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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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FATWS One Shot #4 - Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Cursing, Implied PTSD, Mention of IED, Motorcycle Ride Without Helmets

Setting/Characters: Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sam’s therapy group, Lady at the Front Desk, Mentions of Peggy Carter and Riley

A/N: Here’s number 4! Like I said in the previous One Shot, I’m hoping to get TWS One Shots done today and tomorrow. Um, I don’t have a lot to say this time since I unloaded pretty much everything in the last One Shot. So, I guess that’s all!

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(PICTURE DOESN’T REPRESENT READER, JUST WHAT THE ART STEVE DREW LOOKS LIKE!)

“How is she?”

Steve nodded, taking the helmet he insisted on keeping for you in the compartment under his seat out and handing it over. What a hypocrite. “She’s fine. I guess. She…forgot. We were in the middle of a conversation and she…forgot I was alive.”

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alzheimer’s is a scary thing. I’m sorry. It must be hard seeing your best girl go through that.” He froze, his wide eyes scanning you. You ignored his gaze, giving him the helmet back. You really hoped it didn’t come out as sad and spiteful as you meant it. You didn’t want to despise her, you really didn’t. You couldn’t. You had too much respect for her. She did help build the organization you worked for. You just hated the position you found yourself in. “We’re just going to the VA. It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“No, honey. I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I won’t, Steve.” You pushed back. “I’ve done it before in a lot more dangerous places than the streets of DC. Plus, I trust you. You wouldn’t let me get hurt, would you?”

His lips turned up slightly, his head shaking just enough. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Hop on, then.” He jerked his head to his bike, putting the helmet away before sitting down with you following his lead. You pressed against him, an arm around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips lightly. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, setting your chin on his shoulder.

The bike roared to life underneath you before you took off. You were never worried when Steve drove. Sometimes he liked going fast when you two go for a drive through backroads of Virginia for a weekend, camping underneath the stars. But when you were in DC, he cruised, fast enough that you could get pulled over for doing ten over, but slow enough that you didn’t have to shout over the rush of the wind combing through your hair.

He usually talked to you while driving, but he was quiet this time. You turned your head to study him. His jaw ticked ever so often, his eyebrows furrowed and those pink lips turned down.

You didn’t want to distract him, but you couldn’t help but lift your free hand, tracing his jaw from his chin to his ear before pressing soft circles into the hinge of his jaw with your thumb. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No. No, you’re perfect, honey.” He reassured quickly, moving around a car, side eyeing you for just a second. “I’ve just…there’s a lot on my mind. A lot I need to figure out.”

You nodded. “If you ever need me. I’m here.”

He grinned, taking your hand in one of his to press a kiss to the knuckles, eyes not leaving the road. “I know.”

“Tell me more about this Sam Wilson guy.”

Steve chuckled before telling you about his run the day prior and how he lapped Wilson a few times and their conversation afterwards. He was just finishing up when he parked in the parking garage of the VA, “and then Natasha drove up saying she was looking for a fossil she was supposed to pick up.”

“A fossil.” You snorted. “I’m gonna have to use that.”

He gave you a playful glare as you swung your leg around and stood up. Catching your jaw between his fingers, he chuckled when he squished your cheeks together. “Call me a fossil, honey, and I’ll tell Fury the only way I’m doing missions is if you don’t.”

You gasped, shaking your head. “You ‘ouldn’!” You slurred out, trying to talk with your lips pursed.

He gave a little giggle, gently making your head move up and down in a nod. “Oh yes I would.” He pecked your nose, letting go of your cheeks. “C’mon, dame.” You blinked after him as he started towards the elevators with long strides.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder as you jogged to catch up, holding his hand out behind him. “C’mon. You know I’d never do that to ya.”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched his hand and huffed. “Well…yeah. But still.”

Another chuckle left his lips, pulling you closer to his side as you pressed the button for the elevator, leaving a kiss on your head. You fell into comfortable silence after that, Steve’s thumb tracing patterns on your hand while you waited for the elevator to ding.

When it finally did, Steve had a pen pulled out and, as you entered the elevator, he pulled your hand up closer to his face, lifting the writing utensil to the back of your palm.

You didn’t say anything, merely looking around the elevator after pushing the level you were going to. It was something you found that calmed Steve; drawing. So whenever he was bored or anxious, you let him draw on your hand. He used to ask, but he stopped after you told him you’d never say no.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, causing Steve to stop inking up your skin and drop your still linked hands down to your sides, shoving his pen in his pocket. You looked down at the partial flower and leaves wrapping around your wrist, smiling affectionately. He really was a good artist.

The lady at the front desk told you where to go when you asked for Sam Wilson, which Steve did rather eagerly, making you laugh. He had told you about Sam’s want to impress her when he came in. Apparently he was with a group, but she said it was okay for you to go in as long as you didn’t disrupt anything. Steve thanked her, before following her directions down the hall and around the corner.

You heard them before you saw them. A woman was talking, telling a story of how she got pulled over the previous week. Steve leaned against a column to the side of the room, out of the way, putting his hands in his pockets. You let his hand go to allow him to do so, linking your arm with his and holding his wrist with your free hand.

“I swerved…to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

You watched Steve’s reactions through the rest of the session. It wasn’t much longer - maybe ten minutes - before it ended. You had tried to convince him to go to one of these when he first got out of the ice, but he refused.

“I’ve already got you, honey. That’s all I need.”

And, yes, he did have you; your assignment was literally helping him with that stuff. But you still thought he’d benefit from it. Especially now since you had started going back on your own assignments. Maybe he’d start going to Wilson’s.

After the meeting, you and Steve walked up to the veteran who had just finished his farewells and started cleaning up the table at the front with brochures and things. “Look who it is. The running man. And who’s this pretty lady?”

You smiled, sticking out your hand, your name leaving your lips in an introduction. “Sam Wilson.” He shook your hand with a grin of his own. “Nice to meet you, cher.”

“You too, Sam.”

“We caught the last few minutes.” Steve stated, leaning on the wall again, keeping his arm linked with yours. “It’s pretty intense.”

You listened sadly as Sam told you two about his wingman, Riley, but you didn’t pity him. You knew what it was like to lose people and you hated the pity you received from others. You were glad to see he wasn’t beating himself up over it, even allowing himself to smile as the conversation shifted to his retirement. Steve was right; he did seem like a good guy.

“Are you thinking about getting out?”

You glanced up at Steve as he answered “no.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes that flickered to you, before he met Sam’s again. “I don’t know.” Hearing Steve admit that he didn’t know what he wanted made your heartache. You wanted him to be happy, and the fact that he didn’t know what made him happy caused you to grip his arm tighter.

You, Sam, and Steve talked a bit longer, getting to know each other a little better. You even did the unthinkable and told him you worked for SHIELD when he asked how you two knew each other. Steve raised an amused eyebrow as your eyes widened, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t tell anyone.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

You finally said bye when Sam mentioned needing to get back to work. Walking back towards the elevators, Steve chuckled and nudged you. “You warmed up to him quickly.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your face landing in your hands. “Oh my God. I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

“I told you. He’s a good person. Easy to talk to.”

“Yeah…speaking of,” you tilted your head up to him as you stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. “Do you want to get out?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said. I just…I don’t really know…what to do.”

You pouted a little, tilting your head. “What would you’ve done in the 40’s? After the war?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled on his feet. “Be a lab rat.”

“Steven-”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “Please don’t.” He said softly, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one thumb smoothing out your forehead while the other ran over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m not. I, just…worry.”

He placed his lips to your forehead, hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer. “Well don’t.”

Your hands mimicked his previous position, holding his face, thumb brushing under his eyes. Your eyes caught sight of the barely started design on your hand, and your lips pursed thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Drawing makes you happy.” He blinked at your words, confusion in those ocean eyes of his. “You said you don’t know what makes you happy. Drawing does. And you’re really good at it. You could be an artist or something. Like a tattoo artist. I’d go to you. I mean, look at this!” You showed him your hand. “It’s not even halfway done and you did it with a crappy dollar store pen”

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate that, honey, but I don’t think I could do that day in and day out.”

“Even with new customers coming in every day, asking for different designs in different places?”

Giving a chuckle, he leaned into your palm, kissing it. “You really want me to think about this don’t you?”

You scoffed. “Duh!”

He shook his head, ducking down to press his lips to your cheek, before laying his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m okay right now.”

“Are you?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, arms wrapping around you. “Because I have you. And you make me happy, honey.”

You hugged him back, face pressing into his neck. You were glad you made him happy. And as long as you made him happy, you’d keep this relationship the way it was. Even if that meant you’d never be his best girl. “You make me happy too, bubs.”

**************

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@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 4 #fatws series #best girls good guys hand art joy rides oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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spencers-dria · 4 years ago

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Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #prison reid #post prison spencer #spencer reid x y/n

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years ago

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Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

Dan pouted at your lack of enthusiasm to go along with his joke. Jinyoung seemed to find it somewhat amusing, given the smirk on his face. But he got over it fairly quickly.

“If you don’t mind, Daniel, I would like to talk to Miss (y/n) about the measures we’ll take to ensure her safety.”

“Absolutely,” Dan agreed. He looked at you and then back at Jinyoung. “I’ll leave you two to discuss… safety measures.”

You rolled your eyes as your friend’s retreating back. Not waiting for Jinyoung to start his no-doubt rehearsed speech on how he was going to upend your life, you went back to your desk and cleaned off the food and napkins that covered the surface. You finished your glass of wine and sat down in the chair. Jinyoung remained standing, the smirk gone, nothing left but a blank, distant expression. With no prompt from you, he got started.

“Your father has already provided me with a key to your apartment and I’ve met with the security staff there. I will have access to the cameras from my phone both for the apartment building and the hotel. I will drive you wherever you want to go, but for the time being you should limit your activities to work, home, and grocery stores. If you can work from home, that would be even better. There are agencies that will pick up your groceries and deliver them. That should be an avenue to utilize. I’m currently running background checks on employees, apartment staff and your close friends.”

“What?” A few drops of the water you had taken a sip from to counteract the wine you’d chugged found their way down the wrong pipe in your throat. “You’re looking into my friends?” You scoffed. “That’s how you knew about Dan’s line.”

“One can’t be too careful.”

“It’s Dan. He runs away from fireflies and organizes his clothes by color than by season. “Fake, pig, or otherwise, he wouldn’t have the stomach to go anywhere near blood.” If there was one person you could trust not to be behind all the phone calls and the bloody package, it would be Dan. And you refused to let this overreaching, overpaid babysitter make you paranoid and isolate everyone in your life.

Jinyoung shrugged, unmoved by your argument. “It’s the job. I can’t rule anyone out, no matter who they are to you.”

“Who’s next? My cousins?”

The silence was enough of an answer.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes and rubbed the space between your brows. “Listen. I am not working from my apartment. I have too many meetings and too much work to stay on my couch in my sweatpants. If there’s a function that requires my presence, then I’m going to go.” To let him know that you were completely serious, you opened your eyes and held his gaze. “You’re here at the insistence of my father. I’m tolerating this for his sake. But - and I will keep saying this - I’m not going to let that weirdo who is obsessed with a long forgotten past mess up my life now.”

Seconds of silence ticked by. Jinyoung kept your gaze, unmoving and unreadable. The more you stared back, the more you saw what Dan possibly saw.

This bodyguard was nothing like you had expected. He was on the shorter side, not intimidating at first glance. If you looked too long at his face, as long as he wasn’t smiling, then maybe he could insight… some sort of emotion. But you felt nothing. Nothing but annoyance, that is.

As both an actor and a director in this company, you’d learned to read people. You’d learned to search their faces for the emotions hidden underneath, to pick apart what they otherwise wanted to hide. But it was baffling to you how cutoff Jinyoung was. You saw nothing in his eyes that gave away the thoughts in his head.

Shifting minutely, he finally said, “But what is a life that’s a little out of order compared to no life at all?”

A bit of... an eccentric way to put it. “Poetic.”

He let out a fairly short laugh. “It’s been known to happen.”

You were still skeptical. You still didn’t want your life to be whirled around like you were caught in a tornado. But he had a point - the winds were already coming. And you couldn’t outrun a storm.

Crossing your arms and legs, you gave a smirk of your own. “You are certainly… not a cliché.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something more of a Dwayne Johnson type?”

“You need speed, not strength.”

“Did you just insult The Rock?”

Over the direction of the conversation, Jinyoung sighed. “Are you done for the night? I need to inspect your apartment.”

Oh, gosh. You rarely had strangers over. Was your place even clean? Were there dishes in the sink? Fresh clothes that still needed to be put away? It didn’t matter if your apartment was pristine or in shambles like a hotel after Spring Break, you knew the bodyguard was going to force his way in. So you gave way, nodding and standing up from your desk. What was left could wait until tomorrow.

A short car ride followed up a brief yet heated conversation in the parking garage as to who was driving. Jinyoung all but implied that he was the better driver with faster reflexes while you insisted that no one knew your car as well as you did. A pitiful argument. Your car didn’t have special modifications or a tricky gear. It was a standard, newer model that drove basically like any other motorized vehicle. It was nothing more than your first powerplay – and Jinyoung had won.

If your stalker wanted you to feel like that teenage actress again, they were succeeding.

Back then, you weren’t allowed to drive either. Too risky since teenagers had a tendency to get into more accidents and – whether it was your fault or not – whatever fender-bender you got into would end up in the tabloids. Add in the fact that you were usually in cities that you weren’t entirely familiar with and it was just best to be chauffeured whenever possible. At least this time you were able to sit in the front seat.

You handed Jinyoung the keycard that granted access to the parking garage and guided him to your assigned spot. No more words were spoken as the two of you got out of the car and headed inside.

The lobby was the only entrance to and from the garage for “security” (a word that you were going to get really tired of here soon). Once your feet hit the transition from concrete to polished tile, you headed for the elevators. Jinyoung, however, steered you away with a hand on the shoulder. His destination was the front desk where the doorman sat behind a marble barrier.

“Ah, you must be Park Jinyoung,” Walt, the doorman, greeted with a smile. He stood from his chair and leaned over the barrier to shake Jinyoung’s hand.

Walt was the doorman that you liked. He always wore a smile and had a gentle, uncle-like feel to him. The kind of uncle you enjoyed being around, not the annoying, obnoxious kind that you steered clear from at family gatherings. That title belonged to Newman, who mostly worked the late-night shift. For good reason.

“Your firm head met with us yesterday and went over the broad stroke of things. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to sit in on the meeting with our security staff earlier today with you present.” Walt didn’t seem effected by the news of your new bodyguard in the slightest.

“That’s alright,” Jinyoung nodded. “I’m sure they went over the briefing with you?”

“Absolutely. All packages for Miss (y/n) are to be collected here and left for you to inspect before being passed on to her. I’m to notate any strange behavior I see, both from strangers and from other residents.”

“Good. Good.”

“How’s your mom, Walt?” you asked, hating the feeling of being talked about like you weren’t standing right there. You just hoped that no one else living here was overhearing this conversation. You doubted that they would take too kindly to being watched and investigated like this.

Walt smiled. “She’s doing good. Has her bad days though where she forgets what year it is or that she’s not in the country anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Your heart went out to Walt. His situation wasn’t the easiest to handle.

“Alzheimer’s?” Jinyoung guessed in a tone that still managed to be sympathetic.

Walt nodded. “It’s slow going, though, so that’s a small blessing.”

“That’s good.”

“Have a good night, Walt,” you said. You were currently fighting back a yawn. Wine always made you tired. You don’t know why you let Dan talk you into having a glass at the office. Maybe it was the stress of your predicament that made you give in so easily.

“Good night, Miss (y/n). Get some rest.”

The smile dropped from your face as soon as the elevator doors closed. Now more than ever, you just wanted to slide between your sheets and go to sleep. There was even a little bit of hope that you would wake up tomorrow and this would all be a dream and Jinyoung would just be a face that your brain chose after seeing him in some designer clothes commercial. If the bodyguard noticed your change in posture or expression, he made no mention of it.

Getting your key into the door was a struggle, but eventually the lock clicked, and you were able to go inside your home. A sense of relief flowed over you when you closed the door behind you.

“You should get some rest,” Jinyoung suggested. This, you would not argue over. He started making rounds through the apartment, looking out the windows and checking the shelves for things you preferred not to think about.

Grabbing a fresh towel from the hallway closet, you entered your bedroom and straight for the shower. It was twenty minutes of uninterrupted thought-processing. You talked yourself into temporarily thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Yes, it was going to suck. Yes, you were going to get annoyed and probably fight with Jinyoung a few more times. But this was just another obstacle life was placing in your way. It was going to be a long hard climb, but you’d make it over sooner or later. As far as you were concerned, this “stalker” would eventually get bored and move on to some other has-been.

Much more relaxed, you got out of the shower and slipped into your sleepwear before going to check on Jinyoung. You found him out in the main living room fluffing up a pillow on the couch. His shoes and jacket were off but you didn’t see them in the immediate vicinity.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t seem surprised by your sudden appearance, not even looking up at you as he answered, “Getting ready to sleep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Out here?”

“Yes.”

Maybe he thought that the couch was his only option. Obviously your bedroom was off the table and down the hall. “I have a guest bedroom.” Well, two really, but one was being used more as an extra office-slash-storage space.

“If someone breaks in, I’ll know sooner and can respond better out here.”

You weren’t even going to try and argue. You shrugged. “Okay, have it your way.”

Not being completely heartless, you went back to the hallway closet and got out an extra blanket.

He revealed a small grin when you handed it over. “Thank you.” He sat down on the couch, eyes roaming over the room. His gaze lingered on the entryways and windows. You always kept the curtains closed, except for when it was raining or snowing. Regular sunlight was too bright for your liking and created a glare on the TV. Also… you didn’t like the idea of someone in a building across the way possibly looking in.

Okay, so maybe a little part of your brain had always been paranoid, and you just never wanted to admit. You still refused to do so out loud.

“You can go to bed,” Jinyoung chuckled. “You don’t have to watch over me. That’s my job.”

“Right.” Could you be even more awkward about this situation? Turning to go, you almost took that first step to head to your room, but then another thought jumped into priority. “Are you seriously going to sleep in your suit?”

Jinyoung looked down at his shirt and then back up at you. “Yugyeom will drop my suitcases off tomorrow. This will do for tonight.”

You snorted. “Let me guess, your luggage will contain all white button downs and perfectly tailored slacks.”

“That’s the uniform.”

Shaking your head, you turned to go. And then whipped right back around.

“I can look after myself, you know.” It was your last-ditch effort to get him to ease back. Pointless? More than likely. But you wanted Jinyoung to understand that you were not a poor damsel in distress who couldn’t tie her own shoes. You were used to taking care of yourself, doing what was best for you. The decisions in your life had been yours, for the most part.

Jinyoung’s usually stoic expression softened, if only by a fraction. “No one is doubting that. But two sticks are harder to break than one.”

Unsure of how to respond, you nodded. Now you made it to your room. Leaning back against the door, you blew the air out of your lungs. You still weren’t completely on board with this. You flipped back and forth between accepting it and wanting to fight it.

You had control issues; you can admit to that much. That was what made working in your father’s company so much better for your personality than acting. Or maybe it was because of your famous youth years that you were now obsessed with maintaining control. Whatever the reason was, that didn’t change how you are.

Bright side, (y/n). Think of the bright side.

At least he didn’t seem brutish. He was going to be stubborn on doing things his way, but he wasn’t cruel about it. So far.

He’s just doing his job.

That you didn’t necessarily hire him for.

But your father did. And it eased his worry and therefore would be better for his overall health.

“Just think of it as another acting project,” you told yourself, cringing in the process. “Act like you’re okay with it. Maybe eventually you will be.”

Eventually. Yeah, okay.

Pushing off the door, you shuffled over to the bed and slipped between the covers. It took almost an hour of tossing back and forth, crumpling your sheets and tucking your comforter in the process, but you fell asleep. Eventually.

Noise from the television woke you up the next morning. With a groan you flipped over to check your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It was only five-forty in the morning. Who the hell in their right mind was up this early?

Unable to fall back asleep, you gave up and crawled out of bed. After a quick maintenance run in the bathroom, you ventured outside to the living room.

Jinyoung was sitting up on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His brow was furrowed from concentration. The news didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary to you, but Jinyoung was entranced. The anchor was giving an update on the military conflict in another country. It was sad and depressing. You tried not to think about it too much.

“Did you actually sleep?” you asked in an effort to distract yourself. Still waking up, you wrapped your arms around yourself and let free a yawn.

“Eight hours,” he replied. You had a hard time believing that. Next to him, the blanket was folded with precision, lying neatly on top of the throw pillow. Tonight you would have to remember to get him a real pillow from the guest room to sleep on.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Jinyoung glanced at you over his shoulder. “You can go back to sleep.”

You shook your head. “I can’t sleep with noise on.”

“Sorry. I’ll mute the TV.” He started to reach for the remote.

“It’s alright,” you stopped him. “I’m hungry now and won’t go back to sleep with a growling stomach. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

You shot his back a curious glance before continuing to the kitchen. Although there was no reason to, you’d expected him to decline. Oh, well. Making breakfast for two shouldn’t be much harder than breakfast for one.

It took about fifteen minutes to put the food together. By that time, your stomach was growling viciously, and you could feel your blood sugar dropping dangerously low. To help stabilize it, you shot down a glass of orange juice. That calmed the stormy waters long enough to finish up. You took a plate out to Jinyoung first, along with silverware. He thanked you for the meal.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Do you have coffee?”

You nodded. You were already brewing yourself a cup. “What kind do you like?”

“I’m usually an Americano guy, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“I can do an Americano,” you said. You, erm, splurged on a nice coffee machine that basically does it all. You like your coffee fancy, as embarrassing as it is. Plain black with just creamer or sugar wasn’t enough for you.

The Americano was easy enough to make. You even had a little teal to-go cup with a lid and straw for Jinyoung to use. He half-scoffed, half-laughed at the thing when you brought it out to him, but he thanked you nonetheless. Now it was your turn to sit and eat. Usually you ate at the table, but Jinyoung was still out in the living room and you felt too awkward to eat in there when he was out here, so you joined him, taking a spot on the recliner. Tucking your feet under you, you began to break your fast. The news had moved on to a lighter, humanitarian topic, so you gave it part of your attention.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jinyoung froze. Slowly and quietly, he put the plate down on the coffee table. His hand slid under the pillow and pulled out a firearm. Now it was your turn to stiffen.

He walked slowly over to the door and peeked through the small peephole. Then his shoulders relaxed. Sliding the gun between his waist band, he opened the door with a huff.

“You’re supposed to call that you’re on your way.”

In stepped a much taller, lankier man than even the one that came with Jaebeom the other day. Though still in a suit, this bodyguard was still very boyish, smiling and giggling as he came into view. His black hair wasn’t perfectly smooth like Jinyoung’s. “I forgot. Bambam was in a hurry to get to his favorite café.”

“Now isn’t really the time for him to be flirting with the baristas,” Jinyoung deadpanned. He reached out and took the suitcase that the other one had rolled in.

“You’re just jealous that he’s better at it than you.” Noticing you, the other bodyguard waived. “Hi! I’m Yugyeom!”

You waved back sheepishly. “Hi.”

“If you get tired of this one watching you,” he jabbed his thumb in Jinyoung’s direction, “I’ll gladly take over. I’m much more fun than hyung here.”

“Yugyeom….” Jinyoung warned.

Yugyeom was undeterred. “He’s already got you up early. He tried to do that with me and Bambam, but we like sleeping. You know, like normal people. Next time, though, you should try to get up before him. He may look scary now, but when he’s sleeping, he’s actually kind of cute—”

“Yugyeom!” Jinyoung snapped. “Don’t you have a briefing to get to?”

The latter checked his watch. “Not for another hour, but I should probably wrangle Bambam away from the café before he busy the place out.” Still giggling, Yugyeom waved to you. “Nice to meet you, (y/n).”

“You, too,” you said with a laugh of your own. Jinyoung all but shoved the poor guy out the door. Once it was shut, he sighed, leaning his forehead and forearm against the wooden barrier.

“One day, I will kill him,” he whispered.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying this a little. Jinyoung huffed and turned back to you.

“Eat your breakfast.”

He rolled the suitcase down the hall to the spare bathroom and shut the door. In a much better mood than how you woke up, you picked your silverware back up and ate happily away. If Jinyoung ever got on your nerves, you knew exactly who to contact.

#got7 #got7 bodyguard au #got7 bodyguard!au #jinyoung x reader #got7 x reader #park jinyoung #got7 series #got7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #mark tuan #choi youngjae #bambam #yugyeom #Bottom of the Glass

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charincharge · 5 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 7

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Usual warnings apply. Thank you for all your comments and interactions -- you are all wonderful.

Aelin is going to murder her family. Okay, not actually. But, for some reason, they’ve decided they haven’t been spending enough time together, and that this week is going to be completely taken up by family activities. Which, usually Aelin would love. However, the only activity she wants to partake in is making out with Rowan Whitethorn’s face, and her family is making that physically impossible.

She opens her messenger and reads through her meager back and forth with him, explaining her lack of presence in the park. Rowan’s not a big texter, she learned. He replies in clipped answers. It’s impossible to read him. She messaged him the day after Friending him, not wanting to look too desperate, but also, she can’t stop thinking about the way her whole body pulsed as he’d leaned toward her in the brewery back hallway.

She is fairly certain she’s going to combust when she actually gets to touch him. Their chemistry is undeniable. Like two pieces of a magnet, unable to stay away from each other. She can’t believe he thinks she was dating Dorian, when she thought she’d made it so incredibly obvious she wanted to jump Rowan. And now that it’s a possibility… Her heart pounds with frustration at her family’s unintentional cockblocking.

Aelin hears Gavin and Evie squealing in the foyer, despite the early hour, which means Aedion and co. have arrived for the day. Aelin decides to descend from her room, waiting to hear what family activity awaits today. Hopefully it’s more active than yesterday’s beach day where she had nothing but free time to fantasize about all the things she wanted to do with Rowan on a beach and stress about how long he takes to reply to her messages. She did get a great base tan, though.

“Ah, look who’s decided to grace us with her presence,” Rhoe jokes. “Just in time to leave for the park.”

Aelin lights up. “We’re going to the park today?” She racks her brain. “But it’s not Saturday?”

Aedion ruffles her hair, earning a frown from Aelin. “How could you forget what today is, kiddo?”

“Because time has no meaning during the summer? And don’t call me kiddo, old man,” Aelin says cheekily. Aedion pokes her side, and she swats his finger away. “No, seriously, what is today?”

“It’s the Ashryver Alzheimers Foundation Fair,” Rhoe says, his tone serious. “So, let’s all be very nice to your mother today. She’s already at the park setting up.”

Aelin frowns in apology. She can’t believe she lost track of the time so much so that it’s already her mother’s charity event. Evalin spearheads the foundation. It’s her life’s passion. She created it after her own mother passed away from Alzheimers. It’s the one day of summer the park turns into more of a County Fair, filled with local food booths, a petting zoo, a fashion show, a silent auction, animal adoptions, and a big band for dancing in one of the eating tents. All the proceeds go to the foundation. Her mother works relentlessly all year long to put together the event, and it’s always incredibly fun.

Aelin takes out her phone and opens her messages again as Rhoe tells them to be ready to leave in ten minutes. She grins when she sees a message from Rowan waiting for her.

So, am I ever going to see you again, or…

Aelin replies too quickly. YES! We’re actually going to the park today.

Rowan messages back immediately. Out of excuses to avoid me?

Another message arrives in rapid succession. Just kidding. I know it’s a big ~Ashryver~ day here. Lorcan is just about to give us our morning assignments. Who came up with these activities? They’re insane.

Aelin smirks, wondering where he’ll be assigned. It’s the most Rowan has ever texted back.

It’s for charity! And you’ll love it. I’ll see you soon :)

I’ll believe it when I see it.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Aedion hovers over Aelin’s shoulder, and Aelin clutches her phone against her chest as she whips her head around to glare at her brother.

“No one.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Aedion frowns. “It’s not Chaol again, is it?”

Aelin grumbles. “Oh my god, why does everyone always think that?”

Aedion laughs. “I don’t know, maybe because he’s been the only guy you’ve dated for the entirety of your life? Even though you keep breaking up for good reason?”

Aelin flicks him off. “It’s not Chaol. He has a new girlfriend. Thank you very much.”

“So spill.”

Aelin shakes her head.

“Nox? Cain? Archer? Mikhail?”

Aedion lists the names of Dorian’s friends, other board members’ sons, and surrounding neighbors. Of course those are the only people he would consider. Someone from the park wouldn’t even cross his mind. Mostly because her family would not approve in the slightest.

“Come on, kids, let’s go,” Rhoe calls, rushing past the siblings in the foyer and saving Aelin. She exhales quickly as they pile into the car. Since Evalin will have so much to transport at the end of the day, they forgo walking.

The park is just opening when they arrive, and they spot Evalin immediately. She works to set up signs and balloons at the entrance. Rhoe goes to stand dutifully beside her, holding her purse and other accoutrements. The woman is a whirlwind, but a productive one. The park has been transformed before Aelin’s very eyes. Aelin breathes in deeply. She can already smell the scent of roasting meats and fried dough.

“Need any help, mom?” Aelin asks, and Aelin’s never been so grateful as when Evalin shrugs her off and tells her to go find her friends.

Aelin is halfway booking it to attempt to find Rowan when Gavin and Evie run up to her, each grabbing a hand and pulling her toward the animal adoption booths. “Let’s go look at the animals, Auntie Ae!” Evie announces sweetly, and Aelin sighs. She guesses she’ll have to look for Rowan later in the day.

Aelin takes her niece and nephew through the petting zoo, giving funny voices to all the farm animals, which delights them. She gives the cow a particularly high voice, which sends Gavin into a fit of giggles. Next to the petting zoo is a long row of adoption booths, and though Aelin knows she shouldn’t, she goes and looks at the puppies.

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, looking at the little of small golden puppies in the pen. The attendant smiles.

“I know. They’re precious, right?” Aelin nods, her hands itching to reach out and pet them.

“Do you want to come meet them?” the attendant asks, and Aelin nearly jumps into the pen with excitement. She sits down, Gavin and Evie with her, and within seconds, they’re swarmed by little balls of yipping fur, trying to climb over them and attack them with kisses.

Aelin hugs a puppy tight to her chest, letting it lick her face. She’s so happy she could almost cry.

“Not who I thought I’d run into you kissing today,” Dorian’s voice calls from the other side of the pen. Aelin flashes him a warning glare, but Dorian just laughs. “You look like you’re in heaven, Ace.”

“I love her,” Aelin says, nuzzling the puppy in her arms.

“Ah, I was wondering where my children ran off to. We’re not getting a puppy,” Aedion says, telling his kids to get out of the pen. “You too, Aelin,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Aelin reluctantly puts the puppy back on the ground, and it starts crying immediately. “She loves me too!” Aelin’s heart tugs. “I’m sorry, puppy. I hope you find a good home,” Aelin says as she climbs out of the pen.

“We’ll be here until closing,” the attendant says with a knowing smile.

“Come on,” Dorian says. “The pig race starts in ten minutes.”

Aelin looks around, trying to spot that bright head of silver-blonde hair, but it’s nowhere to be found. Resigned, Aelin follows her family to the races.

The rest of the afternoon flies by, filled with delicious food and ridiculous activities. But with each hour that passes, Aelin becomes more and more anxious to see Rowan. By the end of the day, Aelin still hasn’t seen him anywhere. She told Dorian to keep an eye out for him, too, but they must be on opposite schedules because wherever Aelin’s family goes, Rowan is not.

“Aw, don’t frown,” Dorian coos, pushing her cheeks up into a smile. “Should I go win you a stuffed animal? Will that make you feel better?”

Aelin checks her phone. No messages from Rowan. She sighs and looks at her best friend. “Yeah, win me a giant stuffed animal, please.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Let’s not be greedy, okay?”

Aelin laughs as they head over to the long row of games. Dorian attempts a bottle toss and fails miserably, missing each time.

“They’re glued down!” he insists, and Aelin laughs loudly.

“Sure, tell yourself that.”

“Whatever, I want to try again,” Dorian insists, but Aelin convinces him to go down the row of games, trying a new one each time. Dorian successfully fails at each and every one, and by the last one, he’s practically fuming. “They’re rigged!”

Aelin tries her hand at the bean bag toss and wins her first try. She turns to Dorian with a wide smile. “Sucker.” She hands him the small teddy bear awarded to her.

“Is this a mirage?” a low voice rumbles from behind. Rowan’s hand brushes against the small of her back, making Aelin shiver. “Or do I actually see Aelin Ashryver in front of me?”

“I’m real!” Aelin insists, spinning around quickly to see Rowan’s frowning face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Rowan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “Really not looking forward to my final gig of the day.” He nods his head in the other direction. “I didn’t even think kissing booths were real outside movies, but apparently they are.”

Aelin is stunned silent at the words kissing booth, so much so that she doesn’t even clock Rowan saying he’ll see her later and heading to the booth. She watches as he relieves Fenrys of his duty and takes his seat behind the heart shaped awning. Aelin’s never participated in the kissing booth before, deeming it silly to pay $10 for a staff member to kiss her cheek, but the staff member giving out kisses has never been Rowan Whitethorn before.

Frantic, Aelin opens her wallet and groans. A single dollar bill sits inside. She looks up at an amused Dorian.

“Need a loan, Ace?”

“Don’t be mean,” Aelin begs. Dorian pulls out his wallet. He rummages through and pulls out a crisp hundred dollar bill. Aelin raises her eyebrows.

“It’s all I have.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she says, and Dorian’s laugh trails after her as she makes her way to the kissing booth line quickly. She can’t believe how much it’s filled up in the mere minutes since Rowan took over.

She hears the girls in front of her giggling about how cute he is, and Aelin can’t say she disagrees. She also can’t believe she’s actually doing this, but she can’t not.

When she arrives at the head of the line, Rowan looks remarkably surprised. He sits up straighter in his seat and clears his throat, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He looks up at her with his wide green eyes, and it takes all of Aelin’s self-restraint not to lean in and kiss that blush right off his face.

“Hey,” he begins, startled. “I didn’t think…”

“You didn’t?” she interrupts, a glimmer of mirth in her eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I may have really thought you were avoiding me. Which would be totally understandable. I definitely made things weird.”

Aelin laughs. “I’ve been texting with you all week!”

“I know,” Rowan chuckles. “I just… I didn’t want to assume anything anymore.”

“I don’t think I can be any clearer than this,” Aelin says and slides over Dorian’s money.

Rowan looks up at her through his flutter of blonde eyelashes. “Aelin, this is a hundred dollar bill.” He pauses. “It only costs ten.”

“It’s for charity,” she says, hoping her confidence outweighs the pile of nerves swirling in her stomach.

Though most girls had been turning their heads to the side, giving Rowan their cheek to kiss, Aelin leans straight forward, her face head on with his. She watches his internal debate rage, his eyes flickering from her eyes and down to her lips and back up again. Aelin leans forward a smidge further, and his eyes darken. Aelin’s stomach flips, waiting for him to close the distance. She inhales and exhales uneasily, and finally, Rowan leans in and slowly presses his lips against hers. It’s soft and perfect and ends far too soon.

Aelin’s eyes flutter open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. Rowan breathes heavily as he pulls away, and Aelin is satisfied to see that his blush has bloomed further on his cheeks. With how flushed she feels, she’s sure she looks similarly.

“What time does your shift end?” Aelin asks, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

Rowan looks at his watch. “Forty minutes. Why?” he asks.

Aelin leans forward, hoping her voice sounds steadier than her legs feel as she whispers, “I’m going to be waiting under the pier. And I’d like to collect on the rest of my ninety dollars.”

Rowan brings his hand to his face to cover his wide smile and nods. Electricity crackles over Aelin’s skin as she walks away, and without even looking she knows it’s because he’s watching her.

She finds her family quickly and congratulates her mom on a successful day before letting them know that she feels like walking home alone. They’re all so tired and distracted from starting clean up that Aelin’s suspicious behavior barely even registers with them. Except for Aedion who raises an eyebrow at his sister, but she waves him off, saying she just feels like some quiet time.

Aelin climbs down onto the beach and heads for her spot under the pier. The sun fades over the horizon, giving way to a beautiful bright moon. The ocean seems to glitter under it, and the sound of breaking waves soothes her as she waits. She slips off her sandals and sinks her toes into the cool sand and leans against one of the thick wooden posts of the pier’s structure. She rolls her shoulders backwards and tries to loosen up and relax, but the anticipation is killing her.

It feels like she’s waited forever when she finally hears the sound of soft footfalls approaching on the sand. She turns nervously. She wasn’t actually sure he’d show up. But there, in all his silver-headed glory, stalking towards her is Rowan.

She’s about to greet him, but she doesn’t get a chance, because before she says a word, his mouth crashes to hers. Gone is the tender, sweet kiss they’d shared an hour ago. This one is desperate, a culmination of weeks of misunderstandings and tension and heated glares. Aelin opens her mouth against his, letting him in, letting him take whatever he wants of her. Her skin feels like it’s on fire where his hands roam across the fabric of her shirt and down to her ass. Aelin groans against Rowan’s mouth and wraps her arms around his neck, not wanting any space between them.

Rowan’s strong arms reach down and lift her legs, wrapping them around her waist, and Aelin can feel him hard against her. She pulls him even closer. Now it’s Rowan’s turn to groan. It’s music to Aelin’s ears. She rocks against him again – anything to elicit that noise from his mouth again.

Rowan backs them into the wooden post and braces himself with one arm. Aelin doesn’t have time to think about how impressively strong that must make him. To hold her up with one arm and his hips, pinned against her. The wooden pole of the pier scrapes against Aelin’s back, and she hopes her family is asleep by the time she gets home otherwise they’ll have some serious questions. But Aelin’s already thrown caution to the wind. She’s burning, completely electrified by Rowan’s touch. She lets her head fall back as his open mouth trails down her bare neck.

“If you leave a mark I’ll kill you,” she manages to croak out between pants. And Rowan chuckles against her neck but doesn’t stop his affections. “I’m serious,” she breathes out. “It’s summer, and I’m not wearing a scarf.”

Rowan lets his teeth drag across her neck, gently scraping the skin, and Aelin fully shudders in his arms.

He finally pulls his face away, but doesn’t let Aelin slide out of his arms, still keeping her pinned to the wide pole.

“Hi.” He smiles, his dark eyes staring into hers. The dark pine green glows with want.

“Hi,” she says in return.

He pushes her hair, which has fallen out of her ponytail, away from her face and tucks it behind her ear. Rowan smiles wider and kisses Aelin softly again. His lips lingering on hers until they’re practically breathing into each other’s mouths.

“I told you I wasn’t avoiding you,” she mumbles quietly into the space between their lips.

“I’ll never doubt you again.” He looks at her seriously. His eyes plead with silent apology and future promises, and they slice through Aelin, making her feel something that she’s not sure she’s ever felt before.

“I want to do this with you all the time,” she says as she unhooks her legs and finally slides to stand on the ground.

Rowan chuckles, and she can feel his chest vibrating against hers. “I think we can arrange that.”

She looks up at him, and he looks right back, his gaze unwavering, and Aelin knows in this very moment that she’s in trouble.

Oh boy.

As they resume their kissing, this time slow and languid and toe-curling, Aelin can’t help but think she’s not sure she’s ready for a Rowan Whitethorn.

~*~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #dorian havilliard #lysaedion #slow burn #what slow burn #cruel summer au #amusement park au #tog fanfic #throne of glass #charincharge writes

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

Text

north//chapter fifteen

genre: angst

warnings: prison, mentions of solitary confinement, mentions of physical abuse, spoilers for The Good Doctor, spoilers for Lucifer, alcohol, drugging

word count: 7.1k

summary: spencer gets used to life in prison in the worst ways. amelia goes through a rollercoaster of emotions and tries to cope with spencer being out of reach. she tries to stay positive and convince others that she is okay.

i’d like to say once again that having a good understanding of the prison arc is helpful in reading this fic. i don’t explain every single detail (because it’s unnecessary to) and if you’re not familiar w the storyline, it’ll be harder to comprehend.

school is over so i’ll have more time to edit and post!!!! yay!! enjoy the chapter :)

SPENCER

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, it's clear!"

My heart pounds against my chest and that's all I can feel. Absolute fear and absolute helplessness. I can't do anything here. I've accepted that but maybe I've just been lying to myself. How can I ever accept that I can't do anything to protect myself or protect others? I’ve spent my life protecting. I need to protect. I need to.

The fear and the panic are overwhelming and I'm thrashing around. I can't do anything to stop it. I wish it would stop. The panic is overwhelming. It's consuming. It's eating me alive. It’s too uch. It’s way too much. I need to go and protect. I need to protect.

"Help! Help!"

I jerk awake, drenched in sweat and my hair matted to my forehead. The images of my dead friend are still flashing in my head and as badly as I want to forget, I know I never will. My back and bottom ache from the metal cot I’m on, my limbs stiff in the smaller-than-twin, poor excuse of a mattress.

I twist my body and reach under my pillow, pulling out the journal that my counselor had given me and the pencil, scribbling down my stream of consciousness as quickly as I possibly can. It's barely readable in my chicken scratch writing but who cares enough to read what I have to say anyway? No one. Nobody cares here. Nobody cares about me. I’m nothing.

Getting more and more intense. Got to fall deeper in to beat them. I've lost friends before, but not like this. Not in a box where I have no control. Or do I? Starting to think like them, starting to survive like them. I'm here because I made a choice. What if that means I don't get out alive?

My blood runs cold as I dot the question mark with my trembling hand. I swipe my hand across my dripping forehead and grimace at how wet my hand comes back. I throw my journal onto the floor and lay back down, forcing my eyelids closed.

How could I expect myself to sleep? I'm foolish to think I will. But I keep up the illusion for a while and keep my eyes closed, hoping that sleep will draw me in, but it never does. I just keep replaying the events that plague me every night, and eventually, my eyelids snap open again. The gory images were too much. Then the beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed images became too painful. I scrunch up my eyebrows when I feel a headache forming between them.

My eyes immediately land on the journal, and red hot flames replace my brown orbs. That journal is horrible. It's filled with depressing content and it's falling apart and it's a disgusting brown color. It doesn't have my name in beautiful calligraphy on the front, and perfect drawings of beakers and coffee cups and strawberries and books and records players and decks of cards, and my confessions of love for my girlfriend inside. It doesn't have any of that beauty on the inside. No, this journal contains my deteriorating mind and my disappearing conscience.

Barely having control of my tired muscles, I roll off the bed and land on my hands and knees, holding in my grunts of agony. The cell block is almost silent, aside from the fans blowing around stale, warm air, and I don't intend to piss off anyone by disrupting their sleep. I keep my mouth shut after the initial impact sound.

I make the bed. I fold the corner of the sheets, so they are absolutely perfect. I fold the blanket and tuck it under the mattress. I smooth my hands over the top of the bed to make it perfect. It has to be perfect. If the bed isn’t perfect, it will get torn apart by the officers. They will rip up my bed and take away my blanket and pillow and humiliate me in front of the whole cell block. I don’t need that to happen again. I experienced that on my first week here and I vowed to never let it happen again. I make the bed and then I make it again, then fix it, then arrange it perfectly one more time. Finally. Perfection. It has to be perfect.

I push my journal against the wall and lay on my back, setting my feet flat against the floor and tucking my hands behind my head. I keep count in my mind as I lift my chin to my knees, ignoring the burn in my abs and the sharp pain in my spine from the concrete I'm rolling my bones against.

Once I've reached my goal number, twenty higher than yesterday’s number, I roll over onto my hands and lift myself up, and start my press ups. I begin a new, higher count in my head as I continuously bring my nose to the concrete, and with each time my biceps flex, the anger flares up. I clench my jaw and my stomach bubbles and my head gets light.

Fuck prison. Fuck it. Fuck the fact that I have to be here. Fuck Frazier and fuck his gang and fuck his shank and fuck the fact that he killed Luis. Fuck this whole situation. This is madness.

I'm becoming them. I am them. I either become them or I die, and I refuse to die in here. I refuse to die without curing Alzheimer's and getting married and having children and spending my life hunting the very people I'm locked in here with. I refuse to die knowing that there's a whole life I could live if I keep fighting. I refuse to break law after law in here like my life doesn't matter in the free world. I refuse to lose the person that I was, even if he's slipping further and further away by the second. Even if every time I try to recall the person I was, the images of my own face get more and more blurry. They’re hard to make out.

And maybe he's already gone and I've already sucked in the traits of the felons around me. Maybe I just refuse to accept who I am now. That's more likely than the lies I feed myself.

I work my muscles until the sun peeks in through the tiny window across from my cell. I'm drenched in sweat, even more than before, and my muscles are aching, but it's easy to forget. And if I can't forget, then it's easy to revel and bask in the intense pain.

The correctional officers bring us to the chow hall and we all collect our disgusting food and eat as quickly as possible. We usually only have three minutes for meals. Three minutes. That's it. It was horrible at first. I had to sit at a table, alone, with my shoulders hunched, shoveling food into my mouth. If you don’t eat at chow, you don’t eat at all. I always used to go back to my cell and curl up in my bed, thinking I was going to throw up. The combination of moldy, rotten food and a three-minute time crunch to eat has horrifying results. But now, three minutes is child's play. Three minutes is eating leisurely. I could eat my entire meal in exactly two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Three minutes, now, is generous.

After breakfast is visitation and, to no one’s surprise, my name is called. I wonder who's on Garcia's list for today. They haven't managed to stick to a set schedule yet, due to cases and traveling, so I have no way of predicting who I'll see. I’m always left to wander into the visitation room and come up with lies on the spot.

I stick my hands out and allow Wilkins to slap cuffs on me, but I never meet his eyes. I wouldn't dare to. No amount of crunches or push-ups will ever prepare me to take him. I keep my eyes down and, shamefully, let him push me towards the visitation room.

I scan the little tables for a familiar face and smile the tiniest bit when I see Rossi sitting and waiting for me. He hasn't come to visit me yet, and out of the two people I don't want to visit me at all-- my girlfriend and my mom-- I've been waiting to see him. I resist the urge to push the person in front of me to get as much time with Rossi as possible. I wouldn’t dare risk pushing someone. I don't need a fight to send me to solitary confinement. Huh. Actually, solitary confinement doesn't seem too bad right now. I could get away from all these other inmates who want to hurt me. I could relax in solitary.

I sit down and just give Rossi an expecting look, utterly speechless. I've had so many questions to ask him. I've needed so much advice, but now I have nothing to say. My voice is stuck in my throat. His facial hair is longer. The bags under his eyes are a shade darker. Luckily, he speaks first. "You haven't slept." Okay, not what I wanted or needed him to say.

I just shrug nonchalantly. "It's been a while." What else can I say?

Rossi just nods. What else can he do? "I heard about your friend, Delgado. I'm really sorry, Spence," Again, not what I wanted or needed him to say. I don't want to hear or talk about Luis anymore. I'm tired of dwelling on that. I feel guilty enough. I don't need to see his slit throat every time I close my eyes and then open my eyes and talk about him. I don't need that. When I'm unresponsive to this, Rossi continues. "Is there anyone you can talk to?"

I roll my eyes to the back of my head. If my mother were here, she would warn me that if I do that long enough, my eyes would get stuck there. "We have group therapy once a week. The counselor wants me to keep a journal. So I am, but I don't really think it's helping."

Rossi's furrows his eyebrows. "How come?"

A scoff escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Because no one in here is honest. I mean, not a single person can admit that they're terrified," my cuffs rattle as I move my hands as if to hone in what I'm saying. "If we can't agree on that one basic truth, then it doesn't really matter."

"They could just be numb to it all." That's what Rossi offers up. It could help. It would help if I was in the free world.

"Well," my voice softens and even though I know there are gang members around me and people who want to hurt me, I let my guard down, "I'm not. There's," I drop my head the tiniest bit, "there's a helplessness in here that causes people to do things they'd never consider."

Rossi sighs, and this was what I was scared of. I open up and he has nothing to say to me. He has no world-class wisdom to offer. I'm prepared to do what I did to Garcia and practically ignore him for the rest of the visit, but when he reaches into his jacket, my intrigue beats out my disappointment.

I recognize the calligraphy on the front of the envelope as soon as I see it. It's on the front of every single one of my journals that still lay in my desk drawer. It looks as beautiful as ever in black ink, outlined and accented in a yellow pen. There's a lump in my throat that I try to swallow.

"I had to flash my badge just to get it in here so you better read it. I'm not letting you refuse to read this like you refuse to see her," Rossi moves the letter closer to me, directly in my eyesight.

I swallow the thick lump and slowly raise my cuffed hands to grab the envelope. I carefully, without ripping my cursive name, make a slice in the top with my finger and pull out pieces of paper that I recognize to be paper ripped out of Amelia's journal.

"Did you read this?" I ask Rossi as I place the envelope down.

"It was still sealed, wasn't it?"

I nod and stay silent as I drop my head again. I could cry just at the sight of Amelia's handwriting. She touched this paper. This specific piece of paper. This piece of paper was in her hands, in her apartment, and now it’s in my hands. She sat and put pen to paper and wrote this out for me to read. And with one final breath, I finally bring myself to actually start reading it.

To my love dove,

Hi!! How are you? I'm only okay, but there's something I need to tell you can it can't wait any longer.

I started watching this tv show called The Good Doctor a few weeks ago and I've finished the entire series. Honestly, Spencer, it's so amazing. I think you would love it so much.

I know you don't watch that much tv, unless I'm around, so I'll tell you what it's about. The show is about this resident surgeon named Shaun Murphy who is fighting to get a job at a hospital, but the administration of the hospital won't give him a job because he has autism. But then he saves a child's life in an airport or something (I can't remember exactly, it’s been a while) and does a procedure that is really innovative and outside the box and it floors everyone and the hospital hires him.

The show follows him navigating adult life and relationships and his job and him learning how to be less dependent on older people telling him what to do. He gets a girlfriend and loses his virginity and then starts talking about sex at work which is fucking hilarious but also stupidly inappropriate, and he has a friend who's a girl who his girlfriend has a problem with.

And then (I'm sorry, baby, but spoilers are coming!!) they kill off one of the main characters at the end of the third season! How dumb! Melendez was one of my favorite characters and he was just about to admit to Claire that he's in love with her and then they killed him off for such a stupid reason. The season ends on a cliffhanger! You know how much I hate cliffhangers. And that plot of Claire and Melendez falling in love was teased at for so long and they gave it to us just to take it right away!!!! Cruel!! Do I have grounds to sue for emotional distress? I think there is. I should get on this.

Okay. I've calmed down now.

Fine. You caught me. I haven't. I'll never calm down from my heartbreak over Dr. Melendez. But I can move on for now.

I think you would really like this show and I'd be willing to watch it again with you. I think you'd enjoy it. They talk a lot about medical terms and medical procedures and there’s diagrams and everything. And whether they're accurate and precise or not, I'm sure you'd enjoy picking out mistakes in the procedures or telling me why the procedures are revolutionary. And no matter which option it is, I'm ready to listen and learn.

Before I watched The Good Doctor, I finished watching Lucifer, but I know that you hated that show. But he went back to Hell!!!!!!!!!!! He really did That!!!!! He left Chloe and went to Hell!!!!!! So fucking rude. I screamed out loud when he said he was leaving. Thankfully, there's going to be a season five and maybe I'll make you watch that with me so we can see what happens with Lucifer and Chloe. I debated on watching Star Trek or Doctor Who because you're always talking about how much you love those shows, but I know I won't understand it. I'll need you to explain it to me. I think I'll just wait to watch those with you. Sounds like a good date night to me.

I love you more than words can even express. I miss you more than I will ever be able to say (or in this case, write). I know you're not doing well and I know you don't want to see me but I hope that hearing from me helps you in some way. I don't know how it would but I hope it does.

I love you. I promise, I'll see you so soon.

With all the love in my tiny body,

from your pretty girl,

Amelia <3

ps. idk if you're shaving your face in there but... I'm curious to see what you look like with a mustache and beard... that's a sight I never thought you'd let me see. Hmm. I shouldn't let my mind wander. Sorry. I love you. Kisses.

I read over her letter once, twice, three times. Every time I read it, I notice something new. Every time I read the letter, I notice a teardrop beside a word, of a subtle smudge of a pen, or another hesitation in her pen stroke.

I read it again. And then I read it again. But then I read it one more time. And just when I think I've had enough, I read it another time. I’m on the tenth read before the wheels actually start turning in my head, slower than usual. This letter has distraction written all over it in Amelia’s pretty writing. I don't like medical dramas and I hated Lucifer. She knows that. She acknowledged that in her letter. But this is the kind of thing she would tell me as we're eating dinner when I get home from a case, or as we're laying in bed, or when we're showering, or when we're sitting on the balcony of one of our apartments. This serves that purpose, except this time, it's in letter form. She's distracting me. God, I would give anything to break out of here and drag her to a courthouse and marry her right now.

"Reid?"

My head snaps up when Rossi speaks, and when I force our eyes to meet, he's holding out a pen. I know for a fact that pens aren't allowed. Pens could be considered a weapon in the hands of the wrong inmate. He snuck this in, and I'm not sure how, but I don't want to know how.

I snatch the pen out of his hand and rip the sides of the envelope so there's more room to write, scribbling down my thoughts as fast as possible. I don't want to get caught. If I do, I can't imagine the trouble I'll get in, especially if Wilkins catches me. When I'm pleased with what I've written, I fold up the envelope and hand that and the pen back to Rossi. But I keep the letter, tucking it into the waistband of my pants so it's completely out of sight.

Rossi smiles, putting the envelope back in his jacket pocket and flattening the lapels. "Is there anything you want me to tell her?"

"Tell her--" I'm cut off by a sharp alarm going off, a guard screaming about a lockdown, and for all the inmates to return to their cells. I sigh, rising to my feet. "It's all there. Just give that to her."

///

AMELIA

///

"Hi, Jeannie," My voice is only a mumble as I greet the receptionist. She gives me a pitiful smile, another new tradition that has only formed in the last few weeks, handing over a visitor's pass and watching as I clip it to the pocket of my jacket.

I drag myself to the elevator and hit the up button, drag myself inside, and when it opens on the sixth floor, I drag myself to Penelope's office. My mood is lower than it has been lately. I didn’t really think it could get any lower. But here I am with a heart heart, hunched shoulders, and the inability to smile. I'm not sure why I feel like this on this specific day, as opposed to any other shitty day, but maybe it's because I know that Penelope went to visit Spencer today. All I know is that I barely wanted to drag myself off of Jenna's couch this morning and get dressed and show up here. I could barely pay attention to the new episode of The Good Doctor that Jenna coaxed me into watching with her last night. I could barely get myself to come through the front doors of the building, but I show up to the BAU every single morning like I work here.

I plug in the code to Penelope's door and push it open, and I’m welcomed to a sight that I didn't think I'd see for a while. Luke is kneeling in front of Penelope, and at first, I think that he's finally confessing his feelings for her. My first intention is to silently back away and let them have their moment. His hands are on her knees and she isn’t insulting him, so nothing about this interaction could be bad, right? But then I notice that she's crying, and my heart drops. I don’t back away.

My hand slips off the doorknob and it slams shut, making me flinch on impact. The two stare up at me like deer caught in headlights. I see this expression way too much for my liking nowadays. And judging by the sheer fact that there are still tears dripping down Penelope's cheeks, this isn't good. Nothing is ever good anymore.

"What happened?" I don't step closer, I don't grab Penelope's hand, I don't touch Luke's shoulder. My heart is pounding against my chest and my hands are starting to shake.

Luke glances at Penelope before rising to his feet. "Garcia went to see Reid today."

"I know," I snap faster than I intended to. "What happened to him? Is he okay? What--" my voice betrays me and I can't choke out another question.

Luke sucks in a breath, keeping a stony, emotionless face. "He got beat up."

"Beat up?" I regurgitate the disgusting words that have just been spewed at me, backing myself against the wall. "He got--"

Penelope stands up and moves towards me, lacking her normal finesse. "His face had bruises and he seemed agitated but he seemed fine otherwise--"

"He's not fine if he got beat up," My anger, somehow, quickly dissipates and turns to heartache. My heart pounds against my chest at an alarming rate. My eyes flood with tears and my knees start to give out from under me, and I go sliding to the ground, curling into myself. "He's trapped inside with the people who beat him up and there's nothing he can do."

"Listen," Luke kneels in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder, but I can't bring myself to shake it off or even look up at him, "I'm gonna get an extra set of eyes on Reid. He's mentioned something about another inmate that sounds like an ex-FBI agent, and I think I know how I can get him to protect Reid. Amelia, he's gonna be okay. I'm gonna go to the prison right now and figure this all out. You call me if you need anything at all."

Luke stands again and smiles at Penelope, quickly leaving the room. And once he's gone, Penelope takes his place on the floor beside me, sitting with her legs straight out. She's silent, but I'm not sure why. Is she giving me space? Is she waiting for me to speak? Is she figuring out what to say? Is she too scared to say anything? I wouldn't blame her if she was. I'm not the person I was anymore.

I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion, passing it between my fingers. "I'm sorry," I whisper, keeping my gaze on the metal circle. "I haven't exactly been a best friend lately, or a friend at all. I've just been a bitch."

"No, you don't need to apologize," Penelope insists, scooting closer to me. "This is a really hard time for you. It's understandable. I don't expect you to want to be listening to my guy problems or wanting to drink wine. I mean, I don't even want to be doing either of those things. It seems too...cheerful for right now."

My lips quiver and I try to hold back my tears, but no matter how hard I squeeze the medallion, my tears won’t retreat and my pain doesn’t disappear. "I just really miss him, and I'm really worried about him."

"We all are," Penelope sighs, patting my leg. "But we're working as hard as we can to get him out."

"I know you are," I flip the medallion over and stare down at the compass. "I just hope he comes home soon because I don't know how much longer I'll last without him."

///

The snapping of my pencil against paper shakes me back to reality, and my head pops up. I find that I've been jamming my pencil into my sketchbook, creating a hole in the paper that has effectively ruined my drawing and maybe even ruined my entire sketchbook.

A groan leaves my lips and I drop my sketchbook to the floor, my pencil following. I shouldn't be upset. Whatever it was I was drawing was horrible anyway. I haven't drawn anything good since Spencer got arrested. My art revolves around joy and happiness and the good things in my life and if I don't have any of that, how am I expected to make art?

"Hey," Jenna comes and sits beside me, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table. I don't touch it. She never makes it as good as Spencer. She picks up the sketchbook and lets out a sigh. "It's a shame there's a hole in it now. I liked what you were drawing."

"It was bad," I respond, letting my head fall onto her shoulder. "Nothing in there was any good."

"I disagree," Jenna drops the book and slings her arm around my shoulder, drawing me into her embrace. She’s not nearly as warm as Spencer. "Sometimes, our best work comes from dark places. You know, like comedians. A lot of comedians have depression and--"

"Jen, I appreciate it but I'm not in the mood for this," I murmur, eyelids feeling heavy. I rest my head on her lap and stare up at her, resisting the urge to purr as she starts to brush her fingers through my hair, but it's nothing like the way Spencer does it. Spencer, somehow, doesn't let his fingers get caught in my curls and he doesn't tug on knots. His hands are big and veiny and strong and not dainty and tiny like Jenna's.

"I'm sorry," Jenna apologizes with a heavy sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," I catch her hand in mine and intertwine our fingers, squeezing tightly. "I've been horrible lately. I've just-- what I'm going through with Spencer is no reason to be acting like a bad friend to you. You've been so generous and so helpful and so--"

"Hey, listen," Jenna cuts me off with her sweet smile, "when everything with Spencer is resolved and he's settled at home with his mom and with you, then you can take me out and throw me a Jenna appreciation party. But for right now, don't worry about me. Just worry about you and staying healthy and trying to stay happy, and focus your energy on your happy memories with Spencer."

"You're the best, have I ever told you that?"

"Hey!" Jenna exclaims. "Save it for the appreciation party."

I smile back up at my best friend, nodding slowly. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. Once I get my shit together, I'll throw you an amazing party."

"And I look forward to it," Jenna quips, and then looks at the time. "Okay, I've gotta get to a meeting but you're welcome to stay here if you want. My apartment is all yours."

"No, I think I'm gonna go home for a bit. Probably shower and then get to the BAU with fresh clothes. I feel all," I sit up, brushing my fingers over my cheeks and grimacing, "greasy and oily."

Jenna returns my ruined sketchbook and ushers me out the door, watching me get into my car to make sure I get there safely. I wave goodbye to her before driving off, not even bothering to turn on the radio. I never do anymore.

Trudging up to my door, I unlock it and toss my keys aside, throwing my bag down on the floor and kneeling down to take off my shoes. I pull out my hair tie and drop it to the floor, then leave a trail of clothes to the kitchen. First my denim jacket, then my socks, then my crop top. I'm left in my bra and sweatpants in the middle of the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for something to eat. It’s nearly empty. Of course it is. I haven’t had the energy to go shopping lately.

I reach my hand out but I pause and scrunch up my nose at a strong scent. Why does it smell like bubblegum in here? Again. I don’t even like the scent or taste of bubblegum, and I obviously didn’t buy any gum recently. I roll my eyes, wandering over to the window to open it further and let out the smell. I breathe in a bit of the fresh air and sigh, stepping away and going back to my original plan of getting something to eat. Maybe the older woman next door has a bubblegum candle that she likes to light whenever I’m home.

But the smell is persistent and it's filling my lungs and my brain and my tongue. I start to walk towards the window again but my feet don't let me. It's like there's someone telling me not to go and breath in the fresh air outside, and so, I don't. I stand in the middle of my kitchen like a floundering fish, gripping the island with white knuckles. My head feels fuzzy. My eyes feel like they should be rolling into my skull. It’s that familiar feeling of not having control over myself. That sickly familiar feeling of someone standing right behind me, whispering in my ear and telling me what to do.

But then I feel the urge to shut the window completely, so I do. I rush over and slam it closed with so much force that I think I might break the glass. But I'm confused. I'm so confused. The bubblegum smell is nauseating so why am I closing the window? What is telling me to close the window? Who is telling me to close the window?

I feel my feet walking over to the couch and I lay down. My eyelids feel heavy and I don't stop myself when I feel an intense need to lay down and close my eyes, to rest. I curl up and drift off comfortably, into the best sleep I've gotten since I had the privilege of sleeping in a bed with Spencer.

When I finally wake again, my head is pounding. I whine out loud, curling my knees into my chest and tossing my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the lights above me. But nothing works so I roll off the couch, falling onto my knees in a pathetic heap. I lift my head, finding an empty bottle of white wine on the coffee table. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I didn’t drink wine today. The bottle is empty but I didn’t drink. I mean, I feel hungover but I know I didn’t drink. The smell of bubblegum is gone.

I reach around for my phone, but after groping the couch and the coffee table, I come up empty. I conclude that I've left it in my backpack which I dropped beside the door. I grind my teeth as my muscles pop when I stand and walk over to the foyer, rubbing my eyes and letting out a dramatically loud yawn. When I get to the foyer, I find that my backpack is nowhere in sight. That's odd. I could have sworn that I left it here when I got home from Jenna's apartment, but I guess in my blackout, I moved it.

I turn on my heel to head back to the kitchen, and the first thing I notice is that it's not morning anymore. It's dark out. My head whips towards the clock and I find that it's almost midnight. I must have gotten drunk. I must have finished that whole bottle myself and the alcohol made me forget. I drank the entire day away, somehow. That's not like me. That's never happened before. I drink wine all the time, I know I can hold my wine. How did one single bottle of wine do this to me?

Shaking my head at myself and pushing away my pathetic tears, I move on to my kitchen. Surely enough, the contents of my backpack are strewn across the island and my phone is right there. What I need it for? I'm not sure. But despite the fact that I've just woken up, I'm exhausted. So with my phone in my hand, half dressed, belly button ring falling out, hair tangled, head pounding, and my brain swirling, I drag myself up the stairs and collapse into bed.

The sheets smell like him. They always do. They always will. The pillow he claimed as his own will always be stained with the scent of his cologne, and no matter the amount of times I wash it, it was always smell like him. I roll over and hug his pillow to my chest, and this time, I don't stop the dam from breaking. I let the tears flow down my cheeks relentlessly and I let the sobs rack my body and I let myself succumb to the depression I've barely been fighting off.

But I don't let my mind succumb too much, not to the bad thoughts that are hounding me. I stumble off the bed and into my bedside table, pulling out my journal and holding it in my lap. My pen moves faster than my mind does and before I know it, I'm signing my name at the end. I don't even proofread it. I don't check for spelling or grammar errors or try to dry the tear stains or fix any pen smudges. I just rip out the pages, fold them up, put on some clothes, and jump in my car.

The doors the the sixth floor open as I fiddle with my visitors pass on my hip. I see Stephen first and he smiles at me, stepping out of the way and gesturing me for me to go past. I thank him softly and go tiptoeing by, pulling open the bullpen door and stepping in. JJ and Tara are talking with Anderson and Kevin by the coffee machine and I send them a wave, but I don't go over to talk. I haven't been in the mood for small talk lately. And besides, it’s midnight. Everyone is here incredibly late to work and small talk would distract them from their obvious mountain of work. They don’t need the extra worry of me showing up hungover and confused. I keep my head down to avoid everyone.

I pass Emily and get to Dave's door, knocking much softer than I have in the past. He calls for me to enter, and when I do, I give him one of the fake smiles I've become so accustomed to lately. "Hi," I state gently.

"Hi," he gestures for me to sit, and when I do, he closes to door. "Are you okay?"

"I am," I nod quickly, probably way too quickly, and bring my backpack into my lap, digging through the contents. "I saw that--"

"Are you drunk?" He interrupts me, narrowing his eyes at me as he takes a seat again.

I fiend surprise, shaking my head. "No! Of course not! Why would you--"

"Your eyes are bloodshot and you're not speaking properly, you're slurring your words," Dave points out bluntly.

I don't move my gaze from his as my hands finally land on what I was searching for, and I pull it out, holding it to him. "I saw on Garcia's board that you're the next to visit Spencer. Could you bring that to him? It's just a letter."

Dave takes the envelope from my hand and admires the calligraphy on the front, the same I always use to label Spencer's sketchbooks. He nods and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "I'll bring it. The prison checks everything and--"

"If they confiscate it, I don't wanna know," I tell him, standing and putting my backpack on again, heading towards his office door. "Just-- everything I have to say is in that letter. I've gotten it out and even if he doesn't get to read it," I shrug my shoulders up to my ears and laugh pitifully, "whatever. I just hope he's safe now."

I go home. I leave with my head down and tears in my eyes. Dave is going to think I’m a crazy drunk who can’t control herself. The reality is, I don’t even know what happened today. I’m just confused and sad. I’m missing Spencer, I hate the smell of bubblegum, and I can’t do my job anymore. Everything is fucking horrible. Everything has gone to shit.

Like clockwork, I bring myself to the BAU the next morning. Freshly showered and in presentable clothes, looking better than I have in months. An obvious overcompensation for what Dave said to me yesterday. I need to show him somehow that I’m okay. Well, I’m not okay but I don’t need anyone worrying about me. I should have practiced my fake smile in the elevator.

"Hey, you," Penelope smiles softly as I walk into her lair, dropping my backpack on the empty desk. "Feeling okay?"

"Meh," I shrug, sitting down in a free chair and drawing my knees to my chest. "I'm trying to keep my spirits up. It's hard, you know? It keeps getting longer and longer since I've seen him and the longer it gets, the harder it gets. I’m trying to keep it together. It’s hard, P."

"I think I may be able to help with that," Dave's voice at the door makes the both of us jump. Neither of us had even realized he had come in right behind me. But I jump to my feet and smooth down my skirt, adjusting my nose ring so it’s perfect and brushing my straightened hair behind my ears.

"Help with that?" Penelope repeats, glancing between us. "Help with that how?"

Dave reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the envelope for the letter I'd written for Spencer, and my heart drops to my feet. Why was I thinking? What made me think he would be able to bring my letter in? He's in a maximum-security prison. Spencer can barely take a shower without prison guard eyes on him. He's not going to be able to get a letter from a visitor without it being checked and rejected first.

"I told you I didn't wanna know if he could see it," I whisper, looking down at my lap and hating the way my eyes instantly burn with tears. I’ve cried too much lately. "You should've just thrown it out. I don't want it back, just--"

He drops the envelope onto my lap to shut me up, but now, it's unfolded and there's writing on the inside. My body jerks ungracefully when I recognize Spencer's handwriting and I snatch it up to read what he's written for me.

To my pretty girl,

The Good Doctor sounds like a great show, and even though you've basically spoiled the whole show for me, I'd love to rewatch it with you. Medical dramas tend to be incorrect with their facts so I'd like to see how much of the show is accurate. And no, I will not watch Lucifer with you. But I will absolutely watch Star Trek and Doctor Who with you. It would be my pleasure to explain them to you.

I think of you every single day. You are the reason I'm pushing through and you are the reason I'm still alive. You are the reason I get out of bed and you are the reason I'm sane at all. You're still my north. Don't forget that. I’m going to come home to you.

Like you said, words cannot describe how intensely and how badly I miss you. Things are hard right now but I promise that I'll see you soon and I promise that everything will be okay.

Listen to some Brahms or Mozart for me. I love you so much.

With all the love I have left to give,

Your Dove

ps. There are no razors here and I haven't shaved in months. Enjoy.

pps. Thank you for distracting me. It worked wonders. You're truly amazing.

I read his letter over and over and over. I examine every single word on the page and I barely even notice when my tears start to fall on the paper. His writing is messy, it always has been, but it's so beautiful. Maybe I think it's so extraordinarily beautiful because I know he touched this piece of paper and now I'm touching it. It's from his heart. It's from him. It's from my Spencer.

"Penny," I whimper out, and she is at my side in a second, placing her hand on my shoulder. "He—” I sniffle and hiccup, “he promised."

"He promised?" She echoes, her voice sounding hopeful but like she's talking to a child. "What did he promise?"

"He promised that everything is gonna be okay," I clutch the paper in my hand, admiring its beauty and counting the strokes that Spencer made with the pen. "And he told me again that I'm his north and-- that's good, right? He's still there, you know, mentally."

Penelope nods at me, reaching down to wipe my tears. "Yeah, Amelia, that's really good that he said those things."

I drop the letter to the floor and throw my arms around Dave, crying into his shoulder. "Thank you so much. Thank you for doing this for me."

He hugs me back tightly. "Anything to see you and the kid happy. Anything for you two."

TAGLIST

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leverage-commentary · 5 years ago

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Leverage Season 2, Episode 9, The Lost Heir Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

Peter: This is Peter Winther, the Director of episode...

John: 209.

Peter: 209.

John: John Rogers, Executive Producer.

Chris: Chris Downey, Executive Producer and Writer of this episode, entitled The Lost Heir Job.

John: There you go. Chris, where did this episode come from?

Chris: Well, there was a different episode, very different episode, that didn't come together, and uh, I called Dean, Dean Devlin, our Executive Producer, and I kinda asked him, ‘What kinda bad guys are you thinking about, we haven't done?’ And one of the things he said was, ‘How about an evil lawyer?’ And me being—

John: And you used to be an evil lawyer!

Chris: And me being a former evil lawyer, I thought okay, I can work with that. And it kinda sprung from there.

John: The uh, Peter, uh, this is a lovely affecting scene. Is this in our hospital set that we get enormous mileage out of, or are we in a hospital today?

Peter: Ah, no this is the hospital set that we redesigned to look like a different hospital set.

John: Nicely done. This is very touching. Peter, let me ask you, this is the first episode of Leverage that you've directed, and there's Peter Reigert as the evil lawyer.

Peter: Yes.

John: When you're coming onto a new show to direct for the first time, what's your prep? What do you do?

Peter: Well, you know, first of all, you read the amazing script by the writers. And yeah, I cried, I laughed. Yeah, then you do the normal stuff, you location scout, you find anything that you need to find, and you kinda work with—I mean luckily for me, like a lot of the guys that worked on Leverage, I've worked with before, whether it's through the Dean Devlin world of Independence Day and Godzilla, so...

John: And Librarian, you directed the first Librarian.

Peter: And the first Librarian.

John: A big thing about this episode is- Uh, and that's London. A big thing about this—

Peter: We went to London.

Chris: If you can't tell, there's Big Ben right there.

John: Ah, we like to assume that whenever we find Sophie, she's standing in front of the most recognizable landmark ever. 'Who's dead?' I love that reaction by the way. This was a challenge. This was the first episode where we knew that we needed a female grifter for the team; we had to introduce her, we wanted to check in with Sophie, and kind of establish why we were going to introduce a semi-permanent character. A lot of struts and bolts had to be thrown up here.

Chris: Yeah, yeah.

John: That was the real challenge. We had to have a scene that made us not think this relationship was broken, but that she wasn't coming back.

Chris: Well, I mean, the hard thing is when you're introducing a new character who's gonna take over, you wanna make sure that the audience understands that that character has been approved of by the character that she's replacing.

John: Yeah, to a great degree you need—it's weird—you need Gina's character to be the initiator of the replacement in order for the, you know-

Chris: And there's kind of a story about the Mary Tyler Moore pilot, that I heard from Jim Brooks, who wrote- the great Jim Brooks, apparently when they tested the Mary Tyler Moore pilot, the audience initially hated the Rhoda character.

John: Really?

Chris: Absolutely hated her. And the network said, 'You gotta get rid of her.' And Jim Brooks re-shot a scene in which Phyllis's daughter, Phyllis the neighbor upstairs, hugs the Rhoda character, just gives her a hug in one of the scenes. They tested again, went through the roof. And what they realized was, all they needed was someone on the cast that the audience liked to give their approval of this character. And Dean really was the driving force here because he said, 'We have to make sure that the audience buys into this.'

John: Yeah, a lot of shows replace people in between seasons, but coming up with a substitute person in the middle of the season has—I've never seen it successfully done.

Peter: Until now.

John: Until now. And this is interesting, this was tricky, is, essentially we talked about bringing the Tara character in, we'd beaten out the backstory of the character, given it to Jeri Ryan, so, you know, she could consider it, and consider signing on, and then we originally were talking about her coming straight in, and then realized we'd need at least—particularly since this episode is kind of a classic Rockford mystery—that we needed to throw a little spin on it.

Chris: Yeah, this episode doesn't have a— doesn't really have a con in it, but what— and I think this was your idea, John—was to make Tara's presence in the episode the con. That she cons the rest of the team.

John: At least engaging so we could get ahead with the story rather than the audience like, 'Wait, who's she? Why am I watching her?' Instead it's- we're playing this as if she could be a character on a, you know- And you stage this beautifully, by the way, putting her on the same side of the table, you know, really locking in for the audience who that is. And we know that most of the audience thought ‘Oh, they're gonna take this lawyer character and corrupt her.’ And the twist worked right up until the end; it was nicely done.

Peter: And especially when you see Jeri Ryan come in, you assume that something's gonna happen with her. So the whole game is to make it seem like she's just playing this part. Nothing else.

John: TV audiences have seen a lot of TV; it's very hard to fool a TV audience.

Peter: Yeah, exactly. They're like, ‘Ooh, she's a special guest, there's something significant's gonna happen with her.’ So we have to keep clouding that and make it seem like nothing's happening with her, and she played it great.

John: Yeah, this is just the guest star, yeah.

Peter: Just the guest star, that's it.

Timestamp: [5:00]

John: That's a nice shot of the bar I don't think we've done before, with the light coming in, like it's 4 o'clock, 5 o'clock in the afternoon.

Peter: And this is Anna Campbell, by the way. She actually is a local actress, and she did a terrific job. She's on Mad Men, as well.

John: Oh yeah!

Chris: Was she on Mad Men? Wow.

John: That was a great vic scene, by the way. That was really- when I was watching this the first time, I'm like, wow, dragging away the nice young woman, helping the old alzheimer guy, this is a dark one, man. You know what? I hate that guy. And getting Peter Reigert was a stunning bit of casting.

Chris: And that we have to give credit to Tim. Tim, who has lots of friends who are terrific actors in New York, and he suggested Peter, who, you know—I didn't even think was on the list of our casting people to even consider. Peter Reigert of course, you would know from Animal House, played Boon in Animal House, and my favourite movie of all time, Local Hero, which I asked him about incessantly about during the week of filming.

Peter: Yeah, see, Chris was stalking Peter, pretty much. On the weekends, Chris would track him down and keep asking him stuff.

Chris: [Laughs] There's not a frame of that movie I didn't ask him about.

John: The, uh, this is a nice conversation, the whole way that she digs in here, and the way she gets very righteous. And what we're kind of doing here, is making her be the way Nate Ford used to be before his fall. And that was—that's pretty much how this worked.

Peter: And it was very interesting. She was like, she had a hard time of it, because she's used to playing very strong, independent, powerful women, and not naive at all, and that's who she is as a person too. So she was really going and taking a risk by playing this person.

Chris: She was- she was very—and she said, 'Is the audience gonna buy, me, you know, an adult woman in—'

John: Paragon of virtue.

Chris: Yeah.

John: But you know, that's a role that people played in the 40s and 50s all the time. You know, this is very much kind of our take on a classic con, classic con movie. Ah, and that's 'we never let Vicki Vale in the Batcave.' That was my big beef from the original Batman movie, is, 'No one must ever know I'm Batman! Except for the nine or ten women who've wandered through here at any given time.' C'mon man, that's the whole point.

Chris: This is a tricky scene too, to do, because you- Uh, Peter, maybe talk about the kind of emotional—you gotta cover a lot of emotional ground here.

Peter: Well these scenes, I mean, it was interesting for me, being the first time I've done these episodes. They've all done, you guys have done these informational scenes in front of the screens before. This scene scared the hell out of me, 'cause how much, like the explainer scene can you do, you know? And uh, but it was great because, the way you guys wrote the script, we could play the comedy of him getting busted, going there, and then lead into it. So it took a little bit of the curse of trying to explain it, you added some comedy, and like—

John: I also like how you've got them appearing around him at first, so he has to keep turning and looking.

Peter: [Laughing] Yeah, exactly.

Chris: And these little, kind of, photoshopped shots look great. I mean it really does look like he's in London.

John: And what's a lot of fun about the—and they're tormenting him, this is very much the family vibe. What's really kinda fun about this is, you know, we dread these scenes as writers too. And the fans love them.

Peter: Oh no, I know, it is. But that's because every time you do a little twist on it, you know, and this scene had a lot of emotional beats; there's the fun of teasing him, and then they find out she's not coming back, which you have to really then transition into a big emotional moment there, and then he's gotta rally everyone back, and now they gotta get it.

John: Yeah it's like three or four emotional beats in one one scene, yeah.

Peter: So it's really tough. But it turned out really well, I thought.

John: And then you let the screens go to black, to show their mood. That was a nice choice. I'm sure that was totally intentional.

Peter: Oh yeah, exactly. I'm a genius like that. I'm an accidental genius.

John: You are. And, uh, Eliot knowing this is not a good idea; everyone knowing this is not a good idea, and...what was I gonna say? Oh, that's the key to these scenes also, is, get somebody pissed off in it. Someone in one of these informational scenes has to either not like the con, or not like the—

Chris: By the way, I need to interject, this is one of my favorite montages ever. This is an industrialist, and I think there's a picture of a, of like a drum of oil—

John: Look, there's a drum of goo poisoning children, and then an oil well fire, and him drinking a whiskey. [Evil laughter] I like, also, that this is a magazine called Lawyer Monthly. Is there a Lawyer Monthly? Is there an evil Lawyer Monthly magazine? I would like to get a subscription to that. And again, this was kind of the thing that we were learning, is that, you know, the lost heir, and the lost will, is a crime trope from the 1600s, that has been done on a lot of different crime shows, a lot of different con show, and so the fun is taking it and finding the variation that fits your show. You know, that's one of the great things about working in a genre that has a long history. To a great degree, you're almost like—it's more like what your variation on this theme is than the actual theme itself.

Peter: It's your homage.

Timestamp: [10:00]

John: It's more than an homage, it's uh, you know. Homages are more accurate.

Peter: Yeah it's more like folk music, you know, like—

John: You're supposed to put a little spin on it, you know, and your spin adds to it.

Peter: Yeah, you're updating it, that's what it's all about.

John: Exactly. God this is a long informational scene.

Peter: I know.

Chris: This is a big one; it's a lot.

John: We gotta do the character beats, we gotta do the—and that was the other thing we found, is, you know, that you can hang out—even in like, really fast moving episodes—you can hang out for half an act in this room.

Chris: Yeah. I mean, that's what we learned.

John: As long as there's emotional beats, or you open it really strong, and, you know, uh, taking away alzheimer dude's only hope really lands it. Now this is amazing. Where are we here, guys?

Peter: Uh.

Chris: Well, we're at a jail that was built outside of Portland, and then they ran out of money. So it's basically been just sitting there, and really, this whole act was designed because we knew we had this jail. And here is of course, we wanna introduce—

John: The 'pan up legs' shot.

Chris: The pan up from the pair of legs.

Peter: We had a slow motion version, but I didn't [mumbles] time to shoot. It was a little, a little too much.

John: It was a little buttery.

Peter: Yeah, you know, I've got, I like buttery though.

Chris: But the happy accident was that, like, whatever that stuff was in the air that was blowing—

John: Gave, like, a view.

Peter: I had a guy there, he was sorta—

John: You just had a big thing of pollen?

Peter: Yeah. We did it in the Patriot actually once, where it was like, we had—it was all this stuff and there was no really apparent reason for it, but it was up in the air.

John: Looks really pretty.

Peter: Yeah, exactly. That's the reason.

John: 'Put some more schmutz, put schmutz in the air. I want schmutz, Peter.'

Peter: Yeah, pretty much.

John: And this is again, you know, outside our character, different attitude, lot of fun. And not being able to tell the truth—this is another thing where we—

Chris: This was Guys and Dolls, it was when we were breaking it, this was- we're gonna see if we can corrupt her.

John: And that was the idea, is originally, you know, we didn't know how Tara was gonna come in, and who the character was. We talked about a Guys and Dolls variation, where we would corrupt the character, and then realized that would take too much explanation, and wouldn't be approved by Sophie... but we used every part of the animal.

Chris: Yes.

John: Wow, Chris wound up really rocking those 70s sunglasses this season. He really looks like he's come out of um, Grand Theft Auto there. Ah, this shot.

Chris: Oh this guy. This guy, uh, is this actor, Tobias Anderson, is a local actor in Portland, and is just fantastic. As a matter of fact, when we were looking—when we were doing this shot, right here, I went up to Tim afterwards and I said, ‘I wanna—can we do Chinatown? Can we remake Chinatown with you in the Jack Nicholson role, and him as.. not Walter…

John: Walter Huston?

Chris: The Walter Huston role, 'cause he really just had that perfect, kind of patrician accent.

Peter: And he was the last guy I saw, like, cast. Everyone else I was like, ‘eh, I dunno’, and then finally he came in.

John: This was kind of a recurring theme this year, to. We were really busting on the whole white collar, minimum security jails, 'cause I'm like seriously man, if you steal a billion dollars, your ass gets sent to the pen. Why do you get a vacation? It was also probably tied into the fact that at this point, we were working fourteen to sixteen hours a day, and a stint in a white collar jail sounded really good to me. I was like 'so I can't work at all, I gotta sit in there and be in jail.' Oh, this was my favorite character we did all year. This is very Rockford, this is Jimmy Joe Meeker.

Peter: I have to say, when he first came in with that blue suit, I wasn't too sure about it, but [snaps fingers] his character, he totally pulled it off, like after the first scene I'm like 'Okay, I get it, I totally get it.'

Chris: Well the thing is that in the cons, essentially when Nate is in these roles, his job is to get under the skin of the mark. I mea,n that's really what it is, because that's gonna lead the mark to make bad decisions, so that's what— there was actually more to this whole sequence too, where he actually—

John: This sequence, he gets dragged out outside and beaten up.

Peter: Oh yeah, yeah, because he's that irritating. Or the suit was that blue.

John: And also, you haven't done a Rockford homage until you had the gut punch.

Peter: And this was my first shot on Leverage; right here, this is where we started.

John: Oh really, great, nice. Look at this production value in Portland, wow.

Peter: And I have to tell you, these guys are the right guys to start your career on Leverage with, these two guys, because they are so hilarious–

John: It's really just, roll the camera and get out of their way, isn't it?

Peter: It's roll the camera [laughs] and like, let the guys play.

John: Look at that!

Chris: Look at that, isn't that a great-? Look at that shot. I mean, this pristine jail. Yeah, I mean the key we've found with them was to give them a funny attitude to play. If you find an attitude for them to play, it doesn't really matter what the script is, they know what to do.

Peter: Right, you just give them, like, guidelines and a goal at the end, and where to start, and then you roll. And these guys just go—especially these two together are like, amazing.

John: And nicely enough it's a happy blend, because it's not totally improv, they really do go off the dialogue, but there's always a little twist right at the end.

Peter: Absolutely.

Chris: Oh, but boy, him playing the traumatized prison guard just killed me.

John: Yeah, just the panic—he does panic very well. [Chris laughs] And again, Hardison, Hardison always goes over the top, always a little up.

Peter: But his over the top works, because every time I was watching him I was 'he's almost–he's not quite over the top, he's just at the edge of it, he keeps it right there.'

John: Well, cause the whole point is to make you so uncomfortable you're distracted. That's a lot of—

Peter: It's all sleight of hand.

Timestamp: [15:00]

Chris: And also to sell to him the idea that to go to maximum security prison would be the end of his life.

John: Is an unspeakable nightmare, yeah. Oh, I forgot, that’s our nurse, right, that's, um...

Chris: Yes, uh, in the picture.

John: We shouldn't say her name actually so she's not stalked, but yeah. And this is a lovely ventilation shaft scene, um, really, you can't go more than two episodes on Leverage without a ventilation shaft scene.

Peter: You would think that when people make buildings they would, like, stop making ventilation shafts, because that's how everybody steals the stuff, you know what I mean?

John: Well they tend to make them small, but Beth is very small.

Chris: By the way, she's just adorable in ventilation shafts, just the childlike wonder that she has.

Peter: Just goes together.

John: I also love that Hardison's managed to find Orangina even in a prison. He's just found an orange drink, even there.

Chris: And this is Doug Brookes, who was great also.

John: Yeah, he's the other guard here.

Peter: He was hilarious. I mean there was so much stuff—this was one of— I could have shot this for three day straight, this scene, because we were cracking up the whole time.

John: And what's really interesting here is, this is something that if you're going to shoot comedy, don't over complicate comedy. Your best friend on a comedy shot is a locked off comedy shot. It's just like—you see how often we just go back to this wide right here? 'Cause all comedy plays—well that's a Woody Allen rule, comedy plays on a two shot. And this is all attitudes and reactions. You know, there's no fucking camera movement, yeah, exactly.

Peter: Because you see two different reactions in one shot that's why it works.

John: Oh, and he's so hurt. He's so hurt.

Chris: And I love him yelling ‘clear’, I mean he just digs in.

Peter: And then usually, as you guys know, we just roll the camera at him and he just keeps talking. We'll keep rolling for another two minutes, he's got—he will never stop, we have to cut.

John: I love that this is what was—this is the worst frameup in history. I remember we were pitching this in the room, we came up with stuff like, like an M16 he'd assembled out of bed parts—

Peter: But it's the tone of the show, you can get away with it.

Chris: It's all he needs, it's a Nazi armband and a picture of Hitler.

John: But why the picture of Hitler??!!

Peter: But what about the first Nazi armband they gave me? It was like, yellow and white, I'm like...

Chris: Kudos to the wardrobe department, who quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, sewed a Nazi armband when we needed.

Peter: Maybe they didn't sew it; maybe they just had one.

John: But this was also, it's pretty amazing when you think, alright we're a cable show, we're in Portland, our wardrobe department had to come up with all these prisoner outfits, because random outfits are much easier, people often wear their own clothes when they're extras. All the uniforms, all the prisoner outfits, on like half a week of prep, by the time they get the script and everything, you know for blocking. And, the bookending scene.

Peter: And I will say, Tim's suits, they pulled out of their derriere as well, because that was kind of a last minute addition, and they went to some pimp store, and found it in Oregon.

John: There's a pimp store in Oregon?

Peter: I think so.

John: Wow, I wouldn't think there'd be enough pimps to support a mini culture like that.

Peter: I mean if you look at his jackets, there's like a little button that you can hang it on from the back on, it's like, really a great jacket.

John: And she's being great, she's really selling the whole innocent lawyer. There was a moment, when we were doing this, watching the dailies, I was like 'I'm gonna miss this character'. I kinda like Jeri as this—

Peter: As the earnest...

John: Yeah, as the earnest lawyer, because she usually plays so aggressive. Because she's a very good looking, powerful woman, and, uh, it was really great. That suit's magnificent.

Peter: Yes.

John: And this is another one, when our guys—the only way to put pressure on our guys is, things are moving too fast, they're constrained in time and space, you know, it's—

Peter: Here's one I love; I love this shot. Whoop, and then—

John: Aaand, that's.. you're right, there it is.

Peter: The button—

John: And ripping out the pages, and here, here's what I love about Reigert here, if I may, and we wrote it a little like this, but really, most of our bad guys are like, 'what the hell are you doing here?' Reigert has, in theory, been an evil dude for thirty five years. He has buried a lot of bodies. This Papadokalis—this Tim Hutton character is not gonna throw him.

Chris: No, that was really the key, the key was for him to underestimate him for the entire episode, and this, this scene to me just epitomizes the whole episode. These two guys—

John: This is one of my favorite bad guy scenes, absolutely.

Peter: And these- we put them on opposite sides of the table for obvious reasons, but then these two guys really just—again, it was like the prison scene, but in a different way—these guys really, I mean, ad libbed, and played off each other the whole time. And it was pretty amazing, it was fun to watch.

John: That's a lot of craft at that table, right there.

Peter: A lot of craft. And it really worked, there was like, they were kinda playing with each other on an actor level, and on a character level at the same time, and it worked both ways.

John: Kinda trying to one up each other a little bit in the scene. That's a great set—what is, what offices were those?

Peter: That was a real lawyer office.

Chris: Yeah, I mean we—

Timestamp: [20:00]

John: Look at that deadpan, just that total dead-eyed—

Peter: Yeah and it's great, it's really like a fire and ice kinda scene, because Jimmy Papadokalis is all over the place, and he's like this, and Peter's just cool as ice.

John: And that's another thing, and you'll see it—we kinda found the rhythm as we went into the back half of second season, the bad guys get progressively scarier. And more competent. I like to think that the Leverage crew has cleaned out all the easy white collar dudes. Like in their first year, they got all the easy marks.

Chris: Well, I gotta give credit to Peter Reigert, I mean, he so inhabits this character. I remember being on set and people talking about, ‘I think this guy's killed people before’. Like, literally, when people debate about the backstory, you know you've hit a home run.

John: Now this one I like, is that we go out, and we're strung and we have no answer, and you're watching Nate Ford play chess here in his head. He's putting the facts together, he's doing detective work. And again, this is the thing we mention in a couple of the commentaries, a lot of second season was realizing, criminals are like detectives - they know crime, they can put stuff together. And Nate Ford was a detective, so you know, when he throws this together, it's using the available facts in a convincing way. And he's reading Reigert.

Chris: Yeah.

Peter: And the way Tim plays it, he was really brilliant in the scene, because you really feel like he's making this stuff up as he goes along. You do. I mean, you're like—like I'm watching, like we were watching and we were like, like what's he gonna do now? It was, like, it was amazing.

John: How is he saying the words, they seem fresh.

Peter: Yeah, and you just get sucked in, he's like, I mean he's—those looks, those blue eyes he's got man, they're just a killer.

John: And that's, again, structurally, this episode really is, we need X information, we do a mini con in act two to get X information. That information is not what we think it is, therefore we have to change the plan in act three. In act four, the violent ramifications of that changed plan comes to the fore. It's the template, it's the one comforting blanket...

Peter: What I love about this episode—besides 'I directed it'— was that I really felt, even when I was watching it, as a fan, later, I was like 'I don’t know how they're gonna defeat this guy', you know, like he's not gonna get ruffled.

John: He's a good bad guy.

Peter: And even like, in the scene that's about to happen, when she comes in, it's like, he doesn't buy that for a second either.

John: That's a big difference on shows, is, uh, a lot of times for us it's not are they going to defeat this guy, because meta structure—again, TV audiences have seen a lot of TV—it's how. This is one of the few times it's like 'I don't really know— I dunno if they're gonna do this.'

Chris: Well, I mean, that's what was so nice about introducing The Lost Heir Con, fairly deep into the show, I mean you know, there could have been an episode where that came out of the briefing scene, but because it became a development...

Peter: Right, because a lot of the episodes I saw, like that— they figured out the con at the end of the first act—

Chris: This is the con, this is what we're gonna do.

John: And that's really tricky, 'cause we really know we're not a detective show, because we have broken some episodes where there's like an investigatory first and second act. We always wind up throwing out those outlines. You know, it's gotta be a weird mix of investigation first and second act—

Chris: Well...

John: Because you do. If you introduce the con too early, you run out of steam.

Chris: But I think what we learned here was, that what the audience wants at the end is a twist. And you can give them a detective twist if we put it, like with the Tara character, if there's a con shell around it.

John: Yeah. You could easily do this as a private investigation episode, on any other show. 'Bye bye. Out. Get out.' And Parker's utter inability to act now.

Chris: 'Are we gonna go get meth?'

Peter: Dude, the meth line, we were all in tears. And there's like four different versions, and they're all awesome, and uh, yeah.

John: It's really hat-rific in there today, look at that. That's one, two, three, that suit's really a hat. [All laugh] Uh, that's three hats in there. And I remember breaking this, and going over like, women's names, or what we could possibly do, we had to look up and see uh, what had been, what could wind up on drivers licenses, when the drivers licenses were digitized—

Chris: Well the tricky thing here was, and you came up with it, was finding ways to bury the colorblind... because if you kinda like, if they they keyed up on colorblindness here, really we're tipping the ending, and it was just, trying to find a way to throw it in.

John: But that's one of those times where writing is really, we describe it as making the license plates, you sit in the writer's room for six hours, staring at the ceiling, until the answer comes, you know and just throwing out crap.

Peter: Yeah but it was a great 'gun in the drawer' kinda thing, you know, where it's like, he really—

Chris: He saw it up there, it landed visually, he mentions is—

Peter: Yeah, it's right in front of your face, and then it comes back later and no one sees it coming, and that's the best way. I always hate shows where it's like, suddenly they come up with a magic answer, and it was like, we never saw it. Here, you put it in front, but it's all sleight of hand.

John: There's a—Dean Devlin's father had a great thing, which is 'there are no drive ups in the third act', and we have the same thing. There's no new information in the fifth act. You're not allowed to give anything new, it has to be something, a version of what we've already seen.

Chris: That's a nice transition, too.

John: Yeah it is, a nice whip over to her. And there was actually an original scene, another scene in this, too, where he's kind of talking her into doing this? But the fun—it turns out this is much better, just knowing that somehow he's conned her into this.

Chris: The audience, you should know, this episode was eight minutes long when we finished it, and we kept—and it was a real hard thing to edit it down—

Timestamp: [25:00]

John: Oh, there's a lot of good scenes on the floor, in this one.

Chris: But I still feel like in the end, the final edit was the best edit. I mean, you've really like- when you get into it, you find out that you really didn't need all this stuff.

John: Yeah, a lot of the other stuff were grace notes.

Chris: And the eating stuff was Peter's—Peter likes eating scenes. [All Laugh]

John: All actors like eating scenes.

Peter: They do, it gives them some—they need business.

John: By the way, that's one of Spielberg's tricks.

Chris: Really?

John: One of Spielberg's tricks is to show, if he wants you to like people, he shows them—he shows them cooking.

Chris: That's interesting. Well, I guess it also shows how little, you know, disregard he has for everything.

John: And this was another trick, was to figure out a way to involve the lawyer character in the con, in a way that didn't violate the character, and the idea is, we were sitting there, 'but she's supposed to be scrupulously honest,' and we realized, well, we use that, that's the point.

Chris: And also it answers the question as to, wouldn't this guy just ask for a DNA test? Well, we always find—

John: Oh that's right, that was the big argument in the room, is, how do you get him to not want a DNA test?

Chris: Well, you convince him it's the worst possible option. Ah, and this is a great scene, too.

John: And, a couple months afterwards, it was in the news, a way to fake DNA tests. We killed ourselves, we killed ourselves to figure out some way to get him to not ask for the DNA, and then a couple months later in the news there was a way about how to fake it.

Peter: They probably saw the episode and —

John: Yeah, I sent them all the research. This is a very classic, this is, we could stamp a Quinn Martin production on this scene.

Chris: He looks like the, uh, actor here, who I'm gonna look up his name quickly—

Peter: David.

Chris: Is it David?

Peter: I think so.

Chris: Yeah. He— right out of a Quinn Martin production.

John: Actually I — He could play in Spencer as the, uh, the heavyset Boston sargeant that's his buddy, yeah. And this is, a good, uh, good showdown on the docks scene. This was originally an alley, in a parking garage,

Chris: Yeah, wasn't it, it was a parking garage, and what was—what led to you guys scouting out here?

Peter: You know what, it was just, for me, I'd watched all the episodes, and I just felt, you- There was this whole river thing, and in Boston there's a river even though, you know-

Chris: It worked great.

Peter: But I just wanted to open it up, you know, give some size to it, and I dunno, the parking garage, there was no good alley parking garage in Portland. So, we went into this scene. And it opened it up a little bit, 'cause we were in a lot of rooms, up until then.

John: Yeah, there's that whole, that whole second act, to a great degree, is prison, lawyers office, and that's a good- you know what, any act break where a dude's aiming a gun at you is a good act break.

Peter: It's always good.

John: You know what, I'm gonna—I'm gonna stand by that. Now, what happened is, people were wondering, how did Eliot see this guy? This is Eliot's job. Eliot's job is to walk the perimeter and beat the hell out of people.

Peter: He showed up with them in the car, and then like, got out earlier—

John: They dropped him off so he could— now this is great.

Chris: This is great, there we go.

John: This is not CG. [Referring to Eliot chucking a rock at a guy's head.]

Peter: This is not, this is real, and this was- this was Christian's idea, you know, to throw the rock, because we had played softball that weekend, and he was shortstop and he was so good and then he came up "Dude, you saw how good I was at shortstop, right? I can do that, I can throw that." And he kept it in frame and everything.

Chris: And his, uh, his baseball skills become in evidence later in the season, I'd say.

John: Yeah, exactly. This is also a nice fight, because it really showcases something that Kevin Jackson really tried to do this year, which was, all of Eliot's fight style, because he's, you know, he's fast, is getting inside your reach and just working the ribs; it's not big kicks, his job is to get in there, break your ribs, and make you lay down. Yeah, maybe break an elbow, uh, and this was also great. We had to figure out how to get a time constraint on it, having him shoot the tires out, it was just a nice bit of work.

Peter: Yeah.

John: We should have used the Hyundai Genesis for this, though. Why the hell didn't we do that? Oh, we shot the tires out, that's right. That's right, you can't really do an endorsement for a car that you shoot.

Peter: Right, exactly.

Chris: Aww.

John: Aww, this is fantastic.

Peter: Oh, this is the best.

John: And Reigert's acting—

Peter: And by the way, we were in a mad rush right now, because the sun's going down.

John: Yeah. And just, gimme the gun. There you go. Thank you. Boom. Oh god!

Peter: And he's so blasé.

Chris: [Laughing] He says thanks!

John: Ahh. Dude, he has so put a bullet in a junkie, like in 1985 in an alley.

Peter: We had a great moment there, too, where he drives off and the guy's left in the dust. But it's really extra.

Chris: And I can say that this episode, in the earliest versions, one of the earliest nuggets of it was this fourth act, which was a race to the courthouse. It was one of those things we always knew was, there was gonna be Eliot and Parker, racing to the courthouse, and cops trying to shoot them, and it was the gauntlet.

John: Yeah, and that's, again, very simple goal, one goal per act, you can make—

Peter: I just love, like they think 'Oh I'm gonna put on some shades, no one will recognize us.'

[All Laugh]

John: And this, this is really my favorite Eliot-Parker run in the entire two years. Because it's one of the times that we're really reminded of the fact that they are the two most dangerous people on the team, and then when they're not with the others, they can sometimes allow themselves that.

Timestamp: [30:00]

John: You know, they pretend to be normal humans around Hardison and Nate and Sophie, because they know they're not supposed to be, you know, like, not supposed to enjoy this. And now a good gloat from Reigert, that's nice.

Peter: Yeah, exactly.

Chris: 'Crawl under a rock.'

John: Yeah, so the entire thing was us sitting around like, what are the three or four locations, if you're trying to get to the courthouse, you know, what could the possible obstacles be? And I think this, this whole run was uh, I think this one's mine just because I did the key bit, remember?

Chris: Yeah the key bit, I think that was gonna be something with a ball bearing at one point?

John: Yeah, we played around with it, and just um, it was... oh, it was jury duty. It was like, the only thing that's keeping you from getting into a courtroom, really, is a metal detector. I love this push in on the reverse by the way,

Peter: Yeah, this was great, this was like, we really blocked this out big time, but then Mark shot-

John: There you go!

Chris: Oh, that's an iconic shot.

John: Yeah it is. And what's kinda interesting there is, he's not looking forward to it, and she's smiling, she genuinely is looking forward to it. And there's our naive lawyer, completely hung, and we've just said this girl is not part of it.

Peter: But this is the scene that, like, I think people really believe that she really is that person, and really is naive. She really sells—

Chris: Yeah, she did.

John: She sold the hell out of it. Now, she was—you know what, you get a new actor to come to your show in the middle of your season, it could be a disaster in a lot of ways. Jeri was nothing but a professional, and she was sweet and she's funny as hell, seriously, it couldn't have gone better.

Peter: And so, so prepared, you know when she's so prepared, you can play around a little bit.

John: You know what, this also comes from - my mom, when I was eight, we flew down to see friends of hers in San Antonio, she was taking kielbasa from this deli in Worcester with us—

Peter: This is already a good story.

John: But we go through the x-ray—it was one of the first times they'd had an x-ray machine—so there are three, uh, tinfoil wrapped cylinders that looked like explosives in my mother's luggage. And I remember at eight, like the guards just descending on us.

Peter: I love that. That's like, let's be blatant shall we?

John: You know what, television is not [???]

Peter: No, no, no. But here's what's great about Peter in this scene - he really made everyone around him feel nervous, like he was like really doing that thing. He did like, you know, acting-directing, you know, which I always love.

John: Okay—THERE, THE CATCH!

Chris: The catch! By the way, after he did that, he came up to me—because I wasn't there for this—and he said 'You gotta call Rogers and tell him I caught the bullet.' I mean he was like a little kid, talking about that.

Peter: He did it on three different takes, he caught the bullet.

John: He did it on three takes without—and she tasers him without looking. And the little smile...

Peter: Loves it. And then she gives him another one as she bails.

John: And just the look back to him, like, 'What? What? I'm supposed to not do that?'

Peter: 'I just went to the dark side for a second.'

Chris: And just one little *zzz* jolt on the way out.

Peter: It's so great with her, 'cause she's so sweet looking, and then she's got this little dark side which is awesome.

John: And that was the other thing, you really see that coming out in the back half of the season. Like from here on—it was nice because things had slowed down and we were like, 'Alright, what are some beats that we haven't hit in a while? Oh that's right, Parker's crazy.'

Chris: Yeah, she's crazy. That's a beautiful entrance too, that sweeping camera.

John: Great courtroom. Was this the same courtroom we shot yours in?

Chris: Same courtroom we shot in.

John: Nice. But they're not in Belbridge, they're in Boston proper.

Peter: It is the best, it's like the peacock, you know, he's totally got his mirror out, and—

Chris: Well that, I'll tell you where that was from, Gerald Shargel, the great mob lawyer. I remember there's a famous story where he was doing a mob trial and opened his briefcase before he was about to do a cross examination, and it was all hairbrushes. [Peter laughs] it was like, there was not one file folder...

John: Yeah, you think anybody else is gonna wander in here, no. She’s—and now we're doing our courtrooms. Oh, look at that. Was that a federal courthouse?

Chris: It was a former federal courthouse, and you know, I said this, I think, in the earlier one, there are, in a lot of American cities, there are beautiful federal courthouses built in the twenties and thirties. And then, you know, they decided 'no, they don't work for us anymore', built brand new federal courthouses with your tax dollars, and these things are sitting there—

John: Just sitting around empty.

Chris: Just waiting for television shows to arrive.

John: We could do a courtroom drama, we could just live in this place, yeah.

Peter: And by the way, Jeri feeling very at home in a courtroom because of Boston Legal. She was like, she had that down, but in a different way. She was playing, more of an innocent...

John: Yeah, not the shark. No the, uh, and then the show becomes a courtroom drama. The show really is, like, four different episodes, you know? There's kind of an early Rockford, then there's the gauntlet—

Chris: And then becomes a courtroom drama.

John: —and now it's Perry Mason.

Chris: It really is, that's it.

John: Except Peter Reigert is much more formidable than Hamilton Burger. Hamilton Burger, a reference only five of you will get. Oh no, and now he's really starting to get pissed off. No it was interesting, we actually played around a lot with, like, how evidence is admitted, and what the...

Chris: Yeah, you know me, I get very...

John: No, it was interesting, it was one of the few times that I've been, ‘I wanna make sure I get this right’. And you were explaining that what is allowed as evidence is pretty much up to the judge.

Chris: It is, yeah. I mean, this was all, I vetted this, this is pretty much all on the level.

Timestamp: [35:00]

Peter: What I love about this scene is like, on one level, we have no idea how he as a character, Tim as a character, is gonna, like, pull this off, because we're not thinking about the color blind thing. But on another level, Tim is like ad-libbing a lot in there, and so the actors are also like, they don't know what's gonna come at them. So everyone's like on their toes, which worked really perfectly for the scene, because you really had to listen to everything he said, because everyone had to react to it. And all the actors, including the judge, the local actors, they all rose up and like, really handled it well, and it makes the scene work terrific.

John: This was interesting, I just, looking at these shots, because this is not a designed courthouse but a real courthouse, a designed courthouse would have more gack on either side on those sight-lines. You know, there'd just be like high risers, or wouldn't be quite so deep, you know.

Chris: But this was, I remember, there's a few times when you're watching, you know, filming something, when you're like, this is something special. And there was a take here where it was like, between the two of these guys ad libbing, that was really something special. And I remember the three of us looked—it was you, me, and Dean—were like, wow, that's it.

Peter: No, it really was.

John: The, uh, and then now the launch. The whole unraveling, and she's really sympathetic; that was good casting on our part.

Peter: So sympathetic.

Chris: She was fantastic.

John: 'What color?'— that was the moment in the room when we got it. Because we're trying to figure out like, what's the moment? What's the one thing that'll lock it in? Because we were doing the lost heir con, and we hadn't come up with the idea that she was the lost heir yet.

Chris: Yeah that was a fairly late addition.

Peter: And all this stuff that Tim does, where he's like, it looks like he's trying to—but now as a character, he's playing Peter Reigert's character, like, 'Oh I don't really know what I'm doing,' but his character totally does.

Chris: It's the typical like, ‘I'm just a country lawyer. I dunno about you big—’

John: It's very Columbo.

Chris: ‘—you big city lawyers, I mean all I know is this.’

John: 'Pardon me, just one more thing before I leave, my wife's very excited that I met you, I gotta ask—'

Chris: 'Now, maestro—'

John: 'Maestro, when you doing one of these orchestra things? Exactly how long are you playing here?' And that's when we do the revelations of observation.

Chris: Here's where he figured it all out. Colorblindness, trying to play fair.

John: See, if you go back on the DVD, right there, it's right there.

Peter: All those shots are there.

Chris: There was a lot of debate about how much to see of the flowers in that scene, it was—

John: No, because you're focused on Jeri Ryan.

Peter: But the whole thing for me is, you have to see all that stuff, but not see it at the same time. But it has to be there, else you're cheating.

John: I'd forgotten that. That's one of my favorite moments in the room this year, where we're just sitting there, staring at the ceiling, and we've just been beating at this for hours, and all of a sudden, 'what color is my tie?' and you just saw like the walls fall into place, like, bang bang bang bang.

Chris: And a great choice of Tim here to drop the Papadokalis character. Like by now, by now he becomes Nate Ford, lawyer.

John: And sympathetic dad. You know, he kinda, he genuinely, he's figured out that there's a massive tragedy at the center of this, you know? And we had a big talk about, like, redemption and what the- why this guy would try to change, and... lovely. It's a nice little episode. I think everybody dug this one. Yeah. And she's working the hell out of that, look at that, she's tearing up.

Peter: She's so good. No, and she totally gets it, you know, for me, acting's all about transitions; it's all about, that's the most important part, the change. And she really gets it, she's like, really... and Tim really helped a lot, like on the off camera stuff, 'cause he would just start rattling off all this different stuff to help her get there.

John: I gotta tell you, that was kinda cool, when you're up there in Portland, and you're watching, like, local actors get a seminar with Tim Hutton. Because he worked with the girl who played the victim's daughter in the opening one. I'm like, you're a fifteen year old Portland actor, and you're working with an Oscar—

Peter: She, by the way, was fantastic.

John: She was fantastic. Yeah, and you're working with Tim Hutton. I mean, you're not gonna get this anywhere else. No, we loved the Portland actors. We love shooting there, it's a great place. Now, he's losing it.

Chris: Now he's completely unhinged. [Laughing]

Peter: He's suddenly realized. And it's only now that you realize, he's gonna lose. And it took this long, and that's what's great, is like—

John: 'Papadokalis!!'

Peter: Yeah, dude. That was the best.

[All Laughing]

John: And he's gone, now Nate's gone from the clown to the guy in charge. And it's, yeah, utterly unmanned him. And I love the fact that, if you go back and watch this now, knowing what Tara is, she's running, like, a double con at this moment.

Chris: Yeah.

Peter: But at this point, you would never guess it, because the Papadokalis character is so big, it camouflages everything that Tara is doing, you know what I mean? And uh, and that's what helped it, her performance and Jimmy Papadokalis being so big, makes you not think about it.

John: I like that wink he threw her, too. That moment, it was a really sweet moment. And uh, a little gloat.

Chris: Oh, here's the gloat. Dean loves the gloat.

John: Dean's rules, the villain must suffer, and there should always be a gloat, if you're going for optimal. I love that she kisses stuff when she gets—she kisses money, she kisses—this is her, she gets pleasure from stealing. No other way around it.

Peter: I gave her like, what that was, in the thing, what's in the paper, and then she kissed it, but I wouldn't tell you what it was because it's private.

John: What? Aww.

Timestamp: [40:00]

Peter: I'll tell you after the DVD thing.

Chris: Oh, and he's dragged away.

John: Dragged away! Ruined! That, my friend—

Peter: I love how she perches up there; she's like a percher. She likes to perch on things.

John: Actually, in another episode, you know, we note the fact that you almost never see her enter a room. Usually the camera comes around, and she's just sitting there. You have no idea how she got there.

Chris: And here this really sells that; you think this is the end of the line for her.

John: Oh, special guest star Jeri Ryan.

Chris: This is like, you know, 'I hope you learned from me.' 'I think you learned something from me.' Like, the audience goes, ‘Oh okay, that's the end of Jeri Ryan.’

Peter: That was a good part for Jeri. That was a good thing for her.

Chris: Now this is very much a Rockford scene, because in every Rockford, there's usually a scene with the girl at the taco stand at the very end, when Rockford surmises why what happened happened. And he doesn't really know why, he just, he's taking a guess with his Rockford wisdom, and that's what Tim is doing right here. I felt very much writing this, that this was the quintessential coda Rockford scene.

John: Yeah. And the sort of, you know, the universe is a disordered place, and our job is to bring order to it. And you really have to read Harlan Ellisons—

Peter: I always love that entrance, these guys 'eh, we all happened to come in and enter right at this time.'

John: They wait around for each other outside, they know the effect they have when they walk in. And now the flip. And look at each one of them locking it in in a different way.

Peter: This is the zoinks moment; that's the zoinks moment.

Chris: And there she is, rocking the boots.

John: And she looks a little different there.

Peter: Slightly.

Chris: That's no librarian!

John: This was great. And it was a great way to introduce the character. Because again, the team is hypercompetent, you really have to... there's only so many ways you get a character to come in here and ordinarily, if you're bringing in a new character, as most shows do in the pilot, it’s the rookie story. We can't have this be the rookie story, because we're in the middle of a season. So, you know.

Peter: I just love, I love the interplay between her, Jeri and Beth, it's great. Because like, you know, that's the two girls and she's the biggest defender for Gina's character.

John: Yes, exactly. And they, by the end, they became really fantastic friends over the course of the season. And it really started being a lot of fun just putting the two of them in scenes together, because they'd found a really nice rhythm between Parker and Tara.

Chris: And I think the actors hung out a lot, they had a really nice—

John: They did; that's what I'm saying, they really were very good friends.

Peter: Well, especially because it's such a guys club, you know. [Laughs]

John: Especially since Gina wasn't, by that point, not in the [mumbles] because of her pregnancy, so this—and we had a bigger scene here and this was just a nice look. This is just—

Chris: That smile!

Peter: And that's her like, in her full like, 'Oh, this is gonna be great.'

John: And it was. We had a great time with her. And the turn, and ‘Dad, make it stop’, and there you go.

Chris: 'What did I just do?' That's—we went out on our summer season finale.

John: On that. Exactly. And this wasn't supposed to be the summer season finale, and it turned out to be a great one. It really was a great, solid, sort of back to basics episode.

Peter: It just makes sense, when you're introducing that new character, now it's like, a whole new change, and then you make 'em wait to get the next ep.

John: Uh, anything you want to say to the nice folks before we wrap it up?

Peter: Well for me, I had a great time doing it. It was a great time in Portland, except for the writers on the set—

John: I understand. Nothing but trouble.

[Chris Laughs]

Peter: Yeah, nothing but trouble. But otherwise, I mean, great cast, great crew, everything was a lot of fun.

Chris: We had a good time.

#Leverage #Leverage TNT #Leverage Audio Commentary Transcripts #Audio Commentary #Transcripts #Parker #Alec Hardison #Elliot Spencer #Nate Ford #Sophie Deveraux #Season 2 #Episode 9 #Season 2 Episode 9 #The Lost Heir Job

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mrmethbook · 5 years ago

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Chapter 2, First test and none of the rest.

WORNING!!!;...THIS POST MAY BE A TRIGGER TO ANYONE WITH PRIOR MATH HISTORY.

Finley after leaving that never-ending situation, Mr. Later tells me to do the usual driving maneuvers. Turn here, turn there, turn around here.

After all of that, he tells me to drive out of town toward the old drive-in.

Heading out that way, he tells me. “Do you remember when I mentioned (misdirection is key) Bone’s, you’ll hear me tell you such and such is a key. Mr. Bone’s this is one of those times.

These things I tell you are keys to this little big city. Those such and such are like keys on a keychain, there the keys that will open the doors to this dark world.

“I’m teaching you these things to not only keep you safe. But more importantly, in this case, to keep me safe which is always most important. Understand?” He asks.

Do I understand? Fuck yeah I understand, you're talking straight and not all that twisted jib-talk*. I think to myself.

Looking at him I simply nod, then I tell him in an almost mocking tone of voice. “Yeah, I understand there like keys on a keychain, or like tools to use at my discretion.”

“Bone’s I can't stand a mockingbird, I go out of my way to swat the little bastards with my favorite tennis racket every damn time I hear one.” He tells me with a hornet's sting to his voice.

Then after what felt like four hours. But in actual none jib-time* is only a half an hour.

“Pull in the lane on the right-hand side just after the old drive-in,” Mr. Later tells me.

Pulling into the lane I notice a no trespassing sign that reads. IF YOU COME ON MY PROPERTY. I'LL SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE!!!.

I also notice three vehicles for sale out front by the road. The first one I notice is a rusted out chevy cavalier, the second car is an old station wagon with no front bumper and is packed full of styraphome. Last I see a

GMC Vandura A-Team van. It's black and red with the spoiler and everything, the only difference is there are no tires or rims on the van.

The lane is a half-mile off the road, with water-filled potholes, a few left and right turns. Both sides of the lane consist of treelines on both sides and cornfields as far as the eye can see.

I hope I never get lost and spun out here. It would be a horrifying labyrinth of lostness.

The lane ends in what looks like tall junkyard fencing, its twenty feet tall and keeps on going into the blistering horizon.

Pulling up to the metal fence I look to my left then to my right. All I can see is a twenty~foot wall as far as I can see.

What in the hell kind of place is this? I ask myself.

Sitting in the truck waiting for my next order, I notice a big ass pile of pop cans the size of a large dog house. Mr. Later tells me to turn off the truck, I have no idea what's going to happen next.

“Well Bone’s first things first let's get high, but before we turn the bolts on this monster meth

machine, I’m going to show you how to make your very own smoking bulb.” He tells me with a sideshow doctor’s demeanor.

“Have you ever smoked meth out of a light bulb before boy?” I’m asked.

“I've heard about using a light bulb, personally I've only used aluminum foil,” I tell him with immediate regret because of the look of, You fucking dumbass, is all across his face.

By the look on my face, I can tell he knows I have no idea why he's making that face for.

How in the hell am I supposed to know why in the fuck you're making that face for, no ones ever told me about any of this shit before. Of course, I don't tell him this.

“You fucking tard aluminum foil gives you Alzheimers you dip shit, hasn't anyone ever told you anything before?” The calculative criminal asks me.

I can tell this is coming from a man with no personal interest and has been in the jib-field* for many man-hours and light-years.

“Well Bone’s today's your lucky day, I’m going to show you first hand how to make your very own smoking bulb.” The self~made man tells me.

“Let's get out of the truck. We'll need adequate construction space, we’ll have to use the hood of your truck to complete this unforgettable feat.” He instructs me with an erector set master prowess.

Getting out of my truck, I walk to the front hood of my S10 truck.

“This is my M.T.S. Bone’s, or its also known as my mini~twak~sack*. Every Jib~Gyver* is required to own one, they're very important to tweakers all across the land.” Mr. Later tells me while taking off his camo fanny pack from his shoulder, it has pockets all the way around the fanny pack.

I give him an inquiring look.

“This is what I keep all my tweek shit in.” I’m told with lowered eyebrows. ”What the hell else would it be.” He finished with panther in his voice.

Standing in front of my truck, Mr. Later perseids to start taking various items out of his M.T.S.

He starts pulling out a brand new light bulb, needle nose pliers, salt shaker and one small hand torch. Amongst other miscellaneous tweek-tools*. He lays these items across my truck hood like a surgeon getting ready to perform surgery on his grandmother's favorite poodle.

“I don't know if that rattle brain of yours can handle any more priceless knowledge Bone’s, are you ready?” He asks me with an all~knowing tone.

“Yes Mr. Later, I’m always ready to learn, like they say knowledge is power right?” I tell the wisdom maker.

“That's the smartest thing I think I’ve heard you say, boy.” He tells me with a sly smile across his graces.

With bulb in one hand and needle-nose pliers in the other, holding the bulb upside down, he starts to tell me. “The first thing I’m going to show you is that you have to smash the dark glass with the side of your pliers when the dark glass is smashed you have to take off the flat round metal tab.”

“Then use the needle nose part of the pliers to dig out the dark glass, making a circular motion until all the glass falls out, all that should be left is the lighting element that's inside of the glass bulb.” Mr. Later the magician shows me so I’ll wont have to relearn the precious process ever again.

At this point, I’m looking at him in awe like a magician's apprentice.

“Now it's time to remove the lighting element, to do this you have to insert the tip of the needle-nose pliers into the newly made hole, once again make a circular motion breaking the lighting element, Make sure to be extra careful not to break the glass of the light bulb, it's easy to break around the light socket part.” He shows me on the bulb exactly where not to break.

“Once the element is broken you have to shake all the glass out of the bottom of the bulb when the glass is all out, there is a wire that is attached to the sidewall of the bulb, use the needle-nose pliers to break the wire-free.” Once again he shows me the wire, he breaks the wire, so I can see it.

“After the wire is broken, its time to shack out the lighting element. Now for the salt shaker, pour some salt into the light bulb, it won't take much, put your thumb over the hole and shake until all the white coating is off the sides of the glass.” While doing this, Mr. Later continues showing me while he works his magic.

“If you don't get all the salt out it will leave little black burnt specks inside the bulb when you use it, then you’ll waste your dope.” Mr. Later tells me.

With mouth dropped I soak up the knowledge like a sponge, lighting the small hand torch he tells me. “Now this is the most important part, the carb. If you want a good blast you have to have good airflow like a fuel-injected carburetor on a 440 engine.” I'm told with precision.

Putting the opening of the bulb to his mouth. He starts to blow constant pressure into the bulb with his mouth, then he puts the tip of the torch flame on one spot of the glass, making tiny circular motions.” The constant pressure in the bulb and the heat of the flame will pop a hole in the glass after a few seconds.” The glassmaker shows me the technique.

After a few seconds, I hear a pop, the hole popped out of the glass like a rabbit popping out of a magician's hat.

Mr. Later looks over the beautiful bulb for any modifications like a new mother looking to see if she has a six-fingered newborn baby.

Mr. Later tells me. “Now we arrive at the final conclusion, the most important part, getting high as fuck.”

“If I’m packing* the bulb your smoking the dope till it's all gone.” I’m told with wide eyes.

“Of course I’ll be showing you first hand how to properly get a blast from the present past.” He tells me smiling.

“If you're a fast learner you’ll learn to melt the dope and not burn it up.” I’m told from the criminal savant.

“You smoke the hell out of the jib* while I go to meet some ignorant fool that's interested in buying one of the lemons for sale out by the road.” He tells me.

How could I possibly say no to that, free meth, you can count me in.” I think to myself.

But instead, I tell Mr. Later. “okay sounds good to me. When do I start.”

“If that's what you want, let's get started.” He tells me while pouring methamphetamine a third the way full in the light bulb.

“Bone’s I’ll hit the bulb a few times so you can get the jest of this precious process of never~ending endurance.” He tells me while hitting the bulb a few times in a row.

Each time Mr. Later puff twist, puff twist, then he blows out a cloud of smoke so big I want to catch it in a ziplock baggie to save for later.

“I'm going to leave you to the jib~vices* while I use your truck to go meet those dumb fucks that want to buy one of my shitty cars.” He tells me more then asks.

Mr. Later puts away his tweek tools into his M.T.S, then slides into my truck without a second thought.

Pulling down the lane Mr. Later slows to a stop in front of me. “Hay Bone’s if you get a chance between hits, sort that big ass pile of pop cans into the five~gallon buckets by the fence, if you don’t forget to put the bulb down it will send you into a time warp, Okay?” He tells me pointing at the pile of cans.

“One more thing, don't let oblivion drag into its undertow of impending darkness.” Then he pulls down the lane humming that song again.

~Mr. Later at his finest~

Pulling down the lane Mr. Later thinks to himself. If this one passes the first test he's lucky he has a strong mind. That's the real test.

Almost to the front of the lane, he sees a creepy looking van with the front passenger side fender taken off so the tweekers can scrap the metal to buy Mr. Later his L7s*.

Thanking to himself. I love a tweeker that will do whatever it takes to get my beans*. It brings warm fuzzy feelings to my heart.

Parking the truck, Mr. Later sees a pure twack~star* of a sub~human experiment gone way to wrong standing by the rust bucket of a Chevy Cavalier for sale.

The creature has a headlamp on his head and a bandana covering the lower portion of its face, the scarrow crow of a man has a twack~sack with what looks like tweek~tools spilling out everywhere as he moves. This is all happening right in broad daylight.

My kind of twack~ien* if you ask me.

Slick Eddy stops whatever in the hell he was doing, then he walks straight for the truck.

Slick Eddy yells. “YO LATER IS THIS CAR FOR SALE.” The dumb fuck yells at the top of his lungs.

“That's what the sign says don't it, you remedial shit.” Mr. Later tells him in a shitty voice.

Then Mr. Later hears someone yell from the creepy~ass van. “Hurry up, we have to go.”

“I thought I told you to leave your sideshow of a wife at home you fuck, she creeps me out.” Mr. Later tells Eddy with spital coming out of his mouth.

“You know how bitches are, they always have to come, or else.” The side-show tells Mr. Later.

“I got your box’s*of pseudoephedrine.” ecactuly at that moment Mr. Later cuts him off. “HAY YOU NUMBNUT FUCK, I’ve told you to call them L7s if you can't do that then kick rocks, you none remembering mother fucker.”

Then Slick Eddy tells him. “Sorry, Mr. Later won't happen again.” Then he asks. “Don't you have a daughter?”

“FUCK NO I DON'T HAVE A DAUGHTER AND WHAT IN THE HELL DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING YOU SLIMY SHIT!!” Mr. Later yells at him.

Mr. Later hears the other sideshow in the front seat of the van say. “I told you he doesn't have a daughter Eddy.”

Slick Eddy turns back around yelling at his fat ass whale of a wife. “Shut the fuck up you fat bitch and quite picking the dogs face, it looks like mutilated monkey meat and your the silverback gorilla, you stupid cunt,” Then she just goes back to picking the dogs face.

“Eddy put the L7s in the floorboard of the Cavalier. "What you're looking for is in the console of the van, no, not your van you dumb shit, how could it be in your van already?” Mr. Later tells Slick Eddy when he starts for his own van.

Looking over at Eddy’s van Mr. Later tells him. “Never bring that fat ass whale blubber of a wife here again.If you do I'll shoot her with a harpoon, do you understand me, you creep show?” Slick Eddy’s told by the striking viper that's sliding into the S10 truck.

Pulling back down the lane Mr. Later hears a dog howling like he just got his nuts frozen to the train tracks. I wonder if Bone’s has sorted and counted the cans if he has I’ll be spunder~struck*.

When Mr. Later pulls down the lane I look at the bulb in my hand thanking. It's time to find out what smoking meth out of a bulb is all about.

I start hitting the bulb making sure I don't let the flame touch the glass of the bulb. just like Mr. Later showed me.

I start puffing and twisting, puffing and twisting, my mind into a stuttering light speed.

Then finally I look over to notice the pile of smashed cans the size of a large dog house.

I look at the bulb, then back again, finally it clicks.

The pile of cans Mr. Later asked me to sort them into the five~gallon buckets while he’s off doing whatever in the hell he's doing.

Personally, at this point, I don't give two shits. I think to myself. If this is obvilion I’m holding on with my two hands and one of yours, never letting go.

After two more hits, I sit the bulb down looking at the row of buckets against the fence. There are different kinds of pop/beer cans nailed above each bucket, Coca Cola, Budweiser, and A.&.W cream soda.

At this point, I start sorting the cans at sub~jib light speed with complete one hundred percent accuracy of three~handed precision, after what felt like five minutes of frisbee tossing, in actuality is forty~five minutes of hindsight what the fucks.

What in the hell is time when shit is this fun?

After playing frisbee, I walk over to the five~gallon buckets, looking in them, I realize each

bucket looks like they have the exact same amount it each of them.

For just a second’s pause, I think. Is this me looking too far into this hole, the same amount of cans in the bucket thing? I ask myself.

I start to count each bucket of cans. The first bucket has 23 cans, the second bucket has 23 cans, the third bucket has the same. Why 23 cans in each. I wonder.

There must be 23 cans in each bucket. I assume.

Looking up I see Mr. Later parking the truck, the first thing he asks is. “How many cans in each bucket Bone’s?”

I look back at him with a quizzical gaze.

He asks again. “Damn it boy, how many canes Bone’s?” This time he asks more intently.

“23,” I answer him with a, I know I’m right kind of ring to it.

Mr. Later strikes back with. “No you fuck 22cans in the fifth bucket, Why didn't you count each bucket, you wanting to get back to your bulb on the brain time?”

I came straight back with. “Fuck no I didn't count them all, it would have taken too much time from what did you call it, My very own personal downward spiral,” I tell him.

Mr. Later thinks to himself. This one put down the bulb long enough to sort the cans, just the fact that he put the bulb down means he might just have the right kind of mind for this lifestyle if he's lucky.

Mr. Later simply tells me. ”Mr. Bone’s like you told me earlier, without knowledge you have no power of the mind. Is that what you have a weak mind? People with weak minds are something I do not keep around me, or my family, that's for damn sure.” He tells me with a matter of fact tone of voice.

Family? I wonder.

“Well Bone’s, are you ready for this fractured wonder opera adventure I’m calling a mishap?” He asks me while waiting for my answer.

“Why not, I like adventures,” I tell him, with the thought of family still spinning in my revolving brain.

“Boy, this is going to be one hell of an adventure. I can guarantee that.” Mr. Later tells me with his Grinch smile.

“Get the hell in the truck, I’m taking you in. Not too many make it past the gate, although you may have the right kind of eyebrows to continue on this slaughterhouse adventure of twist and turns you'll never forget in a million meth years.” He tells me with a showmen's smile.

I start my truck while he opens the gate, then he waves me in.

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the-writers-fandom · 5 years ago

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Obey Me Fic: No Matter How Much Time Passes

Here’s the first half of a fic I wrote, “No Matter How Much Time Passes.” It’s 3.6k words, and can be read as a standalone fic. The second half will be coming out 6 PM 4/18, CT. It will be released 3 hours later on my AO3 account, CrazyEyebrows I hope you like it!

The boys finally decide to visit MC in the human world. The only issue is that it's been 60 years, and MC isn't doing their very best.

Mammon can't handle what's going on, but he stays strong through it all.

Mammon stared at his reflection. Hair? Perfectly styled. Outfit? An amazing choice, a black leather jacket with a simple white T-shirt underneath. Freshly showered with one of Asmodeus' manicures to match.

So why did he feel like garbage?

Every time he thought about seeing the human- his human- again, it made his stomach twist into knots. He hadn't eaten dinner last night, and didn't think he could stomach breakfast today either.

It had felt like a thousand years since he'd last seen the human, when in reality it had only been 60 or so. Mammon still looked exactly the same, with maybe a bit more of a gut, if anything. He noted that he really should start working out like Beelzebub, and not rely on running away from his problems as a form of exercise.

He stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind himself quickly. He had managed not to change his entire outfit and restyle his hair for the 30th time, and decided that this was it. This is how he'd look when he met eyes with the love of his life again for the first time in sixty years and Oh god maybe I should wear something el-

"Mammon! Hurry up, Lucifer won't wait for your sorry ass forever!" The sound of Levi pounding on Mammon's bedroom door brought him out of his stupor.

"Right! Coming!" He hadn't the mental capacity to argue anymore, and simply agreed. He then opened the door, taking a deep breath and faking his usual cocky grin.

"Thank you, my lady in waiting." As Mammon walked away, he heard Leviathan sputter and yell about how he's going to kill Mammon. Mammon ignored this in favor of going down the hall and the grand entryway stairs to meet with the rest of his brothers. They all looked equally nervous, beside maybe Satan and Lucifer, who'd found ways to hide their intense emotions long before the human entered their lives.

"That's everyone, then. Let's get going." Lucifer popped a small top hat onto his head and opened the doors. He pushed each of his brothers out before him, and before Mammon could go through, stopped him.

"I want to talk to you." Then, pushed him out the door and followed behind. Belphegor led the group now, sitting up on Beelzebub's back and giving tired directions. Mammon gulped, walking slow so they wouldn't be heard.

"What is it Lucifer? Can'tcha see how excited I am?" He smiled and laughed a bit, to which Lucifer sighed.

"Yes, of course. What I wanted to say, Mammon... You know how fast human's age, correct? Much faster than either of us, or any witch or sorcerer." Mammon had expected something like this and rolled his eyes.

"Course I know, Lucifer. It's like how dogs age."

"You know that they will be very different than you remember-"

"Yes Lucifer, I know. I know that they'll be weird lookin' with more wrinkles and weird scars and ex boy or girlfriends and I know that they might not remember us but that doesn't matter. Because they will."

"You have a lot of faith in an 80 year old human."

"80's like, nothing."

"Yes, for an immortal councilman of the demon world. For a human, it's... 80 is nearing the end of their lifespan. They may not have much time left."

"Then they can come visit us when they're back in the Devildom."

"You know their soul is too polished to be a demon, in limbo, or otherwise. Surely they'd become a celestial being."

"Then... Maybe they can join the program again and-"

"Mammon. We're almost there. I just wanted to let you know that this may be your last chance to say anything you need to say, alright?"

That really helped the knots in Mammon's stomach, making them tighter and making him nauseated. Mammon frowned, coming upon the portal spot. Each of his brothers stood there, waiting for Lucifer to open the portal to the human world.

And then he did.

Mammon winced at the great big light, forgetting how blinding this whole ordeal was. He stepped in, and found himself somewhere unrecognizable.

"Wait, where are we, Lucifer?" Satan asked for him.

"We're in America."

"This doesn't look like anywhere in America I've ever been." Belphegor frowns, seeing the small houses lined in rows. They were all individual, a story each to its own.

"Because you went to New York, and LA, and Orlando, this is just some small town in the Midwest. Of course it looks nothing like you're used to. C'mon, let's go." Lucifer started walking, staring down at his D.D.D. Mammon assumed there might be directions on it, and he found he was right when a small voice emitted from it,

"Turn right in 200 feet."

"What a weird way to measure distance. What kind of feet? Human's?" Beelzebub asked aloud, and nobody answered. They were all quiet as they came upon the small nursing home, taking in the look of the outside.

“This is it. Now, all of you, stay quiet until we get to them. I’m using a fake alias, as these humans may realistically die hearing that my name is Lucifer.” The boys just nodded, everyone nervous and not wanting to show it. Lucifer headed in first, taking his hat off.

“Hello, my name is John. I’m here to see MC.” Lucifer smiled sweetly at the woman at the counter.

“Sure, you called earlier, right? Follow me.” She got up and started walking towards the back of the large room. Mammon looked around, seeing many older people doing various activities. Watching TV, playing checkers, knitting. He had expected them to be old, but hadn’t really internalized that they’d be this old.

“Now I do have to warn you, this specific patient has Alzheimers and isn’t lucid very often. In fact, the last time their children were here, they had to recollect of even being married.” They’re married? Oh. Mammon didn’t expect that to be what hurt him the most out of all of that. “But maybe you could help out. We’ve been hearing some… strange names from them that’s been alarming the other patients here.”

“Names? Like what?” Lucifer asked politely.

“Some pretty strange ones. I remember… Levi? And a couple different words for the devil, just off the top of my head. Nobody can tell who they’re trying to talk about.” “W-Was Mammon one?” Mammon spoke up sheepishly. The lady hummed and shook her head,

“No, I don’t think so. But I’m not here all the time, so, maybe. Anyway, here you are. MC? Hey, you have a few visitors today.” “No thank you Lucifer, I’m trying to study.” The patient spoke without looking up from the desk, doodling and scribbling on a piece of paper. Lucifer was slightly startled, hand resting on his chest now.

“That’s uhm- ahem- that’s what they would know m-”

“Lucifer? I said no thank you.” Mammon watched as MC turned around, and everything seemed to hit in slow motion. Their hands were shaking, they looked brittle. Mammon feared even the slightest touch might make them crumble underneath him. He sucked in a breath, and then, they caught eyes. MC gazed into Mammon’s eyes and, for a split second, they seemed to get insanely excited.

“Chistopher?” They asked, and suddenly Mammon’s entire world broke down around him. He started to cry, shaking his head. Beelzebub put an arm around him while the nurse spoke,

“No, Darling. Chistopher can’t visit today. Very sorry about that, they’ve been asking about their husband a lot. He hasn’t visited in months. I think he knows… Ahem. Anyhow, I’ll leave you all to it. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do. Just try not to get frustrated.” She smiles and goes back to her post. Leviathan goes to sit next to them.

“Hey, MC. How’ve you been?”

“Well, if I could finish this task, maybe I could get some sleep. Levi-chan wants to binge a new anime tonight, so I have to nap before then. I haven’t seen him in so long, he’s been locked up in his room. Isn’t that terrible? Ignoring his true friend. True friend… what a friend he is…” They mumbled and mumbled while Mammon watched tears gather in Levi’s eyes.

“I… I’m sure he wishes he could’ve seen you more, even if you are a normie.” MC then laughed loudly, startling all of them. It was an intense, deep throated laugh.

“That’s exactly what he’ll say, too. I know it.” Asmodeus pushed his way next to them.

“Oh Darling, you skin! Your beautiful skin! Next time I see you, we must do a regimen together. I know just what will help.” “Oh, thank you Anne, but no thank you. I’ve gone natural, can’t you tell?” MC laughed again and ran their hand through the little amount of hair left on their head. “Trust me, I’m loving it. It feels so good not to worry about how I look, I know he’ll love me just the same.” Asmodeus frowned, but then smiled meekly.

“I… guess you found someone very special then, didn’t you?” He asked quietly, and Mammon’s lip trembled again. “I did… I think I might marry him. So sweet. I can’t believe I met him during an exchange program. I really should write a letter.” Leviathan pulled Asmo away, who was sniffling sadly. They both stepped outside to get some air.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then, Belphegor did.

“Do you remember me?” He asked, and Lucifer interjected,

“Belphie, really-”

“Of course I do. Who do you think I am? I made a pact with… a pact with…” Their eyes glazed over, not remembering quite what they were going to say. Instead, they smiled, “Would you like to order?” Belphegor’s brows furrowed at the sudden change, and Lucifer sighed.

“They’re not at all lucid. They’re probably remembering something or another. Please, all of you, I told you not to get your hopes up.”

“That’s rich, coming from you, Lucifer.” MC stood, and Belphegor helped them, barely touching them as he tried not to hurt them in any way. “Really, I’m not that stupid.” They moved over to Lucifer, who dropped his hand. As if in shock, he couldn’t move, just stared at them. MC took Lucifer's hands in their own, and started swaying gently. Lucifer just slightly reciprocated the dance. He recognized the way they moved to a beat in their head, and remembered dancing like this all those years ago.

Mammon couldn’t watch. He knew he had to wait, it wasn’t his turn yet. They hadn’t tried to talk to him yet. He wasn’t sure he could even say anything if they did.

“Where’s Solomon? We were supposed to have tea tonight.” That made Mammon almost angry, why did his human seemingly remember everyone else, except him? Had they really hated him that much without saying so? As quickly as it started, their dance ended, and MC stared at the other three brothers. Mammon watched as they tried to work it out in their head.

“I told you, I won’t do any more pranks on Lucifer. He might skin me, if I do. We all got off easy last time.” They crossed their arms, frowning. “And trust me, if I get skinned I’m using that pact of ours and I’ll have you skin yourself alongside me.” Satan smiled sadly.

“Yes, of course MC. Though, I think it would be fun to pull one final prank.” MC seemed to think it over, and Lucifer stood over them from behind. “MC. ” He said, and they shrieked. They shrieked, and then laughed, stumbling forward.

“Lucifer! I-I didn’t see you there!” Satan made sure they stayed upright, laughing heartily. Beelzebub put his hand on Satan’s shoulder, and so he moved away. MC turned back to face them.

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this your little boy, Anne? He looks just like a friend of mine. Don’t tell me you cheated on Anthony, did you? Look at that hair, you’ve grown so tall since I last saw you.” MC finally recognized Beel, and now only Mammon was left. Beel laughed while they doted over him, hugging him and kissing his cheek. Mammon could only find himself jealous. They sighed into Beel’s arms for a moment.

“Okay, thank you Lucifer, you may all leave now. I have somewhere very important to be tonight. Except you.” MC pulled away from Beel and stared directly into Mammon’s eyes. “We have a lot to talk about.” Mammon gulped, and pulled a chair over next to MC’s. Beel helped her sit back down.

“Beel, Satan, Belphie, let’s go check on the others. We will have plenty of time later to stay.” Belphegor looked hesitant, but they all eventually agreed and walked out. Mammon stared at MC, waiting for them to say something first. They took his hands in theirs.

“Did I tease you well enough?” Mammon wasn’t sure at all what they were saying, and his face promptly expressed so. They sighed. “I… I remember you.” A moment of clarity, Mammon decided, and he smiled.

“I remember you too. It’s been so long.”

“It has. Please, make yourself at home. Christopher and the kids will be here any minute.” Mammon frowned.

“You have kids?”

“Things change in twenty years, Mammoney. I missed you. But I moved on. I’m happy now.” Twenty? So, maybe not full clarity. Mammon could work with that.

“I… I’m glad. It’s not like I’d be jealous of some human.” MC smiled and pressed a kiss to Mammon’s hand.

“Why didn’t you visit me?” They asked out of the blue, and Mammon sputtered. He didn’t have an answer. He knew anything he said wouldn’t be a good enough reason. “Mammon, tell me. My heart ached so badly for you. I need to know.”

“I… I was scared.” He admitted, head hanging low. He leaned closer towards MC, and found that they smelled entirely different. He didn’t like that, at all.

“Of me?”

“Of change.”

A long pause went over the both of them. Mammon slowly looked up, making sure that they hadn’t fallen asleep. They hadn’t, but what he found was even worse.

Tears streamed down their face silently. They were staring at Mammon, a frown pulling at their lips. He wished he could take back all of the missed years. He knew it was too late to do anything about it, and so even through his cowardliness, held their hands strongly.

"Mammon.” They wiped the tears from their face. “I need your help.” He was confused, but nodded.

“Anything.”

“I’m going somewhere special tonight. I want you to be there. I want you all to be there. So meet me there. I need to find something special to wear…”

“Where is it?” He asked, confused as ever. He feels as though there hasn’t been a moment of clarity for him this entire time. MC smiled and stood up slowly.

“I’m coming home. I need a welcome home party. And a pretty dress, or outfit.” They dragged Mammon away from the desk and towards a hallway of rooms. He grimaced at the hospital like setting, but put those feelings aside as they entered a room. MC closed the door behind them.

“Please, can you find me something to wear?” They sat down and gestured to the closet. Mammon nodded and moved towards the closet.

After a few minutes of looking through the small closet, he came across a pretty jumpsuit. It was a dark navy color, and he smiled at the thought of his human wearing it. He sat next to MC on the bed.

“How about this?” MC felt the material, hands brushing over his slightly. He couldn’t help the grin that formed alongside MC’s.

“Oh, perfect. Do help me put it on.”

And so he did, careful as not to hurt them when he helped slip the outfit on. MC’s large smile never once faltered, and once it was on, Mammon’s breath hitched.

“All these years, and I still make The Great Mammon falter?” MC laughed and looked themself over in the mirror. Mammon stood behind them, blush evident.

“I don’t age like you do.” He whispered, hand on their shoulder. “These feelings are still new for me.” He hummed. “You need one more thing.” MC turned to look at him, confused.

“Yes?” They asked quietly, just barely above a whisper. Mammon wordlessly took off his leather jacket, and helped slide them into it. They looked back into the mirror.

“Oh, That’s perfect. Thank you, Mammon.” They laid a gentle kiss on his cheek, before laying back in bed.

“I thought you were going home? What are you laying in bed for?”

“Finally, there you are. What are you doing in their room without us, Darling?” Asmodeus’ voice suddenly rang through as the door opened.

“Asmo.” The human smiled again, and Asmodeus looks as though he was just shot. He ran to their side.

“Hello! Hi dear, you remember me.” “Of course I do.” “Guys, they’re in here.” Beelzebub walked into the room, and suddenly all of the brothers were around the bed. Mammon took their hand in his own.

“Oh good, you’re all here. How do I look?”

“Magnificent.” Lucifer answered. MC closed their eyes.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at the party.” MC said finally, and the brothers all looked confused.

“Party?” Belphegor asked, to which he got no response. Mammon started shaking.

“MC? What party? Where should we go?” Satan asked as well, with still no response.

“Boys.” Lucifer said sadly, “Come on now, say your goodbyes. It’s time to leave.”

“But we hardly got to talk to them!” Levi nearly shouted, almost angry. He looked down, staring at the person laying in bed. “That’s not fair! I want to talk to them more!” His eyes welled up in tears, and Mammon stood up.

“C’mon Levi. It’s time to go.” Mammon tried pulling Levi away, and he only got an elbow in his side as a response.

“No! I don’t want to! It’s not time yet, I want to talk more!” He sobbed now, standing next to MC. Mammon was about to angrily pull him away again, but Lucifer stopped him.

“Let him have his time, Mammon. We’ll all need it. Come now, let’s get going.”

Mammon and Lucifer walked out into the hall, letting the other brothers say their goodbyes. Mammon then moved then further, outside, so he could light a cigarette.

“You know those are mostly illegal now, Mammon.” “I don’t care. I need one.” he held it shakily to his lips, and inhaled the smoke. Lucifer nodded. “I understand. Did you have a nice time with MC?” He asked, and Mammon stared at the ground.

“They… They kept sayin’ somethin’ about a coming home party they had to go to. Kept sayin’ that they wanted us there. What do you think that means, Lucifer?” Mammon looked up at his older brother and frowned. Lucifer tossed the idea over in his head a few times.

“I think… I think that just means they weren’t lucid, Mammon. Nobody is, that close. I’d take it with a grain of salt.” Mammon sighed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

After probably an hour of standing around, the brothers all came out one by one. They alerted the nurses of what happened, and took their leave. The long trudge home was quiet, and sickeningly sad for all of them. Asmodeus clung to Satan, sniffles being the only sound they all heard. Belphie was on Beelzebubs back again, this time taking the back of their line. He fell asleep shortly after leaving, and Beelzebub made sure to keep him safe. Mammon, Levi, and Lucifer all walked together. Levi with his headphones on likely blaring music, Lucifer with his D.D.D in his hands, staring at directions, and Mammon with nothing to distract himself but the gentle breeze against his face and the sun in the sky. Eventually they made it back to the portal, and then back home, none of them saying a word.

About a week carried on like this, the brothers stumbling around, all mostly quiet and not wanting to disturb each other. They were all carrying the grief of their beloved friend and none of them wanted to talk about it.

That is, until Barbatos appeared at the front door, knocking loudly over and over and over until finally Lucifer came and answered it.

“Barbatos, it’s two in the morning. Can this matter not wait?” “It’s extremely urgent, sir.” Barbatos was straight faced, but Lucifer was scared of what may have happened.

“Alright, let’s go then.” “You need to collect your brothers and make our way to the student council office. There’s an important matter to discuss with Lord Diavolo. That’s all I can say now. Rush yourself.” Lucifer was worried, but nodded.

With major struggle, Lucifer got his brothers up and they made their way quickly to RAD. The brothers seemed to finally be settling into some form of normalcy, a bit of tired quipping between the six of them. Eventually, they all made their way to their chair, waiting for Diavolo. They all shifted and spoke among themselves uncomfortably, Belphegor nodding off again. Diavolo stepped in slowly, grin across his face.

“Hello, all. It’s good to see you.” “What’s this about, Lord Diavolo.” Lucifer asked, arms crossed. Diavolo frowned.

“Why, you don’t look excited at all. We’re celebrating tonight.”

“What for?” Mammon asked, confused and almost concerned. Knots formed in his stomach again. Diavolo crossed his arms.

“A coming home party.”

#diavolo #lucifer #mammon #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #leviathan #levichan #satan #asmodeus #Beelzebub #Belphegor #barbatos #obey me shall we date #fluff #angst

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merinnan · 5 years ago

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DMBJ Explore with the Note Ep 2

Okay, I wasn't sure if I'd get to ep 2 today, but I need Iron Triangle shenanigans to cheer me up after the feels fest that was Train to Busan

So here we go! DMBJ S2 Ep 2!

The counts at the start of ep 2!

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 1 for Wu Xie, 1 for protagonists, 2 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 11 for Wu Xie, 16 for protagonists, 18 for everyone

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6

- Opening with Wu Xie wandering around somewhere, so I'm guessing this is another dream/nightmare

- 'Somewhere' turns out to be a sunken ship

- Minus all the water

- I'm expecting a jump scare any moment now

- Not as bad a one as I expected, but still

- a wild Sanshu suddenly appears!

- This dream Sanshu being just as creepy as the dream Sanshu in the previous ep

- And just as murderous

- And now he wakes up thanks to Pangzi, and it's daytime now

- Looks like the storm is over, too

- OMG Pangzi that is not how you're supposed to meditate

- lol @ Wu Xie's confused reaction to it

- Hahah, A-Ning was not successful in hiding the booze from Pangzi

- Wu Xie, baby, I love your confidence here about there being no complicated traps, but it's entirely misplaced

- He definitely has to suspect that that's Xiaoge after the whole ghost ship thing, he wouldn't be giving that cute little smile otherwise

- Oh god, the English dubbing is so bad. The words and lips don't sync at all

- And it looks like her boss is a foreigner this time?

- This water is so murky

- This swimming around underwater making exaggerated gestures bit could have been much shorter than it is

- Like seriously

- It wouldn't be quite as bad if the water wasn't just this constant murky green so that you could actually see properly

- But as it is I'm mostly just looking at this dirty green screen with some shapes moving past sometimes

- I get padding out an episode, but it's been almost five minutes of this now

- Oh, at least now we're at least getting little flashes of Wu Xie recognising this stuff from his grandfather's notebook

- But still

- HURRY THE FUCK UP AND GET TO THE TOMB

- 5 1/2 mins before something even marginally interesting happens >.<

- Because apparently now the statue is opening its eyes. Maybe.

- Wait no, I counted wrong

- 7 1/2 MINS

- 8 1/2 mins before they get to any breaking and entering

- 8 1/2 mins to do what should have taken 2

- It wasn't even marginally interesting filler >.<

- Just....dirty green screen with some dark shapes, and the occasional close up on faces or wrist notepads

- And this knife is cutting through the mortar holding these bricks together suspiciously easily

- Oh, the evil hair is making its first appearance

- Evil Hair Count: 1

- Yes, touching it is a great idea! Well done!

- Oh, it scared it away this time

- Apparently, the evil hair being scared away is what triggers the brick door to automatically open for them

- Oh, I like this shot of the wetsuit hood almost looking like a hoodie hood. I'm not sure if that was intentional, but I still like it.

- SUDDEN CORPSE APPEARANCE

- Oh, sudden thing swimming real fast into/around them

- Most of this episode has just been...murky green

- Like. They've been in the water for 10 minutes so far. And the only important/interesting things that have happened have been finding Sanshu's stick, finding the statues that reminded Wu Xie of shit in the notebook, Wu Xie thinking the statue eyes opened, the appearance of the evil hair, the door opening, the corpse appearing, and now this thing swimming by them. All of which could have been done in, like, a third of the time.

- Since they all took only a few seconds each

- Oh, it was evil hair lady, who is now swimming away super fast when Pangzi shot at her.

- I'm amazed he could see clearly enough in the murk to even aim, tbh

- Oooh, dramatic music

- It would be nice if I could see clearly enough to know the reason for the dramatic music

- PANGZI. WU XIE. YOU HAVE NOTEPADS ON YOUR WRISTS.

- YOU DO NOT NEED TO TAKE OUT YOUR OXYGEN MOUTHPIECES TO TRY TO TALK UNDERWATER

- YOU ARE WASTING YOUR OXYGEN

- OH HI EVIL HAIR LADY

- I will make that Evil Hair Count: 2, because it was a lovely shot of her hair as well

- Oh, they've made that maelstrom-like tunnel the entrance to the tomb in the drama

- Oh god, the greenscreen

- I think Chongqi is the only one I've seen so far that does greenscreen even halfway well

- It took them 11 1/2 mins to get into the tomb

- An entire quarter of the episode was just them fucking around underwater where the viewer could barely see what was happening at the best of times

- Since the ep is 45 mins including opening and ending credits

- Oh, they've come out into the room with the pots, except it has a pool in it this time

- Sigh. Of course they gave A-Ning pink-accented gear.

- They all have a different colour on their goggles to tell them apart, but in the underwater stuff it was too dark to tell what colours she and Xiaoge had. Now that they're out of the water, I can see that hers is pink.

- And I'm like

- WHY

- PLEASE

- STOP

- Why are there spiderwebs in the underwater tomb?

- The babby zombie footprints!

- Yes, Pangzi, those tiny little footprints are Sanshu's

- Hahah, I love little shit Wu Xie

- Apparently spiders even have to be built into underwater ones. Either that, or spiders can now dive

- Maybe when they built the tomb, they made sure to have spiders in there. Which also means they had to ensure there was spider food in there.

- Oh, hey, in the drama they actually think to look inside the jar! But babby zombie is not in there this time.

- Oh, it was in one of the other jars instead

- Okay, time to follow the baby in the jar

- Oh, this hallway

- A-Ning is about to be a very bad girl

- Also, so many cobwebs

- So many

- I think that lends credence to the 'spiders were put here when the tomb was built and so have lived here for thousands of spider generations'

- WHY ARE ALL THE CANDLES LIT

- WHO LIT THEM SO RECENTLY THAT THEY'RE STILL BURNING

- I still can't get over them subbing 'Sanshu' as 'Uncle San'

- And random English because why not

- I was about to say the traps are stupidly obvious in this hall, then I remembered the Starfinder adventure I ran where the trigger was a giant mosaic on the floor that practically screamed 'trap' & the PCs just walked over it. And then were surprised when the trap triggered.

- Oh, here we go, A-Ning's about to do the thing

- Complete with evil villain smirk as she does so

- I wish there was better lighting in this hallway, because A-Ning's moves are amazing and I would like to be able to see them better

- Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

- Those are some wuxia-esque spinny moves from A-Ning there

- Nooooo, Xiaoge, don't leave Wu Xie there without you!

- I wondered how they were going to have Wu Xie get hit by them since Xiaoge stopped him from being hit by the initial shots

- Dammit, A-Ning

- I appreciate that Pangzi's first reaction is to run to check on Wu Xie

- Even though that got him shot himself

- lol, these two dummies sitting there screaming once they notice all the arrows that they hadn't noticed before

- Good Pangzi, showing off that you're actually smart by realising Something Is Up with these arrows

- "Does it feel this good to be shot to death?"

"I've never died before, I have no idea"

- Hahahah, waving the arrow to see it that would attract more firing

- Then oh so carefully peeking up over the edge

- Ah, finally Xiaoge reveals himself properly!

- That face mask is just ridiculous

- lol, Wu Xie's reaction

- Those wide puppy eyes

- lol, Xiaoge's little smirk at Wu Xie

- And again. THEY'RE SO CUTE I CAN'T

- Here we are at the first chamber switcheroo

- I wish they'd subtitle at least the important parts of Wenjin's notebook when Wu Xie reads it and gets clues

- They were good with subtitling the wrist notepads when they were aimlessly swimming around for 11 mins

- But nothing else

- "Do you have Alzheimers" OMFG, Pangzi

- Pangzi gonna Pangzi

- I seem to say something along those lines about all of the Iron Triangle

- But it's true

- Ahahah, Wu Xie's facial expressions when he's brushing off Pangzi here

- It's little shit Wu Xie all over

- Look, okay, flashbacks are fine and all, but does it have to be a flashback to the FUCKING GREEN MURKY WATER

- Okay, at least that part wasn't too long

- That container is not sealed, that paper should not have been dry

- Certainly not so dry that exposure to air made it crumble and blow away

- Professor Zhang?

- HOW WERE THE IMPRINT OF WORDS LEFT BEHIND IN THE DUST?!

- IDK why they needed two archaeological teams in this flashback

- Also, hi, flashback Xiaoge

- Hey, it's the copper snek fishy

- Oh, that was a good cliffhanger to leave this episode on!

- Xiaoge remembering that he has been there before

So! Ep 2 ends with:

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0

Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 2

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6

#alicia watches dmbj #dmbj #daomu biji #explore with the note #xiaoge rescue count #wu xie swoon count #evil hair count #wu xie #xiaoge #zhang qiling #wang pangzi #iron triangle

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matrixaffiliate · 5 years ago

Text

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

I want to promise you right now that this story is a happy story and has a happy ending...just stick with me. ;) Next chapter goes up on Friday, August 21st.

Chapter 4

Ted made it back to his flat and forced himself to plug his phone in next to his bed so he would stop checking it again and again. She said she would text him. He just had to trust that.

He tried to distract himself by tidying up his room a bit, but his mind kept going back to how amazing the night had been. Being there with Vic felt right, it felt easy, it felt like everything he wanted things between them to be.

He was kicking himself over that feeling for the hundredth time when his phone buzzed on his night table.

Unknown: Did you make it home alright?

Ted let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and saved the number.

Ted: Who is this? How do I know you aren't a predator?

He grinned and laid back in his bed, propping himself up against his pillow.

Vic: I'm totally a predator. My victims are always white males in their mid-twenties.

Ted laughed out loud.

Ted: That seems fair. I guess I can talk to you until my coworker decides to get back to me. She was supposed to text me tonight.

Ted watched her typing icon with what he was sure was a stupid grin on his face.

Vic: As fun as that sounds, I really was looking forward to guessing your name, so can we drop this game and pick up that one?

Ted: Such a killjoy.

Vic: You promised me clues, Ted…

Ted: How do I know you're really Vic and not an impersonator?

Vic: Because your wolf figurine is sitting on my desk next to my laptop dock, and you knocked half your chips on the floor tonight when Jamie said that it was probably time you found a girlfriend.

Ted groaned. That had, unfortunately, happened. Jamie had asked if Ted would start dating now that he was done with university and only had the one job. Ted had been so flustered that he tipped his basket up and knocked some of his chips on the floor.

Ted: So cruel...why would I give you any information about my full name now?

She sent him a GIF of a baby about to cry, and Ted started laughing. He started to type a snarky reply but stopped himself when a dangerous thought crossed his mind.

What if he called her? Heaven knew he wanted to.

He deleted what he already wrote and started again.

Ted: Don't do that, don't pull on my heartstrings. I'll make you a deal, call me so I know it's you and then I won't hang up until you know my name.

Ted hit send and held his breath. He was beyond screwed at this point. He was certain she was going to play this off, tell him she was tired and they could pick up this twisted game on Monday.

Then his phone rang and Teddy's heart exploded in his chest.

"You waste no time, Weasley, do you?"

"Oh, shut up," Vic laughed and Ted tried to let his relieved sigh out slowly.

"No more stalling, Ted, I want my clues."

Ted grinned, "But of course, I'm a man of my word.

"Clues, Ted, clues!"

Ted laughed. "First clue, a few of my predecessors have been our country's monarch, while another abdicated the throne."

"Ha!" She shouted, and Ted laughed as he moved his phone to his other ear.

"I knew you were an Edward," she laughed. "You're too down to earth to be a Theodore."

"What does that even mean?"

"Doesn't matter, all that matters is I was right!"

Ted couldn't stop smiling. "Are you satisfied with being right enough to not care about my last name, then?"

"In your dreams, Edward."

Ted swallowed. Maybe this was a bad idea, but he was already in this deep, too late to back out now.

"Alright, do an internet search for the scientific name of wolves."

It was quiet for a moment before Vic spoke.

"Canis Lupus?"

"Right," Ted smirked, "and this is probably the part where you decide you hate me. Because next, you take those letters and rearrange them into my last name. You'll only need five of them though."

Vic groaned. "Ted that is an awful clue!"

"I don't know, it stretches your mind and gets your brain thinking. Those are things that are supposed to help stop Alzheimer's. So really, I'm helping you, Weasley, I'm preserving your brain for your future self."

"You're so full of it," Vic laughed. "Come on, Ted, give me more than a word scramble."

Ted could feel the smile stretching across his face.

"Please, Ted." Vic's voice went soft and Ted felt himself falling.

"Alright, one last clue," he looked over at his desk and the picture of him and his mum when he was ten, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "There's a flower, it's my last name. It's usually purple, but they come in pink and blue and orange too."

"You should send me a picture of the flower."

Ted rolled his eyes. "I have to make you work for something Weasley."

"Fine," she laughed, "I'm turning on my laptop."

"You're going to try and search for it? What is your search even going to be?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She teased.

"I would actually," Ted chuckled. "That way the next time someone wants to guess my name I can make it harder."

"I can't believe it! It worked!"

"What's my last name then, Weasley?"

"Lupin!"

Ted laughed. "What the hell did you search?!"

"Canis Lupus flower."

"Well done, Vic," Ted picked at one of the stray threads on his blanket.

"Why thank you, Edward Lupin."

His name felt like a song when she said it.

"Not a bad name, eh?"

"I've heard worse," Vic's voice was soft again. "But you still haven't told me your middle name."

"No way, Weasley," he laughed, "I don't know that about you, so I'm not giving you that information about me."

"If I tell you my middle name will you tell me yours?"

Ted felt his heart rate increase

"Yeah, I think that's fair."

It was quiet a moment before Vic made her decision. "It's Gabrielle, it's my aunt's name."

"Victoire Gabrielle Weasley," Teddy tried it out and it felt like honey on his tongue.

Vic cleared her throat, "Alright, your turn, what's your middle name?"

"Remus, after my dad," Ted answered without hesitation, "And Edward is after my grandfather."

"Edward Remus Lupin, that has a nice flow to it."

Ted smiled. "I've always been fond of my name."

It was contentedly quiet between them and then Ted got up the courage to ask something he'd been thinking about since Jamie said Vic had him reading a rough draft of a book she wrote.

"So, you're writing a book?"

Vic was silent a while longer before she answered. "Yeah, I, er, I've been working on it since uni."

"And you got a communications degree instead of focusing on creative writing because…?" Ted held his breath, worried that Vic would shut down this conversation.

"Well, I thought a communications degree would pay the bills, you know?"

"Authors do tend to have day jobs," Ted chuckled. "So, what's this story about? From someone as brilliant as you are, I'm sure it's a best-seller waiting to break all the records."

"Well, it's a fantasy epic," Vic started but then she went silent. "Oh, Sean is calling, you alright if we call it a night?"

Ted leaned his head back into the wall and closed his eyes. "Sure, I'll see you Monday."

"Thanks, Ted. See you Monday."

Teddy tossed his phone back on his night table. He might as well find something to distract himself from how much it sucked to be falling for a girl that was so far out of his reach. He changed into his P.J.s and then decided he would see if Kalil was in the mood for some late-night Mario Kart or something, but his phone buzzed against his table.

Vic: What is it with people deciding they have to call other people when they're drunk?

Ted sighed; he shouldn't do this. He should act like he fell asleep and text her in the morning.

Vic: He's singing me the song playing at the pub. It's Jamie's Got A Gun.

Ted laughed and gave in.

Ted: Maybe it's code ;)

Vic: That would be the worst way to tell me he was in trouble!

Ted grinned.

Ted: But think of the possibilities! You could send all sorts of messages with songs!

He watched Vic's typing icon and laughed when her message came through.

Vic: You mean like Viva la Vida?

Ted: You fancy yourself a disgraced king?

Vic: I'm full of surprises.

Ted: That you are Weasley.

Ted smiled as he watched Vic's typing icon blink on his screen.

Vic: I finally convinced him to go home and get some water. I'll see you on Monday, Edward Remus Lupin. ;)

Vic: Goodnight, Victoire Gabrielle Weasley.

He set his phone back down on his night table and flipped the lamp off.

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

OoOoOoOoO

Ted laughed when he walked into the office Monday morning. His wolf figurine sat in the center of his desk with a fence built out of paperclips around it.

"Afraid he'll run back to you?"

"I just want him to understand that he has to stay with you." Vic grinned.

Ted moved his wolf out of the corral and set him down closer to Vic's desk.

"There, now he won't feel like you've abandoned him."

"What about my fence?" Vic teased.

"Oh, I think I'll see what I can get for it on eBay. There's bound to be someone out there who wants a paperclip fence."

"Start the bidding at ten quid. I'll accept nothing less for my artwork."

"Maybe we should paint it, raise its value." Ted laughed at the face Vic made.

"You want to ruin it? How dare you suggest such things!"

"I'm just saying," Ted laughed, "Why settle for less when we could maybe get twelve quid for it instead of ten?"

"You mean settle for eight quid because you had to ruin it with paint." She shot back with a laugh.

"Color makes everything better."

"Of course, you think that," Vic grinned and gestured to his hair.

Ted ruffled his hair, "Well, you told me you liked it that first day, so I think you just proved my point."

Vic smiled and looked down at her hands. "So, did you, did you really want to know about my book?"

"Of course, I do," Ted felt like she'd just offered him fifty pounds. "Is it YA or NA or YMCA?"

Vic laughed and started to give him the sparsest of details.

"That's all you're going to tell me?" Ted threw his hands up. "Come on, you can't expect me to believe you only want to tell me the basics. You've been working on this epic for more than three years!"

"Well, I mean, Sean doesn't really like to hear about it, and I just thought…"

"I'm not Sean, Vic," Ted rolled his eyes. "I want to know everything, so let's get to it."

Vic gave him a shy smile, "If you're sure?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

She smiled and before Ted knew it, they'd lost the first hour of the workday.

"Ok, let's get some work done, and then you can tell me the rest." Ted laughed. "I haven't even logged in yet."

"You're sure you want to hear how it ends?" Vic teased him.

"So torturous," Ted grinned at her.

Vic went to respond but her desk phone rang and for a moment she looked torn before turning her chair back to her desk and answering the call.

Ted grinned to himself as he went back to getting set up for the day. Things were going well, they were having fun, and he was settling happily into not just the position, but also the goal of growing their department into the first branch of Bread & Butter to break off and stand on its own.

But it wasn't so great when Sean showed up at lunch and took Vic for the rest of the day. She texted him an hour after they'd left and asked that he cover for her in the case that Ron showed up, and she asked Ted to forward her desk phone to her cell phone. Ted did so, and then spent the rest of the day feeling like an idiot.

And things continued to go up and down as they moved into winter and approached Christmas.

It only made things harder when Ted realized that he wasn't hiding his attraction to Vic well from anyone, except maybe Vic.

"Why are you looking at stuffed toys that look like wolves?" Kalil sat down next to him on the sofa and leant in to see his laptop screen a bit more than a week before Christmas.

"I was thinking of giving it as a present," Ted defended.

"Right, but for whom?" Kalil gave him a pointed stare and Ted rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Ted! You're buying a present for your coworker who is in a relationship!"

"I never said it was for Vic!" Ted shut his laptop.

"You didn't have to," Kalil shook his head. "Look, Ted, I'm worried about you. You're obsessed with Vic and she's off-limits. You need to get out of your head. Come to the pub with me and Maira tonight. I'm sure she can get a few people to come too. You need to remember that there are more women in this city than just your coworker."

"Kalil," Ted ran his hands over his face.

"What would you do if she married Sean?"

Ted felt like Kalil had just punched him in the stomach. He couldn't breathe for a moment and his chest felt like it was collapsing.

"See," Kalil put a hand on his shoulder, "I can see it in your face, Ted, you're falling for her. Stop it! Get out and find someone just as great. Come to the pub tonight."

Ted let out a long breath, and he couldn't help but think that maybe, maybe Kalil was right. Vic seemed to like to goof around with him, but she'd shown no signs of leaving Sean for him. No matter how many times Sean let her down, no matter how many times he did something that she didn't like, she stayed. And the nearly five months of working with her had been full of huge highs and incredible lows. He'd loved the moments where he felt like it was just the two of them, but walking out after work on the days Sean picked her up to find he hadn't waited long enough after she'd left as he got a full view of Sean's tongue down her throat left him feeling like a loser.

"Alright," Ted nodded, "I'll come tonight."

Kalil squeezed his shoulder, "Good on you, mate. You'll see, this will be a good thing."

Ted nodded, but a part of him wondered if it really was.

Even with his misgivings, Ted was ready to head out when Maira showed up at their flat.

"I'm so glad you're coming with us!" Maira hugged him. "I've asked a friend to meet us there, I think you'll have fun!"

Ted rubbed the back of his neck, "Thanks, Maira, I appreciate it."

"Let's head out then," Kalil took Maira's hand and led them out into the cold.

Ted realized after they'd been out for a bit, just the three of them, that this was a good idea. He hadn't gone out much at all since before finals in May. Getting to laugh and talk with friends felt freeing.

"Oh, there's Nicki!" Maira jumped up and waved her friend over to their table.

Ted turned around to see a woman who could have been described as Vic's opposite. She had black hair with lime green highlights and it was cut in choppy layers, the longest barely touching her shoulders. And while Vic tended to wear conservatively colored clothes, at least at work and the one Saturday Ted had seen her, Nicki was wearing a bright pink blouse with teal trousers; her orange coat draped over her arm.

"Nicki this is Kalil's roommate, Ted Lupin. Ted this is my friend Nicki Choi."

"It's nice to meet you, and I love your hair!" She shook his hand across the table as she sat down.

"Thanks, I like yours as well." Ted smiled. Nicki wasn't Vic, but she definitely put out the vibe that she liked to have a good time.

And she did. Nicki was loud and fun and not afraid of anything. She tried anything she was put up to. She laughed loudly. She defended her opinions with passion, even if he flat out told her she was wrong. Nicki reminded Ted a bit of the stories he had heard about his mum when she was his age.

Ted was having fun, and so when Nicki scooted closer to him, he didn't think about it when he draped his arm across her shoulders. And when she rested her head on his shoulder, he let her. A small part of him pushed back, but Ted told that part of him that if Vic could snog Sean in the car park, then he could let a cool woman rest her head on his shoulder.

"I'm calling it a night," Nicki moved to hug Maira at about half eleven. Then she turned to Ted. "Will you wait with me out front for my Uber?"

"Sure thing," Ted nodded and moved to follow her. He tried to ignore the way Kalil grinned at him.

"This was fun," Nicki smiled up at him and pulled her orange coat closer around her.

"Yeah," Ted nodded, "yeah it was."

"So, who broke your heart?"

Ted blinked. "What?"

"You have 'heartbroken' written all over your face. I figured that was why Maira called me." She smiled sympathetically at him.

"I, er, it's complicated." Ted shook his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah," Ted chuckled, "yeah, I actually had a lot of fun."

"We could keep having fun. I don't expect you to move into another relationship with me, but we could just have fun, spend some time reminding you that hearts heal."

Ted hesitated. He didn't know why, but he did. Nicki was amazing. He'd be an idiot to turn her down.

"Here," Nicki pulled out a gum wrapper and pen from her clutch and wrote on it. "This is my number. Think about it, Ted, I think we could have a lot of fun together."

Ted nodded as he took the gum wrapper. "Thanks, I, er, I'll think about it, alright?"

Nicki smiled and then nodded a few cars down from the curb. "There's my Uber. Thanks, Ted."

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek, her cold lips managing to warm just the skin they touched.

Ted stood in the cold and watched her wave once before climbing into the Uber. He waved back and then the car pulled away.

He took a moment before he went back inside. Gum wrapper still clasped in his hand. He'd had fun with Nicki, and she obviously had fun with him. She was fun and beautiful and he admired her spunk and attitude.

So why was he hesitating?

Ted slipped the wrapper into his wallet and went back inside.

"That took some time," Kalil smirked at him.

"Er, yeah, I, we talked," Ted took a swig from his drink.

"Nicki is amazing, Ted," Maira smiled.

"Yeah, yeah she's, she's really cool, I, er, she gave me her number."

"You're going to call her, right?" Kalil asked.

"I, er, I think I might, yeah."

Kalil stared at him like he was stupid and Ted sighed.

"I think I'm done for tonight, mates. I'll catch an Uber home, let you two enjoy the rest of your night." Ted didn't wait for a response. He forced a smile and moved to the door. The pub wasn't all that far from their flat, and so Ted decided to walk it instead of requesting the ride.

The cold was bitter, but it helped to clear his head, though not enough to figure out what he should do. He wanted to hope that maybe Vic would suddenly return his feelings and dump Sean and be with him. But even with all the problems he could see she was having with Sean, Vic still stayed. A part of Ted feared she always would.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Monday morning rolled around and Ted was trying to figure out if he was looking forward or not to seeing Vic as he drove into work. He'd spent Sunday more or less holed up in his room, and Kalil seemed content to let Ted work through this one on his own. That didn't mean Ted was any surer one way or the other, though.

But when Ted walked into the office, he paused.

Vic hadn't made it in yet.

That felt weird. Ted was never late, but Vic was always early. He tried to shrug it off and get himself settled in for the day. She'd probably hit traffic was all. But even as he kept telling himself that, Ted kept trying to see around the corner of the building out the window into the car park.

Finally, he heard the door push open and Ted spun in his chair, ready to razz her for being late. But his eyes fell on her hand as she pulled off her glove with her teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me." He'd said it before he could stop himself.

"I know!" Vic smiled down at her ring. "I would have thought he would have waited for Christmas or New Year's, but he asked last night!"

"That's," Ted forced a smile, "wow. I, er, congratulations."

"Thanks," Vic smiled at the ring again and then started getting settled into her desk.

Ted thought he might vomit. He needed to get out. He couldn't be here, not with her, not now, now that she'd chosen Sean permanently.

He picked up his desk phone and forwarded it to his cell. Then he shut down his laptop.

"Are you going somewhere?" Vic looked over as he packed up.

"I have a few sales calls I'm going on today."

"Oh, well, are we still good for dinner?"

Ted paused. He'd forgotten all about their Monday and Wednesday meetings over dinner. Those evenings that he looked forward to every week. The moments that he felt connected to her in a way that felt real to him.

"I actually have something tonight. I'm sorry I should have remembered to tell you on Friday." He zipped up his backpack and grabbed his coat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, and congrats again, it's brilliant."

"Thanks," Vic frowned, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Right," Ted nodded and left without a second glance.

He was grateful that she wouldn't be able to see him from the window as he stepped into the car park. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, she chose Sean. Ted had wanted her to like him so much he'd blinded himself to the fact that she was in love with her boyfriend, tosser that he was.

Ted drove home and set up at his desk in his room to get back to work. He tossed his wallet on his dresser and paused. He pulled out the gum wrapper and called Nicki.

It went straight to voicemail, and Ted almost hung up, almost gave into that part of him that hoped Vic would choose him, but he pushed that aside and left a message.

"Hey, Nicki, it's Ted. I was calling to see if you wanted to grab a drink or something. I, er, I hope to hear back from you. Bye."

He set his phone down on the desk and powered on his laptop. Then his phone buzzed.

Nicki: Hey Ted, it's Nicki, I'm in a meeting, but would you like to meet for lunch today?

Ted didn't let himself hesitate this time.

Ted: Sounds great, send me an address and time. I'll meet you there.

#Endeavor #tedoire #tedoire fanfic #tedoire fanfiction #tedoire au #teddy x victoire #teddy x vic #ted x vic #teddy lupin x victoire weasley #teddy lupin #victoire weasley #muggle au #tedoire muggle au #everyone lives muggle au #coworkers romance #fluff #romance #harry potter fanfiction

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juniorgman187 · 5 years ago

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Little Prince (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: As Spencer’s condition worsens, he loses the fondest memories of his life. Renee must retell her little prince of the fondest memory they share - how they met.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Category: PURE FLUFF Content Warning: allusions to Alzheimer’s Word Count: 1.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

An elderly woman comes into her living room to find her husband on the couch staring absentmindedly. With a loving touch, she puts her hand on his shoulder as she slides into a spot next to him.

“Hello, Little Prince.”

The husband stares at her blankly, trying to place a memory of her.

“Who are you?” He grouchily asks.

“I’m your wife, dear.”

His face showed scorn until she said those words. Now, he seemed almost sympathetic.

“How did we meet?”

50 YEARS AGO . . .

JJ and Will. Hotch and Beth. Morgan and Garcia. Rossi and Prentiss.

Each pair slow dances underneath the fairy lights and starry night sky. Meanwhile, Reid stands on the sidelines, leaning against a table nursing a drink. He admires the newly married couple and his coworkers on the dance floor. Seeing JJ so happily married to Will is enough to snuff out the flame he had for her. For the first time, he could actually see himself without her.

“Now I won’t tell Mommy and Daddy you had another cupcake, as long as you promise you won’t tell them I gave it to you.”

Reid peels his eyes away from the beautiful bride to look at the source of the voice. It doesn’t take him long to find it’s a fellow guest talking to Henry. Reid doesn’t recognize her. But he’d never forget her - or that dress.

After Henry pinky promises to never tell, he runs freely onto the dance floor and she draws back, hugging herself to keep warm. She watches him to make sure he gets to his parents safely, before walking to the sidelines. This is when she notices Spencer.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t see you there. I don’t suppose we could keep that cupcake thing between us.” She jokes.

Reid grins widely. “It’ll be our little secret.”

The delivery of his statement is so subtly seductive that the woman is even more interested to keep talking to him.

“Renee Perez.”

She extends her hand for a handshake, that surprisingly, Spencer accepts.

“Spencer Reid.”

Their handshake lingers a little longer than it should, so Renee pulls away first.

“I recognize that name. You’re the doctor, right?” Spencer nods. “I’m a longtime friend of Will’s and Henry’s babysitter. I remember one time I couldn’t watch Henry and Will told me not to worry because a “Dr. Spencer Reid” could.”

Hearing that she’s a babysitter now makes sense as to why she was tending to him earlier.

“So, Perez - is that Spanish or Filipino? ” He asks.

“Both technically. My dad’s Mexican and my mom is Filipino.”

Yet again, Spencer Reid’s educated guess is correct. No surprise there.

“You know, Spain and the Philippines share a common history. In fact, the Philippines was part of the Spanish empire for three hundred years and was the sole Spanish colony in Asia. That’s why, if you notice, some Spanish and Filipino dialects have shared the same words and meanings, just different spellings. Additionally, Filipino last names are primarily Spanish. Santos, Reyes, or in your case, Perez.” He states matter-of-factly. Renee isn’t sure how to respond, so Spencer gingerly pivots from the topic. “So are you trilingual?”

“Polylingual actually. English is my first language, then I learned Tagalog because my mom was monolingual when I was younger, and then Spanish for my dad. But I was enrolled in French immersion for elementary and middle school.”

This girl’s impressing Spencer by the minute.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

Renee thinks about it for a while. “Mmm, French definitely French. It’s just so beautiful.”

Secretly, Spencer wants to hear her speak French, because even just hearing her speak English - he’s enamored. And almost like she read his mind, Spencer’s wish is her command. “Le petit prince.” She says, out of the blue.

Spencer knits his brows together. “Hmm?”

“Let petit prince.”

“Oh, The Little Prince. The French and English language versions were published in 1943, but the book didn’t appear in France until 1946. Did you know that book was actually translated into more than 250 languages?”

How adorable is he when he rambles nervously?

“I only brought it up because you actually remind me of him. Young and wise.” She adds.

This compliment makes Spencer’s heart accelerate. He even laughs a little because he is so giddy.

“Have you read it?” She questions.

Duh, of course, he has.

“My mom read it to me when I was younger. The English version, obviously.”

“Same here. But my mom read the French version. You should read it someday.”

Spencer makes a mental note to pick up the French version on his way home.

He slips out of his delightful trance when a breeze passes and makes her shiver.

“Oh, here. Take this.” Spencer shrugs off his blazer, and despite her protests not to, he drapes it around her. When she looks up at him through her eyelashes, Spencer looks back at her with a soulful gaze.

There’s something in the air that surrounds them. They both feel it.

Their moment is interrupted when they hear, “Spence! Ren!” It’s JJ yelling from the center of the dance floor, motioning for them to come over.

Spencer takes one last sip of his drink and sets it on the table, before leaning forward away from the table. In one swift motion, he goes from standing next to Renee to standing in front of her. He extends his hand for her to take.

“Shall we?”

She takes his hand eagerly.

The last dance of the night is a slow one. The music changes and each couple pairs up again. Like a true gentleman, Spencer bows to her. “May I have this dance?”

Renee curtsies and pulls at the sides of her copper dress to imitate a princess.

Timidly, Spencer takes her one hand and extends his arm and places the other hand high under her arm. But with no hesitation, Renee slides his hand down her back and onto its rightful place at her hip. She places her hand on his shoulder and surprisingly, Spencer leads. And he leads well. This catches her off guard. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Spencer laughs at her question. “There’s a lot I can’t do.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“I, um, I can’t seem to find the right series of words to accurately explain how beautiful I think you are.”

It would be a gross understatement to say that Renee swooned at his words. She felt like her heart was glowing - like she was glowing. If Spencer Reid thought her to be beautiful, she was beautiful, because he’d never lie.

No more words are shared throughout the dance, but there didn’t need to be. They said much in their silence.

The song ends, and couples slowly begin to exit the gazebo.

“Thank you, Little Prince.” She says, before shrugging Reid’s suit coat off of her. Spencer watches as the fabric cascades down her arms, revealing that dress he loves so much. Renee holds the jacket in front of her for him to take. When he grabs it, she gently places her hand on his chest and tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. Her token of appreciation leaves Spencer with a red lipstick stain. Renee’s hand lingers on Reid’s chest until she finally pulls away, leaving him to his own devices.

Instinctively, he turns his head to peer behind him and finds Hotch, JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, and Rossi all smiling and staring. It didn’t take an IQ of 187 to realize they’d watched the entire exchange between Renee and Reid unfold. But the look on all of their faces tells him exactly what he should do. Reid gets the message.

An uproar of cheers and encouragement comes from the team as they watch Reid chase after her.

“Wait! Renee! Renee!” He fumbles through the crowd to reach her. He stumbles out the door and through the driveway, finally catching her at her car. She’s about to open the door when a hand shuts it back closed. She looks back in confusion, to see Spencer is the culprit of her closed door.

“Go out with me.” His voice is unwavering, despite his breathlessness.

Nonchalantly, Renee replies, “Okay.”

He knits his brows together. “Okay? That’s it? You’ll go out with me?”

“Yes,” She says with a little laugh. “Yeah, why not? I had a good time tonight.”

Reid sighs in relief. “I did, too.”

“So when should I expect to see you again? I only ask because the total amount of hours I’ve spent babysitting Henry is a pretty good indicator of how little free time you have. When aren’t you busy?”

Spencer ponders for a moment, scrunching his nose cutely.

“What about right now?”

Renee laughs, unaware that he’s not joking. “Oh, you’re being serious?”

“I know the entire geography of D.C. so I know all the good places, and my memory guarantees we won’t get lost.”

That’s all the convincing it took. “Alright. I’m in. But can you drive? My feet are killing me.”

Reid runs to the passenger side of the door and opens it for her kindly, and jogs back to hop in the passenger seat.

“Cool car, by the way.” He adds.

These are the last words they speak for a while until they’re in the heart of D.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #one shot #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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12/21/2020 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 1:1-21, Revelation 12:1-17, Psalms 140:1-13, Proverbs 30:17

Today is the 21st day of December welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian. Today would've been my parent’s anniversary. It’s funny how you remember all these things when they come up. But I obviously have lost both of my parents, but I am grateful that they had a wedding day or none of us would be here doing this right now. So, grateful today for my parents but also grateful every single day for you, that we can come around the Global Campfire together no matter what's going on and relax, exhale, come into a safe space where all the things that are going on, they…they can wait, they can wait a few minutes, they'll still be there. But we may need a change of perspective before we come unglued about them. And maybe with a change of perspective we go back out into the day energized, restored, oriented to God as we take the next steps forward in our lives. And, so, let's take the next step forward in the Bible. And it has been a custom to read a book a day. That custom is gonna end here basically. We have arrived at the 11th of the 12 minor prophets. And this book is called Zechariah and we’re gonna camp out in Zechariah for a few days. In fact, all the way up into we only have two days left in this year. So, we’re gonna settle in here for a minute and catch our breath before we end the year.

Introduction to the book of Zechariah:

What we know of Zechariah is that he and Haggai, which we…we read the entire prophecy of Haggai yesterday. Haggai and Zechariah were contemporaries. Zechariah would've been maybe a little younger. His ministry continued long after Haggai and they were actually prophets in the same place prophesying about the same thing at the same time for the same reason, which is all centered around the rebuilding of the temple. So, Zechariah’s grandpa, his name was Iddo, he's named in the Scriptures among the first leaders of the priestly families to come back from exile with Zerubbabel. So, from that we can surmise then Zechariah was probably a priest or at least from a priestly family. And the name Zechariah means “God remembers”. And it’s the remembering of the covenant and the restoration from the remembering of the covenant that is central in this book. Si, I said, Zechariah and Haghai prophesying at the same time for the same reason about the same kind of thing, but Zechariah’s way longer than Haggai. So, there's more context, more scope, more material. Like Zechariah talks about eight different night visions that he experienced that sound an awful lot like what we’re reading in Revelation. They’re apocalyptic in nature which makes them highly symbolic. And what we begin to see is that God wants the centerpiece of the Temple rebuilt to be the centerpiece of the people because He has plans for moving things forward, plans of restoration, plans of good and not harm. But the people have to collaborate, they have to respond. And what they have to respond to is essentially what God says through His prophets, “come home to me, return to me. Don’t stay in rebellion.” And we’ll see that as we read through that Zachariah also talks about the coming of a Messiah. Zechariah is one of the texts that are used in the New Testament in reference to Jesus. In fact, we find quotations from Zechariah in Matthew, Mark, John and the book of Revelation as they refer specifically to Jesus. And, so, ultimately what we receive in Zechariah is prophetic encouragement and once again reminds us that God is the most-high. There is none higher. There is no competitor to His sovereignty, not even close. And if we will remain in a covenantal relationship with God well…well then, we are going somewhere good. And, so, we begin Zechariah chapter.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word. We thank You for bringing us into this week of rejoicing. We thank You for the comfort of community. And Father as we move through these days, leading right up to Christmas as we move toward the end of the Advent season, help us Holy Spirit to put ourselves in the position of…of the ancient ones, longing, waiting, expecting a Redeemer, a Savior to come. And You came and we rejoice in that, but we put ourselves in that position because…O Jesus we long for Your restoration, for Your return, for all things to be made new again. And, so, Holy Spirit some of these things are mysteries that are beyond us and some of our life is pulled in all kinds of directions during this week because of all the festivities but we want to stay rooted and grounded in deep intimacy with You almost as if it's our little secret, not that we’re keeping You a secret, but that no matter what we face, no matter what room we walk into and the conversation is going south in a hurry or no matter what situation we are pulled into whether that be envy or jealousy or pride or arrogance, no matter what we get pulled toward we want to have been walking with You, speaking with You, being led by Your spirit so that when we face those things and we see the little triggers that we usually get pulled into we can just smile, we can just smile at each other knowing that we didn't fall for the bait this time, we stayed connected in a covenantal intimacy with each other and we brought light and good news into any darkness that we face. Come Holy Spirit we pray. We can't do this without You. We need You. But we can do this with You. Come Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And it's Christmas time and that's pretty much what is going on around here, as we…I mean…this is it…this is Christmas week friends. I can't believe it. And it is our intention to be releasing our annual Christmas party, our virtual get together from all over the world. And that's literally the truth. We have voices coming in from all over the world, and we plan to release that this evening. So, watch for that. And the other thing that’s going on right now is the Family Christmas album, just reminding you of that. You can stream it wherever you stream music. You can download it wherever you buy music. If you want a physical CD copy you can get that from the Daily Audio Bible Shop. But that is what we have created to be the backdrop, the soundtrack for Christmas around the Global Campfire. So, check that out.

And also reminding you that we released a new vocal single with Jill, my wife, singing “O Holy Night.” So, check that, you can stream that anywhere or download that anywhere as well. So, just look for Jill Parr, that’s P A R R, since that my wife’s…well…that’s her maiden name. That's what she was known as before she got herself all entangled with somebody like me. And thank God that she did or none of us would be here because I don't know how I could…I don’t know How I could just exist now without her and her support and…and her love. And, so, yeah check that out at iTunes, Google play, YouTube music, Spotify, wherever you get your music. Just look for her or “O Holy Night” and you'll find it.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link on the homepage. And I thank you. I thank you deeply and profoundly as we near the end of the year. I appreciate all of…all of you who have clicked that link. That is why we continue to be able to throw logs on the Global Campfire and to keep moving forward day by day. So, thank you for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can it the Hotline button in the app or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian. I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Father God thank You for our grandparents and our parents, those…those loved ones who are struggling in their…in their everyday life, whether that be from dementia or Alzheimer’s or something else or aches and pains, whatever it is Lord we entrust them to You. We pray that You would be soothing those aches and pains, You’d be relieving them, You’d be healing them. We pray Lord that You would remove any confusion in their life, that You’d be protecting them from harm, that You would be helping them to enjoy their everyday. Father God we thank You for those that do know and love You and we pray that they would be comforted by You and rely on You during this time and all time. But Father God for those who don’t know You, we pray that…that You would be revealing Yourself to them, that there would be those in their lives that would be able to share the gospel with them and they would be able to understand and respond, that they might know the joy of knowing You, of knowing Your son, of knowing that they are saved and knowing Your love. Father God, thank You for those who are caring for our loved ones. I pray that You’d be supporting them and encouraging them and refreshing them and replenishing them, that You’d be giving them wisdom on how best to offer care. Please be at work Lord in Jesus holy and precious name. Amen. Hi guys it’s Michaela from…

Hey DAB family its Nick just asking for prayers. It’s been a long tough season of ministry and I’m just deflated, I’m just done, and I just covet your prayers, the hugs of God’s people that just will surround me and help me, give me the strength to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Thank you so much for your prayers. I know that…that God will bless it.

I just wanted to say good morning to everybody and thank you for Daily Audio Bible. My family, my wife and I and my older kids have been pulled away from the Lord and we got…we got off the rails of our…our life with the Lord and we just thank you Daily Audio Bible family for being that beacon in the dark. I recently downloaded the app and became…listening to the Lord became slowly back to the line with my Christian faith and it’s helped me tremendously. I’m overwhelmed by the things going on in this world, but this beacon of light has helped me put back on the path and give me faith back in the Lord. I just want to say thank you. It’s…it’s helping me greatly. And thank you for being there and being that beacon of light for us who get lost in this world. It’s…it’s a dark world and it’s helping me build my…build my faith back up and helped me in life to pursue and to continue on searching the Lord and given me strength to help me deal with these issues in life and bring me closer to my family. And I thank you. God bless everybody.

Hi Daily Audio Bible family my name is Ben I am calling from Salem Virginia and just wanted to thank all of you guys for being a part of this. I can’t make up my mind whether it’s a holiday greeting or an encouragement or a prayer request. I got it all. You guys have it all. So, Brian thank you so much. I love this program. I just started tuning in this year, but I’ve been so ministered to by you all and this program, the prayer requests, the encouragements, moving through the Bible like we do. I’ve heard God’s spoken word on the inside of me and He has confirmed things as Brian reads and as you guys talk. It’s amazing. I…I…I love it. It is definitely a part of my daily routine and I am so thankful for each and every one of you all and I just pray that this ministry would continue and grow and that this is, you know, it’s eternal, we’re together forever. And I’m thankful and I love each and every one of you. I know that sounds silly, but I don’t know how. I love God’s word and I am…oh man my time is running out. I'm like Jonah I'm in the belly of the whale. I’m looking forward to being spit out. Not sure how much longer I have to stay and pray but I thank you all…

Hi this is Victoria Soldier just calling tonight to pray for some of DABbers who are…who are having the challenges. I'm trying to find the ladies name who her husband and her were planning on moving to be around family and you kept getting discouragement. I wanted to tell you to keep on being encouraged and keep on looking and God wants to see do we really want it and He's…just continue to pray and I continue to encourage him. I continue to encourage the lady who said her son went away to…went away to travel over overseas and his car and somebody had taken his passport. I'm praying for that young man. Lord in the name of Jesus you have your way Lord. Let him be somewhere protected. Let him be somewhere safe. O father in the name of Jesus you touch the heart of that young man. He's only 23 years old. Lord you bless him, you bless him wherever he is. You open doors even in the worst places. In the name of Jesus. I thank you Lord. I want to thank…I want to thank God for China and Ben, pray for their precious little…little…little brown and her are continuing on in the ministry and I pray for Jill and her coming and thanking her for…for the heart and for the love of God enough to come and…and just looking forward to enjoying her. I want to just say thank you to all the people and encourage those who are going through, those who are going through jobs because of this pandemic, those who are going through challenges because of this pandemic as…as Paul said when they were on the ship he said anybody who was whaled onto this ship that they would have a safe landing. And let's hold onto the ship because God is ready to bring us through out of this 2020 into…

Good morning DABber family this is Walta the Burning Bush that will not be Devoured for the Glory of Our God and Our King. I just heard Daniel Johnson Junior's call in with his praise report about the echocardiogram results from last year this time and where God has brought him close to normal. And my brother, I just want you to know that God's got you. God's got you. And thank you for sharing your life with us. Your job, your family, everything, God's got you. And I'm looking back at 2020 myself and I'm just thinking, not just 2020, the last…gosh…the last 13+ years of my life that I've spent with DAB and looking at what…what you guys have brought me through. There's some days that I would turn on DAB and I’d be so desperate to hear the word of God and so desperate for…for some sort of comfort or insight and then some other days it’s, you know, business as usual just listening to it. But you guys, my father's death, my sons drug addiction and recovery, my mother's death, you know, job losses, Ebola, now coronavirus, marital problems, divorce, marriage. God thank you for DAB. Thank you for this ministry. And I know that those of you who are listening, some of you guys in the same situation, know that we’re here for you. God is here for you. And, you know, as Daniel Johnson Junior always says, make it a great day. I love you all. God bless.

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bbygrgu · 5 years ago

Text

drabble b.b

a/n: I did another drabble. not super pleased but one those of things I just needed to get off my chest.

Soft music played from the record player, vinyl’s from the boxes found in the attic. It brought a smile upon your face, your soft humming joining the trumpet and the soft melodic voice.

There were boxes upon boxes, years and names etched on the sides with what seemed to be black ink, but from one of those pens that your grandma refused to let go or a permeant marker, you weren’t sure. You assumed the former.

They were mostly filled with old papers, the boxes labeled “clothes” saved for another day. Those were something that you wanted to take your time with, maybe picking out a few classics from your grandmother’s old wardrobe to keep for yourself. You smiled, laughing softly to yourself.

Three boxes down, hundreds more to go. You set aside those that needed documents that were due for a shredding and those you knew were meant to be kept, whether it be to be digitalized or just for the sake of keeping it. Moving around the little maze of stacks of boxes, you headed towards the back. Maybe you could find a box with more than receipts or bills.

You stopped in curiously when you spotted a box in the corner. It wasn’t a part of a stack, just by itself. You could see the layer of dust sitting on the lid of the box with no year scribbled against the side, only a name. Bucky.

Bucky. The name was alien coming out of your mouth. You quickly snapped a picture of the box, calling out to your father from the stairs. With no response, you quickly jogged down the steps and searched until you saw your dad kneeling in the kitchen, carefully wrapping your grandma’s china in newspaper and placing it into the box.

“Dad,” you repeated again. He looked up, a small smile on his lips. His eyes sad, you knew this was hurting him, but you couldn’t help your curiosity from bubbling.

“Dad, who was Bucky?” You asked, pulling out your phone and scrolling to the picture app. You turned your phone towards him, picture of the lonesome box with the dust and the lone name “Bucky.”

“Did you open it?” your dad questioned. A shake of your head as your response.

“Might be your great uncle’s things,” your dad responded, placing the piece of china that was in his hands into the box. He carefully pushed himself to his feet and brushed past you, you close behind him.

“Great uncle?”

“Your grandmother had an older brother. His name was James Buchanan Barnes. She always called him Bucky. She talked him about him once in a while, when we were growing up. He started coming up more while she… you know,” your dad admitted softly.

Alzheimer’s. You looked away, eyes shifting back to the box. You remember her mentioning the name Bucky, but you never questioned who he was. It hurt to see your grandma in that state, always wondering what days she would be lucid.

You looked at your dad, seeing him glance around at the maze of the boxes, slowly stepping closer to the box. You kneeled down, sharply inhale. Another look thrown over your shoulder to see your dad picking through a box labeled “new house, nineteen sixty-one.” Carefully, you pick up the lid and place it beside the box.

The first thing you see is a yellowed envelope, sent to Rebecca Barnes, your grandma’s old address from Brooklyn right below.

With gentle hands, you held the envelope. The return address was directed to the DOA, Department of the Army. You carefully flipped the envelope, holding the flap open and pulling out two pieces of paper.

The first was a yellowed, almost brown telegraph from Western Union. The date was 1944, the month and date no longer eligible for reading. You skimmed the document, taking in Bucky’s full name, along with “missing in action” and “Captain America.”

“Captain America?” you whispered to yourself, unfolding the second yellowed page. This one was on a piece of stationary. The writing was elegant, thin and with light-strokes. You quickly turned the back and noticed a faded drawing done in pencil. You turned back to the front, skimming over it and stopping when you noticed the signature at the bottom. Steve Rogers. Captain America.

You remembered studying him during the World War II portions of your history classes.

“Dad? Great Uncle Bucky knew Captain America?” You asked softly, setting the letters aside and looking into the box.

“They were friends since they were kids. Your grandma used to tell you about him when you asked her about the war and everyday life,” your dad retells while you’re looking a picture. Weird how long-term memories are buried deep in your mind and how you can’t access all of them.

There was a picture of you could only assume was Bucky. He was handsome. The image was in black and white, almost sepia. He was in his uniform, his cap tilted on his head, a soft smile on his face. You smiled at the image held in your fingertips.

You peeked past the image and saw clothes, personal items.

“Grandma didn’t get his dog tags?” You called out, picking placing everything back in the box before carefully putting the lid back on.

“No, they never recovered them, I think,” your dad replied, pushing himself up from the floor. You waited for him, box (which was surprisingly light) against your hip.

You’re ready to say something until both your phones go off with news notifications bells. You look at him confusedly, both pulling your phones off at the same time. An audible gasp leaving you both.

“S.H.I.E.LD. information out in the open to the public. HYDRA responsible for dozens of assassinations. Work of the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes.”

#drabble #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

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fallingin-like · 5 years ago

Text

november 17

above the clouds by @gluupor [requested by @fuzzballsheltiepants]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is an absolutely amazing fic that features airships, android!neil, and fantastic world-building. it’s a really fun and adventurous read, but still contains enough angst to break your heart. if you haven’t read this yet, drop everything and read it now. if you have read it, read it again.

okay i enjoyed this fic so much that i cannot put it in words. i remember when i first read it, i always get so excited when i see that you’ve posted and i read it in an hour, the time passing by so quickly. i couldn’t pull myself away and was reluctant to go back to real life after i finished reading. all your characters are so entertaining and as always, are integrated so nicely into this au.

things that stood out to me:

”over the khazak grass plains, year 1424 new era (ne), january” i just think that this adds a lot to the story so efficiently. we have a location and time and i just feel like this sort of title/header establishes a tone (makes me feel a steampunk/sci-fi kind of vibe). i’d be interested in how you came up with which locations and years to use?

”andrew shut off the engines and revelled in the silence. he could still hear the mechanical noises that resulted from keeping the gasbag at the appropriate pressure to maintain their altitude, but it was as quiet as it got aboard an airship.” i love this, mostly because i can relate to it? i’m really used to driving with music on, but lately i’ve been turning off the radio and driving in silence which is a really interesting experience, especially since i drive an electric car for work which is really quiet most of the time. also it introduces us to the airship!

”neil would eventually man the flight deck for night watch as he didn’t require any sleep” i am immediately invested in this version of neil and want to know EVERYTHING that he is capable of doing

andrew is wearing a scarf that nicky knitted for him!!! that is adorable! both nicky doing this for andrew, but also andrew wearing it!

your description of the monster is amazing. i would love to explore it. on the ground though (i am afraid of heights and not as brave as andrew lol) i saw that you were inspired by the mortal engine series and i can definitely see aspects of this both here and in later portions of the fic although i only watched the movie which was… interesting haha. were there any other sources of inspiration? i found that this reminds me a little of the films ‘alita, battle angel’, and a little bit of ‘castle in the sky’ as well

having little glowing things in their lamps instead of fire? woah that’s so cool

”neil was futzing around inside it with a tiny screwdriver” LOVE the word futzing. i’ve not heard it before, but it feels right. also it’s kind of cute that they are all helping each other out on the ship

algae bricks and beetle bricks? do they just,,, bite into it? because that feels so chaotic to me. lol mix into water and make it into mush? i am currently very grateful for the food i have

”jealous, aaron? don’t worry; i’ll come service you once i’ve got andrew settled tonight.” NEIL, YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

”’better do it in the reclaimer,’ said kevin, taking him literally. ‘we need to preserve water if we’re headed to palmetto before our next resupply.’” one of the many things that i love about your writing is your amazing characterization of mr kevin day. what a legend

”he wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t telling the others about wymack’s summons; there was something about it that put him on edge and he wanted to keep it to himself for now.” oh nO this is bad news!! you did a great job of introducing this undercurrent of worry into a scene that had just been so light and funny

“‘yes, i did,’ said andrew, keeping his voice steady. ‘last week before we headed into the plains.’” my stomach dropped at this point, memory problems are always so scary because it’s so hard to tell what the source of the problem is. andrew’s calmness is directly contrasting this, but it feels like it takes effort which is even scarier!

”andrew had spent his childhood shutting down any emotions. they’d been a liability in the type of life he’d led” and ”he had been destined for a short life with a brutal end. sometimes that seemed preferable to how much caring about other people could hurt. he often cursed those responsible for how his life had changed” ahhh this is so sad, but also really soft? because he’s come so far? and he’s opened himself up and let himself be vulnerable by caring

hearing the backstory of the twins is so interesting to me, you do a great job at both establishing this world that these characters are living in and how they fit in with it

”andrew was left with little choice but to do something nice to shut him up” i think this is one of the most andrew-like sentences to be ever written haha

”by all rights he should have died in the slums, but instead-and andrew was never sure exactly how he’d done it-he’d attached himself to andrew and aaron, like a barnacle that they couldn’t remove and grudgingly came to care about” cute!!! the tone is really andrew-like too

woah all these languages are pretty cool! i like the idea of having a common trading language, and the idea of having mandonese and spanglish is interesting.

”that seedy is mine” I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND THIS AT FIRST BUT THIS IS SO FUNNY. lowkey reminds me of the lego movie haha. also seems fitting of kevin to collect ancient artifacts, even if he doesn’t really know what they do

ANDREW AND AARON AS GANG LEADERS YES PLEASE. i absolutely love it when people have such a great reputation. very exciting to hear that drake is not going to be an issue in this fic!!! wait a second… andrew and aaron were 16? so small!

hmmm i am interested how kevin got stuck in shanghai?

bad news that wymack is asking neil to stay on the ship. all this mystery and hiding is making me feel like things are not looking so good

”he’d forgotten again that it was bee whom andrew wanted him to see” NOOOOO

ohmygoodness the usbee. do they pronounce it uzz-bee? because that’s definitely how i picture them saying it and it is so funny to me.

”i informed you that people are after you because i actually care about what happens to you, you miserable little gremlin” i really can never say it enough, but i love the way you use affectionate insults like this so so much.

”’oh, you know,’ said andrew idly, ‘those that slay together slay together.’” NO BIG DEAL.

”a nobody who got the drop on you. better luck next time” NEIL I KNOW THAT YOU REALLY CAN’T HELP IT BUT PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF AROUND SOMEONE WHO YOU KNOW IS SO DANGEROUS

”’this time, it was eavesdropping,’ said neil brightly” he’s so enthusiastic!! cute!!

”how do you travel now?” i am also interested in this!! for all i know, he just slides through shadows and pops up wherever andrew is haha

”neil flicked his fingers dismissively. andrew’s eyes narrowed at the performance. he wasn’t this dramatic, was he?” i am very sorry to break it to you, but andrew minyard you are one of the most dramatic people ever

ooooh dang neil is good. does his android body not process poison? also where did he get the knowledge that andrew was going to be set up anyway?

”within a few hours neil had forgotten the whole conversation, but he retained the knowledge that andrew had forced him to see bee and wasn’t happy about it” noooo why is this happening, it’s so heartbreaking to see neil forgetting things (also feels extra-bad because alzheimer’s runs in my family and this could definitely be me in the future which is Scary) and i Hate when andrew and neil are fighting because andrew is just trying to take care of neil!!! ;-;

”mickey, the mouse-shaped god of old america” OHMYGOODNESS

as startling it must have been to andrew, hearing about the moriyamas previously owning neil, i’m curious what was going through neil’s mind during this conversation. it must be so disorienting, not remembering your past. all of a sudden, you just started existing

”’shoot them. escape on the monster,’ said andrew. that was their usual plan for hostility they didn’t want to deal with.” i mean, i guess that’s a pretty solid plan. LOL

ohmygoodness katelyn also having red hair and blue eyes? “andrew always pretended not to notice that he and aaron had suspiciously similar taste in people, gender notwithstanding” LOLOL

”neil’s tension was ratcheting higher the longer they stayed in the region, something which he wouldn’t explain to andrew’s satisfaction.” ahhhh we! need! better! communication! what is neil hiding?

I HATE THAT NATHAN IS GOOD AT ACTING. YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BELIEVE HIM SO BAD EVEN THOUGH I KNOW HE’S LIKE SUPER SUPER EVIL AND IS GOING TO HURT EVERYONE NEIL AND ANDREW KNOW.

thank you andrew for knowing better and for always thinking ahead. i feel like i can really trust you to take care of neil (and you, gluupor to take care of these characters even if sometimes you break my heart while doing so)

andrew: mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp (LOVE THIS)

”wymack had always said it was because andrew had a death wish but it was really just because he liked going fast” this is really cute! both in this fic and in the series, andrew is like this and he had so little enjoyment as a child, was forced to grow up so quickly, and i’m grateful that he gets to have these little things

”’’M not,’ muttered andrew, too hot to put any effort into lying” so cute!!!

”stop and take a look? sure, why not? i don’t think we’ve got anything else pressing taking up our time right now” I CANNOT GET OVER HOW FUNNY THIS FIC IS

”’old news,’ said aaron. ‘we’ve moved on. now we’ve decided to crash into the sea’” it turns out that sometimes i actually really like aaron! now is one of those times.

oh my goodness, neil speaking only spanglish and BITING. “neil spat several curses at him before literally spitting as well” the scary thing is, this is still in character for neil haha

that’s so sweet of wymack to give andrew his ship!! ahh he’s such a soft character and i’m glad that all the foxes have someone who is taking care of them

what a beautiful way to wrap up this fic! also i feel strangely glad that nathan wasn’t actually the one to invent the tech needed to create neil. he’s too gross and evil to create such an intricate and wonderful person like neil.

BURIED IN ASH FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS WHAT

WAIT VALLEY OF SILICA LOL

oh dang yellowstone supervolcano. i’ve learned a tiny tiny bit about that and it’s actually pretty scary thinking about the consequences of it erupting and also knowing there is basically nothing we can do to stop that from happening and also very little we can do to predict it

andrew and neil are so so cute ahhh

also quick shoutout to the amazing art featured in this fic! so beautiful.

i love the flashbacks that you include. they provide valuable information and understanding of how the characters have developed, but it also gives a bit of a break from the intensity of the main plot. we get a little time to breathe and recover.

as the story travelled to different areas of the world, it was really interesting to see how you included history into it. i think my favourite story was the volcano and the ash-winter that followed. kind of scary to think of the possibility of that actually happening, because even though we have pretty cool tech, i don’t think things would go well. you do such a great job with your world-building, i never found myself confused about what was happening, the geography of it, the new tech, and the politics. i loved how you were able to smoothly include canon events/characters/things and have it work so well within this au.your descriptions are so so good and make this fic really immersive, i feel like i’m experiencing them with the characters.

definitely one of my favourite things about your writing is how you consistently do such an amazing job of incorporating humour and little character quirks into the fic. it really shows how much skill and talent you have because it’s always effortless and reads so easily. it fits well with the characterization and tone of your fics. i will forever be a fan of your dialogue and all the interactions between everyone seemed so realistic.

i’m continually impressed by your consistently marvelous storytelling. you manage to captivate me no matter what subject you choose. thank you so much for writing this!!

#above the clouds #aftg fic review #raelle writes

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traincat · 6 years ago

Note

I wanna ask. If you could re-write Spider-Man: Life Story, what would you do?

I was waiting on talking about Life Story until after it was finished, because there was some slim hope maybe everything was going to turn around, but we’ve got, what, one issue to go, and so I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t think Spider-Man: Life Story is a good comic. I think it has a very interesting premise – following Spider-Man decade by decade and reimagining the events if time progressed in comics like it does in real life – but its execution totally fails that.

I have three main problems with Spider-Man: Life Story, so I guess my answer to the question is, I would do all of these things completely differently. The first is related to the premise and the execution of the idea. It’s a very intriguing premise, but looking at it practically, it’s also a really hard one to pull off. There are over 800 issues of Amazing Spider-Man, 300 of Spectacular Spider-Man, there’s Web of Spider-Man, Spider-Man Unlimited, Peter Parker: Spider-Man, Sensational Spider-Man, etc. The Marvel wiki lists his appearances total at over 4,000 issues, and while those aren’t all Spider-Man comics or stories that are relevant to his life in the greater picture, that’s a lot of comics to compress. Coming into it, I was hoping for something a little more akin to Marvels, which focused strongly on one or two major events in the Marvel universe per issue, albeit with more of a Spider-Man focus.

That’s not what Spider-Man: Life Story is.

Let me be very clear that Zdarsky clearly knows his Spider-Man canon and history very, very well. I’d actually like to posit that’s part of the problem: Life Story’s so all over the place, throwing around so many different references to different stories, that I cannot imagine it’s an engaging or coherent read for novice Spider-Man readers, and as a more experienced Spider-Man reader, I just find the way it uses canon both frustrating and boring. It takes stories like Kraven’s Last Hunt, the Clone Saga, and the first Morlun story and remixes them in ways that provide nothing new or interesting and that, because of the compressed nature of the story telling, lack any of the emotional depth of the original. Let’s take, for example, the death of Harry Osborn. Now the original event in Spectacular Spider-Man #200 is one of my favorite comics ever. I think it’s a totally perfect issue – but it’s also the denouement of a lot of similarly great comics, like The Child Within. When Harry saves Peter (and it’s very notable that Harry in the original doesn’t intend to outlive killing Peter), it’s this perfect redemption moment in part because we’ve seen Harry struggle with his love for Peter and the life he’s carved out for himself against his father’s toxic influence, his childhood abuse, and his own mental health issues. It’s good because it’s earned.

In Life Story, Harry also dies in the act of saving Peter, ending up impaled on one of Doc Ock’s arms in a battle between Doc Ock, Peter, and Ben Reilly in issue #4. The problem with this being that we hadn’t seen Harry since issue #2, which doesn’t seem like a huge gap – until you realize that each issue is a decade, so that’s at least 10 years of a Harry and Peter relationship we have no context for. We haven’t seen them interact. We have no idea about this legendary friendship. The only proof it even exists is that Harry leaps in front of Peter to take the blow. As Harry dies, his last words are to Peter, saying “you’re my best…” and trailing off. It’s an obvious callback, if you know Spectacular Spider-Man #200, where Harry dies calling Peter his best friend. Except we have no proof of that here; we don’t see Harry and Peter being best friends. For all we know, Harry was trying to call Peter his best investor. Life Story depends so heavily on the already existing canon to fill in the emotional impact its readers are supposed to feel that it doesn’t bother to take the time to establish it itself, which, I think, is ultimately more important than throwing as many references to various Spider-Man plots at the wall at once and seeing what sticks. If I have to depend on the original comics to feel anything for Life Story, why are we even bothering publishing Life Story?

Similarly, in issue #5, which attempts to remix the first Morlun story along with Life Story’s remix of Civil War Take 2: Not In Vietnam This Time, and the death of Ben Reilly, but, you know, boring, when Ben’s death is reported on the news, Peter exclaims that it’s just like Ezekiel warned him!

Ezekiel being a character who never actually appears in this book. (I’m gonna hit on some other things in this exchange in my second and third points, because this whole section really illustrates every single problem I have with Life Story in one go.) So like, I get the whole story here, because I’ve read (and adore) the first Morlun story – which is, IMHO, a million times a better read – but what does this even look like if you haven’t? A clumsy exposition dump at best, I assume, or something that would leave you flipping back previously trying to see if you missed something. The book doesn’t even offer you an old style little citation box in the corner of the panel, telling you what issues you could find the original story in, something that I think would’ve been more than helpful and actually a fun and interesting little addition in a book that insists on being this relentlessly canon heavy without expounding or providing context on a good 50% of it. It also alters bits of canon that I feel ruin the nuance of the original, like when it depicts its version of Flash Thompson as enlisting – while 616 Flash does serve in Vietnam, in the original comics he is drafted, he does not enlist, and after the fact is clearly conflicted and deeply regretful about that service. If you’re setting your comic in the original time period, there’s no reason to alter Flash’s story like that.

The second problem I have is that Spider-Man: Life Story has a big problem in how it depicts women. With the possible exception of Peter’s daughter, depending on how the last issue goes, women in Life Story have two purposes: to sleep with Peter, to die, or both. Aunt May is only there to get dementia and die. Gwen similarly is there to be a plot device in its Clone Saga remix: the “real Gwen” dies, and Clone Gwen, apparently happily married to Original Peter as far as her own recollections, goes off without any on page internal struggle on her part with Ben Reilly upon the discovery that she’s a clone, because clones are meant to be with clones, I guess. I would think it would be difficult to give Gwen less agency in a new version of the story where an older man who is obsessed with her clones her in order to possess her, but somehow Life Story manages it. She’s never seen on page again. As she goes off, in comes Mary Jane to comfort Peter in a far more hollow version of ASM #122′s door scene, to bear his children, to take care of his ailing aunt, to leave him only to take him back, because of course she does, she’s a good woman, to be terrorized by Peter and then beg and plead with Morlun for her children’s lives. Mary Jane goes from her complicated, nuanced character in 616 to a beat down caricature, watching paralyzed with fear in front of the television as Peter fights. Additionally, she becomes her original self’s biggest fear: a battered wife.

Which brings me into our third problem: Peter himself. It’s hard for me to tell whether the intention is to depict Peter as an abusive husband and father, however, by issue five, it’s hard to deny that’s what he is. Look at the above bottom right panel: Peter’s fist is clenched, his wife and children cowering in his shadow. I won’t lie: it’s a deeply uncomfortable page. Part of the reason I wish Life Story was more tightly written was so I could be sure it meant to do the things it is doing with Peter: depicting him as a man who is simultaneously deeply damaged and deeply unlikable. There’s no two ways around this: in Life Story, Peter repeatedly abuses Mary Jane. Not only is there the threat of physical abuse in issue #5, but there’s the fact that he made her take care of his ailing aunt long past the point May should have been kept at home, refusing to put her in a care facility. Let me be very clear as someone who has cared for elderly relatives for dementia: it is not caring to keep a relative with dementia at home past a certain point, especially when, as Peter does in Life Story, you have more than enough money to put them in a good care facility. It is abusive behavior both to May and Mary Jane, predicated solely on Peter’s selfish wishes and egotistical behavior, and it goes against 616 Peter’s characterization. 616 Peter did, at a point in time, put May in a care facility, because it was what she needed at the time, and while he stressed about paying the bills, he still did it, because it was the right thing to do and because he loves her. During the saga of his parents’ “return” (they were robots – I note Life Story chose not to tackle this particular story), when Peter fears May has Alzheimer’s, he tries to make plans about what to do if that does turn out to be the case. He does not force Mary Jane to take care of her. He’s not abusive. Life Story’s Peter is. And worse yet, Mary Jane is expected by the narrative to take him back after that.

To be totally fair, I think Life Story tries to make Peter unlikable on purpose, to show that you can’t do what Peter does over a period of five decades and not have it take it a toll. The problem is there’s a huge gap between a hardened man or even an unlikable man and an abusive one, and Life Story doesn’t seem to understand that. If you look at Spider-Man canon as a bigger picture, there’s a pretty clear pattern present of men who have great power and abuse it among his villains: Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius. Curt Connors and the Lizard are a pretty clear domestic abuse narrative; Martha and Billy Connors live in fear of the reemergence of this violent “other” side that exists in Curt and could manifest itself at any time and upend their lives. What sets Peter apart from his villains is specifically that he is not an abusive man.

Life Story also fails to understand the purpose of Parker Industries – though to be fair I think Dan Slott lost this towards the end, too – as something that does not organically coexist not with Peter Parker, but specifically with Spider-Man. Slott’s Superior Spider-Man is not actually the first appearance of Parker Industries. It first comes up in the prelude to Peter selling his marriage to Mephisto during One More Day, when he’s shown two alternate paths he might have gone down if he hadn’t been bit by the spider. In the life where ordinary Peter Parker forms Parker Industries, he’s rich and respected, but his emotional life is hollow and empty:

(Sensational Spider-Man #41) In the second appearance of Parker Industries, it is founded by Otto Octavius in Peter’s name in a bid to be a “better” version of Peter, ie, a more successful one, the critical message here being that Otto doesn’t understand Spider-Man’s true value as an unselfish protector of the people. To have Peter found Parker Industries of his own free will and volition, with no mitigating circumstances, fundamentally misunderstands the point of Peter as a protector of the people and why his socioeconomic status is important: Peter is not rich in the larger web because he stands for the ordinary people against the corrupt corporate landscape, just like Norman exists as his “biggest” villain because he is the symbol and the representation of that corruption. Life Story fails to understand that within its narrative, and so it fails to understand Peter Parker, especially when it tries to set him up in opposition to either Reed Richards or Tony Stark – both of whom I also find written very poorly.

I admit I was unimpressed with Zdarsky’s Peter in Peter Parker, The Spectacular Spider-Man because I found his dialogue too rambly and light; I felt like he couldn’t commit to writing a serious Peter; in Life Story he’s writing a very serious Peter, but in a way I feel fundamentally betrays and insults the core of the character. If he writes another Spider-Man series, I hope he’s able to find a middle ground. I will say the covers he did for the book are incredible, though. I’d love to have them as posters.

Basically, if I were redoing Spider-Man: Life Story, I’d focus on these three main points: streamline the canon and cut extraneous references, give the women of the book some actual agency within it, and make sure Peter is not depicted as a domestic abuser. Which, now that I’ve written that out, seems a little bit like scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of things to hope for in a Spider-Man series. There’s one issue to go and while I hope the book goes out on a good note, at this point there’s really no way it can recover from the grim landscape the previous five issues have set.

#peter parker #mary jane watson #marvel comics #spiderman #*replies #traincat talks comics #long post/#abuse mention//

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