing in relief. Thanks America and its air conditioned buildings.

The elevator doors opened and you walked straight inside of the DEA offices, they were small, cramped and dark, great, just how you liked your work spaces.

“Hi” you said, approaching the small front desk, the receptionist looked up at you and smiled, it was the first smile you saw in a while and that made you feel a little less frustrated, you pulled out the badge again and showed it to her “can you please direct me to the office of Javier Peña?” you asked.

The girl tilted her head to the left in confusion.

“Are you agent Martin?” she said with her thick american accent, you put the badge again in the pocket of your dress pants and nodded to her.

“Yes, is he– is he expecting me?”

“Not really, but agent Feistl is,” she said, pointing to a cornered desk almost in the back where a blond man was sitting, he looked up at the sound of his name and you sighed again.

“Oh, yeah, I talked to him on the phone, thank you,” you said, smiling a bit back to her while you walked around the unoccupied desks in the front of the office “Feistl” you said his name once you reached his desk, stretching out your hand to shake his “agent Martín” you said “it’s nice to meet you” he looked at you, frowning, but took your hand nonetheless and shook it.

“Chris Feistl” he said, a little taken aback and another man approached both of you “this is my partner, Daniel Van Ness” the larger man gave you a single nod and you shook his hand again.

“You’re agent Martin?” Van Ness said.

Here we go again.

“My last name is Martín, first name Florencia” you said, accentuating the í in your last name, inhaling the tension around and making it your own, yet another time “I’m guessing you were expecting a man?” you dropped, they looked at each other “don’t worry, it happens everytime” you finished with a small grin.

They remained silent, looking at you, yet another time you let them, although for a single moment you actually wondered if there was something wrong with the way you looked; you gave a glance to yourself on the elevator walls on your way up and aside from your hair being close to look like a mess you were ok, you take another second to try to analyze the men in front of you, the way they were standing, the expression on their faces, they were shocked that was for sure, but also… relieved? and somehow… happy?.

“Is there anywhere I can put this?” you asked, glancing at the suitcase.

“You came here all the way from the airport?” Feistl asked, you nodded.

“Yeah, no one showed up so I just grabbed a cab” Van Ness snorted and you looked at him. He didn’t say anything, “where’s my desk?” you asked again, starting to feel more frustrated but also a bit amused when again they didn’t say a thing, “you did get the memo that you’d be getting a new person today, right?” you questioned in a huff, a bit louder, looking at them in utter disbelief. Fucking embassy, fucking DEA.

“Is agent Martin here?” you heard your name being called from behind you, the men in front of you just widened their eyes and looked at you.

“That would be me” you announced, turning around, seeing a tall, tanned skin, sweaty man approaching you, “and you must be Javier Peña” you said, allowing yourself to be more assured, stretching your hand again.

“You are agent Martin” he said, making it sound half like a question, half an assertion, looking at you up and down, he put his hands on his hips, not bothering to take your hand.

“Florencia Martín, yes sir” you dropped down your hand and pronounced your last name again, trying to get american people to pronounce your name was hard, and you hoped at least Javier Peña would understand it, yet he said it wrong. He just stood there and you glanced at him discreetly, he, differently from the men behind you, was a walking ball of frustration, you sympathized and tried to read his posture. He was trying to be cocky but his try died in his eyes, he was shocked, surprised and not at all entertained.

“No wonder why I couldn’t find you in the airport” he growled.

“You were also expecting a man” you affirmed, this time, a small hint of disappointment grew inside your stomach “don’t worry, it happens all the time” you repeated roughly. You turned around to your new partners, not caring and ignoring the look your new boss was giving you “my desk?”

Van Ness pointed a small cubicle behind his and Feislt’s big desks, you suppressed a sigh and walked towards the space, still pulling your fucking suitcase, feeling the looks of three men in your back. You were used to this, you had done it countless times, and you knew you weren’t the only woman that has gone through this. But after spending the time you spent in one single place, with the same people, doing the same thing, after having an amazing partner that had believed in you since the day you almost punched the shit out of him on the academy, after having your own office to work with him, after having faced many masculine faces disapproving you being in the same rooms as them while chasing bad guys, after receiving thousands of condescending looks when you said anything, and yet being capable of raise everybody’s expectations, starting it all over again not only sounded hard, it also sounded exhausting.

Javier couldn’t believe his fucking luck when he looked at you. He certainly was expecting a man, Washington only told him so much and he assumed what everyone did when they heard your last name, in the end it was a masculine name. For some reason he felt guilty when you told him you always get that reaction.

He tried to examine you, ever the analyzer, but he got nothing, not from the way you were still standing in front of the ridiculously small cubicle, tapping your foot against the carpeted floor, or the way you kept putting a thin strand of hair behind your ear and it kept falling in front of your right cheekbone, nothing from the way you reached for the manila folder that was waiting to be picked up or the way your fingers moved around the pages. You seemed unreadable to him and he didn’t like that. Not one bit.

You turned around when you felt his stare, he was still just standing there, looking at you.

“Is this really everything I have to be briefed on?” you questioned him lifting the folder in your left hand. He nodded and turned to the right to walk to his office “well fuck that” you murmured under your breath. You heard Van Ness snorting again and looked at him giving you a small smile, maybe you didn’t say that as quietly as you wanted, you gave him half a grin and he shook his head.

You took off your blazer and sat on the incredibly uncomfortable chair.

“Shit” you whispered again.

“Fuck” Javier said under his breath, loosening his tie and crashing into his chair. He rubbed his eyes with the ball of his hands and sighed. What the fuck did the people at Washington think. He was after a whole fucking cartel, he didn’t have his trusted partner this time, he was alone and he had to lead a team to do that, he had just lost two agents after they were stupid and reckless going around Cali and they dared to send down one random chick in some sort of replacement that for some reason seemed just so small and frail to him.

He was pretty sure you weren’t due to the fact that you were a DEA agent, but when he looked at you the only thing he could notice was the way your eyes were dimmed, maybe due to the fluorescent lights or the fact that you had flown who-knows how many hours to be there, or the way your hands seemed way too delicate to even handle a gun, or how your body looked breakable to the touch.

He didn’t like the way his mind was forming his thoughts about you, it wasn’t right to think that way of a woman- no, a person- no, an agent he had just met, he just knew it was the macho part in him that saw you that way. He knew that if Washington had sent you all the way down to a god forsaken country fighting an unfair war, you had to be capable to endure it.

Javier scratched his stubble and reached for the thinest folder he had on his desk, it was your file. He grinned when he opened it, unbelieving of the almost non existent amount of information it had about you. It did have your full name, though, so, mistaking you for a guy was indeed his fault, just because he didn’t read the file before.

He browsed through the last locations you had been sent to and raised his eyebrows when he saw the amount of time you’d spent in the last place. No wonder why you were being so reluctant about everything you saw and how you were being treated. He remembered how he felt when he was a newcomer and he remembered what he had to go through with Steve when he first came to the country, it was awful, and even without the language barrier, as your file said you did speak spanish, he assumed you must feel like an outcast. It was never easy, arriving at a place where everything seemed like it belonged there but you.

Javier closed the file and threw it back to the pile of manila folders in front of him. He did have his doubts about you, and surely he was wondering why he had only been sent that joke of a file and nothing else, and he didn’t want to make your stay in Colombia or at the embassy a living hell, but he did want to see what you were able to do, he couldn’t wait for you to show him what you had in you.

That last thought sent him for a bit through a deliciously nasty tangent, and he had to bring himself back to the initial train of thought: you.

You were now his. No– you were now in his team. He was now your boss. He couldn’t think of you in any other way even if sometimes it couldn’t be avoided.

Javier rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, wondering what were you working on before arriving, trying to think what was happening in México that made you stay that long.

And a question was forming in his head… What the hell did you do to be sent to Colombia?

// next→

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #javier pena fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #rushingly bittersweet tag

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lychee-drinks · 4 years

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Can’t Say // Izuku x Reader

Setting: Adult, Izuku is the number 1 Pro Hero and you guys are married.

Genre: Angst

Sypnosis: You and Izuku have been married for two years, but you can’t help but feel bad about the big gap between you guys. You begin to notice changes in him, but you can’t call him out.

A/N: I also took hella inspiration from the song I Touched a Vase by Keina Suda/Balloon. This is also my first time writing some kind of angst one shot so hope you enjoy.

——————————————————

2:30 a.m.

You turned back to drinking your cup of water. It was no surprise Izuku was out late because of work, but you sat at your dinner table waiting for him. You usually never waited for him, but today you wanted to.

You guys had been married for two years, known each other for another fifteen years. You guys first met in middle school, you guys liked each other, but never got together. Soon you guys would split going to different high schools. You met Izuku again in the middle of his third year and soon enough, you guys ended up together her. Your dating years, engagement and beginning of the marriage were great, but then came the distance.

It started when he became #1. He was called for more hero work, couldn’t be home for too long, and it changed him. Becoming the best was his dream, all you needed to see was his smiling face coming home and telling you about his day, but that didn’t stop the distance from growing more and more too.

You had also changed too. Around the time he became #1, you started having more problems at work. You boss started putting more stress on you and was being a complete asshole. Even though Izuku was making so much money, you didn’t want to seem like you were completely dependent on him so you stayed with your job putting a lot of stress on you. So much stress that you stopped telling him things.

3:00 a.m. came and Izuku made his way through the front door. His hair messier than ever, clothes more out of shape and him being tired as ever. His shirt was brand new, one that you didn’t buy.

“Welcome home Izuku,” You smiled.

“Hello, another hard day today haha, took us quite awhile to defeat the villains. Thankfully nobody was hurt,” He smiled to you as he put his shoes down.

‘That happened hours ago...’

“Yeah I saw on the news, are you okay?” You asked him.

“Just minor scratches, nothing to big to worry about,” He responded. He didn’t look at you once when he came in and talked.

You wanted to say more and so, you spoke, “When did you get that shirt? It’s nice and new.”

“Just bought it a few days ago, glad you think it looks nice, I was afraid it wouldn’t.” Izuku finally made eye contact with you. His face expression remained calm, but you could tell he was a bit annoyed. His eyebrows were scrunched a bit, but nothing more. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, goodnight.”

Change was scary. He left for the shower while you sat at the kitchen table wishing you said more. You had no proof he was cheating, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was. You couldn’t ask him. You let it slide again today.

Things are fine the way they are, we’re still married, we still talk.

Sleeping in the bed you guys shared with each other, Izuku faces away from you. Before, you guys used to hug each other to sleep, stay up late talking about how much you guys loved each other. That wasn’t how it was tonight, both you and him didn’t have the feelings for that anymore.

——————————————————

The next week came and you were getting ready to leave for work. Izuku was also starting to get ready too. You examined him closely to see his hair was done a lot nicer today, and he wore more nicer clothing you never bought.

“How was working with Red Riot the other day? He must be amazing, but not as amazing as you,” You asked him while putting on your shoes.

“Oh Kirishima? He’s an amazing fighter. We defeated villains in the past together remember?” Izuku spoke as he sipped his coffee. “Then what about you, did things ever get resolved between your manager and CEO?”

“Yeah, about a month ago,” You laughed. You had told him what happened, but Izuku just forgot. “Red Riot’s a great hero, all of his interviews and his social media posts are always so entertaining to watch.”

“He was always an entertaining person to be around.”

Putting on your shoes felt forever as your conversation went in circles never changing off topic from Kirishima. You pretended to ignore his changes and left for work.

Days would go by and he began to change more and more. On his phone more often smiling, more changes to his style, and coming home late a lot. You pretended not to notice each time.

The distance between you guys always big again. He sometimes would come home with a bigger injury, but conversations would never go deep and loving like they used to with lots of worry. It hurt to see how much your relationship with him changed, but you didn’t love him as much as you did before.

You were not perfect either.

On a new morning getting ready to start the day, doing your hair nicely which you hadn’t done in so long. When you’ve been with someone for so long, a part of you stops caring for yourself like you used to because you have someone who could care less about your appearance.

“I’ll be heading out today. Have a great day Izuku,” You say hurrying to the door hoping he wouldn’t notice. You took out your beautiful new shoes you bought and put them on.

“Have a great day, love you.”

You turned around because that was rare coming from him. He looked at you in the eyes and then they moved to the right.

You left for the door without looking back. Your marriage would be better if they stayed the way they were.

#izuku midoriya #deku #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha angst #izuku midoriya x reader angst #angst #izuku angst #bnha x reader #scenerio #imagine

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bewitching-elizabeth-olsen · 3 years

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Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER: Gillian Anderson had been dreading this. A tripod had arrived at her home in the U.K., along with a mess of lights and, really, just the thought of having to sit through an hour-plus on Zoom had her practically reeling. But then the woman who stuns as Margaret Thatcher in the most recent season of Netflix’s The Crown got talking — about pigeonholing and pay equity, about grieving and giving oneself over — and soon she didn’t want to stop talking. And neither did anyone else — The Queen’s Gambit‘s Anya Taylor-Joy, Pose‘s Mj Rodriguez, Genius: Aretha‘s Cynthia Erivo, WandaVision’s Elizabeth Olsen and Ratched‘s Sarah Paulson — at THR’s annual (virtual) Drama Actress Roundtable.

Let’s start easy. Complete this sentence: On set, I’m the one who is most likely to be …

GILLIAN ANDERSON Hiding in a corner. (Laughter.)

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY Pacing whilst moving my hands like this (waving above) trying to figure out what it is that I’m doing.

SARAH PAULSON Bossing everyone around.

ELIZABETH OLSEN Probably trying to make the crew laugh.

At the same time, you’re also inhabiting characters for long stretches and often they require you to go to dark or heavy places. What happens when a director yells, “Cut”? Do they come home with you?

MJ RODRIGUEZ I try to separate myself from Blanca as much as possible, especially [because we’re] dealing with immense trauma. So, when I go home, it’s Michaela Jaé going home, and I bring Blanca to the set. It’s easier that way because it can weigh on you otherwise and wash off on your family.

TAYLOR-JOY I wish I had as much control over it. For me, there are some characters that you can very easily snap in and out of and then there are other ones like Beth in The Queen’s Gambit. I’d worked back-to-back on two projects with one day off in between, so by the time I got to filming the show, I was exhausted and there was no energy to create a barrier. And that was potentially the toughest thing about the show, because it was a wonderful experience as an actor to be able to not have to reach for any emotion, but then you also have to go through the psychological warfare of figuring out, “Why do I feel so awful in the morning?” Like, “What is happening?” And then you go, “Oh, it’s not my feelings,” but I have to sit in them all day and I have to be aware enough to go, “You are not depressed, the character is depressed, and at some point that will leave you.” But I do think a bath every single night — being able to have the visual representation of washing yourself clean of something — helps.

OLSEN Regardless of what exactly the day requires of you, emotionally, you’re just tired. And so you try to be patient and professional and kind, and then when you go home, that’s when your fuse is just … smaller. (Laughter.)

TAYLOR-JOY You should date us, we’re fabulous.

youtube

CYNTHIA ERIVO I did, it was a real ugly cry. After playing [Harriet Tubman in the 2019 film], I went straight to see my mother in London and I don’t know what happened, but I just broke. You know the visual representation of shattering glass? That was what was happening to me. All the stuff I had to dig through to play her, all that heartbreaking stuff didn’t leave me when I finished, and it took time to just dissipate. And it was the same with Aretha — unfortunately, the pandemic hit when we were in the middle of shooting, so I couldn’t completely get rid of her during the six-month hiatus, and then I had to go right back into playing her. And it’s little things, like mannerisms, that stick with you. The lilt in her voice when she’s speaking to people. Like, that’s not me but I was stuck with that for a bit. And I was recording an album at the same time, so there was no space between one and the other. It took me a while before I could listen to an Aretha song again.

ANDERSON I certainly had that experience doing X-Files for nine seasons. I had a good couple of mini breakdowns during that, and at the end, could not talk about it, could not see it, could not see pictures, could not. I needed to immerse immediately in theater in another country. And then after a while, I was able to embrace it again, but when I started to embrace it, it was almost like I separated myself so much that I was looking at the image as if it was another person. When you immerse yourself so entirely as we can and we do for such long periods of time, there’s not going to be no consequence to that. Of course, there’s going to be consequence to that.

TAYLOR-JOY May I pose a question to the group?

Please do.

TAYLOR-JOY It’s so wonderful hearing you two talk about this, because I’ve always felt really crazy for the depressions that you go into after you leave a character and not being able to necessarily connect with yourself. And I’m really curious to hear what your relationship is with something being seen. Because when I first started working, I convinced myself that filmmaking was a very private practice with a private group of people and that no one was ever going to see it. And I thought I’d grow out of that, and I haven’t. Every project I have to sit myself down about two months after it’s finished and go, “People are going to see this and have access to it whenever they want.” How do you guys work [handle that]? Because for Queen’s Gambit, I had to go through a grieving period. It was grief, genuinely, to think, “Oh goodness, this thing that I loved so much is not mine anymore.”

ANDERSON I had that experience after doing Blanche in Streetcar [Named Desire] here in the U.K. and then in New York.

OLSEN I saw your last performance in New York. You were fabulous.

PAULSON Fucking phenomenal.

ANDERSON I felt like I’d lost my best friend. I was grieving. Some friends of mine in New York had a brunch for me the weekend after [I finished my run], and I arrived like a complete wreck. It was so profound. I also knew it was unlikely I was going to do it again because I knew that I’d probably lose my mind. I got really close. Like, I’d survived by the skin of my teeth and if I did it again out of ego or attachment or not wanting to let her go, there would be consequences. So I knew it was the end, and it was so sad.

ERIVO Do you know what’s so crazy? I listen to you and I’m like, “Oh my God, that’s what was happening to me during The Color Purple.” It was the last show and I started grieving in the show, knowing that it was coming to an end. There’s one last song and I couldn’t get through it. And then the show ends and I buckled under the sadness of it. But there was no way I could have continued playing Celie on that stage. It [had been] 14 months and I had to let her go. The line between me and her had disappeared. But to answer your question, Anya, I’ve never had an issue with people seeing things. I usually have an issue seeing it after it’s done.

PAULSON This happened when I did Marcia Clark [for The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story]. I felt a profound connection to her and I felt protective of her, and the experience had been so tectonic plate-shifting for me, both as a performer and as a human, and I thought, “If I watch it, I’m going to pick apart everything.” She was left-handed, so every time I use my right hand, I’m going to think, “God damn it, why did they use that?” So, the only way to protect myself from that is to detach from what the world will experience with it. And I’ve maintained that for a long time now — I really don’t watch [things I’m in] because I don’t have the strength, first of all, to bear the sight of my face and, also, I find it really confronting. The preciousness of the thing you were creating with these other people is what I want to be the indelible thing for me and not how it was edited.

TAYLOR-JOY Mm-hmm.

PAULSON All that does is make me furious because I don’t have the power to go in and go, “Hi, um, could you choose take six? It’s infinitely better.” (Laughter.) And when you don’t have that ability and you’re at the mercy of someone else’s opinion of what is the finest work that you’ve done, which doesn’t always line up with what you feel, it’s really jarring and you feel so powerless to do anything about it. So, I have to just sage it all out and let my experience be the only thing that governs the way I feel about it.

RODRIGUEZ When the first two seasons of Pose came out, I didn’t watch them at first because I was just so nervous about how the world would receive it. It was a story that a lot of people haven’t gotten to see, and it was a whole bunch of trans women of color finally getting their shot. It’s a lot of responsibility. And on top of that, it’s a story that’s filled with trauma and things that a lot of us trans women have gone through, so it was hard for me to watch all of those things back.

Gillian, in your career you’ve also been a champion for pay equity. But even as you were promoting a book you co-authored on female empowerment a few years ago, you acknowledged that you were nervous speaking up about being paid less than your male co-star. What do you think you were scared of, and how have the conversations for you changed since?

ANDERSON I just need to point out that I first fought for pay equity way back when it was audacious by anybody’s standards, because I was a nobody when we started to do that series. But when I really spoke up about it was when it happened again, four or five years ago, after the career I’d already had post-X-Files. We were going back to do another season and Fox came to me to offer, I don’t know, a 10th of what my co-star [David Duchovny] was being offered. That was the point where I was like, “Fuck this. I’m actually going to talk about this [publicly].” And since then, it hasn’t really come up. I mean, I haven’t worked with a lot of men, so that hasn’t been an issue. (Laughs.) I’m certainly tuned to it, and were it something now, I’d address it. But I have so much admiration for anyone who stands up for their right either to be paid or to be hired, period. And look, they weren’t going to fire me on The X-Files. The stakes weren’t that high. I put my foot down, not because the stakes weren’t high, but if they were going to fire me, some people were going to have some things to say about that. It’s very different for a young woman going into a job situation with a boss who’s overbearing and asking for a pay raise.

Sure, you had leverage.

ANDERSON Yeah.

For the rest of you, when have you spoken up in your careers?

ERIVO I mean, the obvious is I’m a Black woman, and that has a lot to do with how you’re paid, how you’re hired, if you’re hired, the way you’re hired — it affects everything. I’m lucky enough to have a team behind me that is brave enough to ask the questions I’d like asked: What I’m being paid compared to the leading man in the show, or if I’m being paid a lot less, whether or not they are willing to come up so it becomes equal. And about little things in my contract that just make it easier to exist on a set. For me, it’s about having the guts to stick with it and to keep asking and keep fighting. And there are definitely times where you’re like, “I am so exhausted from asking the same thing.” Like, if we could please have this makeup artist with me because usually there are no Black makeup artists on a set and you’re the only one who needs one, and I’ve had to have that fight every single time I’ve gone onto a set: “I need to hire these two people because they are the only people that understand how to do my face or my hair.” It isn’t about vanity, it’s about making sure that whoever I’m playing is represented in the right way because they understand how to work with my skin tone and my hair. But you keep sticking with it because it’s not just me having my way, it’s me being able to employ two other people. And then maybe I’m asking, “Can we have a DP who understands lighting that works on my skin tone?” So it’s constantly being OK with asking the questions. And there is a bit of fear, like, “Am I going to be seen as difficult?” And yes, there are times where I’ve had someone say they’ve heard I was difficult, but usually, it’s because I’ve asked a question that will make for a better surrounding or a better show. And if I keep asking the questions and if other ladies like myself keep asking the questions, and we keep trying to better our spaces, it just becomes the norm — because at some point it has to just become the norm.

Elizabeth, I believe you had a saying in your house growing up, “No is a full sentence.” When do you find you use it?

OLSEN I use it a lot. (Laughs.) I use it when I’m on set. I mean, I want to be a part of every department when I’m on set. I want to understand the schedule. I want to understand everything. I produced a TV show [Sorry for Your Loss] that didn’t get too much light of day because it was on Facebook, which, whatever … but as a producer on it, it was really important for me to be a voice of everything you’re saying, Cynthia, and have heads of departments feel like and look like the freakin’ world. And just from having a taste of that for two seasons, I can’t [go back]. So when I go to do Dr. Strange 2 in England, I guess I use it when I just can’t shake it even though [the production is] so much bigger than me. I don’t know, my opinions are vast and everyone hears them, from the first AD to the EP. I think I’m like a representative of anyone having a hard time on set. … (Laughs.)

PAULSON You’re the Equity rep, I love it.

OLSEN Oh my God. (Laughter.)

When you think about your careers, is there someone else’s that you look at and go, “Ooh, yeah, I’d love that”?

OLSEN Gillian’s, Sarah’s …

ERIVO Yeah, Sarah, you’re that for me. You’re fucking incredible.

PAULSON You saying that to me makes me want to cry because sometimes you feel like you’re doing this in a bubble and you don’t even know if anything you’re doing ever has any meaning or impact to anyone.

ERIVO It does. From my heart, it does. And I hope I get to work with you one day.

PAULSON I’d give my eyeteeth. (Laughs.) For me, it’s Gillian — somebody being on a TV program for a long time that’s wildly successful and then retreats to another country to be onstage, to reconnect yourself to the very things that inspired you and made you want to be a part of this. It all gets very confusing in terms of how to navigate [this business]because you do want to make a living, but you also want to follow your heart. And there does come a time where you can become quite depleted from the constant output without any input. And if you’re a woman of a certain age, which I certainly am, I feel like I’ve got one foot on one window frame and I’ve got the other one over here and I’m just trying to insist that they stay open for as long as possible. And some of that is beyond my control, but when I look at Gillian’s career I just go, “Well, I want that.”

ANDERSON Thank you for saying that. On the one hand, I feel like there is some degree of design, but I’ve also never really gone after things. And when I finished with X-Files, I didn’t know if I wanted to be on a set again ever. So aside from having grown up in the U.K. and wanting to go back, I knew it would take time before I could, if I was going to. And in London, you could move between theater and TV, and that was always my dream. But every actor has the thing that they’d want more than the thing that they have, and I’m a cinephile, and so I [wonder], “Why do I keep doing TV? All I want to do is do film.” And I’m still doing TV. (Laughs.) But I’ve had such amazing opportunities that, coming from Scully, I even questioned people, like, “Why are you offering this to me? What makes you think that I can do this?” I’ll also say that as soon as you have kids, kids are the priority. So, I say to people, “I’m gonna be such a pain in the ass for you to hire. But if you think I’m this person, I’m gonna need to work during this period of time and then have time with my kids. And it’s going to be expensive for you. If you are willing to do that, then I’m your girl, and if you’re not, you need to find somebody else.”

Anya, Queen’s Gambit became a global juggernaut. How have your opportunities and choices changed? Is there pressure to strike while the iron is hot?

TAYLOR-JOY I think I’ve always followed character and only recently did I start following directors as well, but it’s always been about, “Do I feel like I’m the right person to tell this story? Do I think I can tell this story correctly?” And if you look at something like Queen’s Gambit, it was not supposed to be the white-hot show; it’s a show about a girl that plays chess for seven hours, but I felt so compelled to tell that story. So, it sounds cheesy, but I really just keep following my heart. OK, wait, I take that back. Something I’m also learning is that you give yourself to this person for three to six months, and I never used to think about this before, but now I start thinking, “Am I ready to give up my life for this person? Do I need to tell this story so badly that I’m going to do that?” I try not to think about what other people will think, because it’s your life at the end of the day. And as we all know, you’re that [character] every hour of the day, and when you go home it’s difficult to let go of them, so you have to really love them.

Mj, you’ve talked about how significant this show was for you and for the visibility of the trans community. How have the opportunities being presented to you post-Pose changed?

RODRIGUEZ In the middle of the third season, I started figuring out my worth, and it’s scary. I was nervous. I didn’t expect to actually book my next job after Pose.

ERIVO I did.

PAULSON We all did.

RODRIGUEZ And see, that’s my insecurity and that’s something I have to fix. I didn’t think it was possible. To get an opportunity like Pose and have myself centered in the story and to end it with hope, and then to get another opportunity with an iconic actress [an Apple TV+ comedy co-starring Maya Rudolph] was surreal. But if I’m still feeling the need for protection as far as my Blackness, my Latina-ness and my trans-ness go, that means there is more work to be done.

Are there doors still not open to the rest of you? Parts you’d love to play if only Hollywood would see you that way?

PAULSON No one has asked me to do a comedy, and I’m a little frustrated about that.

ERIVO And you’re funny as fuck.

PAULSON I spend a lot of time in these worlds where I’m either running or crying or screaming or playing a real person and trying to get their physicality, and I’d really like to do a nice road picture with me and a couple of chicks.

ANDERSON Ooh, I’ll go with you!

PAULSON How about all of us just in a road movie — like, get a Winnebago and let’s go?

ERIVO I’m down.

RODRIGUEZ Yeah, count me in.

ANDERSON I’m 53, Sarah, and I’ve really only been offered comedy in the last three years of my life, and I don’t think that’s because I’m any funnier than I used to be. I think a lot of it is that people just couldn’t fathom it, whether it was that Scully was still in their minds or it was someone else, because I’ve played a lot of dark characters, too. And so they just weren’t coming. And then came [Netflix comedy] Sex Education — and I passed when it first came to me because I didn’t think it was right. It was my partner who proverbially dug it out of the trash.

ERIVO I’ve yet to see a Call Me by Your Name for a Black woman, I have yet to see a piece that allows a woman of color to be sensual and soft and loving and be loved. I’ve just not seen it, and I desperately want to experience that, just because I want to be able to be in that space of vulnerability and lilt. I really want to do that. And that hasn’t come my way. A comedy hasn’t come my way either.

RODRIGUEZ Same. It’s been so hard when it comes to trans women being loved in a sensual way, and I’d love to do something like that.

Elizabeth and Anya, to Sarah’s point, Hollywood likes to keep actors in a lane. How have you avoided that kind of pigeonholing in your careers to date?

TAYLOR-JOY I’ve been saved from a lot of things in my life from pure innocence and naivete, genuinely. My first movie was called The Witch, I got a script immediately afterward that was about, you guessed it, a witch, and I figured, “Wow, why do they want to see me do this again?” So, I was immediately like, “Can I not do anymore witch movies, please?” And my agent was like, “OK. Sure, whatever you say.” I wonder how many people agree with me here because I certainly want to please, but in order to please, I don’t have to give up myself, and actually it’s more important to please myself than it is to please anybody else. I’m giving my heart, my body, my soul, everything to this character, I’m not going to do something because somebody wants me to do it. That doesn’t make any sense and, also, it makes me miserable and then I can’t do my best work. And so if I feel the opportunities that are being given to me aren’t the right ones, then I have to stick my neck out and go, “Hey, I think I could maybe do this, if you’ll give me the opportunity to try.”

How about you, Elizabeth?

OLSEN [In the beginning,] I was just trying so hard to not be put in a box that that’s what was guiding my choices. I knew that I didn’t want to be an actor who was thought of as “youthful and beautiful” and whatever that attachment people like to put onto young women, and so I did everything in my power not [to be seen as] that. But I didn’t have my own pillars of why I wanted to do things beyond just the character. That started to solidify only in the last five years. So I made a lot of odd decisions [after theater school at NYU] because I didn’t know enough about film and the machine of it. Right, Sarah? You were there for that time. We were in Martha Marcy May Marlene, and I remember someone asked me, “You had Sarah Paulson with you, didn’t you know it could be a film people saw?” And I was like …

PAULSON You were like, “Who the fuck is Sarah Paulson?” (Laughter.)

OLSEN No, but independent cinema to me was just, like, going to Quad Cinema in New York and seeing a movie. The theater world is all I understood. So I feel like a moron for going back to theater only once in 10 years. And this conversation with Gillian right now is inspiring.

In light of Elizabeth’s concern about the trap of being perceived as “youthful and beautiful,” how would you all complete this sentence: I wish our male counterparts also had to …

OLSEN Deal with lighting and hair and makeup before doing press. I don’t know what I’m doing.

ERIVO Deal with people believing that you’ve lost your sexuality after the age of 30.

TAYLOR-JOY Had an understanding of what it was like to walk into a room and sometimes have to enforce yourself for people to take you seriously. That ability to just walk into a room and go, “I am valid, I own my space and everybody respects me” — it would be good if they knew what it was like to not have that.

ERIVO And on the flip side, to not have to deal with walking into the room and trying to make sure people aren’t scared of you when you get there.

What do you all know now that you wish you could have told yourself at the beginning of your career?

PAULSON I would like to have told myself that I didn’t need to excise myself from the experience. I was very focused on looking at other actors who had careers that I admired when I was first starting out and wondering what it was about them that made it possible for them to be chosen or employed and I’d often try, in an audition or a social setting, to mimic what I imagined was the desired effect, taking me out of the scenario. And there’s this beautiful Martha Graham-to-Agnes de Mille letter that I used to keep in a dressing room any time I was doing a play, about how there is only one you in all of time and space and that what you see and how you experience things is unique to you. And if you block it, the world will not have it. And as a young person, I thought, “Mute me, mute my opinions, my thoughts, my assessments and try to fill it with other things,” and now I think it’s the exact opposite, so I wish I had known that earlier. But I’ll take knowing it now [over] never knowing it at all.

RODRIGUEZ I would have told my younger self that my existence is worth it. When I was younger, I tried to fit into this mold of what a woman should do — you know, keep your legs crossed, always bow down to a man. But we don’t have to live in that world anymore. It’s a new day.

It is, and that’s a good place to end. Thank you all for sharing your time and your stories.

ERIVO I know we’re supposed to finish, but do you know what’s occurred to me as I’ve listened to every one of you? I remember where I was when I watched every single one of you — and I remember what I was dealing with or going through. I was watching you, Sarah, when I was shooting Aretha. I was watching you, Elizabeth, when I was in London on my own, and you, Anya, when I was in Atlanta. Mj, I remember watching a season of Pose while I was shooting The Outsider. And Gillian, I watched you when I was in a hotel with my partner outside of London. And I remember what happened. And so your performances aren’t just brilliant, your performances get to be Post-its in all of our lives, and so I thank you for that.

PAULSON That’s a very beautiful way to put it …

ANDERSON It also brings us back full circle to what Anya said at the beginning, which is, “Oh my God, I have to keep reminding myself that people are going to watch this.” But actually, thank God that people are watching it, because we’ve touched each other’s lives and numerous other people’s lives just by focusing on the thing that we love most.

TAYLOR-JOY And the importance of these conversations is the honesty, because it’s very easy for us to get locked into our own heads of this as an individual experience — “There’s something wrong with me,” or “Everybody else is doing really great and nobody else grieves their characters,” or whatever your version of that is in whatever industry you’re in. But having honest conversations with people who are willing to be vulnerable just makes me feel so much less alone.

PAULSON The next time you feel that way, text me. I’ll remind you. I’d also like to say that there’s this [perception] of women being pitted against one another and not being there for one another, and this conversation is diametrically opposed, in that what we are actually saying is that each of us has been buoyed by and inspired by the work of everyone here. So, I may not watch anything I do, but I sure as hell am watching all of you.

Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#Elizabeth Olsen #WandaVision #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Sorry For Your Loss #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla

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thewhitejournal · 4 years

Text

“The Intern” Part Two

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

hello all! the love on this first part was absolutely unexpected, but i am so grateful for it! here is the link to the first part of the series, go ahead and read that in case you haven’t yet. if you liked this part or have any feedback, do not hesitate to let me know. without further ado, onto the show!

content warnings: mentions of child sexual assault and murder

link to the inspiration for this fictional case

You and Penelope started looking over the file Agent Hotchner had given you. Not soon after you read over some of the details, a blonde woman swung open the door to the office.

”Garcia, debriefing in five. Hi, I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ. I’m the liaison for the team; I’ve heard so much about you, Penelope is so excited to not be alone in her office all the time.” She smiled at you, offering you her hand to shake, and you took it.

”It’s so nice to meet you, I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).” You smiled back at her, and she called for Garcia over her shoulder as she left. You looked up to Penelope, silently asking what your next move should be.

”C’mon kid, you're on this case. I have a little feeling Hotch won't mind if I invite you to work it.” She said to you with a knowing smirk playing on her lips, heat flooding your cheeks. You'd hope not, you didn't want to make the boss mad the first day you were shadowing.

Following Penelope out of her office, you looked around and noticed other agents heading the same way. Agent Jareau was walking ahead of you, talking to a dark-haired woman, and your path aligned with a skinny, long-haired man wearing a sweater vest and gun on his waist that looked like it physically weighed him down.

“Uh, hi, I-I’m Spencer Reid, Garcia told me about you. It’s nice to meet you.” His lips were in a straight line, and he didn’t make direct eye contact with you. You smiled at him.

“(Y/n) (y/l/n).” Without responding, he picked up his pace a bit, catching up to the two women in front of you. Garcia chuckled.

“He’s not the most social butterfly in the garden.” You scoffed, laughing lightly yourself. She assured you he would warm up to you though, which made you feel better. You didn’t want a single member of the team to dislike you.

You all eventually gathered in the debriefing room, and you couldn’t help but wonder where Hotch was. Penelope introduced you to the other agents sitting at the table that you hadn’t met yet, and they welcomed you warmly. Agent Rossi said something about always needing extra help, which gave you a nice feeling in your chest.

JJ stood to present the case, and not a second later, Hotch walked in the door. She must have seen him coming. The only empty seat left happened to be next to yours, and he took it. He gave you a very small smile, then turned to face JJ. You suddenly remembered you were in a room full of profilers; if you were going to steal glances at Hotch, well, it’s probably better you didn’t. How frowned upon is a relationship with the boss, especially with someone not even officially part of the team? You didn’t want to think about that, it was just a silly little crush after all.

Pictures from crime scenes and documents you had to be closer to the screen to completely identify crowded every screen in the debriefing room. A twelve-year-old boy went missing outside of Seward, Nebraska. Unfortunately, he wasn’t missing long, because his body was found in a ditch off of an interstate not three days after he was reported missing. The cause of death was asphyxiation, and there were signs of sexual assault, post mortem.

“You know, this reminds me of the Oakland County Child Killer. He was responsible for the killings of four children in Oakland County, Michigan in 1976 and 1977. Each child's body was discovered in a public area within 19 days of their disappearance, two boys and two girls. The children were all either strangled or shot, and the two boys had been sexually abused.” All this information at once took you by surprise; how did he know all of that? It was like he was reading it straight from a book.

“Are there any more missing kids in the area? This could be some kind of copycat.” Morgan questioned.

“There hasn't been any reported since this boy, Nathan Harrison. Reid, how far apart did the Oakland County Child killer take his victims? If this is a copycat killer, we could try to estimate when the next victim might be.” JJ asked him.

Reid thought for a moment. “His first victim was in February of 1976, and he didn’t kidnap again until December of that year. Then, though, the last two victims were taken only months apart in 1977. I don’t believe this killer had a pattern, other than always placing the bodies where they could easily be seen.” Hotch sighs, eyes darting around the table that’s filled with case files and crime scene photos like he’s taking in all the information. His dark brows are furrowed; you guess he’s thinking of what the team should do next.

“Well, I don’t want to wait around and see if he makes his own M.O. or if he follows this killer’s actions. We’re going to need to do more research on the Oakland County killer and if there are anymore unsolved child cases in Nebraska that might be connected to our unsub. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch looks around the room at everyone as he says this, and his gaze lingers a second longer on you before he leaves the room. The other agents start gathering the files and coffee mugs they may have brought into the room and head out too.

“Just like that, they’re gone?” You ask Penelope, turning your chair to face hers. You were the only two people left in the room. She nods.

“Just like that. You and I will stay behind and help with all the fun behind the scenes stuff unless they need us out there later.” She stands, jewelry jingling with the motion. You followed suit, trailing behind her back to her office. Looking around the room, the agents were carrying duffel bags out the door and to the elevator. You saw Hotch still standing in his office, preparing his bag and making sure he had everything.

“You think they’d let me come with you?” Your voice lowered. Secretly, she knew you meant Hotch. You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, this was their case after all.

She only nodded, dangling earrings swinging as she did so. Hotch exited his office and you tried to inconspicuously watch where he was going. You’re sure you can’t have been that sly about it though. He rounded the corner and looked like he was going to go out the door, but he stopped behind you two, calling out for Garcia. You turned around in sync to face him.

“I don’t know what we’re walking in to yet, I want you to have a go-bag ready if needed.” He turned to face you. “(Y/l/n), if you’re comfortable with coming along with us now you’re more than welcome. We’re leaving in fifteen.” With that, he slid past you, walking through the doors to the elevator in the hall. For a split second, you felt his body heat in your space; you even caught a little whiff of his cologne.

You looked over at Garcia. You didn’t know what to do; you were here to shadow as a technical analyst, not as a profiler. You weren’t supposed to be in the field, it wasn’t the plan. You searched her face to try and figure out what she might say next, and if she was okay with you going. Maybe it could be fun, a good experience. It might be a chance to get to know the team better, maybe one to get to know your temporary boss better too…

“You can go if you want to honey, I know it appeals to some people. I am not some people, however. I like my office. My screens. And hey, nobody said you had to stay here. Maybe they’ll make you wanna be a profiler.” She placed a hand on your arm, gently patting it, her smile beaming at you. You gave her a small smile back.

“I don’t know Garcia, I don’t know the first thing about being in the field and profiling and working an actual case like that. I’ve been studying tech stuff, it’s all I know.” Your lips tightened and your brows knitted. Your eyes fell to the floor; you couldn’t look her in the eyes. It felt like you were abandoning her, as silly as it sounds.

“I may not be a profiler, but I can tell you want to work this case out there. I’ll still be here when you come back in one piece.” A small smile came upon your lips, and you met her eyes.

“Thank you, Garcia.” She smiled with her lips. Her eyes scanned your body.

“If you end up needing to stay there, you can probably fit Prentiss’s or JJ’s clothes. I’m going to send you all the teams’ contact information too. Be careful. Tell them they better take care of my girl.” She gave you a quick, unexpected kiss to the forehead. Turning into her office, she grabbed your purse and handed it over to you. She told you where to go to board the jet, and you hurried out to the elevator. You heard her laugh behind you, but you didn’t care. You were excited to be going into the field and getting to be able to know the team and all the ins and outs of the job. Maybe you did want to be a profiler.

Hotch filled your mind again though, inevitably. You were still thinking of how he extended the invitation to you personally, did that mean something? Maybe he was just being nice to you, trying to make you feel welcome here. Or did he really want you to be there with him and the team, did he want to teach you the ropes and spend more time with you? You shook your head to yourself, now heading out to board the jet. You needed to be focused on this case. But you had a feeling that being in a little space with him for at least three hours, which you knew would feel like so much longer, wouldn’t help your focus at all.

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

The Smell of Truth - VII

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 5784

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None.

A/N: I know, Y/N and Jungkook eat all the time and spend a lot of time on her car.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI

"Jungkook, can you help unload the new merch, please?" Jessi said from behind the cashier, where she was talking with a customer.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Be careful!"

Jungkook dropped what he was doing at the back of the store - cleaning CD shelves and rearranging alphabetically and music genres that customers take out of place - and ran outside by the back exit, where his coworker, another hybrid, was already signing receipt papers in front of a truck. One of the delivery men was already carefully removing some boxes from inside the truck and putting it on the sidewalk.

"What's in the boxes?" He curiously asked.

"These two bigger ones are guitars, they are orders. And those others are smaller instruments, like flutes and harmonicas." The golden retriever with slightly pink hair that he hadn't memorized the name yet said. Was it Ryujin? "Take care, even if the box is light, everything is very fragile."

"Ok." Jungkook stacked the two heavier boxes, as he saw the delivery guy do, and being careful, he went back inside to store it in the warehouse. In one second he was back to pick the others.

It was his first week on his new job, and obviously, it didn't even surprise you, he chose the music shop. The boy has a great ear and an excellent musical taste, besides music proved to be one of the things he likes most in his new life.

The other day you caught him risking singing softly in his room, when he thought you weren't at home, and in order not to make him uncomfortable, you didn't reveal your presence at all, letting him be. He has a beautiful voice. So, the possibility of being able to discover new music and new artists at work and talk to people with the same tastes as him made Jungkook's round eyes shine like the universe.

Up until then, working was fun, and the coworkers were nice. Maybe it was because of the initial excitement, but Jungkook was efficient and learned quickly, so he was praised almost all the time, which made him blush and have an almost permanent smile. The customers usually think it's cute.

"Ah... excuse me."

Jungkook listened to someone calling, he was at the top of a ladder, arranging some instruments on the top shelf, and looked down to see two high school girls.

"Yes?" He asked.

The same girl responded.

"I'm looking for new strings for my guitar. Can you help me?" Her voice shook a little, but at the end of the sentence she smiled confidently.

"Sure!" He went down. "Six strings or twelve strings? Nylon or steel strings?"

The two girls looked to each other in confusion.

"Ah... Six and... steel." It was almost a question.

"Ok. I'll get it for you."

From the cashier, Jessi and Ryujin watched the scene with judgmental eyes. Both of them were free, but it was obvious it wasn't their help that these girls wanted. Who knew Jungkook was going to bring new customers just for being handsome.

"I never saw these two here." Jessi crossed her arms.

"Me neither. Bet she doesn't even have a guitar." Ryujin shrugged.

"I don't care, as long as they buy something." The other shrugged too, leaving to the back of the store.

At this moment Jungkook was coming to the cashier, three packs of guitar strings from three different brands in hand, and speaking the decorated speech they taught him on the first day, followed by the two girls, who were attentively paying attention with heart eyes.

"If you can't or don't know how to put the new strings on the guitar, just bring it here that we put for you... Not we, because I don't know how to put it, but Jessi knows..." Jungkook smiled, and it looked like the girl that didn't talk at all wasn't breathing anymore. He placed the three string options on the counter in front of his coworker, still smiling.

"Are you going to take them all?" Ryujin asked, also with the friendly smile of a good employee.

The girls' eyes widened for a second.

"No." The talkative one replied, perhaps with too much emphasis, and with a quick glance at Jungkook and an embarrassed smile, she added. "Only this one."

Ryujin took the set of strings that the girl chose - the cheapest one - to pass through the barcode reader. After the two paid, Jungkook accompanied them to the exit with a short conversation, implying that the girl should dedicate herself to learning the new instrument and wishing her luck and that she would always return if needing anything. He was happy. Technically this was his first sale ever.

At this moment you pulled over at the other side of the street and jumped off of your SUV. An excited sound left Jungkook's mouth and he beckoned. Remembering to look side to side, you crossed the street, walking straight to him.

"Hey, cutie." You gave him a shiny grin. "I've come to pick you up."

"Hm?" He was surprised, he had walked home by himself everyday since day one, and you didn't say today would be different. "Ok. Want to wait inside till my shift ends?"

You chuckled, looking at your wristwatch.

"Your shift ends in three minutes."

"Really?" His eyes widened, and his hands pulled your arm towards him - consequently you whole - so he could look at the hours too. "Wow. I didn't see the time passing..."

"Go change and pick your things." You bossed, releasing your arm from his hold just to mess up his hair.

He nodded and got back inside, fast stepping to the back of the store. Through the glass in the window you waved to the other two employees, who smiled and waved back. Ryujin seemed torn between running to you to greet you right and giving you love, or staying at her post doing her job, in the end she sent you several different hearts with her hands.

When Jungkook got back, now in his everyday large clothes instead of the shop uniform, you were exactly on the same spot waiting for him, but now with two ice cream cones.

"I was thinking here, you said 'do you want to wait inside bla bla bla...', but like, I'm your boss, JK. If I wanted to pick you up earlier I could. You know?" You said, talking betwing licks on your ice cream.

Jungshook looked at you with a half-open mouth.

"You wouldn't." He stated.

"Why not?" You took his hand to cross the street.

"Isn't that abuse of power or something? I don't think you look like someone who has favorites... Like, you are too pragmatic, too good girl for that."

You looked offended, as if he had slapped you. You entered the car and waited for him to do the same and close the door behind him.

"First of all... The whole town already knows you, know you are my roommate. Everybody already thinks you are a favorite of mine, so no one would be surprised if I pamper you in public, cuz I do it all the time?? Aaaand...!" You aggressively put your seatbelt on."You know very well I'm part of a group considered a terrorist by the government, which automatically takes from me any title similar to good girl."

"The government is dumb. You are a hero, and this absolutely returns your title as a good girl and its variables." He raised a cocky eyebrow at you.

You started the car and turned it off again, looking at him incredulously.

"On one of our first talks, I literally told you about how I got expelled from the only school I attended in my whole life... I only went to college because my parents are rich and know important people." You shrugged at the end.

"That's not true. You are intelligent and had exemplary grades during college, I heard Jackson talking about it ..." He pointed out, before you could question how he knows it." Besides, you were expelled for protecting your family, and that is heroic to me."

"It was actually revenge and pure violence... But I'm dropping this conversation." You started the car again and it started to move just to stop right then at the red light. "Put some music on."

"Ok." Jungkook obliged. "But seriously, Y/N... Why did you get this offended at being called a good girl? Do you want to be a bad girl?"

Your face heated up. One month ago he didn't even know what playing bickering was and now this...

"Shut up!" You yelled.

He gave a loud laugh, losing it with your flustered face, and all you could do was to laugh along with him. ______________________________________________________________________________ Instead of going home, as Jungkook imagined at first, you had different plans for today. You took the road and in forty minutes you were in the neighboring city parking in front of a movie theater - the kind of thing you don’t have in your city because it’s so small. It was Saturday night and you had reason to celebrate.

"Wow, I've never been to the movies before... What are we watching?"

"You can choose." You pointed to the mural of posters and opening times of the movies. "We can also choose where we'll get dinner."

"I want pizza." He bluntly said.

You chuckled. Of course he wants pizza.

You went to buy snacks and let him get the tickets.Waiting for the big bucket of popcorn, you were humming a song that has been stuck in your head all day and drumming your fingers around the candy display case, considering buying a chocolate bar.

"Are we celebrating something? You look really excited today..." Jungkook came back, stopping by your side, looking you up and down, your whole body expression saying happy puppy to him.

You smiled as if he had catched you on something.

"Is just... You ended your first week of work ever... I finally got what I wanted from my job... We are like, both successful, gorgeous, young and free. We deserve to fill our stomachs with buttered popcorn, gummy bears, pizza and coke."

A wide smile spreaded on his beautiful face, cute teeth showing up and making your own smile wide too.

"What did you want from your job?" He picked the bucket of popcorn from the attendant's hands when you didn't notice it. "Thank you."

"I'll tell you later." You dismissed the question with a hand wave. "What movie we gonna see?"

Jungkook pointed to a dark sign with a putrefied hand coming out of a half-open wardrobe, blood dripping from the doorknob.

"A horror movie? Do you want me to scream in public?" You laughed in self-depreciation.

"I never watched one of these. It should be fun. Don't worry, I will hold your hand." Jungkook inflated his chest and indeed held your hand.

You were actually worried about him, not you. It is not your custom to watch horror movies, usually you only watch the ones with the most hype, but you know they can be very violent, and maybe your cute Jungkook still can't deal with it... Instead of voicing your concerns, you decided to pay attention to see if it really was necessary to worry at all. First sign that he was more uncomfortable than he should be, you would leave the theater.

You reciprocated his hol and scoffed.

"I'm holding your hand." _______________________________________________________________ At the end, your concerns weren't necessary. The movie was kind of trashy, besides some jump scares that got you screaming, and some disgusting, gross special effects that made you feel slightly nauseous, the bloody scenes were funnier than violent, drawing some good laughs from Jungkook. Still, he spent the entire movie holding your hand, as he promised. At the pizzeria the two of you ate until you had to open the button on your pants, still laughing at how bad the movie was, and how the couple sitting in a row in front of you were startled by silly things and made everything funnier. Jungkook was radiant, and that was what you wanted.

"A month from now when I get my first payment, we have to come back here. And I'll pay." Jungkook declared. "What reminds me, what would you say about your job?"

"Hm..." You looked around. The place was considerably crowded, normal movement for a Saturday night, your table was a little isolated, but not enough for you to have this conversation here. "My... friends wanted me to work with a guy. And I finally got the opportunity."

At first Jungkook thought of Jimin and Tae, but then the message sinked in. It was a secret organization's thing.

"Let's go?" You got up from your chair.

"Sure." Jungkook's eyes were big with curiosity. He didn't expect you to tell him about such things, but now you were implying the rest would be said in a more private place.

You two got back to the car with the pizza box with what you couldn’t eat whole and a stuffed animal that Jungkook got from a hook machine on the first try. You were feeling tired and sleepy, not in the mood for driving at all - maybe you should teach Jungkook how to drive for moments like that. You didn't put on some music or asked Jungkook to do so as you usually do.

"The organization has been investigating some lawyers, suspected of facilitating illegal hybrid purchases and transfers, and of covering up such crimes. And I basically need to get proof to frame this guy and expose who he works with." Your eyes were glued on the dark road. "Now I'm going to work directly with him."

"He is a lawyer from your firm?"

"Not yet. He is in the process of being the new partner in the firm. I worked hard to be part of the process or to be designated as his assistant." You explained, still too focused on driving. "I just have to do one mission. Whatever you want to call it. The rest is up to the organization. But for that I need to travel, to work in person, for about a week."

Oh." Jungkook looked at his hands.

Until now he hadn't thought about being alone, by himself. But of course at some point it would happen, you can't live exclusively according to him. He's not the only thing in your life, as he feels you are in his. Suddenly a week seemed like an eternity. Suddenly your apartment looked huge.

"Now I need to know what you want to do." You continued, not noticing the change in his mood.

"What do you mean?"

You made a funny face. It was like you were making a lot of effort to talk about it in a serious tone, but he could see the happy puppy in you again, and it made him relax a little bit, even though he didn't understand why.

"I thought of taking you with me, of course. But you may not want to... Which is ok too. You can stay at home taking care of things and going to work normally... Or you can stay with Taetae and Jimin... which would surely make them happy... " You chattered.

"I want to go with you. I’ll go where you go." He decided, almost solemnly. That sentence gave you both a nostalgic feeling, even though it hasn't been much more than a month since he first said it to you, and your lives changed overnight. You smiled, glad that he chose what you wanted him to.

"Awesome." Your finger drummed on the steering wheel. "Even if it's a business trip, we're going to have some free time, so I chose a super amazing hotel with lots of things for us to have fun together, and for you to have something to do when I'm at the office. Besides... There are others things that you have to decide..."

Jungkook was already excited about the idea of having fun with you on a trip.

"What is it?"

You sighed, as if you were collecting courage to say what was on your head.

"I am thinking about it for a while now... And my friend from the organization suggested it would be a good idea too. If you were in agreement..." You hesitated. "Would you like to help me?"

Jungkook didn't answer. A stiff silence settled in. In the absence of an answer, you panicked, your fingers tightening the steering wheel.

"It wouldn't be really dangerous, because my task is simple... I would never put you in danger, JK. I don't even get involved in really dangerous situations. It's just because you know about us. I ...I'm sorry."

The silence prolonged.

It was selfish, but you saw in the opportunity of Jungkook working with you in the organization a little of your loneliness fading. Loneliness that is created when you keep a secret even from those you love the most, like your family and the guy who always says he wants to spend the rest of his life by your side. Even your best friends since childhood... Even if you don't hide the truth from them, you can't tell everything either... Your fears and concerns. With Jungkook I would be different. He would be your partner. You could lean on him. It is selfish because you promised him a new life, of peace and tranquility, without even a shadow of the horrible things he lived in the past, and you still don't even know exactly how horrible they were. And in your secret work, bad things can always appear, in one way or another.

"Anyways... One thing we are going to do for sure is bungee jumping. And I think you will love it." You cheered, masking any disappointment you could be feeling.

You chose this double life for a much bigger reason than yourself. You knew from the beginning how it would be. So let's push those bad feelings back inside and move on.

"I'm really... grateful." Jungkook whispered, uncertain voice reaching your ears. "To you, and the organization. I truly think you guys are heros. I would like to be a hero too."

"JK..."

"I trust you." He didn't let you interrupt. "I know that you would never put me in danger or in a situation against my will. You respect me. So I don't have concerns about it. I just don't think I'm going to be very useful... I don't know how to do anything... except to fight. And I will never do that again."

Your hand reached to his on his lap, and as it had become natural his fingers intertwined with yours.

"You don't have to worry about that. I just basically need two little things from you, and I'm sure you got it. One of them you are doing right now."

"And is it?" He was confused. He was doing absolutely nothing. Right?

"I need you to be handsome and charming, just like you are doing now, but in a button-up shirt." You winked at him, making him feel hot, and totally thankful for the darkness so you couldn't see him bright blush. "And that you watch a door for me."

"I-I can do that." ______________________________________________________________________________ The sun didn't even rise yet and you are programming the better route in your gps, sunglasses on the crown of your head, sleep still on your puffy eyes. The suitcases were already in the trunk, and the snacks on the backseat, but for some reason your travel partner was not yet seated beside you, the passenger door he forgot open, letting the morning air in, covering your skin with goosebumps. Is too early to be in a hurry, so even though you have a schedule to follow, you patiently reclined your head on the back of the seat and waited. Jungkook got out the back door of the flower shop, checking twice if he locked the door and turned on the alarm, and then ran to the car. In his hands were his keys, cell phone - that you gave him when he first started working -, and his new wallet - papers and old photograph inside.

"All ready, Y/N!" He entered and closed the door, happy smile on his also puffy face. He was about to put on his seat belt. "Wait!"

"What?" You said in your morning voice - you don't like to speak for the first hour after you wake up at all.

"I forgot my toothbrush." He was already with his hand on the door to go back and get it.

You chuckled and started the motor.

"Sorry, JK. We can buy a new one later... Now we need to hit the road." __________________________________________________________

Just like the suitcases and everything else you would need to travel, at the night before you and Jungkook prepared a travel playlist, specifically songs with road vibes and good for singing at the top of your lungs - your plan was to make him sing along with you to finally praise the beautiful voice you already know he has. If it didn't work, the next plan would be karaoke. It worked. In fact, at start your were all by yourself, you always sing in the car, so he didn't saw it as a invitation to join your personal show, preferring to eat m&m's separated by color while watching you, some hours later tho, motivated perhaps by a specific song or by the energy you established, he gave in, and now you two were having so much fun. The lyrics he didn't know - like the 70s and 80s ones you like because of your mother - you explained about the artists and bands, detailing things about their careers and why you like them, he likes it because he knows more about his job an about you, and the next second you started the next song that you both knew how to sing, there you were joyingly screaming again. You forgot to compliment his voice.

With his mouth full himself, Jungkook filled yours with mini carrots and slices of apple cutted in bunny shape. It was about 10 already, your but was square and legs were sore, you needed to stretch, not to mention your bladder, which should be twice as big as you needed to go to the bathroom.

As if he was reading your mind, the boy beside you whined.

"Y/Nnnnnnnn... I need to pee."

"Me too." You whined back. "Can you wait a little bit more? I planned a stop, and we're almost there."

"Yeah... Sure." He smiled, opening another can of energy drink.

Your look went from the road to him, from him to the can, and from the can to the road again.

"I can't see how drinking another one will help with the bathroom issue..." You mocked.

"I'm also thirsty." He answered as if it was obvious.

Almost half an hour later you parked at a gas station beside the road. As you jumped up the suv, a pursehanging on your arm - with toilet paper and other hygiene items that toilets for community use by the roads don't usually have, you are a prepared woman -, you checked your location to make sure it was the right place. You were supposed to be at a specific gas station at 11am. It only had two bathrooms. One was under maintenance, and the other had a broken lock. At least it wasn't as filthy as you expected it to be.

You handed the purse to Jungkook.

"Go first. I'll guard the door for you." You said.

Jungkook just obeyed, having taken another can and a half of soda after the energy drink. You watched the movement of people and cars, a few filling up with gas, customers at the convenience store, truck drivers stopping for lunch at the restaurant next door. There weren't many people. And you haven't seen anyone paying attention to you.

"Are you looking for something?" Jungkook quietly asked, already beside you.

"Oh. Nothing... I just zoned out. My turn." You run inside the bathroom, remembering your physiological needs.

Back at the car, Jungkook expected you to continue the journey right away, instead you grabbed the steering wheel, still looking through the window with a look so intent that a little line formed between your eyebrows. Jungkook didn't know what was bothering you out of nowhere, but he was willing to help.

"Y/N?" He put a lock of your hair behind your ear so softly that you hardly felt it at all. You looked at him, face unconsciously relaxing. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little headache." It wasn't a lie, until he asked you hadn't noticed, but your head was throbbing a little. "We ran out of water, right? I'm going to buy more."

"Want me to go?" He volunteered.

You considered it. He is just so sweet. But not all places are friendly to hybrids on their own, even documented or free ones, you didn't want to find out if the convenience store was friendly or not in the worst way. It was going to ruin the mood of the trip. Strangers mistreating Jungkook for no reason is always the last thing you want in your day.

"Thanks, sweetie." You shook your head negatively. "I'll be right back."

Jungkook followed you with his eyes as you jumped off the car, walking straight with your hands on your jacket pockets, till you disappeared into the store. Last night when both of you were packing your things, you showed him a 'first aid kit bag' you prepared with several remedies you could need, remembering it now, for sure there's something for your headache there. Wanting to help, he got out and opened the trunk.

You said you would put it in your suitcase... Can he open it? Was it an invasion of privacy? Maybe the kit was in the suitcase's outer compartment, and there would be no issue...

A shiver went up his back and a growl formed in his throat, but it didn't come out. Someone was behind him, terribly close, and with a confused smell that made it impossible to know whether they were human or hybrid. Jungkook did not hear the person's footsteps approaching, and that was fearsome.

"Don't turn around, don't try running, and don't scream. Act naturally." A deep voice of a male spoke.

Despite it being low, there was so much force and authority in this voice that Jungkook couldn't desobay. His eyes reached to the store, looking for you.

"Are you Jungkook?" The voice calmly asked.

How could this guy know his name? What does he want? Different thoughts crossed Jungkook's mind, none optimistic, all scary. He wanted you to show up to save him, and at the same time, without knowing exactly what was going on and the risks, he wanted you not to come back, so you wouldn't be hurt. What should I do?

"I'm." He answered, voice firm to not show fear. A voice he is used to using almost all the time, but since you came into his life, he didn't need it anymore.

The man behind him hummed. Jungkook concluded that he must be a hybrid after all, because he had the urge that the guy was smelling him, but he couldn't say for sure, it could just be in his head. How could this guy's voice be so calm and trustful if his presence had all this power that made Jungkook unable to move a muscle? How conflicting, the feelings this caused in Jungkook were unheard of for him, a kind of fear that he never felt before, the fear that his former master imposed through threats and punishments...

Jungkook searched around, wishing the man wouldn't notice it... Somebody... Anybody... At least one person would notice that there was something wrong going on there, and if Jungkook made eye contact, if he managed to ask for help in any way, everything would be fine. But nobody seemed to see them there, nobody noticed. The gas station employees continued to work normally, the customers entering and leaving their cars, totally unaware... How frustrating.

"I'm a Y/N's friend." The man throatily said. "Nice to meet you, JK."

Jungkook's eyes wided. Friend. One of those friends of yours?

The sound of something being placed on the floor caught Jungkook's attention down, next to his feet was now a small black backpack.

"This is for her. Take care, it's fragile."

"What is it?" Jungkook questioned, not trusting at all - he wouldn't give you anything without being sure it's safe - but strangely relaxed for such an unusual situation.

A low, funny sound came from the guy. Was he laughing?

"Something you guys will need." He simply said. One moment of silence and Jungkook thought the guy was gone, but then he spoke again, now his voice seemed a lot less impersonal. "Tell her she's beautiful today. As always. Good luck."

It was not possible to hear the guy's footsteps leaving, just like when he appeared, but Jungkook felt the absence of an extra presence after a few seconds. The guy was some kind of ninja. He bent down to pick up the backpack and slung it over one shoulder, looking around, trying to find someone who could be the intimidating guy... But he found no one. Without thinking much, he took the kit and closed the trunk, returning to the passenger seat, still looking over his shoulder.

A few minutes later you got back, still with a frown in your face.

"I definitely need an aspirin... You got the kit already!" You slammed the door by accident and cringed at the loud noise, you hate to slam your car door. "Thank you, sweetie... What is it?"

You pointed to the backpack, and Jungkook looked at you with doe eyes. Only now you noticed he was looking frightened.

"Your friend told me it is to you."

Your eyes widened as well and your hand reached your mouth. You were instructed to find someone from the organization at this gas station to receive the necessary equipment for your task. So you were stressed about nobody showing up at the appointed time, it even gave you a headache. Even though you involved Jungkook, you didn't expect them to contact him instead of you. Actually you forgot to tell him about it at all.

"Oh my... JK, I'm sorry I didn't warn you. I guess I still haven't gotten used to having a partner..."

Usually, in this kind of situation, you are all alone or needing to be sneaky around your friend and family. It was out of habit.

"It's ok." Jungkook gave you a sympathetic smile. "What do I do with it?"

"Put it on the backseat." You shrugged and started the car.

"Aren't you checking on it?" Jungkook was surprised. What if it was a bomb? You guys have used bombs before...

"Not here. First we leave." Suddenly you were on your pretty good mood again. "Can you give me an aspirin, please?"

Jungkook gave you the pill and you drank almost an entire bottle of water with it. A car honked past you, because you slowed down, but you just ignored it.

"Did my friend say anything else?" You asked, putting on some low music once again.

Jungkook looked through the window, wishing his cheeks wouldn't get red just because he agrees with what he was about to say. He couldn't look at you to say it when the wind was making your hair move to all directions as if it has his own life, or the sun on your skin makes it shine, or your eyes showing above your sunglasses as you look at him. It wasn't fair.

"He said you are beautiful today.... As always.'

A loud, ringing laugh escaped your lips, forming an incredulous smile.

"I can't believe Yoongi came personally..." You laughed again. "Now make sense... He was checking on you... He didn't let you see him, right?"

"No. He stayed behind me the whole time."

You nodded vigorously, as if that obviously confirmed what you were saying. Jungkook was confused, not understanding anything.

"Who is Yoongi?" He uncertanly asked.

Unlike when you talk about your friends of the organization, almost as if you were telling a story of people who do not exist, perhaps because they are people you work with but generally don't know, neither name nor face, when talking about this Yoongi was much like how you talk about Jimin or Taehyung, a real friend. Only with something more... An admiration that Jungkook hadn't yet heard so present in your voice.

"Min Yoongi." You said, and it was almost possible to see the fire on your eyes. "He is not just one of my friends... He is the boss."

Now it makes sense. It wasn't a ninja. It was the super hero. That is why all thatauthority in his voice and the powerful presence, totally intimidating, but at the same time Jungkook did not feel threatened as he felt so many times before... because there was no real threat. Suddenly Jungkook wasn't frightened or uncomfortable with the situation anymore, he was euphoric. He had met the boss of heroes who save hybrids, and soon he would be one too. Now it seemed a little more real that he could help others like him, just like this Min Yoongi and you.

"What are you smiling at?" You brought him back from his daydream with a teasing smirk.

"It's just... It is exciting." He was clearly excited.

Your smirk wided, eyes on the road. Your partner feels it just like you, and you almost couldn't hold yourself back. You never gave a name to it, and now Jungkook used a perfect word to describe it, and since you can't get out of your head. This secret job... secret life... It really does make you feel like a hero. Sometimes you feel guilty for feeling that way, since you were born on the bad side of history, you are human and humans are the villains. Helping hybrids to fight for justice and gain their freedom is nothing more than your obligation... But with Jungkook you can feel how you want, because you are sure that he will understand and never judge.

"Isn't it, JK?"

You two exchanged a meaningful look. The bond between you becoming stronger without you realizing it.

Just moments later you both excitedly increase the volume of the music that just started so you can sing at the top of your lungs again and again.

__________________________________________________

Tag List: @stayunderthelights @deolly @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon @narcissism-iskey @angeltothecore @tiberiaxs @minikolima @chaoticbabigrl @btsxdoll

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noaltbruh · 3 years

Text

BUCCI GANG AND HOW THEY WOULD PLAY UNDERTALE

Since I got my friend into the UT fandom, and the brainrot for this game is slowly coming back, I've figured that I'd fuse my favourite franchises and make this post, enjoy!

GIORNO:

-This may surprise you, but Giorno would almost do a Blind Pacifist run

-While at first, he was planning on taking out whoever got in his way, he changed his mind in the moment he saw Toriel

-After she taught him how to resolve the various conflicts peacefully, he decided not to fight, but to show MERCY to every monster

-He finds the multiplicity of choices a very interesting mechanism, especially since he's not much of a gamer, and he's pleasantly surprised to see such an innovative game

-While most of the times he would completely avoid the FIGHT button, if a monster got on his nerves a little too much, he may attack it until it doesn't want to fight anymore

-He takes the time to interact with everything and everyone, he wants to enjoy the game at its fullest

-He was so freaking lucky to meet Gaster on his first run

-Actually brought the piece of snowman with him

-He's part of the "Chara defense squad", and finds them strangely...relatable

-He was just about to do a full Pacifist route, but he couldn't bring himself to SPARE Flowey, and killed him

-"I won't let you hurt her"

-Ultimately, he regretted it, and reset his save file

-After doing a TRUE Pacifist, he left the game, leaving the monsters alone and giving them an happy ending

-Only knows about the Genocide through gameplays

-Favourite character: Toriel, but also likes Chara quite a lot

-Favourite OST: Memories, followed by home, Undertale, Megalo strikes back and Star (he doesn't care if they actually don't play in the game)

-What SOUL would he have: DETERMINATION

BRUNO:

-My man wouldn't hurt a fly if he had the chance to, off to the Pacifist route he goes

-Similar to Giorno, he finds Toriel a very comforting character, but he feels bad for pretty much every monster he meets. He thinks it's unfair for them to be forced to stay in the UNDERGROUND, and wants to find a way to destroy the barrier at any cost

-He's never played a videogame before, but he gets the hand of it quite quickly, even though he still ends up dying a couple of times.

-He would also be the kind of player to interact with EVERYTHING, paying close attention to whatever the passing monster has to say

-Sometimes, he likes to take a break, lay down and listen to the OST of the place he's exploring

-The most challenging enemies for him were Undyne and Asgore. It took him a while to realize that the only way to spare her was to run away, and he just really didn't want to hurt Goat papa

-He lets the bird carrying him to the other side, even if he doesn't actually need to move around. He just wants the little guy to feel appreciated

-Veeeery reluctantly, he decided to SPARE Flowey, it would have been a waste to kill somebody now, after everything that he had done so far

-He almost cried at the Pacifist ending

-He refuses to even acknowledge what happened in the Genocide route

-Favourite characters: Toriel and Asgore

-Favourite OST: Fallen down, but he also likes Heartache, Home and Waterfall

-What SOUL would he have: KINDNESS

MISTA:

-Mista's first run would be a Neutral. It's not that he enjoys killing the monsters, he's mostly just too lazy to think of a way to spare them

-If it's obvious, however, he'll just casually show the enemy MERCY, there's no need to take out absolutely everyone

-The only one who he genuinely looked for a way to spare was Papyrus. Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to just hurt him 'cause he had the chance to. Besides...He was afraid of what Sans would have done

-Speaking of him, he finds his jokes HILARIOUS, and he will use them in real life conversations if he gets the chance to

-He basically wasted all his money fighting Undyne

-He didn't buy the spider donut in the RUINS, and was forced to farm gold for 3 entire freaking days and buy one directly from Muffet

-After finishing the neutral route, he decided to go back and try the others. His next route was a Genocide

-He was about to shoot his computer AND himself while fighting Sans, but he eventually managed to beat him. Of course, after swearing at 3 A. M., drinking 10 cans of Sprite, listening to Megalovania on loop and threatening to throw Narancia out of the window because he interrupted him while he was playing

-His favourite moment during the Pacifist was cooking with Undyne

-He immediately questioned his life choices when he finished the route and saw Chara taking over Frisk's body. Closed the game and never opened it again

-Favourite characters: Papyrus, Sans and Undyne. He refuses to choose an absolute favorite

-Favourite OSTs: Megalovania and Song that might play when you fight Sans. He also likes Bonetroulse and Spear of justice

-What SOUL would he have: BRAVERY

NARANCIA:

-Narancia playing this game would be a total mess. Ironic, considering he's the one in the gang that likes video games the most

-Despite Toriel's guidance, at first, he would FIGHT every monster that got in his way, following the simple "It's an rpg, the more I kill, the better it is" logic

-When he saw the "but nobody came" screen, however, he freaked the hell out and immediately reset

-After that mini heart attack, he went on a full Pacifist route. However, sometimes, he would snap and accidentally kill a monster. He lost count of how many times he had to reload the file

-He also really likes Toriel (she's just very popular among the Bucci gang). The reason for it...Is not a very happy one, like in Giorno's case

-He genuinely tried to stay with her, he didn't want to leave Goat mom

-He's the one who gets emotionally invested in the game the most, he even forgets it's a game at times and just erase the surrounding world from his head

-He LOVES to voice the characters while he plays, it makes the story feel way more alive for him. He makes a very good Papyrus impression

-Speaking of which, his favourite parts of the game were the interactions between Sans and Papyrus.

-He lost his s**t when he arrived at the Temmie village. He stayed there FOR HOURS farming money. Heck, he even bought the Temmie armor

-He refused to open the game for two days after Flowey stole the SOULS

-He wanted to ask someone to play the TRUE lab with him, but he refused to admit that he was scared

-While he's not the kind of player who stops by to read every dialogue, he makes an exception for Snowdin. He really likes that area of the game!

-While he would never admit it, he cried three times during the Pacifist route. The first time when he left Toriel, the second when he heard Chara and Asriel's story, and the third when he finished it

-His favourite fight in the game is the one against Asriel. He kept on repeating the "Don't you have anything better to do" dialogue for 20 minutes, before giving up to the idea that there was really no way to save him

-After giving the monster an happy ending, he was overwhelmed by his own curiosity, and decided to try the Genocide route...Boy did it go wrong

-You thought he cried a lot during the Pacifist? He became a freaking fountain during the Genocide. Every single time he killed a Boss, he cried, with no exception

-He spent days trying to defeat Sans, until he was given the option to SPARE him, and so he did

-...The others could hear him yelling from the other floor after what happened next

-He got tired of Sans' bulls**ts, reset and did a Pacifist again

-He watched a gameplay to know what happened in the Genocide ending. Chara's jumpscare still haunts him

-Narancia gets really involved in the stuff made by the fandom, especially fan made songs and comics

-He listens to "To the bone" religiously, it's part of his routine

-He tried and failed to figure out how AUs work

-Favourite character: Papyrus, followed by Toriel and Asriel. He used to like Sans a lot too...But now he gets Vietnam flashbacks every time he thinks about him

-Favourite OSTs: Bonetroulse, Hopes and dreams and Snowdin. He can't choose between them

-What SOUL would he have: INTEGRITY

FUGO:

-Fugo would categorically refuse to reset on his first run. What it's done, it's done, and he has to take responsibilities for his choices

-He would do a Neutral, killing whoever he encounters, but without specifically looking for the monsters just so that he can kill them

-That doesn't mean, however, that he dislikes to play with the timeline. It's quite the opposite, to be honest

-Fugo enjoys messing around with the save files A LITTLE too much, dude basically became an hacker playing this game

-In his attempt to make a Pacifist run, he fu**ed up and accidentally got the Hacker ending

-"...THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WANTED EVERY ENDING"

-He toned it down a little after that, but he still managed to modify the FUN value enough to meet Gaster and his followers

-He's also the only one who unlocked Sans' room. He doesn't trust him, but he finds him an interesting character

-Neither the Pacifist or Genocide endings particularly picked his interest, even though he did punch the walls a couple of times fighting Sans

-He likes to try the different Neutral endings, he doesn't do all of them, just the ones he thinks that would affect the monsters the most

-The only character he got attached to emotionally was Alphys, he can see himself a lot in her

-He's very interested in the various theories that surround this game, and he's waiting for Deltarune to come out, he just wants to know more about Gaster

-Favourite character: Alphys, but Gaster is a close second

-Favourite OST: Darker, darker, yet darker, followed by Here we are, Waterfall and Premonition

What SOUL would he have: faded BRAVERY

ABBACCHIO:

-MERCY? Is that a food? Yeah uhm...No, that doesn't exist with Abbacchio, nothing but Genocide for him

-It's already a surprise someone convinced him to play this game. He'll play in his own way, and that means killing literally everyone, not simply the ones he encounters, but even looking for them just to earn more Exp

-He was...Weirdly satisfied when he saw the "But nobody came" screen, and he was lucky enough to find every monster almost immediately

-He hadn't found a single character that he liked until he reached Undyne. Her sense of justice reminded him of his old self, which wasn't exactly pleasant at first, but at least he felt something

-He was finally happy to see a monster actually trying to stop what he was doing, and killing her was the only thing in the game that made him slightly sad

-He's still offended for not having the chance to kill monster kid, he couldn't stand that child

-He skipped through pretty much every dialogue in the game, not that there are many people to interact with during the Genocide...

-He'd eat a piece of the snowman right in front of him just to spite him, then take the rest and leave

-He didn't care about whatever Flowey was trying to tell him about his past. That's also because without knowing he's Asriel, most of what he says doesn't really make sense

-In the moment Sans dodged his attack, he realized that he had screwed up REALLY bad. After dying against him a couple of times, he considered resetting, but he wouldn't have let "the lazy skelefu**" have it his way

-He let out a huge "YES" and a sigh of relief when he finally managed to hit him, it took him around a week

-However, little did he know, that the worst still had to come. When he noticed that he wasn't the one who had just killed Asgore and Flowey, he freaked out a little, and Chara staring directly at him made him feel a small shiver down his spine

-Still, he decided to decline their offer to destroy everything, not because he regretted what he had done, he just wanted his revenge on the child for scaring him

-He closed the game after the jumpscare, and never questioned what the hell he had been through

-Favourite character: Undyne

-Favourite OSTs: But nobody came and Battle against a true hero, he also likes The fallen child

-What SOUL would he have: very very faded JUSTICE

TRISH:

-Trish got into this game just because of its music, she kept on hearing it everywhere and wanted to understand where it came from

-She was kinda scared at first, videogames aren't exactly her forte, and her encounter with Flowey didn't help

-She slowly got used to the dynamics of the game, even though she died at least three times in every area, exept for the RUINS. (She only got a game over two times there)

-She doesn't have the heart to hurt anybody, she thinks the monsters (well...Most of them, at least) are adorable! Shyren is her favourite minor enemy, and when she saw the "Taking piano lessons again" text, her heart melted a little

-She refused to take off the faded ribbon until she found she tutu, but she never sold either of them

-She loves flirting with literally ANYONE. You can? Well then...You must!

-Her favourite area is Hotland, including the Core too. She loves the whole "artificial" theme of the place, and she had a lot of fun reading Alphys's posts!

-She would pretend to be an actual part of Mettaton's programmes, but only when she was 100% sure nobody could hear her

-Needless to say, the boss fight against him was one of the funniest parts of the story for her

-Another thing she absolutely adored were the dates with Papyrus and Alphys, especially the latter. After everything that had happened, it was a nice opportunity to relax for a bit

-Similar to Narancia, Trish gets really involved emotionally in playing the game, and she had to take a little break from it before facing Asgore

-The ending genuinely made her cry, but it was the only time she shed a tear through it

-She doesn't care about trying the Genocide, she's worked hard to give the monsters an happy ending, and she wasn't going to throw it away

-She's in love with the Undertale Musical by Man on the Internet, she knows pretty much every song by memory

-Favourite character: Mettaton, but she honestly really likes all of them

-Favourite OST: Death by glamour, followed by Metal crusher, Power of NEO, and Another medium

-What SOUL would she have: INTEGRITY

Yes, I know that Narancia's part is longer, but it's just so funny to write about this baby, bear with me please 😌

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