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lu-undy · 3 years ago

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New Sniper/Spy long story!

Aaaand I am back with a new Sniper/Spy story!

It’s called “Un-alone” and can be found here!

Hope you enjoy! :D

"I need a minute, if that is possible." The French accent would have sounded pleasant and exotic if not for the circumstances.

"Of course. If you need a drink, help yourself. I will be back to give you more details."

The man in the suit nodded and the notary left the room. He waited for the door to click shut before sighing and loosening his tie. He looked around him, the wooden and serious walls seemed to close on him, as the walls of his skull pressed painfully on his brain. He lowered his head and held his hair in his hands.

After a sigh, he slid on the sofa to the table at the corner of the room. He pushed the flower vase aside and looked at the tray with bottles and glasses. Water? Wine? Non, he needed something stronger. That whiskey would do. The glass cap yielded with a pop and he poured some in the glass. He didn't add any of the ice cubes. Non, he felt cold enough.

The bitter whiskey burnt the back of his throat down to his knotted stomach. The Frenchman held his head low. What should he do? Cry? Punch? Destroy?

Not yet. The notary gave a short knock before entering the room again. His eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had left a proper and prim man, to come back to what he could tell was a man barely holding himself back, to protect his dignity. He was used to being the bearer of bad news, he was used to seeing people cry, shout, get in all sorts of states. But experience also taught him that those who remain like marble are the most dangerous to themselves.

"You mentioned details?" The French accent asked.

The notary nodded, a distraught expression on his face, before he sat back at his desk.

"She left a letter for you." He put his glasses on. "I understand you were married?"

The man sitting on the sofa took another quick yet generous swig of his whiskey, the burning liquid making him almost gag.

“Oui.” He simply answered after taking a deep breath to soothe himself, his fingers only ending up clenching harder on the glass he was holding.

“But you were not living together, if what I heard is correct.”

The man on the sofa nodded, his head still lowered, his grey front tuft of hair waved in the air.

“I also understand that only her family was at her side in the end.” The notary said and the poor man frowned. “They were surprised to learn that all along she was actually married. They did not know of this union.”

“Non, they did not.”

The notary knew he was dealing with no ordinary man but this…? This added up to the exception.

“The ceremony will take place tomorrow. Her family will be there.”

The Frenchman nodded and stored this somewhere in his mind before asking what he had been burning to.

“May I see the letter?” A shaking voice asked before the man lit up a cigarette, his gaze still evading the notary’s.

“Of course. Here is a copy.”

“Do you have the original?”

“Yes but I cannot let you see it, it is-”

The notary’s voice stopped when the man sitting on the sofa finally raised his eyes to him. His face was dark, furious, boiling. His light blue eyes sliced the shadow cast by his front tuft, a menacing curtain falling on his forehead, and the tip of his cigarette shone in a more fierce shade of orange.

He handed him the original.

Instantly the man took it to his nose and smelt it. Tears came to his eyes that he prudely closed for a moment. Rose water and a hint of jasmine. Oui, that was her. Thank God the perfume hadn’t faded yet! He smiled, but his body and his face were screaming bittersweetness, nostalgia and deeper down, something he hated to show, like a weakness.

Love.

He loved her with all the fibres of his body. There wasn’t a sight more pleasant than her smile, a song more melodious than her voice, a taste more forbidden than her lips’.

He raised a shaking gloved hand to his forehead and opened his eyes to read the will. The handwriting was unmistakingly hers. He recognised it. It was a bit more shaky than when he last saw it, but it was hers.

“My sweetheart Lulu,”

The man clenched his jaw further, feeling the strain on his cheeks and grinding his teeth to hold back what he would let out later, in his own private time.

“I am sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t know how to, I didn’t know where you were, how you were. But I knew you never forgot about me. As long as I received the flowers, the gifts for Jay, the chocolates and sometimes, the cassettes, I knew you were alive and well.

The last letter I received from you dates back to my birthday and I kept it under my pillow until the very end. If you are reading this, my family then knows about you, they must be wondering about a million things. But I didn’t answer anything. I couldn't tell them that Jeremy’s father is a French spy, that we got married in secret more than twenty years ago, that when Jeremy came into our lives, we decided to live separately with as little contact as possible to protect the boy, now a man. I couldn’t tell my family that I miss you everyday, yet I love you more by the day.

My Lulu, I am not leaving you at all. I might even be closer to you now than before, who knows? Maybe the warmth you feel in your cheeks now is my touch? Maybe the tears you are hiding right now, I will dry, when you finally let them go.

My love, everything I have, I have left it to our son. It isn’t much and I am afraid it is more debt than help…

I ask of you two things, please, my sweetest of hearts. The first is to help Jeremy. Help him with a job, please. He still doesn’t know you, I never told him who you were. I think it is your call to make. If you ever decide to know him, I know you will see how much he got from you...

The second is please, never stop singing. Promise me to sing more, I want to hear you now, more than ever.

Je t’aime and goodbye,

Your little flower, Marie.”

The Frenchman’s heart was in his throat. He was on the sofa, in this wooden room where the sun didn’t shine, where the flowers in the vase next to him where fake, where he wished he could bite in his glass of whiskey and chew on the glass shards, crush them and let them slice through him, let the pain be physical, anywhere on his body, his face, anything but this. It was harder to bear with each second.

He didn’t realise it but his hands were trembling on the letter. He stared at it a bit more and cleanly folded it before putting it in his inner pocket.

“Sir, I-”

Again, the sheen of the light blue eyes left very little room for discussion.

“I am sorry but I must ask you to give me back the original, it is an official document for this procedure and I can hardly-argh!”

In the blink of an eye, the Frenchman had leapt in the air from the sofa to the desk, overlooking it. His face was less than an inch away from the notary’s astonished one.

“I will keep her letter.” The French accent threateningly said, his teeth clenched like a furious panther’s.

“B-But Sir-argh?!”

Something cold was against the notary’s throat. Something cold and pointy. It was pressing against his fragile column of air.

“A-Alright, y-you can keep it…”

The Frenchman backed off from the desk and the notary watched him flick some sort of blade between his fingers before he dropped it in one of his pockets. His jaw dropped. He had just been threatened with a knife.

“I was not asking.”

“W-well…” The notary pulled on his collar to have a bit more air come to his lungs. He wiped the sweat off his brow. “W-why threaten me then?”

The Frenchman took his jacket again and put it on before heading to the door. He left without adding a word.

It was still the afternoon of that late September day and in Boston, the weather started to get colder but was still very bearable.

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed when he was finally out of the notary’s practice and into the street. The light breeze did not help get more oxygen to his lungs. Or maybe it did, but no amount of air could help. He slipped back into the taxi and the driver took him back to his hotel.

As soon as he set foot in the five-star establishment, a young man in a red and golden uniform came to him.

“Sir, there has been a phone call for you, they said it was urgent and you should call back, here is the number.” He was holding a tray on which was a card. Lucien took it and read the number that he recognised only too well. He nodded and headed to the elevator.

As it took off and hovered higher and higher, Lucien could see more and more of the city underneath him through the windows. He saw it all. The restaurant they had met in, while undercover as a singer, the park he had taken her to, the movie theatre he had invited her to, where they had shared their first kiss, the streets of her city, the roads, streets, avenues that were once so familiar. They now looked like grey, narrow valleys dug in the concrete of buildings, slithering like the bed of dead rivers.

Ding ding.

The jingle of the bell in the elevator broke his train of thought.

“Here we are, Sir.”

Lucien turned away from the windows to face the doors that slid open. He entered the carpeted corridor and soon found his door. The keys jangled as they exited his pocket and the next thing he knew, he was inside.

He had rented an en-suite room with a double bed - habits die hard - and went straight to the minibar to help himself to some more strong alcohol. He didn't mind the taste and just wanted the burn and bitterness; anything really to move his pain from his heart to his body.

He grabbed a bottle of God knows what and poured some before drinking, chugging the entire glass down his throat in one go, before the glass hit the counter again loudly. He hissed under the unpleasant feeling of the alcohol scorching as it glided through his oesophagus and stomach.

Lucien removed his jacket and threw it on the coathanger before he undid his tie. He only fished out the letter and slipped it in his trousers' pocket.

“Mon Dieu…”

He grabbed the bottle and the glass, and headed to the sofa. On his way, he kicked his shoes off and frowned. He hated seeing people do that - remove their shoes with their feet, damaging the leather. But he couldn't be asked to do it properly with his hands. For all he knew, those shoes could go to hell.

He flopped down on the sofa and poured himself some more whiskey. The glass and the bottle shone under the flames of the fireplace opposite him. It caught his eye for an instant and blinded him. He grumbled and looked away, to his left and - oh, the bedroom door.

His eyes hung there for a while, the bottle and glass hanging in mid-air.

From where he was sitting, he could only see the bed, large and empty, cold even, he could feel it.

He would have killed for one more night with her. He would have…

Lucien sighed and drank some more before lighting another cigarette and sucking his anger away at it.

His eyes came back in front of him, and he saw the letter. His mind rolled back more than two decades ago. Meeting Marie, falling in love with her, falling in love for the first time.

But his job as a spy was way too dangerous for her, for him, and soon, for the little boy that Lucien was delighted to hold in his arms for the first time. And it was soon decided. A wedding, in secret, just him, her and two witnesses, people who happened to be in the church praying that day. They didn't even know them. They got married and Lucien stayed long enough for baby Jérémy to have a vague souvenir of his father.

He loved them. Lucien loved Marie and Jérémy. He loved them so much that he left them, and it broke his heart. Everyday he wished he could hold them in his heart. But he was too good at his job and wanted to keep it. It paid him a fortune and he could send some money to help.

Another sigh that failed to take his frustration and his guilt out of him.

Lucien stood up and walked to the window that he opened wide. He looked at the tiny city, busy underneath him. To all these people, today was a normal day. Some of them might even be happy…

But for him, today felt awful.

His eyes swept across the streets as he walked back in time to where he had met her. Mary, his Marie. It had been a busy night in the restaurant he was working at. He was undercover, a singer, trying to get closer to a frequent client. He had worked hard for months to approach his target. But that night wasn’t the one he managed to sit and dine with that shady nobody. Instead, an angel crossed his path.

Marie.

She wasn’t shy and he liked her boldness. He thought it was very American of her to be this way, to think that she could get whatever she wanted, if only she worked hard enough for it. Mon Dieu… She had come to his changing room, backstage, with her blue dress and matching headband, her lips were glossy red and her eyelashes, more beautiful than a butterfly’s wings in summer, fluttering to half hide the deep blue irises that he saw too vividly now.

She had knocked at his door and the moment he had opened it, the sight of her seized him like a hand to the throat. She raised her eyes to him and gave him a smile that still burnt his insides. Without hesitation, she started talking as if they had known each other for a long time, asking him a million questions.

Of course, back in those days, Lucien was quite valued on the market of love. Tall and slim, his hair still all black and combed back, light blue, almost grey eyes that looked in the deepest corners of one’s mind, impeccable manners, a smirk that weakened the knees of any woman in sight and a French accent that made them fall in his arms effortlessly…

He remembered that she kept coming to listen to him night after night. They would enjoy something to eat together. She had tried to invite him but he always insisted.

Une aussi jolie fleur que toi ne paie pas.

Such a beautiful flower as you are does not pay.

It had started as a distraction, a pleasant surprise in his life. But soon, Lucien found himself waiting for those knocks at his door, in the changing room backstage. He realised that on the few nights she wouldn’t come, he would feel uncomfortable. Something was odd, something wasn’t right, like a pebble in his shoe, something he could live with but…

And looking inside him he understood that in fact, he was missing her. Him, the man with more love conquests than there were stars in the night sky. He had fallen. In love oui, but he had fallen. Fallen under those eyes, fallen on his knees for her, always looking for her when he sang now. His eyes would frantically scan his audience, the crowd who came to applaud him, he did not hear them! Of course not! Oh! There she was! Ah, Marie…

His eyes would stop on her and from the moment he found her, his secret flower, he would sing and dance for her. Oui, he would even stand up from his piano and dance, make a fool of himself in front of a full room of guests. He would smile only after he would see her grin and wished oh so dearly the whole room would fall silent to hear only her beautiful laughter...

Oh he remembered how they stayed so late in the restaurant that countless times, they had to be pushed out of it. It had happened a few times before Lucien one night asked her to stay.

“Marie?”

“Yeah?” She raised her round eyes to him.

“Stay, please. Don’t walk back home so soon.”

“It… It’s very late, Lucien.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around herself tighter against the cold.

Oui, with Marie, he had given her his real name straight ahead. Something in his guts had told him that it was safe to do so. He knew it was wrong and dangerous, foolish even! But non, with Marie, it felt wrong to lie.

“Please, ma petite fleur.”

[my little flower]

She had blushed. He could barely see it in the darkness of the night, but the street light was enough and he did see it!

“Fine,” She yielded and Lucien never knew, but of course she wanted to stay. “What is it?” She asked.

“Let us wait for a few minutes. Are you cold?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” Lucien removed his coat and wrapped her in it.

“Aren’t you cold?” She asked and he smiled.

“Jamais quand tu es près de moi.”

[Never when you are near me.]

“You know I don’t get French, right?”

“Oui, I do.”

“Then say it in English.”

“Non.” He chuckled and blushed, turning slightly away to hide himself.

“Come on…! It’s unfair!” She pulled him back from the panes of his jacket.

“I cannot.” He confessed, still looking away from her.

“Why not? I’m sure you know the words and all. Your English is perfect, c’mon!”

“Non, Marie, please, don’t make me say it…” He looked down and his front tuft of hair, the same one that is grey now, it fell on his forehead.

“Lucien…”

The Frenchman closed his eyes when he felt her cold hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to her.

“Please…?”

And for the first time in his life he understood what it felt like to be the one who is in love, to be the one who feels ill when the other one isn’t here, and to feel blessed when they were together.

“My little flower, I’m never cold when you are near me.” He yielded eventually and to his greatest delight, her grin widened before she hugged him, like that, unexpectedly. She had just leapt to him and held on to the panes of his jacket dearly, with her head and her black hair right below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and kept her close. He was freezing but he didn’t feel it. All he knew was that he held in his arms the first and only person he ever loved.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

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littlebookreader · 3 years ago

Conversation

Juno : I fell—

Peter: From heaven?

Juno : No, I literally fell—

Peter: In love with me the moment you saw me?

Juno : MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Peter: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

#the penumbra podcast #juno steel #peter nureyev #incorrect quotes #but is it really #haha #private eyes keys go jingle jangle #poor little juno #the lady fell and peter isnt even helping him up #anyway #here you go #eat your heart out #not literally

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 4 months ago

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NO FOR REAL WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS!!!!!

Rita from Season1 would've never said smth right then to Juno. Rita is given so little screen time the entire series it is very difficult to imagine her character growth off screen. I've gone into it in my own Rita Rant about how she's not really given the respect she deserves and is often benched and nudged aside (especially in her own fucking episode in Season 3). BUT THIS- BOY HOWDY I'LL TAKE THIS!!!

“Mista Steel, you can’t talk to me like that.”

Hey yeah! You can’t talk to her like that >:(

#i wanna see more fics now exploring this side of rita #the one with growing confidence. the rita that reminds juno “you cant talk to me like that” the one who gets back into her tangent whenever #he cuts her off. rita that so often talks to frannie about her boss so poorly that frannie's idea of juno is skewed so badly shes thrown off #upon meeting him for the first time.#idk idk #i wish we got more of this sooner. i wish there was more time for rita to actually be confident on screen and take no shit #tpp spoilers #private eye's keys go jingle jangle

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 11 months ago

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The Smell. The Cologne. Nureyev’s Axe Body Spray.

They are trapped together in a broom closet. If Juno doesn't mention it next episode I- I don't know what will happen but I think it might make me sob

#the penumbra podcast #his smell is very important to me #THE ORCHIDS NUREYEV #WHERE ARE THEY??#private eye's keys go jingle jangle #tpp spoilers #sorta.

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evien-stark · 4 years ago

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 125

Back at the penthouse you freshened up, having to shake off the wilds of the past meeting before getting on the jet to go into what would be yet another most likely frustrating meeting. As you exited the bedroom, changed into a sharp fitted suit and tie (dress to impress … or intimidate, either one), slipping your bag over your shoulder, Tony met you in the front room by the elevators. “Hmn.” A humming approval. “Does this mean we’re still on for tonight?”

Arching a brow, though unable to help your smile, “Why does this mean that?”

“Come on. Slip on a trilby and you look like you’re ready for a night on the town.” At your rather dry look he held up both his hands. “In a good way, I assure you.”

“Yes. I’m very assured.” Leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I have to go.”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he returned with a jingle of car keys. “I know. Can I drive you?”

With Happy having gone ahead to prep the jet, you were thinking about either driving yourself or getting a company car to take you. But… how could you say no to that. “Why so suddenly?” Still, you had to be just a little suspicious.

“I need some air after all that.”

“It’s very airy up here.” Eying him just a little more.

He gave up the ghost with a caught grin. “Sure. But. I thought maybe we could talk, too.”

Giving him a small pat on the chest and another kiss on the cheek, “Okay. But no speeding.” It must have been important. So you couldn’t really deny him. Especially not with the barest hint of anxiety swirling about him.

“It’ll kill me, but you have my word.”

Down in the parking garage he picked out the car that went to the set of keys he’d been jangling at you. Some slick prototype Audi no doubt. You really weren’t so interested in his car collection. The color was nice. And the front seats were comfortable. That’s what really mattered.

Only just pulled out and away from the tower, his hands gripped the wheel before drumming his fingers slightly. “Did you bring the Reactor with you?”

That… that didn’t feel great. “It’s in my purse. Why?”

“Just checking.”

“I was planning on leaving it on the jet. I don’t think bringing weapons into the White House is a great idea.” Everyone could spot it, by now. They knew what it was, when you wore it. Matthew was already jumpy. You didn’t need to make him worse.

“It’s not a weapon, it’s defense. Remember?” Giving you a quick glance out of the corner of his eye with a grin. But both disappeared in the next second. “I think you should at least keep it in your purse.” His eyes were on the road and he was speaking in that pretend-effortlessly casual way of his.

But you knew better, and didn’t take the first thrown bait in order to get to the root of this. “What’s wrong?”

At this he shook his head, fingers up on the wheel for a moment. “I think this is all a little too close for comfort. And certainly- probably- not a coincidence.”

“We haven’t had many of those.” Funny, you were just thinking about this last night. It was like the two of you shared one brain sometimes.

“No we have not.” He cleared his throat, one hand moving around. “Let’s think about this logically. Hill just admitted SHIELD bungled a bunch of stuff- not the least of which was theft of- technically- sensitive United States property. Co-owned by Stark Industries, sure. But. Let’s be real here. I can bring the hammer down while you’re away, but that’s not gonna help anyone. ...no matter how much I want to.” Understanding, it seemed, why you’d walked away from turning into a volcano about SHIELD stealing from you. Even if he was incredibly angry about it. He cleared his throat and moved on, “Anyway. Now we’re on a sudden task force to retrieve it. Right around the exact time Ellis wants a private meeting with you in the White House.”

When he laid it all out like that… yeah. It made sense. And it also made sense why he was in a bit of a quiet tizzy over it. “And here I thought you were about to say you thought Ellis had teamed up with Fisk and they were about to tell me to turn ourselves in.”

“My next point, I’m sure. Because it’s either or. The universe hasn’t been too kind lately, with that sort of stuff.” At a red light he half tilted, gazing at you. “He didn’t say you couldn’t bring anyone, but it’s pretty clear he wants you alone. And I want you safe.”

You tried a brave smile on for him, but it was just shy of painful. “Tony… if the government makes me into a villain-” Then what could you do? What could any of you do?

“Then we unmake. There’s always a way out. But I’m not trying to prepare you for a worst-case scenario. I’m just… trying to look out for you.” The light changed and he was quick to lean on the gas again to get the car moving, eyes going back to the road.

Reaching over, you laid a hand on his thigh. “I appreciate it.” More than words could say. “...I’ll bring the Reactor. But honestly, if I’m about to be taken away in handcuffs I think I should just eat that and then get the lawyers on it. Attacking people in the White House would be exactly the sort of press we wouldn’t need.”

“Fair point. But I still believe in the right to protect yourself.” Grinning, but not really feeling it.

---

He promised to pick you up, too, once you returned home. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a long stay in DC. Maybe a couple of hours, if you were lucky. This much air time for such a small visit didn’t necessarily feel good, nor did you want to spend so much time in the air in order to accomplish so little but… aside taking the suit to the White House’s front steps, this was the only thing you could do.

After a quiet kiss on the private runway, you departed, heading up the jet’s stairs and giving Happy a murmur of gratitude for his help as always. Once the stairs were reloaded and you sat down, you pulled your laptop out of your bag to start working on some other things while you’d be otherwise incapacitated from actual work.

Once the jet was in the air, Happy rose his voice to reach you from the cockpit. You were in one of the much smaller personal jets. Nicer. Comfier. Less consumption. “You want me to come with you?”

This was not an offer of just driving you to and from the White House. He was asking if you wanted, or even felt like you needed him. Or at least somebody by your side. And, as the President had gone out of his way to isolate you… “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” Head of Security. You heard his smile, but there was a wave of gratefulness and pride that thrummed out from him that really made it all worth it.

---

It was actually very nice to have Happy with you, as it seemed somebody had leaked your schedule to the press. They were parked out all along the sidewalk and the White House usual reporters were even waiting for you out front. Since the circle of people who knew you were coming on your side was very small, you had to believe someone on Ellis’ team told someone you’d be arriving. But why?

Happy escorted you from the car and stuck tight by your side, arming people out of the way so you could make it inside. People were shouting the usual nonsense, looking for pictures, soundbites, anything that would give them good reason for no doubt having waited outside for hours. But you gave them nothing. Eyes forward, spine straight, and nothing to say. ...mostly because you had no idea what you were doing here anyway.

Ellis’ executive secretary met you in one of the outer wings, which was nice because there would be less explaining to do about why you couldn’t pass a metal detector check. Something she probably knew- something probably everyone in the White House knew. But you were an invited guest. You’d have no reason to hurt the President. And you’d have nowhere to run if you even did. So…

You tried to press your luck as you approached the west wing. “Why am I here, Delores?” Not the first time you’d spoken with her. Definitely wouldn’t be the last. Acquaintances at best, after these few years of having to more or less work for her boss. Privately or not. She was an older woman, kind but tough. Probably exactly what Ellis needed to run just about everything for him.

Just in front of his door she paused with an apologetic smile, “I don’t exactly know. But. I’m pretty sure you won’t enjoy it.” She was lying, for sure. She knew everything that went on around here. Funny, how women ruled the world that way. Still. She did work for Ellis, and not you.

“Thanks.” As flatly as you could make the word just as she knocked on the door. You made a small motion to Happy for him to wait outside, no doubt not invited in the slightest. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

Just as the door closed behind you, you realized a little too late you’d walked into a trap. ...truly the thing that was a shock was just how surprising this was to you, considering you and Tony had been talking about it before you’d come. President Ellis was sitting behind his desk and standing in front of it was a very decorated officer. Not one you recognized immediately.

“Thank you for coming.” Ellis found his voice just as you stopped short of the opposite side of his desk. “I’d like you to meet General Glenn Talbot.”

Said man in question held his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.” He was about your height, maybe a little taller. Broad shouldered. High cut hair, shaved on the sides, and a thick mustache. You didn’t get the sense he was here to take you away. ...not yet, anyway.

So. Cordial behavior was probably the best idea. You put your hand in his giving him a firm shake. “Thank you. Mind telling me what I’m doing here?” Assuming he was the reason you’d been called here.

At this he grinned. “Right to the point. I like it. Truth be told, you’re somewhat of a legend around the proverbial water cooler. Our relationship has been pretty hot-and-cold, I know.” Speaking of Stark Industries, you supposed. His smile disappeared in the next split second and he turned very serious. “But we’re beyond legends, now. We’re in the middle of an ocean. Sink or swim. And it’s important to know whose side you’re on.”

You tried to refrain from making a face at him, and only slightly succeeded. Your brow arched without your permission, the corner of your lip turning flat. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Does anyone want to hand me a folder so I can get up to speed?” Where was your briefing? What was going on??

Ellis called your attention on the form of your name and looked up. “There’s been a lot of international talking lately. I would have liked more time, but my hands are being forced here. We’re- I’m- tasking you with being the United States’ Enhanced Forces Ambassador.”

A chill crept over your shoulders. “I’m not enhanced, sir.” That was your story and you were sticking to it. And you really hoped now was not the time this was all coming out.

He settled his hands together. “You have a suit that enhances your capabilities. That makes you enhanced. You’re also the most qualified out of your team. So don’t ask me what happens if you refuse.”

This was a very serious threat. Letting you draw assumptions about what might happen to you- to all of you, if you turned this down. And none of it would be pretty. But you found yourself shaking your head. “That’s what you called me here for? To give me some imaginary position?”

Talbot put his attention on you again. “Oh it’s real. And the only reason I’m letting you wing me is because I’ve seen the buried footage of you shouting down Nick Fury in his own building.” At that your face really did screw up. “Now you look me in the eye and tell me you still hold no allegiance to SHIELD.”

“I’m sorry-” Putting your hand up to stop this madness. “Who the hell are you? What is this about? SHIELD is dead. Your people saw to that.” Giving Ellis the side-eye. He was involved as much as anyone in that.

But Talbot reclaimed your gaze as he spoke. “SHIELD’s still running amok. And I’d ask you if you knew where its director was if I wasn’t so sure you’d just lie to me.”

“Nick Fury is dead. You seem to think you’re smart, you should know that.”

“I’m talking about Phil Coulson. And don’t try and tell me he’s dead, too, because we spoke not so long ago.” You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, “Now I’d expect someone in your position to understand the large scale impact SHIELD had. It goes beyond this nation. And other nations have been getting real antsy.”

Your frustrations showed. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“We’re preparing a meeting at the United Nations in a month. Another denouncing of SHIELD. And you are going to stand right by me and smile your prettiest smile and pretend like you’re on our side.”

“Which side is that, sir?” Boiling over now as you crossed your arms. “The one that builds up these momentous groups only to shutter them- label them terrorists- as soon as they stop being of benefit? Get rid of them when they stop being profitable? Or when they get caught holding all your dirty secrets?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to-”

“That makes two of us.”

This Talbot was clearly not used to being talked down to. Or told no. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides and he leaned a little to encroach on your personal space. “Listen up, ma’am. You and your team are getting real cozy up there on that throne. Causing destruction and chaos in the name of justice.”

“Oh, so you think we’re alike, is that it? Isn’t that what the military does?” You held your hand right up to his face to stop him. “Don’t bother. I used to liaison back when Stark Industries pretended it cared about justice as much as you still do. It still all comes down to one thing- the bottom line. And that was something a little greener than justice.”

He went a little red but something snapped his attention and he let go of an amused noise. “Yeah. I remember. You know, Colonel Rhodes has had nothing but nice things to say about you. Then again, you’re good at fooling lots of people.”

You had to hold yourself steady. If the military was investigating you for some ridiculous position as a right arm to keep themselves looking strong, it would make sense that they’d talked to Rhodey. But there was just something sinister in the way he was talking about him. Your silence in easing yourself allowed the opening for him to keep speaking.

“If the Avengers are going to go around taking out threats that the military can’t handle- then they need to live by some rules. And they need to show up when everyone else in the world starts questioning their authority. Or their peacekeeping strategies.” Getting close again he narrowed his eyes as he stared you down. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Barely.” It was extremely unfortunate this had set your heart to pounding. This was an inevitability, you were sure. You just didn’t want to have to deal with it right now. But the fact was… the United States of America had several enhanced individuals under their employ. That they used to enact peace and justice. Even if it meant that came with violence.

The world wouldn’t stay quiet about that for long.

“Your people are about to become the new nuclear arms race. So it pays to have one of the supposed scientists- or ringleaders in your case- sitting by a general’s side while we all pretend we get along. Otherwise-”

“Try threatening me again and see what happens.” Risking your luck. You would not be pushed around. You would not stand while he threw hypotheticals about ripping your team apart. No matter if what he was saying was true. When he balked, “I understand, Mr. Talbot.”

Bristling even harder, “That’s General Talbot to you.”

You ignored him. “It seems like I have no choice but to accept this position. But I’m still unclear about what this has to do with SHIELD.”

“SHIELD hired your people. Brought them together without anyone’s knowledge. Without anyone’s permission, even. Now that they’re in the water, we need to show you belong to us and not them.”

“SHIELD had the government’s permission. Just because you people pretend like that’s not the case doesn’t make it so.” This wasn’t the only thing you had to defend. And on the next breath, “And we don’t belong to anyone.” This was a mistake, and you hated that you took his bait so easily. Panic was not a good color on you.

He seized it with a smirk. “Then that makes you vigilantes. Which makes you criminals. Enhanced or not. We can make a jail cell for everyone on your team. Don’t try me.” He was getting closer, pointing a finger very near to your face. “Because that’s the next stop. You start pissing off America with this superhero bullshit, you can be sure the other nations of the world will fall in line. Goes the other way around, too. Just in case you were curious.” His grin was terrible. “That’s not a threat by the way. That’s just facts.”

But it was. You didn’t want to deal with this now. You didn’t want to face this now. ...and you wouldn’t have to. If you just sat by their side like an obedient dog and barked when they commanded speak.

It was all too true. The Avengers operated in some seriously muddy waters. Ellis allowed it. You assumed it was because you’d helped him. More than he deserved, and never just for him. For the people of his nation, the reason you’d gone to war in New York with aliens. And the reason you’d go on more missions yet to… to do what you had to do. Yes. In the name of that fabled peace and justice.

But what if Ellis revoked his permission? What if America turned its back on you? What if they labeled the Avengers a terrorist organization, just like they had done to SHIELD? What then? What could any of you do?

You had no choice. You had to eat this. For your family.

“When next month are you addressing the United Nations about this? My schedule is dense.” Letting defeat show. It would go just as long of a way in placating this Talbot.

“March 7th.” With your acquiescence, he seemed to slow a little.

“I’ll be there.” Making sure to hold a steady gaze with him. He’d won now. Sure. He had you where he supposedly wanted you. And you’d take that with your head held high.

It worked. He seemed to feel a little uneasy. There was also a strange sense of guilt. “For what it’s worth… SHIELD was good, when it was good. But I think we both know they let themselves get away with a lot. Simply because they knew they could.”

You shifted your stance. “And you think the Avengers are headed down the same road?”

“I questioned it. But less so now.” Holding his hand out again. When you took too long he frowned. “Make no mistake. This is what’s best for everyone.”

Giving him your best dead-eyed stare, “I’m sure you think that.” Ignoring the last chance to shake his hand, no matter how petty that was. Turning to Ellis, “Is that all, sir?”

His lips thinned, pressed tight for a moment and then he nodded. “For now. We’ll follow up before the meeting.”

Adjusting your purse on your shoulder you turned very sharply and headed for the door. Just before you could put your hand on it, Talbot spoke up again. “By the way… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the breaking, entering, and robbing of one of our facilities, would you? We’re missing some sensitive equipment from a vault.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him. “I’m sure I know as much about that as you know about dismantled Stark Industries property illegally being harbored and utilized.” Much as you’d taken a beating, you had to remind these people you still had bite in you. You were not a woman to be trifled with.

Not waiting for whatever stupid thing he was going to say next, you let yourself out of the Oval Office, and Happy immediately got up once he saw you. You remained silent, head down, especially assaulted again by the press once outside. Your nerves were frayed. Your edges were cracked.

And… A deep terrible part of you just felt like crying. Like you’d just been called into the principal's office over you and your friends doing something bad. And now you were in trouble. A lot of trouble.

But that made you weak. You couldn’t break down over this. Barely anything had happened- yet.

A headache was coming on strong as you held every part of yourself back. You could not allow yourself to crumble over this. You had to be strong. For them. Because this was only the first stop. You knew that. You could sit at Talbot’s side in front of the world and play the good puppy, but this wouldn’t stop there. Maybe it would be a year from now- two- five- maybe you’d get lucky and get away with ten.

But it didn’t matter. The world was getting bigger now. And much more dangerous.

Talbot was right. Your group might as well have been seen as the next nuclear bomb.

And eventually some treaties were going to have to be written. To keep you from being used.

---

You sat in silence, the cabin as dark as you could make it. One thought kept circling: would you ever get a fucking break? Was life ever going to be fair? Would it ever just stop being like this? Or was this it. This was all you got. This was what you signed up for. This was what you had to keep doing.

Until it crushed you. Like it was doing now.

Tony met you on the runway, like he promised, after the jet had landed. He looked like he was ready to go out somewhere but his smile evaporated the second he laid eyes on you. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “I just need to go home.”

His frown was heavy. “Yeah. Alright…” Opening your door for you and then closing it carefully after you sat down. You slumped in your seat, eyes lost as you stared ahead. Once he got in he started the car and pulled off the tarmac. “Honey… you gotta give me something. What are we dealing with here?”

He was concerned. For you. Not the team. Not what had happened- but how it had happened, and what it had done to you.

Your body ached for some sort of catharsis. And that was maybe why watery words bubbled out of you before you could rethink them, “We’re never gonna have a life…” Reaching your hands up as the realization dawned, tears leaking from your eyes. You had to cover them. Try and hide your shame.

There were worse things and you were worried about… well…

“What?” It was your sadness that cut through him so suddenly, causing him to hit the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road after.

Your breathing very suddenly was not under control. “I’m sorry- I just-”

Parked, he half reached over, hands gentle at your wrists. “Don’t be sorry- just talk to me- what’s going on? What happened?”

He managed to get one hand away from your face, but the other rubbed at your temple as an incoherent mess escaped you. “We’re stuck in SHIELD’s fever dream- and we’re never gonna stop paying the price for it- we’re never gonna have a life- this is it- this is what it’s always going to be-” Some part of you had been holding out hope. Maybe Ultron would fix this. Maybe it would allow you to be normal.

But there was no normal. And you’d been ignoring that Tony had been getting frustrated and angry over the lack of progress- because if he wasn’t making progress that meant you really were going to have to accept that this superhero fantasy was going to go on forever. And it was only going to get more and more dangerous until one or both of you died.

And not in a good way, either. It would be terrible. You were sure of this. Someone would drag you kicking and screaming to a painful death. All because you wanted to save the world.

Because of this, you weren’t free. You weren’t free to have a life with Tony. To plan. To grow. To do anything but be slave to this and all its facets. All the ways you had to pay for it, all the ways you had to clean up after it-

Tony sat, utterly helpless while you blubbered some of this out to him. A weeping wreck so very quickly. But this had been months in the making, if not years. You’d been fooling yourself, thinking New York had in any way changed things for the better. Or SHIELD going belly-up into the river. Things had only gotten verifiably worse since then. And they’d continue to get sucked into that vortex until the bitter end. And you were realizing, now, it wasn’t just the loss of raising a family together with him. It was the loss of everything with him.

And you were selfish you knew. Because you were crying over the loss of one, or at least a pair of lives. Inconsequential, right? In the grand scheme of things? Billions on this planet. What did one or two matter? You should have been able to put yourself aside for that greater good. It was selfish to be this distraught over finally coming to grips with this.

This was your life. And it was no life at all. It never could be. You’d been foolish, letting yourself get lulled into lofty, unobtainable dreams of marriage. Of being in love. Of just having a normal life.

You were not normal. You never had been. You never would be.

Why did you keep coming back to this? You thought you’d accepted this- that this was your last stop as a person. You’d grieved the loss of an actual future where you weren’t just a weapon to bring peace. Then you’d been fooled into thinking maybe it wouldn’t always be this way. But it would. You needed to just stop lying about it, to stop letting Tony lie to you about it- no matter how good his intentions were.

You both needed to just wake up and come together on this. There was no future for you like this. You’d love each other, and stand by each other. But this would be the thing that would kill you.

Something you’d warned Tony about so very long ago. This was the life he had chosen, and you right after him. There would be no rest. There would be no normal. And in the end you would die living this exact life. With almost nothing to show for it.

But at least… at least you could hope the world would be better off. Because if someone didn’t get something out of your suffering… then there really would be no point at all.

---

Tony was absolutely sure there had never been anything so painful in his entire life than sitting across from the woman he loved while she wept about the loss of her future. Their future. And not just that. Really, it was the loss of freedom. Of choice. Because of a single one they’d stuck to. That they had to.

She saw no future with him where they were happy. No future that was their own. She seemed to think they merely existed to belong to the people. To some notion of justice. Of protection. And that was it. They had no identity beyond fighting for what was right, and fighting around that to keep up pace with everything else.

Ellis and some man named Talbot had apparently threatened her- her and the team, in that meeting. And it had scared her enough to retreat. To go back to believing there was nothing in this life for either of them, but knew that they had to remain prisoners to it regardless. They couldn’t just walk away. She was spiraling now, unable to see past any of it. The man in black and what that meant- the woman before her- SHIELD dying, the aliens- everything being stolen- and now on top of it the government was bearing down hard on her. Threatening her because of them.

So that was it. This was it for them. At least, that’s what she seemed to think. And it was killing her.

Which made it no surprise when he found himself wiping at his own eyes, trying to take a settling breath that hitched in his chest, trying to steady himself so he could be strong for her. She needed someone in her corner. She just needed someone.

He put a hand at the side of her head, directing her closer in the small space of the car, down until she was holding to him, face buried in his shoulder. No one had the right to do this to her. Not to her. No one had the right to make her feel this way. But it wasn’t really a person, Ellis or Talbot be damned. It was a concept. A notion.

...how was he supposed to fight against that?

After he was able to get her to breathe, struggling with her a long few moments, he made up his mind. He let silence sit for a little while before speaking softly. “I need you to take some time off.” And when she started to protest, he threaded his fingers through her hair. Tried to soothe her back off that edge. “You need to take time off. SHIELD and the government- the scepter recon- all of it gets put aside starting now.”

Her head was shaking and protests were starting. “I can’t just-”

“Just the rest of the month.” And when she shifted back and looked up at him, that broken light still reflecting in her eyes, he reached up to cup her cheek in his palm. “Honey, I am begging you.” If he had to, then he would. And it seemed like there was no other way she would budge. “You’re losing yourself here. You’re losing hope.”

She seemed like she might cry again, which was not in any way what he wanted to do to her. Her eyes closed tight. “I’m sorry- I’m overreacting- I’m just-”

“Don’t be sorry. And you’re not. We’re under a lot of pressure, I get that. So should you.” She was careful with everyone else she loved but herself. She stood up for everyone else but never herself. It broke his heart so completely. She deserved so much more than this. ...and it was his fault she couldn’t get it. He held her face in both her hands and as best he could, he assured her, “It’s okay.” And when she searched his eyes, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you. We’re gonna be okay. We’ll get there.”

Reassuring her. The same way she had done for him.

Tony expected her to rebuff him. Maybe to ask how he could possibly know that. But what she did was worse. Because she did the same thing he had, when she’d talked him off a ledge and told him these exact words. He believed her then. And now-

With a lost whimper of a noise she crumbled into him again, holding on to him tight. Maybe, just maybe, believing him. Which might have been worse.

Because he’d just promised the woman he was desperately, endlessly, hopelessly in love with that he would figure this out for them. That they would, that they could, have a future together. Something safe and sustainable. And she’d just… accepted it. Trusted him.

So now. Now he had to figure it out. He had to figure all of this out for her. For them.

And for her? For her he’d do anything. She was lucky he was a genius.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Twenty Five #we're getting pretty heavy here as we lay the groundwork for the Sokovia Accords #it makes me sad #these poor babies just suffer and suffer and suffer #hopefully one day it'll all be worth it

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svtskneecaps · 5 years ago

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Walls Could Talk Part 12 ~ something i need to tell you

(Seventeen Fic, Superpower! Non-Idol! High school! AU)

You’re just a high school kid trying to survive your senior year. Seems simple enough. Problem is, you landed a major crush on a good looking transfer student, and unfortunately, the both of you are hiding some abilities that are a bit less than normal, and there’s a ghost you thought you buried in your past that’s rearing his ugly head. So… maybe this won’t be as easy as you were hoping.

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warnings: descriptions of anxiety attacks. skip from the marker (2) to the end (you’re not missing much crucial information but i can and will summarize if you're concerned)

feel free to tell me if i need to extend the section, i thought i got the worst of it but as someone with mild issues i have no real experience and want it to be as safe as possible for people; and tell me if i need to add another section (i’ll be out of state when this goes up so i might not be able to get to it right away..... i’m sorry)

“Is there anywhere private we can talk here?”

What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

Faced with Jun’s earnest and almost concerned expression, you stammer out something about outside during lunch. He gives the window an appraising glance. It’s been cooling down quickly, hovering in the low forties most days. He must've seen something he liked, because he turned back to you and said, “Lunch then?”

No really, what the hell are you supposed to say to that?

You drop into your seat as the bell rings, breathless and terrified, your stomach churning like a hurricane as you whip out the math homework due a week ago, the numbers doing little to settle your nerves. That could mean any number of things. Did he notice your none-too-subtle crush? Was he doing this to kindly turn you down? Did he share the sentiment? Or did he--you buried your face behind a tangle of hands and hair, trying to hide the trembling wracking your shoulders--did he find the article from all those years ago and want to confront you about it, forgetting that it was public, that it was immortalized in the online archives? You were joking when you texted 8; no matter how approachable Jun was you had never, never considered telling him. You’d thought it was buried so deep they could never find it.

But it would never really be buried far enough. And, as you dragged yourself out of your protective cocoon for a cursory google of your name, there it was. The first result, since you had long pulled accounts with your name on them off the search results after constant reminders. The unpleasant feeling leaked out of your stomach, lead infecting your veins.

“Last Friday, a local teen was hospitalized after--”

You slammed the computer shut on instinct as it began to read the article aloud to you, like a setting you couldn't shut off. A flush spread across your cheeks as everyone looked back at you. Their gazes lasted only a second, but they tore worse than claws. This whole damn thing was bringing up more memories than you cared to admit, you should've shut down the train before it left the station, should've shut up and sat down and stifled it. He was probably just going to turn your crush down (and in light of the alternatives, it was almost a relief to think that).

You shoved the computer in your backpack as it continued reading, words for your ears alone, muffled and distorted but you’d stared at that damn article for hours after that first day back enough that every word was ingrained in your memory and every rumor rattled in your brain and whispered in your ears when it was quiet, overpowering the comforting chatter of all the objects around you. You put your headphones in and played music as loud as you dared. “Ten minutes,” the clock helpfully reminded you. Ten minutes to the reckoning, for everything to come collapsing down on you. You made a mental note to ask Miss Mendes if you could go to the nurse after lunch; you didn't dare come back here.

Two minutes to Armageddon. You’d asked Miss Mendes. You must've looked sicker than you thought because she didn't hesitate to agree. You'd long finished your math homework, even though you kept breaking your pencil lead and ripping holes in the paper. You fiddled with your pencil, staring at the clock with no small amount of apprehension, trying not to think.

You could hear the class in the background working on a worksheet together, Seokmin’s excited voice rising to the top and making you drowsy, against all logic (not that you particularly minded). Time blurred as your head slumped onto your arms.

The bell broke through your dazed stupor, sending everything crashing back. Your hands started to shake again as you fumbled with your ID, keys jingling against it as you stood. Jun was waiting by the door already, and you lead the way through the halls.

Out by the mascot statue on the side lawn, you’d heard, was the best place to talk privately. From there you could see all angles, and between the mascot’s feet was a small space where one could conceal oneself from all angles. Nobody tended to use it for talking, exactly, but you were banking on Jun not knowing the usual implications of the spot.

“So,” you said, crammed into a spot behind the mascot’s knee, back pressed against the cold statue, speaking in a vain attempt to cover your mounting terror, “what’s up?”

“I--” he started. And then stopped. And then hesitated. And oh no.

Your nerves jangled like your keys, and you had to tear your eyes away, forcing yourself to trace over the graffiti keyed into the statue before you spilled some beans that shouldn't go in the soup. If he didn't know about the article, or your crush, or your-- other thing, then you didn't want to tip him off.

“You-- speak Korean, don't you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything, that? “That's what we had to talk about?”

“Well, no,” he said (and boy if that didn't send you spiraling back). “I just-- I don't trust my English. And this is important.”

Do you admit it? The secret you’ve held this whole semester? Lay your cards before you? It wasn't really even a question. “Well, my speaking isn't-- I’m not comfortable speaking it,” you said, starting over before you diss yourself because by god you're trying not to. “But if you speak slowly I should understand most things.”

He nodded, and then stared out across the lawn. You went back to tracing the graffiti, hearts with initials from the eighties and the sixties and the twenty tens scratched on the mascot’s heels. An anarchy symbol between the toes. A--

“I’mamindreader,” Jun exploded.

Your head shoots up. “Slower?”

“I--” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can't think of a delicate way of putting this. I’m a mind reader.”

Oh.

(2)

Should you have guessed? Maybe you should have guessed. But- no, what kind of crazy assumption would that have been?? Yes, you talked to objects that didn't have voices on a daily basis but that didn't mean you were just up and guessing what strange power your friends would have, especially after- no he might be listening don't you dare but your heart jumped into your throat unbidden. He was saying something but you felt miles away, watching his mouth move through a telescope because how much did he know?? With the guilt on his face you were sure it was everything and it was like everything you feared most had collided, the car crash morphing into a t-bone between a gas tanker and a train because he knew about your crush knew about the Bad Place knew about Derek knew knew knew he’d violated the one space you’d thought was sacred you wanted to throw up.

“I need space,” you choked out, hands reaching clumsily to pull yourself out of the alcove, and it wasn't the graceful exit you wanted and you felt like every emotion was plastered on your face and you didn't even hear his response as you all but sprinted across the lawn, running for your car as fast as humanly possible.

You collapsed into the driver’s seat and hid your head behind the steering wheel and your hair and your hands, desperately trying not to cry. You already regretted your harsh exit (he’d bared his soul to you and this was how you repaid it? god, you were just vying for the worst, weren’t you, you ranked up there with Derek) but if you'd stayed longer--

You couldn't. You’d done enough harm just by admitting it in the first place. He was your friend, he’d brought you into the fold, and you were terrified of an aspect of himself he couldn't change? And with your reaction, he probably thought you hated him, would never speak to him again. How was he to know you’d panicked on the spot? (unless he was in your mind again but you didn't want to think about it because that was much much worse than him just seeing hatred; he didn't deserve to be dragged into a panic attack no one did it was the most selfish thing you’d ever done).

You sent Miss Mendes a shakily typed email, wishing you’d thought to grab your stuff before leaving. You just thought you'd feel well enough to grab your stuff, no matter which bomb he dropped on you. She shot back a response immediately, concerned but not prying. She promised to leave your stuff by the door, and honestly the twelve thank yous you typed in your response didn't even cover it (what had a person like you done to deserve an understanding angel of a teacher like her?).

Your car threatened to run them over a couple times before realizing it wasn't helping and subsided. There wasn’t much she could offer, right then. You didn't want to talk (you’d explode if you even dared open your mouth).

The walk back up to the building was excruciating. Every step was a chore. Against all logic you felt eyes on you the whole time, judging, whispering, pitying, The hallways were empty, and the feeling just persisted. Each step echoed off the walls, impossibly loud.

True to her word, Miss Mendes had left your things just inside the door. You avoided eye contact, hiding your face with the door and only opening it wide enough to grab your things (you knew what you’d find if you looked up, hatred and betrayal and just the thought made you nauseous).

You spent the remainder of the day in the counseling center. (they let you alphabetize the files in the back room, with the lights off, once you said you couldn't talk about it and just needed a place to hide calm down)

#seventeen #wen junhui #seventeen au #wen junhui au #junhui #seventeen scenarios #junhui scenario #wen junhui imagines #seventeen imajines #seventeen fluff #wen junhui fluff #seventeen angst #wen junhui angst

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 8 months ago

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HE CARES HE CARES HE CARES-

#HIS CALLING CARD #tpp spoilers #private eye's keys go jingle jangle

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floggingink · 7 years ago

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Riverdale, “Chapter Fifteen: Nighthawks”

“DEATH DINER”??????

“Damn good coffee”: you know what I’ve never stopped and considered? how lovely the interior of Pop’s is. the ceiling tiles are styled with gentle Titanic fresco flower wreaths. those hanging lamps? Restaurant: Impossible wishes. the classic black-and-white floor, the framed art on the walls? he has neon letters saying “DINER” inside the diner. just to be fancy, be pretty! there’s a table by the far wall that appears to be stacked only with translucent glass flower vases, or bongs! Pop’s is a classy joint, and Pop is there 24 hours a day, dressed impeccably, like the ancient Greek god of caffeine, whipped cream topping

also he named it and insists on calling it not a diner but a “Chock’lit Shoppe,” because he is an angel

please contrast with Archie Andrews, who cannot use the toaster

Archie > Dawson: I like that he leaves Fred to pretty much clean up the mess, his well-meaning unhelpful morning thus encapsulating much of his Archibaldness

Sheriff Keller, actively avoiding Archie’s earnestness, left the job of calling Archie back to his deputy. what was the message I assume Archie hung up before he could hear? that they KNOW NOTHING?

“side exit”? what side exit?

Fifth period is AP English: “To quote that New Yorker cartoon…” Veronica and Jughead, Veronica and Jughead. Veronica also has an A in English. she reads Oscar Wilde, you know? she and Jughead get partnered together to do a report on Truman Capote, their teacher cannily scheduling them to present on the last day as the final flourish, two of her best students. except then Jughead got transferred. she got drunk that weekend

that cartoon is also from like 1993 so it must be one of those vintage bon mots Veronica drops

Hiram, buff!

Veronica is very snotty with him. it’s her prerogative, but dangerous, no?

Betty’s top knot, Veronica’s blue velvet coat

“Wait, I’m sorry, am I hearing acceptance?” Betty is a NATURAL EXECUTIVE CHEERLEADER

wait, has Jughead not been transferred yet? isn’t this a table outside Riverdale High? how is Jughead there?

Archie’s hand-made wanted poster is preposterously ineffectual and a thousand times more adorable and tragic for being so. Archie wants to help and get things happening SO MUCH that, even though all he knows about are the green eyes, he drew a picture of just a white dude in a cut-out ski mask. he went to Staples to make copies! he’s begging someone to tell him something

also how depressing a walk was it for Archie and Jughead to go to the sheriff’s office together

honestly WHAT PERSONAL INFORMATION did Fred have in his wallet besides the address on his driver’s license? which may have been revoked from his mystery DUI for all we know

“a 53 in Greendale” means a garrotting

FP...looks rough

his charges: arson, destruction of evidence, making a false confession, obstruction of justice, and something that amounts to failure to properly dispose of a human body. to be sure, FP did some crimes, so he could do some times. I hear you. however 20 years, from my years of expertise gleaned from watching Law & Order, seems more appropriate for having, say, throttled a grandma

Jughead, presumably using a key, the first almost-casualty of Archie KEEPING HIMSELF AWAKE for like the seventh night in a row

Sixth period is Intro to Film: “You’re the one who looks like a dream warrior from Nightmare on Elm Street 3.” niche, Jug

if his case goes to trial—for what?? he did all that shit! is he going to plead not guilty for something? make your case at sentencing, dude!

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Jughead needs a hug, Archie. get over there. get over there with your big shoulders

Betty’s gray sweater with the lace Peter Pan collar and her pink almost-pencil skirt is unacceptably good

Veronica also has a vanity mirror table, but just with three white honkin’ mirrors set in a semicircle

the female gaze: Archie feels comfortable opening the door without a shirt on? of course he does. what if it had been the killer? then the killer would have truly known what he was up against

Summer + Blair = Veronica: can you believe it’s the second episode of the second season and until now no in-universe character has suggested plonking Archie down in front of A COUNSELOR OF SOME SORT

Mayor McCoy’s bodycon dresses are always slinky yet pragmatic and she always looks great

she JUST SLIGHTLY flicks her eyes down Jughead, whom she’s heartily sick of

Jughead starts to stammer, his physiological reaction when pitching ideas to beautiful women in power

why is the mayor “all for” closing Pop’s? to put it all behind Riverdale as quickly as possible?

Jughead doubts it: is Jughead being a little hard on his dad’s public defender? they’re shockingly overworked and underpaid

“YOU REMEMBER THIS MOMENT”

Betty’s face: hooooooo, what? oh god

Gay.: Midge Klump’s immaculate leather jacket is from H&M and is gay. her incredible mussy, shaggy lesbian haircut is gay, her watercolor blouse is soft femme, and the way she tosses herself against the locker is just very gay

“the Klumpster”

anything, any scenario, and I mean ANYTHING that means I can both look at Reggie AND hear about jingle-jangle has my full-throttled unambiguous endorsement. Reggie sells jingle-jangle? OF COURSE HE DOES!!!!! remember in the pilot when he asked Archie what kind of performance-enhancing drugs he was taking? WE WERE ROBBED OF AN ENTIRE SEASON OF REGGIE POTENTIALLY SELLING JINGLE-JANGLE

“What’s on your mind, Andrews? Girl trouble? Scabies? Why’re you seeking guidance from Ms. Burble?”

“You look like my nuts after football practice.” PLEASE go after Jughead again!!!!!!!

jingle-jangle is apparently like a miraculous All-Purpose Lysol drug that keeps you awake, keeps you focused, and gives you a hard-on

Reggie slaps Archie’s ass when he walks away, because of course he does

Betty would be the one to say something like “We can’t let the terrorists win” when talking about something like a diner closing

Veronica was rich: Serendipity 3 is on East 60th Street and is the home of the Golden Opulence Sundae, which you must order two days in advance. it is covered in Amedei Porcelana syrup, dessert caviar, and edible gold leaf, and costs $1,000. this is why Marie Antoinette was beheaded and I want one

little Betty did ballet and ice skating

ah, retro Betty, settled on the wrong boy

Betty met Kevin for the first time at Pop’s!

GOOD JUGHEAD KISSING GOOD HAIR JUGHEAD GOOD

Hiram brought Veronica yellow roses, for friendship

Betty and Kevin seeing the Hiram Lodge of myth for the first time, Kevin privately surprised at how much of a snack he is

I’ve forgotten why Hiram was in prison. what is Veronica’s ur-beef with him again? that he bought the drive-in land? oh and Ethel’s dad almost killed himself I guess

Serpent Daddy’s real gang name is Tall Boy, so I will continue to call him Serpent Daddy

he is tolerantly amused at Jughead’s suggestion that they just break FP out of jail

a “snake handler” is someone who is independently invested in the wellbeing of the Serpents and fixes their problems. is Betty a snake handler? discuss

Cheryl and Josie have a metallic choker apiece

Cheryl calls Betty and Veronica “Humpty and Dumpty,” because she has released her past

“But, really, Veronica, were they ever yours?” Cheryl did sort of sign them over under emotional duress, would be a questionable transfer in court, say

“The answer is a double-cherry-on-top no.”

What damn high school in America: a long-faced, kinda fly-looking jock to Archie’s immediate right stares at him during the zoom-in after Weatherbee’s announcement about Ms. Grundy, because his whole class knows they were FUCKING

there needs to be a game of Secrets and Sin toward the end of each season, just so the regular kids at Riverdale can get fully briefed on this one handful of kids’ operatic problems

Mr. Andrews felt no emotion at hearing that Ms. Grundy was killed, he is humoring his son

Penny Peabody is GREAT. I love her voice, her bangs, her filing system, her diminutive Serpent tattoo, and her 80’s bad bitch shoulder pads

time served, that’s what I’m talking about!!!

she also kind of looks like she wants to take a bite out of Jughead

Alice is still very COOL towards Archie. why doesn’t she like Archie? because she delights in not liking anyone. it’s okay

“Fine. I’ll reach out to my ghoulish friend.”

also part of Betty’s pink & gray outfit is a pair of sky-blue Chucks

Alice had to say “You’ll love this,” otherwise Veronica’s rage at hearing “anonymous buyer” would have not been self-aware enough for this show

there’s that gold octopus I liked

Veronica just kept that letter in her purse in case she got worked up!!!

oof I like her sort of 40’s naval-inspired skirt

HERMIONE IS STONE-COLD

Cheryl gets one of the most fantastic lines outside of Clue: “Hobo. Bride of hobo. Welcome to Thistlehouse. Mother’s in the conservatory.”

that blouse? that blouse, Cheryl? yes, Cheryl

the conservatory is apparently the greenhouse from Practical Magic, the greatest cinematic house of all time

Best costume bit: PENELOPE IN A TURBAN

and like a white lace nightie and kimono? yes, Penelope

I’m sitting here trying to see what they’re doing at the table and it looks like Penelope is just stirring tea like a Disney witch, surrounded by long-stemmed candles (lit), stoppered vials, some sort of decorative toucan, and tiny cauldrons full of herbs

Cheryl does have a point in that she like, was living with a killer

of course Penelope wants to watch FP get electrocuted, because she is a Stephen King villain

“If they weren’t literally an orphan and a widow, I would do it.” luckily Jughead you have the best girlfriend ever

MISSED YOU, OVER-ENTHUSIASTIC CORONER

Archie unknowingly paying Reggie back for the black eye? he should’ve just covered with that

okay but Reggie knows what he’s doing so all this indignity on his part is a bit misguided

I like that the only person so far truly feeling in their gut that these two crimes are connected is the town doofus, and he is right

“ChugMo”???

Pop should NOT be walking around saying “I thought I’d be doing this until the day I die”

I FUCKING LOVE Betty’s not even “positive attitude” or “determination,” it’s like a physiological inability to accept defeat. I think the last time she accepted defeat was when Cheryl told her she wasn’t making the cheerleading squad

Cheryl in a Gil Elvgren lingerie set checking herself out in a compact mirror is...powerful

her locker emanates a red light, like the Moulin Rouge?

she has a photograph, I think, of herself

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Betty first closes the door very loudly on purpose

Cheryl’s expression at Betty’s threat is everyone’s expression

my knee-jerk superego wanted to be like, Is this kind of harsh, Betty? but like...this is Betty. or this is Riverdale Betty. she’s chaotic good and this is what she needs to achieve her goals. that she does it in a pink cardigan says really everything you need to know. like Archie fucking up trying to make toast for his dad

she’s also kind of tall and has her mother’s left eyebrow, which is cute

Gay?!: Cheryl regroups with commendable speed, respecting who won this round, definite admiration for the game

HOW INTERESTING IS JUGHEAD AND VERONICA

this must be after Betty told Jughead that Cheryl was going to testify, so Jughead was like, THANK GOD, WHO IS BETTY, and felt so much love that he had to go make someone else feel better, because Jughead is a sweetheart

Jughead eats: he takes one of the individually boxed cupcakes presumably left for Veronica by Hiram

“He made an effort.” did he, Jug? he wanted to get on your good side to get your read on a murder. because he knew what you needed to see. oh, Jug. oh, Jughead

“I’m not going to presume what lies in your father’s heart.” JUUUUUGGGGGGGG

Jughead still says his dad is going away for 20 years so maybe this is before Betty talked to him and he’s just being nice!!!!!!!! or he’s not getting his hopes up. let me have this

“Thank you, Jughead. Sorry I broke into your dad’s trailer.”

I REALLY didn’t think Ms. Grundy’s ex was real. but she did have a gun! I don’t know, Christ, I don’t know anymore

Cheryl’s a psychopath: I like the implied scene where Cheryl went home and was like, Mother, I’m testifying for FP Jones, and Penelope was like, You’re doing what? and Cheryl was like, SILENTLY AND WITH MY BLESSING MOTHER

FP sitting there with his mouth opening is everyone

his court-appointed attorney doesn’t understand how this is happening but he’ll take it

“FP’s guilt has been blown out of proportion to satiate what my father’s suicide denied us.”

Cheryl’s sheaths: wait, it’s THIS dress! this dress, Cheryl!!!!!

Cheryl’s pins: Jughead gave her her spider pin back???? to say thank you!!!!

okay what is like the DA’s story here, that FP OUT OF NOWHERE, or for money no one can prove he ever received, did a shit load of dirty work for Clifford Blossom? there were NO extenuating circumstances? like, that’s okay with you?

okay, oh Jesus, Betty raises The Eyebrow at Cheryl on the stand, which I don’t even think was part of the deal!, but Cheryl IMMEDIATELY perjures herself, even though it’s not actually a lie because it’s what actually happened but she doesn’t know that, to get the result Betty wants

Betty is in a textured pink sweater now (with a Peter Pan collar) and Jughead is back in that heavy green knit from the third episode holy moly!!!!!!!

“Is that extenuating enough? Say when.”

Cheryl’s cut-out blousey dress is like Velma Kelly murderess chic, murder me Cheryl

Jughead pulled his hat off, he was so flipping relieved

honestly when he hugged his dad it was so pure, sad, and good, it was so good

Jughead’s fucking long fucking arms can never just hug someone, they like wrap around you and reposition again and again to find the perfect sweet spot

the incredible costume change into the retro waiter stuff

“You’re a fiend, mother.”

does Veronica give them the wrong milkshakes or did they decide to swap? Questions

Cheryl is back in her red velvet leg warmer and red sling-backs

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: JOSIE’S BRAID?

Betty took a page out of Toby Zeigler’s book and just announced that the Pussycats had already accepted the gig

the 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Valerie has “a norovirus,” so Cheryl gets to sing (like Josie is a Vixen now) “Milkshake” on top of the roof, which Pop’s is probably not insured for

MELODY GETS A LINE

Archie VERY BRAVELY showed up to Pop’s again out of support for Betty and Veronica

Hermione’s shimmery blouse

Hiram is just so handsome. SO handsome, soap opera handsome

Serpent Daddy and another long-haired hooligan and a third fairly chiseled young man enter to show that the Serpents support their local businesses

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: what’s up with the finger on Betty’s chin!!!! is he slowing her down??? is it a bossy thing??? what’s up!!! what’s up Jug!!!!!

they disgust Cheryl

“Honor your promise to me.”

Alice is thrilled Pop’s is such a thriving hive of degeneracy

Certified pedigree: “Yeah, no, I fucking bought it.”

OF COURSE HERMIONE WAS COVERING FOR THAT SHIT

Please protect Betty: I like how everyone is like, Betty, you did it. you did all this. this is what did you, thank you. thank you for being the one who did this

the Blossom corpse: “I have a present for you.” they watch the snuff film

Cheryl’s hair: Cheryl’s top knot!

Andre is tasty but we all know Smithers is dead

Jughead went home early to make some sandwiches, which is #lifegoals, but FP really should know better by now how NOT to get Jughead to do something. it’s not by being cryptic. you have to say right-out, “She’s done X, son. She will steal your skin. She stole that woman’s skin.”

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: “You do know several drug deals went down here tonight.”

Alice is so vicious with Betty, Alice is gold

Dilton Doiley is a canonically great dancer: PSYCHO DILTON IS BACK BABY!

Archie with a gun is single-handedly the most dangerous idea anyone has ever had. I’m already in mourning for the innocent person he’s going to shoot

apparently one ingests jingle-jangle through a Pixy Stix

I hope the staging of this scene is a callback to the incomparable opening of Zodiac

These students are legally children: OKAY WHY WERE THESE CHILDREN BLOWN AWAY THOUGH

God bless Moose: RIP you bicurious boy!!!!!!!

I officially have zero theories as to what is going on, I am back to being Archie

NEXT WEEK: “THE BLOODLETTING”??????????

#commentary #i say #tropes #riverdale

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