#perhaps I’m just crazy but I find the resemblance at least a little uncanny

[lyeofhell]

What pictures of Secondo remind you of Count Orlock specifically?

was about to go to bed, saw this ask, grinch smiled.

so many pictures of him remind me of orlok, especially side-profile pictures like these:

secondo and orlok have very sharp, angular faces. they also have remarkably similar brow bone structure…

which lends well to their iconic, menacing gazes that we all know and love :)

oh and of course, the noses :) secondo’s is less pointed at the tip, but they both have a similar bump, giving the bridge that hooked shape!

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

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This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

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Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[imaginepirates]

Modern! Beckett

Alrighty, so I know these were requested forever ago (sorry, fml) but here you are with another modern au setting in which Beckett is plunged into today’s world. You live on a peaceful vineyard, so if you need something aesthetically pleasing rn, this is it. 

@fablelady @kay-maybe​ @panagiasikelia​ 

~3200 words

~~~~~~~

          Something had gone horribly wrong with the food. Some sort of toxin had made its way into your body. It had to have. Otherwise, you wouldn't be seeing a man standing in your vineyard, wearing an embroidered waistcoat, looking completely and utterly lost.

          You'd been walking barefoot through the rows of vines after breakfast, letting your toes curl against the earth. It was a pleasant sensation. A light breeze tugged at your loose hair, and the morning sun warmed your arms and back. Ripe grapes hung from the vineyard’s vines, purplish blue, ready to be harvested and sold to the nearby winery. You looked up, gazing over the endless rows of green and out to the golden fields beyond. Even further was the shimmering lake, the morning sun dappling across its surface, vast and blue and ending hazily at the mountainous opposite shore.

         You wandered aimlessly, with no goal in mind, just looking out over the vast stretches of empty land. There was another vineyard in the distance, much the same as yours, and a small road interrupted the natural beauty, but there was little else around. A small city sat beyond the crest of a far off hill. You couldn’t see it from where you lived, but you drove in to get groceries and anything else you needed.

         It was as you walked that you found yourself face to face with a small man who had somehow made his way deep within your vineyard. He stared at you with wide eyes and a perplexed expression, and you stared back, equally surprised.

         It took a few moments to even comprehend the idea of someone ending up on your property. The section of vines you were in was far from the road, and you likely would have noticed someone coming from the road in any case. He didn’t really look like he’d walked a long way; there was none of the thin layer of dust that a person accumulated while walking long distances. You had no idea where he could have possibly come from.

         The second thing that you noticed about the stranger was his manner of dress. A pale blue embroidered waistcoat, breaches, and strange heeled shoes were hardly the normal manner of dress. Not to mention the wig.

          It took you another instant to realize that you recognized the man. Which means I must be dreaming, or I must be crazy. He bared an uncanny resemblance to a character from one of your favorite movies. There’s no way this could possibly be him. Lord Cutler Beckett, in my yard.

         You must have been staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, as he cleared his throat.

         You had a hard time forcing words out of your mouth. “Oh,” was all you could manage at first. Then, “Any idea how you got here?”

         The man had the decency to look embarrassed. “No, I’m afraid.” He fidgeted with the hem of his loose white shirt. “Where am I, exactly?”

         “In the middle of my vineyard, actually.”

         “Ah. And that is?”

         “A ways from wherever you come from, I think.”

         He seemed to agree, assessing your clothes and the area around him.

         “Would you like to come inside? We might be able to figure things out better.”

         “Thank you.”

         You walked back between the rows of grapevines, much more quickly than your earlier aimless meandering. The house was just ahead, a red roof against sandy walls. Cypress trees stood, lining the gravel driveway, at the front of the house. Beckett didn’t seem phased in the least by the outside appearance; you were sure he’d seen things like it before. It was old-fashioned, if not truly that old, in the style of Tuscan vineyards.

         Beckett got a shock upon seeing the inside of the house, though. You led him up the stairs to your back porch and through the double doors at the back of the house. If the porch a story off the ground didn’t seem strange enough to him, the modern furniture, lights, decor, and appliances shocked him. You could hear him gasp a little behind you as he entered the house.

         You entered into the kitchen. It was a large, open space connected to your living room. Bar seating separated the two spaces. “Water?” You asked. “I know it can get hot out there.”

         “Hm? Oh, yes, please.” Somehow, he still managed to keep his manners.

         You pulled a glass from the cupboard of the kitchen, filling it with water from the refrigerator. You looked back at Beckett, who stared on quizzically with his mouth slightly open. When you gave him the glass, he eyed it suspiciously before drinking.

         “Perhaps ‘where’ am I wasn’t the right question,” he murmured. He drank slowly, eyeing everything around him. You were half tempted to turn on the TV, just to give him a start, but you decided against it.

         “I think you’re going to find that everything is different around here. It might take some getting used to.” That was an understatement and you knew it.

         “Ah.” He continued to stare. Finally, his eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at you. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to play the part of the host?”

         “I have plenty of room.”

         He raised his eyebrows. “You live here alone?” “Not anymore, it seems, though I might like to know the name of my guest.” You gave him a smile, and he tentatively smiled back.

         “Beckett. Cutler Beckett.” It was your turn to be dazed. “Thank you. I’d rather not make myself more lost by trying to find somewhere else to stay.”

         “I understand.” Huh. Cutler Beckett. Right in my kitchen.

         You showed him to a guest room. It was fairly minimal, and the decorations were sparse. The room had been painted an ivory color, and you’d complimented it with pale blue decorations. The curtains sported flowering shapes in both colors, whereas the bedspread was slightly patterned in varying shades of blue. An ovular mirror stood to one side of the room. It was charming, in its own way, though you were sure Beckett was used to more lavish accommodations.

         He, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He tapped the bed absentmindedly with a hand, looking around. He furrowed his brows, looking at the nightstand with its lamp. “What’s this?”

         “A lamp. It’s a light that you can control from next to your bed.” You then proceeded to show him the lightswitch.

         He stared, bewitched. “How does it work?”

         “I’m…. not completely sure. It’s so common, I don’t really think about that. I know that it’s a complicated mess of wires, though.”

         He continued to stare at the switch. As you left the room, you heard him give it a few experimental clicks. You smiled. It was sort of adorable, the way he was enchanted with everything. Much different from the man from the story. Softer. More human.

         “Are you hungry?” You asked. It was getting on towards midday, and you found the idea of lunch to be appealing.

         “The thought of food tempts me, I will admit.”

         “It’s decided, then. Perhaps we’ll make it a picnic.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling out meats, cheeses, fruits, nuts, and crackers. Snacky foods, but delicious when combined, and perfectly filling.

         Beckett seemed a little dubious at the idea of eating outside, but you assured him that he wouldn’t get dirty, nor would he have trouble with bugs.

         “And the heat?” he asked.

         “Firstly, you can lose the waistcoat. And the wig. They won’t do you any favors. Secondly,” you snatched a floppy sun hat from a peg on the wall, “I have two.”

         You might have considered getting him different clothes if you’d been worried about someone seeing you, but you weren’t, so you didn’t bother. You instead put the large sun hat on his now bare head, the hat clashing horribly with everything else.

         You put yours firmly in place, picked up the basket in which you’d put your food, and strolled out the back door. Beckett followed right behind you, staring out at everything he could see. “It feels like Greece,” he said, “or Italy.”

         “Thank you. I try to keep that feeling, actually.”

         “You’re doing beautifully.”

         The words took you aback. You could see that he was perfectly serious, but you hadn’t expected such a compliment from him. You’d hardly expected him to say anything nice at all. The story didn’t do him justice, then. You’d always expected him to be a bit of an ass. You supposed he still had the chance, but he’d been nothing but the picture of polite company, if not massively confused polite company.

         You walked him down a winding path through the golden fields surrounding the vineyard. It trailed down to the shore of the lake, whose deep blue waters stretched out to a hazy horizon. Mountains rose up far beyond, too far away to see clearly, barely standing out against the sky. A small boat sat on the beach there, on your side,  and you had a mind to row it a ways down the bank.

         You pushed off from the bank, peacefully rowing through the serene waters. Few boats used the lake, making it ideally scenic. You would have hated for the lake to be crowded. More urban areas got choked with tourists during the summer, but you were far enough away from any big cities that it wasn’t a problem. Besides, the nearest town didn’t have major hotels.

         You rowed along, Beckett sitting opposite you in the little boat. He seemed to be enjoying himself, looking out over the scenery. The tension had left his shoulders. He seemed almost peaceful this way, staring out at the hazy mountains, looking over the golden fields and banks of trees.

         You arrived at a flat, grassy area shaded by trees. The two of you got out and sat beside the lake, shielded from the blistering sun. You unpacked the basket you’d brought with you. You and Beckett sat in companionable silence, enjoying the meal, enjoying a slight breeze. Beckett looked ridiculous in the sun hat. It seemed too big on him, somehow, and it made him look much less threatening than you were used to his being. Meeting him in person had been a lot different than how he was portrayed, you reflected.

         “It’s wonderful here. Much more peaceful than home,” he said. His expression changed when he spoke of his home, like he’d tasted something sour. “I do wonder what’s going on. And how I’m supposed to get back. If I’m supposed to get back. It’s a rather terrifying thought, that I might never go home.” By the look on his face, the thought was just now occurring to him.

         “I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you home.”

         “Are you sure? I don’t know how I ended up here in the first place. It seems rather like a dream, though I can say with confidence that it isn’t.”

         “You had to get here somehow. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here forever.”

         He looked out over the lake. “Things are such a mess there, the idea of staying here isn’t so awful, actually.”

         “Maybe you just needed time away.”

         “I doubt the world would be so kind.”

         You steered away from the subject, and the two of you ended up talking about the vineyard. He knew more about viniculture than you might have guessed.

         “It really does take me back to some of my lessons in school,” he said. “They had pictures of the Italian countryside in some of my books. It was much like this, though I don’t remember any lakes.”

         You smiled. “It’s one of my favorite places. Too many methods of production have taken on more modern approaches; the massive farms growing wheat, or the rows upon rows of corn, interrupted only by giant sprinklers and massive tractors. I like keeping things small. It’s so much more peaceful than those unnerving monocultures.”

         “I always wanted to go. To Greece, or Italy, I mean. I loved all the stories, all the history. I wanted to experience it for myself.”

         “Never got to go?”

         “No. My travels took me elsewhere. Africa, China, India, the New World. I always told myself that I’d make time for it later.”

         “Surely the places you did go to proved to be interesting.”

         “Very. The cultures of those places were foreign to me; lord knows they weren’t part my education. I found them fascinating. Tell me, have the American colonies expanded? I’m sure they’d have had to, by now.”

         “Well, yes.” You didn’t think he’d like where this was going.

         Something in your expression must have tipped Beckett off. “They are still under the control of the British?”

         “No.”

         “The Spanish? God forbid, don’t tell me the French got control. I can’t imagine those frogs doing anything good with the land.”

         “Actually, the colonies had a revolution and became their own country.”

         “Ah,” he said. “I suppose that’s wont to happen sometimes.”

         “Yes, yes it is.” You thought of all the other countries that had broken away from Britain, too.

         You packed up, stepping back into the boat. This time, you drifted out towards the center of the lake. “Did you spend much time at sea?” you asked. “You did seem to travel a lot.” You didn’t want to make it look like you knew too much about him, even though you did.

         “I spent a fare amount of time at sea, yes, though I typically settled down once I got somewhere.” He let his hand skim the top of the water. “The sea is much different from a lake, though. Calmer.”

         You were out on the lake until dusk, talking about this and that; the places you’d been and the things you’d seen, all the questions Beckett had for you about modern technology and travel, and a hundred other things. You figured it was the most relaxed Becektt had ever been. He even laughed from time to time at your jokes. How strange it is, to see him like this. I think he’s growing on me.

         You seemed to be growing on him, too. “You’re very easy to get along with, you know that? I haven’t just sat and talked with someone in ages. At least, not without wanting to get something from them.”

         “Is there nothing you want to get from me?” you asked innocently.

         Beckett looked at you, surprised. A slight blush dusted his features. Then he smiled, a little wickedly, and raised an eyebrow. “Was that flirting?”

         It was your turn to blush. “Perhaps a little.”

         “Just know that it can go both ways.” A smug look crossed his face as you blushed deeper. “Although I have to admit, I’m rather out of practice. It’s been a long time since anyone’s flirted with me.”

         “I can’t see why. You’re such a charming man.”

         “Am I? I rather think that my good attitude has everything to do with my company, and nothing to do with my charm.”

         You rolled your eyes, rowing back to shore. By the time you got back to the house, it was time for dinner, and you coerced Beckett into helping you make it. He had little idea what he was doing, but managed not to make a complete mess with any of his tasks. It’s cute, you thought, to watch him try doing domestic things.

         The two of you enjoyed a pasta dish with chicken and tomatoes, fresh basil and olive oil drizzled over the top. You had an assortment of fruits to enjoy, too. You plucked a pomegranate from the mix.

         Beckett eyed you. “I suppose you know the story of Hades and Persephone?”

         “I do. How Hades fell in love with Persephone, kidnapped her, and tricked her into eating seeds from the fruit of the underworld. She had to return to him, then, and spend half of each year with him.”

         “A man from another world, falling for a goddess of vegetation.” Beckett’s eyes focused on the pomegranate. “Sometimes, mythology is unbelievable. Sometimes, it isn’t.”

         You cut the fruit, taking out a large spoonful of the burgundy seeds and eating them. “I like the version where Persephone knows exactly what she’s doing.”

         Beckett watched you, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

         “It’s a little wicked, I must confess. The thought that she was no innocent victim, but a wholly conscious decider of her fate. Perhaps not all women want to pick flowers all day. Some of us might like a taste of power, of having men fear our names.”

         “And would you have me fear yours?” He arched a brow. You laughed. “No, no.”

         “Would you rather me kidnap you, then?” He didn’t give you time to answer, instead pulling you out of your seat to be flush against him. “Tell me, do you dance?”

         “Does the Macarena count?” He gave you a questioning look. “Nevermind,” you said. “The answer is no.”

         “Shame. Looks like you need a teacher.” He smirked. “It might be a little hard without music, though.”

         “What song?” Beckett looked confused. “Can you get any waltzes?”

         “Alexa,” you turned your head towards the small device sitting on your counter. “Play the Second Waltz.” You turned back to Beckett. “It’s a bit more contemporary, but I trust you’ll know how to dace to it.”

         The tune, familiar to you, at least, began. Beckett put a hand on your waist and took one of your hands with the other. Your free hand floated just above his shoulder, where you assumed it was supposed to go.

         “Don’t be shy,” he urged.

         The moment your hand came to rest on his shoulder, he took a step forward, forcing you to step back. He guided you to one side, then forward, and again to the other side. Your movements were clumsy, but you began to get the hang of it as he repeated the steps.

         “Not so hard, see?”

         You smiled shyly, aware of just how close the two of you were.

         “Blushing already?” he teased. He suddenly pulled you flush against his chest. “And to think I hadn’t even given you anything to blush about.”

         “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” You barely managed to get the words out through your embarrassment.

         “Perhaps. Though I’m sure I can make you blush harder if I try.”

         “Is that a promise?”

         Beckett laughed. “You’re not so bad at this yourself, you know. But if I must…” The hand on your waist took a firmer grip, while the one holding yours came to rest on your cheek. His thumb grazed over your lower lip. Softly, he planted a kiss to your lips, staying close even after it was finished. “Perhaps staying here forever isn’t such a bad thought after all,” he whispered. He stepped back. “Though I suppose I have to find a way back at some point.”

         “We will,” you said, still a little dizzy from the kiss.

         “Together?”

         “Together.”

~~~~~~~

If anyone was wondering about the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPG_WUgHbis

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Slides and Serendipity

Part 6 (4.2k)

Masterlist

AN: Back to back updates what is going on and also happy reading. I hope everyone is doing okay during quarantine

Warnings: pretty sure there’s some language in there but who is even surprised anymore

I was really excited to finally see Mia again because she was this amazingly sweet girl. She’d moved to New York in pursuit of her career as a graphics designer after graduating and then contact had fizzled out not soon after.

That was the sad part about graduating. It was impossible to keep up with everyone because after years of spending so much time together everyone was starting their own lives. We all got caught up in our own things and I lost touch with many great people from college. I always told myself I’d reach out when things would quiet down but at this point it would mostly be awkward.

I arrived a little early at the restaurant and asked for a table where I could watch the door so I could wave Mia over. She arrived not soon after, a bright smile on her face as soon as she spotted me. She looked good, still perfectly styled and her make up on point. She’d lost her baby face like most of us by now and her look was more sophisticated but overall I’d have recognized her anywhere.

“How is it possible that you’re even hotter now than you were three years ago?”, she greeted me with a laugh and I joined her, standing up to hug her tightly. She was taller than me, even with the heeled booties I wore, her model height had always had her towering over everyone else in our girl gang during college.

“You’re one to talk, I’m pretty sure your boobs make every porn star jealous at this point.”

“Don’t even get me started on these babies, my back is killing me to the point that I’m actually considering a reduction. I’d rather have your boobs, big enough to turn heads but not to the point where they’re constantly fighting gravity.” She winked at me and gave me a playful once over, an approving look on her face.

“God I’ve missed you. Now we only need Lisa to complete the Holy European Trinity so we can wreak havoc over this city”, I sighed and she agreed before sitting back down. With Mia’s cute Irish accent and Lisa’s passionate Italian heritage we’d turned quite a few heads during our time in college but we’d all been very picky with our choices.

“Perhaps it’s good that she’s still in Denver, Dallas can’t handle all three of us.”

We ordered our drinks and then quickly decided on sharing one of the menus the restaurant offered for couples. She was about to show me something on her phone when I did a double take at her background picture.

“Holy shit you have a son?!”, I exclaimed, looking at the picture of a toddler in her arms. It had to be her son, the resemblance was uncanny even if he didn’t share her red locks.

“Yeah this is Elias, he just turned two. I totally forgot that we stopped talking right before I found out that I was pregnant”, she said sheepishly and I couldn’t believe it. Here I was, 25 and enjoying the single life while one of my closest friends from college had started a family. I couldn’t spot a wedding ring on her finger though and while I usually wouldn’t dare ask this question in most cases, Mia and I had shared far more personal details before.

“Who’s the dad, the guy you met at the supermarket?” I was pretty sure that she mentioned liking this guy but I could be wrong, it had been a while after all.

“No not him, some guy I met before him but he doesn’t even know that I got pregnant after hooking up. Supermarket guy fled as soon as I told him that I was three months pregnant and that it wasn’t his. It’s been Elias and I ever since but now I moved back so my parents could watch their grandchild grow up, they always complained about not seeing him enough.”

“He’s too cute, such a stud already because he gets his looks from you. I really want to meet the little guy, I’ll be the best auntie ever since he doesn’t have any real ones. And if you ever need a babysitter I’d love to watch him”, I said excitedly. I loved kids but wasn’t ready to have any on my own, besides the fact that I also didn’t have a baby daddy in sight either. Mia was an only child so I’d decided that it was now my responsibility to spoil her kid.

“He’s with my parents right now but I’ll come visit with him sometime next week if you want.”

I agreed of course and then she told me all about him until our food arrived. Elias sounded hilarious and I already loved him without ever having met him. I waited until after we finished eating to talk to her about what I really wanted.

“I don’t know if Lisa told you anything yet, but I’m starting my own business and I really want you to work with me. I want you to be in charge of the graphics and we can get started as soon as I find someone else to help me with the coding because I have so many requests lined up I can’t do them all by myself.”

“Yeah she hinted at something like that. What kind of stuff would you want me to do and where would we work?”, she asked and I knew that I had her.

“At first I was planning on renting an office somewhere downtown but then I realized that that would be wasted time and money. I have a big house now so I turned one of the big rooms into an office with a conference table and everything. The table is set to be delivered tomorrow and then we’re ready to move in. The designs are really up to you, of course there are requests but you know best so I won’t meddle in any of that.”

She asked me how we’d do it payment wise but I knew that unless I’d really screw her over in that department, which I would never do, she’d agree.

“Okay I’ll do it. And I might also have someone to help you with the programming part. His name is Jason and he works with me right now. He’s really good and also knows a thing or two about marketing if you ever want to fly solo again and if that doesn’t convince you already, his wife Madelyn rivals your cooking skills so there’s always going to be amazing lunch to go around.”

I’d been convinced that she’d agree, yet I couldn’t help the feeling of relief coursing through me right now. I’d tried to convince Lisa to move with me but she didn’t want to leave her family in Denver behind and I understood that. Now I’d have Mia by my side at least.

I’d moved to Texas to be closer to the Bumble headquarters, finally feeling ready to step up again but ultimately liking Dallas better than Austin. Most of the meetings could be done via Skype and for everything else I’d just have to bear the drive down.

“Do you think this Jason will go for my offer?”, I asked unsure, Mia was my friend so perhaps she was more inclined to leave her safe office job for a startup business but I didn’t know this guy.

“Of course, especially with what you’re offering to pay. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with the Olivia Haller either, you’re famous in our circles. Plus he’s probably sick of following orders too, I know I am at least.”

Tonight couldn’t have gone any better and I was so happy. Mia decided to call this Jason on the spot and I talked to him for a bit before inviting him over to the office at the beginning of next week. I trusted Mia’s judge of character but I still wanted to see if he really was a good fit because I really wanted this to work.

She had to leave a while later to pick up Elias and we agreed that she’d be there for the meeting with Jason so I would see her in a few days again. I hugged her tightly as we said our goodbyes, happy to be reunited with an old friend.

Tyler texted me on Saturday morning to see if I wanted to hand out with him tonight, but I told him that I’d already made plans with the girls to go out.

Tyler: See I told you that my friends like you better than me already. They’ve never asked me to go out with them

Me: Maybe they’re afraid that you’ll hit on them

Tyler: Very funny but probably also true

I laughed at his response because at least he was honest with himself, something that I really liked. He knew he’d fucked up before and wasn’t shy about admitting his mistakes.

Katie had told me to dress up for the club we’d be going to and I picked out a satin wrap-style dress that I’d loved in the store but never had the chance to wear since. The material was so soft and flowy that I couldn’t stop my hands from running over it. I even took the time to do my make up properly, gluing on fake lashes and applying bold red lipstick, a color that I’d come to love over the past few years.

I looked hot and after I sent a pic in the group chat Lisa told me to get some tonight so I could get sleeping with Tyler out of my head. I told her that I’d think about it but I already knew that I probably wouldn’t do it because I’d never been a fan of one night stands. I also didn’t want to pursue a hookup in front of Katie and the other girls, that would be a little weird after all.

After thanking my Uber driver I got out and spotted the girls immediately. I recognized Katie, Dominika and Alandra but there were three other girls I hadn’t met before.

“Liv I want you to meet Anna, Fanny and Taylor. Girls this is Liv, the one that has Tyler going absolutely crazy”, Katie introduced everyone and I had to laugh at the last part because I knew that she couldn’t be telling the truth.

Tyler was so chill with me lately I couldn’t imagine him ever losing his head over anyone, especially me. The only apparent lapse in his judgement had been at the party but ever since he’d only been friendly with perhaps a touch of affectionate.

The cold breeze that hit our exposed legs quickly made all of us walk inside, where we were immediately greeted by thumping music and bodies writhing to the beat.

“Drinks first?”, someone shouted and we all nodded, slowly making our way over to the bar. Even with my heels on I was still smaller than most and I was nearly hit in the face by elbows more than once. I didn’t mind masses of people per se, but I didn’t like the feeling of people closing in on me to the point of me feeling like Jon Snow at the end of season six.

The bar was crowded and I knew that there was no point of me being the one up front ordering. Usually I flirted with the bartenders to get my drinks faster but there were so many tall guys that no barkeeper would even be able to see me throwing a smile at him.

Dominika soon turned around with two glasses of Tequila for everyone and we quickly downed them. We ordered some more drinks and then set out to find a booth so we could relax for a bit before we’d make our way to the dance floor. I’d ordered a beer instead because I knew that the small opening of the bottle made it harder to slip something in when dancing, something I had to learn the hard way. Unless I knew that I could leave my drink and that it would be watched I always stuck with beer and shots.

Tonight seemed to be our night because just as we walked over another group of girls abandoned their booth to go dance and we quickly slid in, spreading around the table. I tried my best to ignore the disgusting sticky surface in front of me and joined the conversation on which type of heels was best suited to go clubbing.

Eventually I got up to order more rounds of shots for us, this time determined that the barkeeper would notice me. I found a free spot next to a big guy and waved over to the barkeeper, giving him my brightest smile. My plan worked as he immediately came over, abandoning a group of guys to my left.

“Two rounds of tequila for seven please”, I yelled over the loud music and he winked at me with a flirty smile.

“Add that to my tab Jake”, the tall guy on my left said as the barkeeper asked for my credit card. I quickly hid the black piece of plastic back in my tiny purse and looked up at the guy for the first time. He was decently handsome but I didn’t like the way he smiled at me though, as if offering to pay for the drinks was the single greatest thing to have ever been achieved by mankind.

I wouldn’t turn down free shots though so I gave him a coy smile and thanked him before grabbing the tray and making my way back, years of waitressing paying off.

“Courtesy of a dude at the bar so bottoms up everyone”, I said and they all cheered.

“Only you would get a guy to spend well over 50 bucks on your drinks without saying a single word to him before”, Alandra laughed after I told everyone how we snagged those free drinks. I just shrugged and winked at her which made everyone laugh.

Everyone was starting to feel buzzed enough to hit the dance floor and I was glad to have finished off my beer a while ago, nothing stopping me from dancing now. We had a great time, swaying our hips to the beat with our arms thrown around each other and the others took multiple videos of everyone dancing for their stories. We asked a girl to take pictures of us to commemorate the evening and I posted one where all of us looked super hot, tagging the girls after everyone was now following me.

Of course the male population had to ruin the amazing time I was having as a pair of hands grabbed my hips from behind. I immediately slapped them off and turned around to give whoever had the audacity an ear full, sighing as I realized that it was the guy from the bar earlier.

“You never properly thanked me”, he said, probably trying to sound sexy but failing miserably because he was creeping the hell out of me.

“I already said thank you back at the bar”, I responded coldly, not wanting to put up with this shit when I’d been having so much fun up until now.

“I spent so much money on you and you can’t even be nice to me?!”, he exclaimed and I could tell that he was pissed. He’d balled his hands to fists and taken a step closer to me, I really hoped that he wouldn’t get violent.

“No one asked you to do that, that’s all on you buddy. I don’t owe you anything and I’ve been nothing but polite up until now but if you don’t leave us alone right this second I will make sure that you’re kicked out of this club for good”, I threatened, switching my posture to a more intimidating stance and already calculating in my head how much I’d need to bribe some bouncers to get what I wanted. It was still a little shocking what money could achieve. He seemed to realize that he better not mess with me because he backed up and left with a huff and a dirty glance back.

I turned around to the girls, all of them staring at me in shock.

“What?”, I asked, subconsciously reaching up to fix my hair as if that were the reason they were looking at me like that.

“The way you stood up to him, despite being like half his size. Girl I love you already”, Anna said and I laughed at her comment but I couldn’t stop the blush from spreading on my cheeks.

“I need more alcohol after this and this time I’m actually buying”, I said, needing this night to get back on track. I managed the trip without any incidents this time, returning not soon after with a full tray of shots.

As a German I wasn’t a lightweight by any means, the American night out our pregame but even I could feel the buzz of the alcohol by now. We continued drinking and dancing until our feet screamed at us to take a break.

Back in a different booth I checked my phone to see that Tyler had texted me a while ago. I was surprised to see that he was still up as it had gotten pretty late.

Tyler: Looks like you’re having all the fun without me :(

He’d attached a screenshot of Fanny’s Instagram story where you could see me practically grinding on Dominika.

Me: Don’t worry we can still have lots of fun if you want

I couldn’t help it, alcohol made me horny and my alcohol clouded brain had forgotten to put my don’t-hook-up-with-Tyler-filter on.

Tyler: Sounds promising

Tyler: Do you want me to come pick you up?

I had to read the message twice, not really sure if he really meant it the way I thought he did.

Me: To have fun?

Tyler: Fuck no I didn’t mean for this to come out that way I swear

Tyler: I just don’t want you to have to catch a ride alone this late and I know that none of the girls live close to us

My alcohol clouded brain had now proceeded to make heart eyes at Tyler’s sweet gesture.

Me: Look at you being cute and shit but I don’t want to keep you up

Tyler: Don’t worry about it just text me when you’re ready to go

I looked at the girls, noticing that most of them looked just as exhausted as I felt at this point. We had been in here for hours and I knew that we would probably head out soon so I texted Tyler to leave now. By the time he’d get here we would probably be outside already.

“Do you want me to call an Uber for you too?”, Taylor asked me a bit later and I shook my head no, telling them that Tyler would pick me up.

“Wow that’s really sweet and unusual of him, you really got him good.” Katie’s comment had me lost in my thoughts until we were outside again. It had cooled off even more now and I was glad that we didn’t have to wait long.

Tyler pulled up to the curb almost at the same time as the Ubers and we all hugged goodbye, promising to go out again soon. I opened the door to the G wagon and smiled happily at Tyler, my judgement still a little woozy from too much tequila.

“As much as I’m enjoying my view right now you should probably put on the jacket that’s on the backseat, you must be freezing”, he said, probably noticing my slight shivering in the short dress. I nodded thankfully and tried to reach back but the damn car was so big that I practically had to climb on top of the middle console to finally get my hands on the piece of clothing.

This way I’d basically pushed my ass in Tyler’s face but I didn’t realize my mistake until I turned back and saw him look at me with a wild expression on his face. I tried to act as if I didn’t notice what had happened and after shaking his head to snap out of it he shifted to drive and pulled away from the club.

He asked me if I’d had fun and I giggled before telling him that he sounded like my parent right now, at which point he pulled a face. I could swear that I heard him mutter something like ‘fucking parentzoned’ under his breath but perhaps the alcohol was making me hear things.

He told me about how he had spent his evening skyping with his sisters and I loved that family man aspect about him. One could only dream of being as close as the Seguins.

Once in a while he’d quietly sing along to the songs playing over the speakers and I slowly found myself growing more tired by the second. It was really all his fault with his comfortable car seats and his stupidly soothing voice.

By the time he pulled into my driveway I was so close to falling asleep that I didn’t want to open my eyes anymore. Tyler laughed at me but then he surprisingly got out and walked around the car before picking me up and carrying me bridal style towards the front door.

“Tell me your code”, he said and I was more than happy to supply him with the numbers if that meant that he’d carry me for a while longer. Yogi greeted us excitedly and I told Tyler to let him out before I demanded he take me upstairs. I could feel his chest shaking with laughter but he didn’t complain, instead gripping me tighter so he could move around better.

“I still need to take off my make up”, I stopped him before he could lay me down on my bed, finally opening my eyes to look up at Tyler.

“Alright I’ll set you down on the bathroom counter and then leave so you can work your magic.” He smiled his adorable smile at me but I wasn’t quite ready for him to leave yet.

“I need your help with the dress though, I tied it really well so it wouldn’t come loose and I don’t know if I can get it off by myself now”, I pouted at him, hoping that he’d agree to take my dress of for me again. Just like the last time I was fully capable of doing it myself but I wanted to tease him for a little bit before he left.

From my angle I could watch Tyler visibly gulp but he still agreed before gently setting me down in the bathroom. Reluctantly I let go of his neck and turned to the side so he could access the part where I’d tied the fabric of the dress together.

His big beautiful hands were now struggling with the knots and his nose was scrunched up in concentration. I’d never seen anyone look so hot and cute at the same time.

He finally managed to get the last part and as soon as he let the strings go the flowy nature of the dress made it slip down my body, exposing my underwear. I’d expected something like this to happen and it may have been one of the reasons why I’d asked him to help me.

Despite having told Lisa that I wouldn’t hook up with anyone I’d picked out a matching lace set for tonight just in case and I could see that it took everything out of Tyler to avert his eyes. Not before looking me up and down though. I let the dress fall down the rest of the way and reached for my robe by the door, catching Tyler checking me out as soon as I turned my back on him in the mirror.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up, you really didn’t have to”, I said as we walked down the stairs again. I needed to let Yogi in again and I also wanted to escort him to the door.

“I didn’t mind, really it’s nothing”, he shrugged and I smiled, knowing that it definitely wasn’t nothing.

“Well in my books I owe you one now, so if you ever need me to pick you up or anything really, just let me know.” I tried to get my point across, already knowing that he’d probably never drunk call me in the middle of the night to ask for a ride.

“I’ll try to remember but I’ll let you catch some sleep now. If you want to you can come over for breakfast tomorrow, we didn’t get to hang out today after all”

I wished he wouldn’t leave and instead climb into bed with me but I knew that there was no way. Instead I settled for a kiss on his cheek and a hug.

“Of course I’ll come, I might need some grilled cheese after all. Goodnight Ty.”

“Goodnight Liv, see you in a few hours.”

[notbang]

that cat’s something i can’t explain

read on ao3

1.

“Rebecca,” Nathaniel says in surprise when he spots his girlfriend weaving through the Mountaintop lobby, flour-dusted apron and all, making a very determined beeline in his general direction. “What’s going on?”

As soon as he says the words, he expects her haughtiness—an affronted why can’t a humble pretzel maker visit her lawyer lover on the top floor, perhaps, or something equally colourful. The closer she gets, though, he can see she’s vibrating with something other than deliberately cloying indignation.

“What’s going on,” she says emphatically, dropping her phone on the front desk with enough force that its momentum slides it towards him, “is that if I had to be subjected to this monstrosity, then so you do you.”

He stops the phone before it can ricochet off the edge of the counter, eyebrows raised as he unlocks the screen.

“Now that we know a love of the theatrical arts is something which we both share—”

“Wouldn’t say ‘love’,” Nathaniel interjects.

“—we can have these very important cultural discussions together.”

He makes it approximately twenty seconds into the video before he turns it off.

This isn’t the first time he’s found himself completely miffed by one of Rebecca’s outbursts, but even in his bemusement it’d be disingenuous of him to paint it as one of her qualities he considers skewed towards the negative. There’s always been something so captivating in the way her feelings tend to command the entirety of her tiny frame, expressing endlessly outwards, always making her seem so much more than what she is.

Still, he’s at a loss for what to offer her in return for her obvious discontent, and he settles for stating the obvious, well aware she’ll hand him precisely the response she was looking for soon enough.

“Don’t see it?” he offers, tone tentative and polite.

Predictably, she scoffs at him, jabbing two accusing pointer fingers in his direction. “Ha. Don’t see it. I wasn’t planning on it, was I? But then they had to go and make it terrible, which is how they reel you in! And not just plain old terrible, either—it’s, like, the uncanny valley, haunt-your-dreams kind of terrible that cancels out how terrible the source material already is, because that’s how negative integers work, for some reason, and now it’s like this… furry train wreck I can’t look away from,” she finishes, gesticulating wildly and scrunching up her hands into frustrated little cat claws.

“Did Nathaniel finally admit he’s a furry?” Maya whispers with conspiratorial glee, popping up unannounced on Rebecca’s immediate left.

“Ugh, Maya, go away,” she groans.

“You don’t work here anymore—you can’t just boss people around,” Nathaniel says, before straightening his shoulders and adding pointedly, “Maya, go away. Please.”

Rebecca raises her eyebrows as the office assistant pushes her glasses up her nose, pouts and scampers away. She leans across the desk to give him a blatant up-and-down. “Wow, look at you—dolling out pleases like you’re Oprah or something. So cordial, yet commanding. It’s kind of sexy, in a Miss Manners kind of way.”

“Don’t you have a storefront you should be manning?”

“I’d be able to hear the fire alarm from here,” she defends, then pushes up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. Nathaniel pauses in his photocopying, ears pinking, then reciprocates with a brief press of his open palm to the small of her back.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he calls after her, but he’s certain she doesn’t hear him, already having summoned Maya back, strangely intent on correcting her opinions on something involving, if he’s heard correctly, Taylor Swift.

2.

When he makes his way down the hall back to her bedroom, still towelling his hair, there’s a message notification waiting on his phone from Rebecca.

“What is this?” he asks, waving his screen at her.

She doesn’t even glance up from the novel she’s reading, a stray lock of her hair looping around her finger in an absent spiral. He watches the movement for a moment, transfixed, until she disengages the curl to flick the page over and finally responds. “It’s Hermione after she messes up her Polyjuice potion in Chamber of Secrets. Obviously.”

“Okay.” Then, after a beat, “Why am I looking at it?”

“Because Paula doesn’t understand musicals or Harry Potter or memes, so it had to go to you by default.”

“Do you understand memes?”

“Plus,” she says, ignoring him, “you’re, like, romantically obligated to find every message I send you entertaining.”

He plugs his phone into charge before joining her on the bed, shuffling as high up on the pillows as he can manage to keep his toes from skimming the end of the mattress when he stretches out. It’s not entirely successful, but if he bends at the knees a little and curls on his side, he knows from past experience he can make it work.

“Am I, just. Even the ones composed entirely of emojis?”

She grins. “Especially the ones composed entirely of emojis.”

Rebecca ditches her paperback in favour of wriggling into his warmth, murmuring her contentment when he slips an arm around her waist to draw her close and drop a chaste kiss onto the crown of her head. Her hair’s still damp and smells vaguely floral, like her shampoo, and he lets his lips linger there, breathing her in.

His phone vibrates twice on the nightstand.

When pulls back to peer down his nose at her, she’s not-so-subtle in her attempt to conceal what she’s cradling innocently between their chests. He sighs, feigning exasperation. “You just sent me a cat emoji, didn’t you?”

“I absolutely did not,” she says solemnly, then, dissolving into laughter under his scrutiny, confesses, “It was more like five. And I think maybe a llama by mistake?”

3.

“It’s like they didn’t even try,” Rebecca announces loudly in the vicinity of Nathaniel’s ear, rudely jerking him back from the precipice of sleep.

“Oh good,” he sighs, blinking his eyebrows higher up his forehead in the darkness. “This again.”

He grunts out his disapproval as the bedside lamp clicks back on, casting half the apartment in dramatic shadow as it burns his retinas with its unexpected blinding light.

“And I’m just saying,” Rebecca continues, oblivious or in the very least unconcerned with his state of obvious discomfort, apparently immune to any such adjustment period of her own, “did anyone consult TS Eliot before reinventing his heartfelt poetry as a vaginal yeast infection in musical form?”

Nathaniel’s nose wrinkles to match the pre-existing scrunch of his face. “What?”

“Never mind, it was a whole a thing. My point is, no film is an island unto itself. People signed off on this. Multiple people looked at those designs and said, you know what’s gonna add a layer of appeal to a musical that already has no plot? Stripping it of its one redeeming feature—AKA the crazy 80s hair—and replacing it with horrifying, humanoid heads that somehow manage to look furry and bald at the same time.”

Even if Nathaniel felt remotely qualified to comment on the topic—which, for the record, oddly flattered though he is at Rebecca’s pervasive belief that he might be, he decidedly is not—it’s late, it’s a weeknight, and he really just wants to sleep.

“If you hate it so much, rewrite it,” he says before pointedly rolling away from her with a yawn and yanking the covers up over his shoulders.

She follows him, flicking him hard in the back of the neck where his nape’s still exposed above the blanket. “Not cute, dude. You don’t get points for that one anymore. And you can’t ‘rewrite’ CGI. Even if you could, a thousand rewrites isn’t gonna change the eyesore that I—nay, humankind—have been subjected to.”

Nathaniel buries his face in the pillow and groans something that resembles her name before it gets jumbled in its muffled pass through the cotton.

“Rebecca,” he says once he’s resurfaced, trying again, tone still undeniably clipped as he scrubs a palm across his face. “I have a deposition first thing tomorrow. Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

She wilts visibly, chagrined, eyes flicking to the clock at his bedside that may as well have ABSURDLY LATE splashed across its interface in red LEDs. “Sorry,” she says meekly, officially rebuked, sinking back into the sheets and switching off the lamp.

The room is blissfully silent save for the collective electronic hum of his appliances, but despite the stillness, Nathaniel finds himself unable to drift back off. Without opening his eyes he pats around beside him until his fingers connect with the phone he’d known with every fibre of his being she was still holding, confiscating and discarding on his nightstand, out of reach.

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“I was just—”

“Sleep,” he repeats, voice gruff with exhaustion, enfolding her firmly in his arms as a preventative measure, practically able to hear her calculating the device’s retrieval in the dark.

4.

“What are we dealing with, here? Minor song lyric alteration? Beloved song exclusion? Reinforced misogyny? Racially insensitive miscast?”

Nathaniel startles at the sound of the door opening, Paula spilling into Rebecca’s house like she lives there and depositing her bags in the entryway with a dramatic thud.

Rebecca, by comparison, is unperturbed by the intrusion, swivelling on a breakfast stool to look at her friend and shake her head. “We’re not talking misdemeanours here, Paula. We’re talking big league. Like, DEFCON-5.”

“Oh,” Paula says. She clucks in feigned sympathy and shoots a knowing glance in Nathaniel’s direction. “This is about the singing cats, huh.”

Even focused as he is on rinsing out her blender, he doesn’t miss the way Rebecca shrinks guiltily away from him in his periphery.

“Did you call an early morning emergency meeting of your girl mob to discuss a movie trailer you didn’t like?” he asks, careful to keep his tone light.

“It’s gurl group, but you know that, and no—Valencia is in town for her sister’s birthday and Heather’s working at this Home Base today and Paula’s new job means she has to like, actually do work now, so breakfast is the only time all of us were free.”

As if on cue, Heather and Valencia sidle through the open doorway.

“Oh, he’s here?” Heather drawls with an exaggerated grimace when she spots Nathaniel. “Looks like you’ve already found someone to rant about your dumb movie to, so I’m gonna just—”

Her attempt to pivot on the spot and leave is thwarted by the arm Valencia loops through her own, catching her before she can re-cross the threshold.

Nathaniel wastes no time in whipping his head around to aim an aha look in Rebecca’s direction, and she’s just as quick to defend, “Yeah, okay, so it’s on the agenda. Amongst other things.”

“Is that so. Like what?”

“Like… topics I don’t know about yet because nobody ever responds to my requests to send me their items for the agenda.”

“God, no more agendas,” Paula grouches, reaching for a mug from the overhead cabinet. “Or meetings. My entire life is meetings and agendas and scheduling conflicts. Can’t we just have a good old fashioned rendezvous? I feel like nobody ever rendezvouses anymore.”

“Ooh, or how about a tryst,” Rebecca suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

“Girl, you know I love you,” Valencia says, “but I’m not trysting with you. I have a fiancée.”

Heather hums, drumming her fingers against the countertop as she hoists herself up onto a stool. “So full disclosure, Hector and I saw the Cats revival with his mom last year, and I liked it. I think the lack of plot worked in Hector’s favour.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Rebecca says, wistful.

“You liked The Lion King,” Nathaniel feels obligated to point out. “That’s technically about digitally rendered singing cats.”

“I tolerated The Lion King because of my deep fondness of the original and because I knew I could bully you into seeing it with me because of its zoological themes,” she corrects. “Anyway, that remake’s issue was that it had no soul. This remake’s issue is that it’s, like, demonically possessed, or something. Which, to be fair, cats, as a species, generally are.”

“Rebecca,” Valencia begins, voice all saccharine and scathing, “need I remind you of one of the many occasions you broke up with this one—” She jabs a thumb in Nathaniel’s face, making him frown. “—with the intention of adopting an entire shelter’s worth of felines?”

“That was a different time,” Rebecca dismisses. “I was punishing a version of myself I wasn’t proud of by resigning her to the fate I believed she deserved.”

Nathaniel tilts his head, bemused. “Huh?”

“Oh, she wanted to be a crazy cat lady,” Heather translates, enunciating loudly, “because she couldn’t bone you in the stationery closet without feeling bummed about it anymore. Just, like. While we’re on the subject of trysts.”

“Heath-er,” Rebecca hisses, kicking her ex-housemate in the shin.

Parsing their less than stellar communal romantic track record with a group of women all too happy to gang up on him afforded the slightest opportunity isn’t high on Nathaniel’s to-do list for the morning, and a flick of his wrist to check his smart watch is all the excuse he needs to make a timely escape.

“On that note,” Nathaniel says, snatching his car keys off the counter, “I’m going to leave you ladies be.”

The conversation barely dips as he sees himself out.

5.

“So in between your being typecast as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, you didn’t happen to don, say, a unitard and leg warmers, did you?”

“What?”

He knows he should be used to this by now—this tendency towards unexpected tack-changing that he’d liken to a dog with a bone, if the cliche didn’t feel somewhat inapt, considering. It’s not like he’s unaccustomed, after all this this time, to Rebecca’s one track mind. It’s just that up until this point, most of the tracks she’s been fixated on treading have usually, admittedly, served his own interests as easily as her own.

“Just checking, because for the record, it’s kind of a massive deal breaker for me.”

She flops into his side, not entirely-unpleasantly sticky, or in the very least, skin virtually indistinguishable from the slick of his own. Rebecca’s ability to pick up intelligible conversation immediately post-coitus is a talent he does not share, and as the golden fog of afterglow suffuses through his bloodstream he takes his time meandering back towards the realm where articulation is possible, content in the knowledge his bedmate will happily barrel on without him until he catches up.

“Just kidding,” she seems to feel the need to clarify, even in the absence of any protest on his behalf. “The knowledge that you were a theatre kid is such an aphrodisiac to me that it well and truly trumps any potential feline faux pas.”

“Wasn’t a theatre kid,” he corrects, the response so automatic he’s not sure it counts as cognitive function.

“Agree to disagree,” Rebecca says, earning herself an exasperated sigh.

Once the drumbeat of his pulse has slowed in his ears, he cracks an eyelid, suspicious of the lack of movement and sudden cease in chatter from the woman sprawled out across his upper torso. Rebecca’s gazing up at him as if she’s been patiently awaiting his full attention, chin resting on her stacked hands, a lazy, satisfied smile stretched across her features.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate Cats,” Nathaniel tells her with amusement after stretching to peck her on the mouth, “you kind of talk about Cats a lot. Some might even describe you as off-puttingly passionate on the subject. Not me,” he backtracks at her incredulous glare, tucking her hair behind her ear with affection. “I find your aggressive diatribe charming.”

Suitably placated, she drops her head back down against his shoulder. “They do say there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

He skates his hand down the bare expanse of her back, letting it settle in the dip between her hips. She undulates with the caress, thighs parting and sliding to bracket one of his. If she’s gunning for a second round he’s still got his refractory period to contend with, but there’s always other ways to keep her occupied, his loose-limbed lack of focus notwithstanding.

She doesn’t push it any further, though, apparently content for now in her own come-down, and he’s just about to give in to the pull towards sleep when it occurs to him what he’s neglected to ask.

“Did you?”

Rebecca’s even breaths, which up until now have been fanning rhythmically across the damp of his throat, catch and falter enough that he takes note of their telling absence.

“Hmm? Did I what?” she deflects, and his eyes narrow at the way she doubles down on the suggestive patterns she seems intent on tracing across his pectorals.

Determined not to be swayed, he shifts beneath her, laughter rumbling through him and muscle mass quaking like tectonic plates beneath the surface of his skin. “Oh, you so did,” he grins, pleased to have been on the money with his flicker of suspicion, eager to bask, as always, in any correct insight he’s managed to garner into his girlfriend’s endlessly multi-faceted brain. “This whole time there’s been incriminating photos of you somewhere wearing tacky fake-fur and an unseemly wig. There’s no hiding your shameful history, now—the cat is out of the bag.”

Rebecca smacks him on the chest, unimpressed, and he can see every telltale corner of her mouth at which the scowl fails to conceal the twitches of her laughter. “So what if my vendetta is somewhat rooted in past trauma? It doesn’t change basic fact, which is that the mere existence of Cats—animal, musical or movie—is a plague against mankind. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t need the wig—my early adolescent frizz was unseemly enough all on its own.”

Where late-night exhaustion-fuelled irritation existed only a few evenings prior, Nathaniel finds himself suddenly capable of only overwhelming fondness. “I think you would have made a very fearsome cat,” he tells her seriously. “All feisty, and nimble.”

He takes two locks of her hair, twisting them up into faux-ears on the top of her head until she bats his hands away, failing miserably at stifling her giggles.

“Stop that. You’re one adjective away from me adding myself back into the Mountaintop text chain just so I can make Maya’s week.”

“Uh-huh. Because I’m the one between us whose levels of preoccupation are concerning.”

He rolls her beneath him, nuzzling his nose against hers in an exaggerated way he can tell irritates her to no end given the context, but muscle memory wins out and she melts into it, the frown lines easing from her forehead as she moulds her mouth against his.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s pressing insistently against him, appetite predictably reawakened, and every sordid pun he could torture her with right now tingles at the ready on the tip of his tongue. But then she sighs into him with a kind of giddiness that sends his mind shattering into static, and as he nips and noses his way down past her belly every teasing thought disintegrates into the ether as he touches her until she’s arching, unraveling, drawing out his name in what can only be described as a delighted purr.

[supercasey]

Twins Theory, AKA I ruin everything with my dumbass theory that makes no sense

Alright, strap in, I'mma light your asses up with my shitty fan theory that's Matpat levels of crazy/probable. I'm dubbing this theory the “Twins Theory” for reasons that will become boringly obvious as we progress.

((Huge props to @bl00dw1tch for making the Nodad Theory, which I'm gonna base a lot of this theory on. I adore that theory and it’s only reason this one exists.))

So I’ll start with just saying it outright- I have reason to believe that Skout and the (current) Nomad are twins/siblings of some sort (I’m going to go with the assumption that they’re twins throughout the theory so get ready for that). ((Putting this under a fucking readmore so I can spare the general public of my rambling))

My reasoning for this dumbass theory? Well, in episode 1 we caught a glimpse of this mystery woman:

Followed soon after with Skout appearing where the woman had been:

Now, the resemblance is absolutely uncanny, and I’ve heard plenty of theories flying around (mostly people thinking that this was an image of something the Nomad desires, aka he wants Skout to stay with him in the woods/marry him), but my favorite by far has been bl00dw1tch’s Nodad Theory, which states that the current Nomad we’re seeing in the show is NOT the original Nomad, and that he’s in fact the son of said Nomad (implying that the vision we see was a childhood memory of some kind). I feel like this makes sense (and it’s honestly preferable to a love triangle between Skout, Toth, and the Nomad. Please RT, I’m begging you, don’t start that kinda shit).

So even if we’re going with everything in the Nodad Theory, it leaves one HUGE question unanswered- why does Skout look EXACTLY like this mystery woman??? Does she just remind the Nomad of his mother? I think there’s a better- if not ludicrous- explanation for this: Skout is the Nomad’s sister/twin.

Let’s start at the beginning: long ago, as we know, El Rey began to wipe out the country/world’s entire population of magic users to feed his magic crown. Along comes a Nomad (perhaps a user of darker magics, I’ll get into my Shitty Father!Nodad rant later), who most certainly doesn’t want to get vored by a magic crown. So he flees to a remote forest, and along the way falls in love with a sweet, southern redhead. After (possibly kidnapping, I’ll get into that later) running away with her to the forest, he accidentally (or purposefully) knocks her up, and oh no, she has twins!

Twins are a handful, but they manage, and I assume it’s around the three or four years old mark that magic would start showing in either kid… but it only shows up in Nomad Jr, not Skout. Well, great. Not only does one of Nodad’s kids have magic, but the other one (seemingly) doesn’t. Now, this is where my theory splits, but I’m primarily going to go with the Shitty Dad AU for a number of reasons:

The Nomad’s Magic has, notably, been quoted to be Dark Magic. This implies that not only is there Light/Good Magic in this universe, but that the current Nomad has been taught to ONLY USE Dark Magic. Seems a bit… messed up, huh?

Why exactly is the Nomad being hunted (BESIDES the fact that El Rey wants to vore him)? Sure, El Rey obviously wants his magic, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they revealed that Nodad was a bad guy long before El Rey started fucking things up.

(FIRST Members ONLY, this bit is based on something in episode 8) Every time someone says “Hostage” in episode 8, the Nomad grabs Skout’s hand, almost like he’s doing it out if instinct. Why does he do that? Was Mystery Woman (his mom) a hostage? Was she kidnapped and forced to have Nodad’s kids? This honestly killed any chance for me that Nodad was a good guy.

Okay, back to the backstory: so Nodad’s got one out of two kids who doesn’t have magic, and as a Dark Magic user, he can’t waste his time watching some magic-less kid all day- not when he has little Nomad Jr to start training. Cue another split decision, because I could see this going one of two ways: either A, Nodad took Skout and gave her away to a passing caravan, or B, Mystery Woman ran away with Skout to escape her kidnapper and raise her only magic-less child in peace. From there, things are up in the air. I imagine during Nomad Jr’s earlier teens/early childhood, Nodad (and Mystery Woman, if it was option A) dies, leaving Nomad Jr to fend for himself.

He of course never leaves the forest- good ole’ Nodad made sure to teach him while he was young to never wander far from home (cue the big DO NOT LEAVE sign). So he stays there, with only one real magic trick up his sleeve from what Nodad was able to teach him before he died… that is, until a familiar looking redhead happens upon him. The reason they don’t recognize each other? They would’ve been separated at a VERY young age, before they could start building any real memories (but if this is the case, how would option B exist? How would Nomad Jr know what his mom looked like? Simple; From old pictures/drawings of her, and from vague memories of her voice, he could very easily build up a fake memory of her), so there’s no chance that they’ll recognize each other (and Nodad would NEVER let Nomad Jr know he has a twin sister out there- can’t risk his son running away to find her).

((Alright, that’s pretty much all I have, but I have some vaguely related rambling down below for those of you who are interested))

If they’re twins, I really like the name Hunter (or Humter if it’s spelled weird like Skout’s is) for Nomad Jr??? I love when twin’s names are alike in some way, and I feel like this name fits him really well- if you don’t agree, feel free to hit me up with alternative names for our favorite Nomad.

The Glowy Chest Thing. That’s fucking weird as shit, but I have an explanation that ties (at the very least) into the Nodad and Shitty!Nodad Theories. Ever heard the quote “Sins of the Father are the fall of the Son?” I wouldn’t put it past RT to pull something like that into the show, especially considering their history with “kids cleaning up their shitty parents messes” ((rvb I’m looking at you)). So basically, because of all the horrible things Nodad (possibly) did in the past, Nomad is now making up for those crimes with good deeds, slowly but surely making amends for his father’s mistakes ((I’ve heard theories that if he does enough good deeds he’ll regain his voice??? Kinda hope that doesn’t happen, since I want him to stay mute, but whatever)).

((Again,this next bit is for FIRST members only. Read this one if you’ve watched the new episode)) My prediction for the next episode (after episode 8): Now that Skout and the Nomad have joined up, I think that Skout is going to try and take him to her old home in order to hide. I think that this, if my theory is correct, will reveal which route was taken. Either the Nomad will unknowingly be reunited with his mother (or knowingly. Cue a tearful reunion), or he will at the very least learn that Skout was adopted by her family (perhaps that’s why she joined Toth and left home??? Did they lie to her growing up and she found out and ran away as a result???), possibly opening the door for the Twin Theory to start being revealed.

This is an insane, probably wrong, theory, but I really freaking like it. I might write a fic for it even, so stay tuned. And if I’m right… holy shit.