#the recurring theme of ‘a home that no longer feels like home’ is gonna kill me i shant surive i tell you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adorethedistance · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: Deny Deny Deny - JJ Maybank x Reader

Photo cred: I made the aesthetic but if you own any of these images I will take them down per your request.

Warnings: swearing (a recurring theme), mentions bombs, use of the word psycho, if I missed anything potentially triggering PLEASE let me know.

Words: 2428 (AND IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LONGER SIUAFHSUR)

Previously in part 7: Green Goblin is practically hunting you and JJ, and though he’s stupid enough to try and fight with a hole in his stomach, there’s no chance in hell you’d let him. Operation Flight Not Fight goes underway as you two request the pogues join you for a one am cuppa at Ozzy’s. The part neither of you thought about though was having to explain why you needed them there. To protect JJ’s hero identity, you both told the pogues about your ‘relationship’. What’ll happen when they need to be convinced you’re actually dating.

Much like the night I first met Spiderman, last night also does not feel real. Being chased by a lunatic will do that to you. The main reason it feels like a dream is that JJ is no longer sleeping next to me. I don’t know if he left two minutes before I woke up or two minutes after I fell asleep, but all I know is that I wish he had stayed. The kid is such an idiot I’m constantly worried sick about him. I know, I know he can handle himself, I just don’t like how he gets bruised in the process.

Last night was the first time in a while since I’ve seen him vulnerable, if you can even call that vulnerable. Usually those moments are reserved for when he’s bottled up all his hurt for so long he can’t help but explode. Sometimes it’s numbness and a rant that lacks emotion; other times it’s crying in my arms till he gets a dehydration headache and needs to pass out.

Both situations are equally painful for me to watch, but I’d never let him know. JJ knows my tell for when I’m lying, but I do everything I can to keep him from noticing when I say things like ‘everything will be okay’ and ‘nothing can hurt you now’. I just hope I’m not as transparent as I feel.

All I can do is be there for him which means holding him when he cries. Or…

Gnomeo 💙: accidentally pulled an all-nighter. would thoust be so kind as to gift me one (1) breakfast burrito?

Juliet ❤️: How tf do you stay up all night on accident?

Gnomeo 💙: studying

Juliet ❤️: You really want me to believe you stayed up studying?

Gnomeo 💙: bruh are u gonna feed me or not

Juliet ❤️: You’re ridiculous. I’ll be there in 20 try not to hurt yourself

Gnomeo 💙: ill make no such promises ;)

__________________________

As I enter the corner store at the end of my block, I can’t help but wonder if Mom noticed that my bathroom counter is in pieces on the floor. I hope not. Then again I don’t think home depot sells bathroom sinks to minors so I guess I’ll just have to find a cover up. I could tell her that JJ broke it but the part about him doing it with his bare hand is kind of tricky to avoid. I’ll figure it out later.

My thoughts transition from thinking of a cover story, to singing Tonight Tonight by Hot Chelle Rae as I browse the store for breakfast necessities. I’ll get him a burrito and a vanilla hazelnut coffee. Can caffeine kill him? I don’t know the rules of being bitten by a radioactive spider.

My curiosity is cut off by the tv in the front of the store increasing in volume. Craning my neck to see the screen, I see a news report on Spiderman where the anchor is talking about his prevention of a robbery yesterday afternoon. I can’t help the small smile that creeps up onto my face now that I know who the hero is, and that, in a way, he’s mine. I know it’s fake but I can’t help revelling in the fact that JJ is sort of mine.

“Ugh. Not this kid again.” I hear as I walk toward the counter to pay. The shop owner does not seem impressed with anything having to do with my superhero.

“Just the burrito and coffee,” I say, placing both items on the counter between us. The man barely spares me a glance as he continues to watch the reporter praise Spiderman for his heroism.

“$4.59. This kid swings around town once every other day and everyone worships him for it.”

“You don’t like Spiderman?”

“I just think there are far better people who deserve the public praise like doctors, or cops!” My mouth parts slightly in disbelief. He did not just say that.

“You know complaints against the NYPD rose 20% from last year's numbers, putting this year’s total at 5,236. And if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know nothing about what he could be going through in his own life. He could have an absent parent and an abusive alcoholic guardian for all we know!” I passive aggressively explode at the shop owner who’s shirt reveals his name is James.

James confusedly hands me my change and receipt. I could’ve completely compromised JJ’s identity just now, so I realize now that my best course of action is to shut up and hurry out, burrito intact.

My almost-outburst leads me to thinking that if I can’t be trusted with his secret, maybe fake dating JJ isn’t the best idea after all. I mean, it’ll be really easy to pull off, cause I won’t have to act at all.

What if it all gets too much for us? What if we fuck things up and JJ and I can’t be friends anymore?

I don’t want to think about what that Y/n is like. Instead, I put on a happy face and quickly approach my friends, all huddled around our usual morning spot. Being greeted by their tired, absent smiles, I begin to feel guilty about asking them to come to the emergency Ozzy’s meeting. Maybe we should just tell them.

“Hey, Y/n, we have a proposition for you and JJ.”

“Shoot,” I say to John B as I hand JJ his breakfast. As Sarah begins to talk, I feel JJ lean down to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Thank you,” he mouths silently, which makes the butterflies in my stomach multiply by the thousands.

“And so we were thinking, now that you two are a couple we can go on double dates!” Sarah cheers in a pitch much higher than her actual speaking voice.

“I beg your pardon.”

“I’m serious,” she continues.

“We’re already friends, so it won’t be terribly awkward,” John B adds to try and help build Sarah’s case. I can tell this definitely wasn’t his idea, but he’s going along with it to make her happy.

“Please?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” JJ answers for both of us. He’s in a good mood despite being awake all night. I’m not surprised he’s happy, I'm more surprised he’s functioning. Well, sort of functioning. The ringing of the first bell has him jumping out of his skin but you win some you lose some.

As per usual, the group all divide to go their separate ways and once we’re out of earshot from the others, I ask JJ a convicting question.

“You really think it’s a good idea for us to be going on actual dates?” JJ being JJ, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“If we wanna sell the couple routine we should be public.”

“Are you worried about… you know,” I pray he understands what I’m trying to say. Much to my surprise, he spares me the act of playing dumb,

“No, actually. I’m not worried about anything,” he says so casually that I begin to doubt his understanding of what I was trying to convey. I keep my eyes trained on the ground and nod my head to gage some sort of response. It’s in this moment that I notice how slow our walking pace is today. Normally we move quick enough to dodge the flow of traffic but right now it feels like it’s just us.

The lull in the conversation allows JJ to get cheeky and he extends his pinky to brush the side of my hand for my approval. I don’t pull away like he was probably expecting me to. I open my hand instead, and fully accept his intertwining of our fingers. My eyes don’t leave the floor as an unstoppable grin consumes my face. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see JJ staring at me.

“Do you… not think it’s a good idea?” He breaks our comfortable silence. JJ is already staring at me when I turn to look at him, and the huge smile on my face transfers over to his.

“What’s not a good idea?”

“Going on dates.”

“Oh. No, it’s great,” I squeeze JJ’s hand in reassurance. He doesn’t seem to pick up on my hesitance which is a great relief. But then again, how is he not worried about developing feelings?

“Dope. See you in physics, babe.”

Babe. I could get used to that.

JJ’s eyes sparkle mischievously and before I can ask what he’s plotting, he leans down and places a lingering kiss on my cheek. All too soon, he’s flashing me one last toothy grin before heading off to his own class.

I could get used to that, too.

__________________________

“Did I ever tell you about that time when I went out to get food after patrolling and it was like 2 AM? I accidentally went into this couple’s apartment next door to mine, and I get to the living room where they were watching a horror movie. Then, they both looked at me so terrified and screamed and I just fuckin’ stood there with my burrito.”

“That is such bullshit,” I say to JJ, who’s telling me this story at top volume over the sound of the bell, as we’re walking into Osborn’s room. As per usual, he’s death glaring us for the noise, and JJ is ignoring him.

We take our seats and Osborn practically beelines for us as he begins to pass out last week’s graded homework packets.

“Maybank, Y/l/n, you really shouldn’t be hanging out with friends so late at night. Especially when that restaurant was almost robbed not too long ago.” I speechlessly glance at JJ but he’s completely unbothered by Osborn’s creepiness. “Might be difficult for someone like Spiderman to protect you so late at night, no?”

“What are you talking about?” JJ asks, unamused with Osborn’s pensive scolding.

“That Spiderman kid seems awfully young, around your ages, and he’s probably responsible with his sleep schedule.” All I can do is simply hum in befuddled agreeance. Why is he being ever weirder than normal? Is he actually qualified to be a teacher or is he just some random who waltzed right in off the street? Who’s to say, really.

I just hope that the rest of the class won’t be this awkward.

As if on cue, my prayer is answered and Sarah Cameron is standing in the metal regulation doorframe.

“Mr. Osborn, can I borrow Y/n and JJ? It’s for yearbook and journalism pieces.”

“What about?”

“Uh, school spirit.” Sarah’s answer seems valid, much to Osborn’s dismay, and he exasperatedly turns to look at JJ and I slowly putting our things away.

“Should they take their stuff with them?”

“It might take the rest of the period.”

“Alright.” He seems very annoyed but not annoyed enough to actually keep us from going with Sarah. I stand up to sling my backpack on and JJ pushes in both of our chairs, per Osborn’s class regulations. I can tell JJ is excited to leave because he rushes over to where Sarah is without even looking back to see if I’m following.

“So, a school spirit exposé?” I ask once we’ve rounded the corner of the hallway, out of earshot from the classroom.

“I’m not actually interviewing you, I just figured you’d enjoy being out of Osborn’s. He was being super weird and creepy last night.”

“You’re a G, Sarah.”

“He actually scolded us and told us we ‘shouldn’t be hanging out with friends so late’. Like, what the fuck?” Sarah and JJ laugh, but cut themselves off as we all see Kie in front of the vending machines.

“Yo, what are you doing out of class?” I call to her, speeding up as I see she has Cheez-Its.

“I ditched once I realized we were still doing limits.”

“You guys wanna head to our lunch spot early and manifest that Pope and John B show up?” Sarah offers, stealing a Cheez-It from what has now become ‘our’ Cheez-Its.

I tell JJ to relay his bullshit story to the two girls, and to my surprise Sarah believes him.

“You cannot sit there and tell me you actually believe this story!”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem that out of character for him.”

“Thank you!”

“Whatever. Kie and I are intellectuals and that’s a story for the ThatHappened Reddit page.”

Then, the show bell rings to say there are six minutes left in the period.

“Have we really been out of class that long?” I ask in disbelief. Surely that was only a couple of minutes.

“Guess so,” JJ responds as we all simultaneously lay eyes on none other than John B.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told Pecorac I needed to pee and he didn’t notice the bell was about to ring,” he answers nonchalantly before stealing the last Cheez-It. The group begins to walk to our lunch spot as I’m about to ask if we should wait for Pope. JJ’s spidey sense hasn’t made him that observant so I have to jog to catch up to the group that unintentionally left me behind.

When I catch up, I try to squeeze between John B. and JJ but once I feel the slightest bit of resistance, I can tell they’re barricading me on purpose. Sarah doesn’t turn around either so I can tell she’s also in on it.

I gently push against JJ’s unnecessarily toned back muscles and he stiffens up without breaking eye contact with JB. Stopping to pout for a second, I realize I can dart around JJ’s right side, but as I’m about to pass him, JJ stops in his tracks and leans his body weight against me.

“MOVE!” I whine pushing harder to walk forward. Kie laughs at me and gets the others to give up the joke, but JJ still won’t let me through.

I try to go around him once more, and this time he turns around to pull me into a bone-crushing hug.

“JJ stop it!”

“It’ll all be over soon, Y/n! Just relax!”

“Get off of me. You smell like boy sweat,” I attempt to shove him off of me. The two of us are gasping for air, and the teacher inside the classroom we’re passing gives us a disapproving glare.

“Shh! You’re gonna get us in trouble,” I say as I shove JJ’s shoulder with all of my strength.

“You’re the one who was yelling!”

***

Link here for the next part.

A/N: Chapters will go up a little bit early on my AO3 bc I have to make the aesthetics for the cover images when I post on Tumblr. I’m sorry this chapter took so long Idk what I was doing!!

Edit: fuckin forgot the taglist please hold

Taglist strikeout means I can’t tag for some reason: @jellyfishbeansontoast @swervavery @wh0reforharry @merismind @danicarosaline @o-b-x @beautyandthebleh @harrysbaby @sexualparkour @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @sovuckie @obxmxybxnk @lovelymaybankk @rockyyc77 @obxlife @cece-lives-here @obx-beach @ilymarkchan @yeehaw87 @lopineapples @sspidermanss @poguestyleskye @jj-maybank-stan @socialwriter @pao-styles-blog @amberritonicole @orangutangua @baby-pogue @drewswannabegirl @hufflepuff-always-and-forever

65 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

The Recipe for Love

(aka The Making of Love)

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 4530

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, Bucky Barnes

Summary: The words Bucky said were nothing but innocent, truly. Except they wormed their way into your brain and now you’re worried you’re not enough. A proper woman should be able to cook for her man. Too bad you’re a walking kitchen disaster; you’ll just have to try in favour of your relationship with Steve flourishing, won’t you? What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, crying, gender stereotyping, self-doubts, more fluff

I’d say I attempted this to be short and it turned out longer than excepted, but seeing as that is a recurring theme with my fics, it seems ridiculous to point it out. Heh, done it anyway.

Also, due to unbearable fluff in this fic, I consider it my annual Christmas fic, because my brain is too in scrambles and there’s no way I’m gonna write anything else that would actually be Christmas-themed.

Enjoy :))

-.-.-

He had been gone for a week now, in the middle of nowhere in Bulgaria, while you stuck to your paper-pushing as you sometimes jokingly put it. And the truth was, you were truly missing him.

You always did.

It had been a year since your occasional meetings in the hallways of SHIELD’s headquarters, where you worked as a part of the surveillance and decryption team, turned from small talks to something much more. That charming smile of his could get him just about anywhere; and your heart was no exception, letting Steve Rogers in with a welcoming drumroll and fireworks, because he was such a gentle soul despite what he had been through that you let yourself fall in love embarrassingly easily.

Steve surely didn’t seem to mind, working his way deeper and deeper into your heart, owning it all and giving you his own in return.

He was everything you could ever dream of; not a perfect man perhaps, but an undeniably good one.

You were far from a perfect woman; however, Steve was always the one to tell you that you were perfect for him, making it so clear that you couldn’t but believe him. When he had offered to move in together only four months into your relationship, you hadn’t even hesitated, reassured by his confidence in what you two had. It didn’t even seem too fast, considering how seriously he was meant to take a relationship given the time he had been born into.

Considering all of this, there was little space left for doubt; you hadn’t been so happy in a very long time.

And then Bucky Barnes opened his big fat mouth and messed it all up; not that you could blame him, because he was only being honest, giving you the piece of information without a single drop of foulness in his intention.

“So, Steve’s coming back,” he threw into a conversation you had fallen into after a random encounter (or was it? With him, you were never sure anything was random) and you felt your lips automatically curl up in a smile.

“So I heard. He should be here in the late afternoon, but he told me I shouldn’t expect him home till eight. He even asked me not to wait up for him here,” you said, not finding anything strange about it.

Steve was considerate – one could never tell how long the debriefings would get, so sitting in the office chair, waiting possibly for endless hours, that was simply something he wouldn’t allow.

Plus, he apparently enjoyed coming home and finding you there, which was more than okay with you – you could understand. Home tended to feel warmer when there was someone waiting for you; when he could, not being away on the mission god knew where, he would make sure to wait for you as well. It was the sweetest thing to come back home to him after a long day; imagining being on a mission for a week or longer, it must have felt like heaven.

Bucky chewed on his apple, nodding thoughtfully. “Smart man. What you’re cooking?”

You froze, only your eyelids fluttering in confusion at the question, to which Bucky was completely oblivious.

“Huh?”

“Pasta? Steak? Oh, god, casserole? Man, I would kill for a casserole… hell, any homecooked meal…” he muttered under his breath, causing your blood turn to ice.

A homemade meal.

Hell yeah, that sounded nice. A perfect thing to come home to as well… except that never happened to Steve. You always… ordered take-out, for very valid reason. You were a terrible cook. Granted, Steve never complained, so you never gave it too much thought.

Perhaps you should have? To be fair, you had informed Steve about your skills in the kitchen on like date number two. He had admitted with a sheepish grin that he probably wasn’t much better and you laughed it off.

As it replayed in your head, you cleared your throat awkwardly, your smile at Bucky straining.

“Right.”

“Christ, I need to get one. It used to be a real deal-breaker, you know? You find a girl, you make sure she knows how to make a good casserole before even considering marrying her…” he sighed regretfully, eyeing his snack with a slight disappointment as if he was hoping it could magically transform into a four-course meal. “Times definitely changed. Man, sometimes I wish I lived back in the forties…”

Ignorant of your inner turmoil, he stalked away, mumbling under his breath.

You stood there in the middle of the hallway, utterly dumbstruck and horrified.

A deal-breaker? Before marrying her? A good casserole?

A horrible realization struck you, your heart pounding in your chest with rising panic.

Steve moving so quickly in your relationship.

The others mocking you when the proposal would come.

You both always laughing it off, because it was too soon.

Was it though? You had utter belief in your relationship; there was no one else. For you, you couldn’t imagine anyone but Steve as your future partner. You loved him more than anyone else in your life, ever. He was it.

But… were you it for him? You must have been so far from what he used to dream of… so far from a good housewife and you prided in it or at least never felt ashamed of it. You had other qualities, important too, and you focused more on your career path, which was alright, but… was it the same for Steve?

All of sudden, the doubts that had only bothered you once or twice in your darkest moments resurfaced. Who would want a woman like you? You couldn’t even fix a decent meal, for god’s sake! What kind of a message it sent to a man from the thirties, forties?

So far, Steve had never complained… but what if it would become the thing standing between you two and the happy future? What if… what if Steve never even considered marrying you in certain time horizon, because he could barely imagine you as his wife? He was taking your relationship so seriously, it probably wouldn’t be so surprising if the proposal came any day now – it would be a proper thing to do, according to the conventions of time he had been raised in. But so far, there hadn’t even been a hint, not a mention.

What if… what if you had never had a conversation about it, because it would never be on the table? What if… what if who you were wasn’t enough…?

Springing from your spot in a speed you didn’t know you could possess, ache in your chest, you strode towards your desk to pack up your stuff.

You were done for the day.

You had a fucking meal to prepare.

-.-

You were an analyst.

You could analyse hours and hours of footage in a way that took people’s breath away; even Steve’s.

You were a highly capable, efficient and dare to say a very intelligent person.

And you couldn’t figure out a fucking recipe.

Finding the recipe was alright. So was the shopping. But the cooking.

“I am a rational person. I analyse things. I am a capable person,” you chanted under your breath over and over like a mantra, putting the roasting pan in the oven. The result of your hard work looked… interesting, but you had faith (you prayed) that once it would be done, it would turn out okay… -ish.

“Nailed it…” you mumbled as the door of the oven clicked shut, simultaneously with another door opening.

A wide smile spread on your lips as Steve’s keys hit the counter.

“Evening, sweet,” came his voice from the hall and you rushed to greet him, both excited to get your hands on him after a week and utterly relieved to see with your own eyes that he was not severely injured. “I’m home!”

You nearly stumbled over your feet as you finally spotted him, simple t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans; a little miracle in your apartment. He welcomed you with a tiredness and light to his eyes and curiosity to his smile.

“Hey!” you welcomed him breathlessly and all but jumped into his arms.

He chuckled, engulfing you in his embrace, his face nuzzling your hair.

“Hi,” he whispered softly, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. “What smells so good?

You grinned up at him, replying with pride. “Casserole.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped nearly to his hairline in surprise. “You cooked?”

Too delighted to see him, you took no offence – to be fair, he had a point and his tone danced on the edge of amusement and fondness, so you didn’t even bother to swat his chest with your hand.

“Shut up, smartass… and kiss me,” you pleaded, peeking at his face from under your eyelashes, too aware of what it did to him.

His smile grew wider and softer on the edges, before he obliged happily, his lips meeting yours in a tender slow kiss. He captured your lower lip between his, pulling at it playfully, while his fingers drifted into your hair, cradling your head as if you were the most precious thing he had ever held in his hands.

You sighed into his mouth contentedly, sinking deeper into the kiss, your body melting against his, nearly blending in one. Your palms travelled from his chest to his shoulders and impressive biceps, caressing and gripping when he grazed your lips with his teeth, causing your belly to catch fire.

Withdrawing reluctantly to catch your breath, Steve moved to continue his ministrations on your cheek and your jaw, drawing a breathless chuckle from you.

“I’m so happy to have you home in one piece,” you cooed, capturing his lips with yours again, blissed out.

“I am happy to be home,” he breathed into your mouth. “I missed you.”

Life had a funny way of showing its imperfections. Because a second after that statement, Steve’s stomach made its own.

Blood flushed Steve’s face and you snorted unattractively, retreating for a bit.

“I missed you too. Come on…”

He discarded his shoes at the door before led him through the living room and the kitchen, hand in hand.

“So… why did you decide to cook? Is it… any special occasion?” he pried carefully and it struck you how it actually had to freak him out.

His girlfriend cooking freaked him out. What the hell did that say about you? Swallowing the uneasy feeling of insecurity and shame that rose to your throat, you shrugged it off.

“I just thought you might appreciate a homecooked meal for once. I mean, god knew what you had to eat on the mission…”

Frankly, you weren’t sure that your creation would be any better than the horror you imagined Steve had had to force into his mouth, but hey, you had tried.

Using your hand as a leverage, he pulled you back to his embrace, resting his backside against the counter. One arm sneaking around your waist, his eyes searched an explanation as they locked with yours.

You charmed a smile for him, pretending you weren’t suddenly feeling shaky on your feet. What if you had messed it up?

“Can’t say I don’t. Just surprised, is all. How were you doing the whole week, mm?” he asked and you instantly started going on about your (for once) uneventful days, grateful he let the topic be.

The time seemed to fly, your set alarm announcing that the meal should be ready. You kissed Steve’s nose, twisting out of his arms.

He went to set the table, his confusion apparently returning and you followed him with the pan in your oven-mitted hands.

Serving the dinner appeared to be easy enough and you couldn’t help the sense of pride despite the fact that the result of your efforts didn’t look perfect.

Steve dived in first and you, afraid of watching his face if the casserole didn’t taste as good as it was supposed to, fixated your gaze on your own plate and started eating as well.

The taste was… peculiar to say at least.

Nope, scratch that, the food tasted… bad. Like… your-taste-buds-possibly-hurt bad. You couldn’t put your finger on it, you were not a cook after all, but… the sensation in your mouth was downright terrible.

Your stomach twisted in a tight knot; you liked to think it was because of the disappointment in yourself and not the food.

Yet, Steve didn’t utter a word, apparently deciding to please you and look grateful. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, your fingers curled around the cutlery with force.

It took you about a minute to gather the courage and look up at Steve’s expression. He sent you a brief smile and the pit in your stomach deepened. What a brave man he was. And he was doing it for you.

He adored you. He was suffering though this, because he just wanted not to upset you. And you couldn’t even cook for him for once. Tears stung in your eyes as you slowly set the cutlery down, inhaling shakily as your heart hammered in your ribcage painfully, anxiety crushing your chest.

Steve followed your example and stopped eating, his brown furrowing in concern when he saw your expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly and you gulped against the lump in your throat, shaking your head and chuckling wryly.

“Me? How are you not on the floor yet, dying of food poisoning?” you questioned, your voice cracking at the end, much to your embarrassment.

It was his turn to swallow nervously, guilt crossing over his face since he had led you on.

“Hey now, it’s not that bad…”

“My taste buds might be scarred, Steve,” you noted coldly, icy fist closing around your heart as you pushed your chair back, fleeing to the living room to sink into the couch.

You covered your face with your palms, hiding your tears as you heard Steve follow.

“I can’t even make a casserole,” you mumbled into your hands. “Christ…“

You more sensed Steve moving around than heard him as he crouched in front of you, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists to pull your hands away. You stubbornly kept them in place, terrified to look at him.

The feeling of shame at your incapability, embarrassment about your outburst, fear of Steve thinking less of you... it all mingled in you and made it hard for you to breathe. Worries that you were not enough to keep him happy, horrified that he might stay with you out of pity, just like he had been ignoring the disgusting taste in favour of your feelings, because he was simply that good of a man--

The pad of his thumb traced the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, coaxing you into giving in; he wouldn’t use blunt force on you, as much as he possibly wanted to. No, he was too gentle for that.

The thought caused the sobs finally escape your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Steve whispered, panic finding its way to his pleading voice. “Look at me. Come on, sweet. So it didn’t work out, it’s not like a five-star restaurant meal. It’s not the end of the world.”

You sobbed again, stupidly and very much irrationally thinking it just might.

But it wasn’t, right? People were falling out all the time. Relationships didn’t always work out. It would not be the end of the world if Steve decided you were… not the right partner for him.

Your shook your head, sighing simultaneously with another sob choking you.

Resigned, you let Steve to look at your damp face, but couldn’t meet his gaze. One of his hands let go, wiping your tears instead; yet, you bullheadedly stared at the carpet under his feet. He caught you chin between two fingers angling your head slightly so you faced him.

The alarmed expression on his face only added to your overwhelming inner turmoil.

“What’s all that tears about?” he wondered, bewildered. “Why would one failed meal matter so much?”

Failed. What a fitting expression.

“I-I know it‘s- it’s s-stupid,” you hiccupped, averting his gaze again. You faced the ceiling, blinking in attempt to stop the stupid tears. “Fo-fo-for god’s s-sake! I don’t ev-even know why I’m- I’m crying over it.” You were most definitely not crying over a fucking casserole, it was about something much, much worse, but you couldn’t spit that out. “It’s just- Buc-bucky said— and- and I-”

Steve’s sigh was weary as it interrupted your senseless stuttering.

“What did that stupid piece of jerk say to you?”

You quickly shot Steve a glance as his tone carried a certain amount of menace. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault!

“It’s- it’s not im-important-“

“Seeing as you’re upset about it, I beg to differ,” he grumbled, but his tone softened. “You can tell me, sweet. Please?”

Damn his interrogation methods! Your heart ached as he begged you to explain what was wrong. You debated yourself for only a short moment, the determination to keep your mouth shut breaking.

You inhaled shaky breath, fixating your gaze at your joined hands.

“A good wife,” you started, quickly realizing your mistake. “Not that I want to get married!” Nope, even worse. “Not that I don’t want to get married! It’s just… oh god, this is so stupid… he said that a proper woman should be able to make a good casserole. That it’s kind of a… a deal-breaker.”

It didn’t ease the pressure in your ribcage, no; Steve seemingly didn’t feel any better with your admission either. Apparently, you stunned him into silence. The air was heavy, suffocating your lungs and you could feel your heart slowly breaking.

“A deal-breaker,” Steve echoed dully and you closed your eyes, awaiting his reaction. “I see,” he muttered, rising to his feet and planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

He caressed the top of your head and strode away from you as if he was on a mission, heading straight to the bedroom. You heard the wardrobe opening and some shuffling.

Oh god.

Panicked he was determined to end this relationship right here and now, you sobbed again, running your fingers through your messy damp hair, scrambling to your feet as well.

“S-steve?” you called out shakily, but before you could follow his path, his voice responded.

“Just getting you a handkerchief, sweet.”

Truth to his word, his large figure soon appeared in the room, coaxing and leading you to sit back as he handed you the cloth. He nestled on the floor again, sitting back on his heels, letting you blow your nose in an unladylike manner, stealing one of your hands just to draw gentle circles on its back.

All of sudden, you felt humiliated even more. Of course, Steve wouldn’t just pack his bag and leave. Not without talking first at least.

Wiping the tip of your nose and drying the last ridiculous tears, you watched him as he observed you, curious and searching in your face – what for, you couldn’t quite figure out.

The corners of his lips rose in a soft supportive smile and you couldn’t find words to express how ashamed you were for your outburst; for your incapability to cook as well, yes, but the tantrum…

Steve’s fingers tucked your hair behind your ear so he could see you better, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Better?”

You only nodded frantically, averting his gaze once more, unable to face the kindness in his cerulean eyes. It was why it startled you when he spoke again.

“You’re right,” he exclaimed and your head instantly snapped back to him, finding his features subtly twisted into a serious expression. “Bucky was right. It was a true deal-breaker. You apparently can’t make a casserole.”

You gulped, well-aware that he was about to make a different point. Steve wasn’t one to kick you while you were already low. Still; the reminder stung, bluntly thrown between you. Not even the twinkle in his eyes fixed the nudge at your conscience.

“But you can make me smile,” he offered gently and your heart felt warmer, your shoulders losing some of the tension in them. “Hell, you make me laugh.”

At that, you managed to charm a smile for him. A little strained, but a smile nonetheless.

“Look at ‘dat pretty smile on such swell dame,” he drawled, this time drawing a chuckle from you as his accent peeked through.

Gosh, how you loved this man. Allowing yourself to relax as you recognized that whatever crisis you had thought was on didn’t exist.

You covered his hand on yours with your other, squeezing. “Thank you, Stevie. I’m sorry for-“

“You also make this apartment a home,” he interrupted you warmly, cocking his head to side. “You make me feel things, want things I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore. You make me…”

Stunned into silence by his sudden declaration of love, tears stinging in your eyes once more, this time for a different reason, you could only watch and listen, your heart speeding up in anticipation of… something, as one of his eyebrows rose, a mischievous quirk to his lips.

“You make me want to do filthy things, just by being you, walking by. You make me want to join in when I come home to you singing and dancing around the counter-“

“Oh my god,” you whined, feeling the frantic heat rushing up your cheeks, and went to cover your face with your palms in embarrassment, but Steve’s hands locked around yours stubbornly, so you just squeezed your eyes shut like a child thinking that such action would hide them from everyone’s sight. A choked chuckle escaped your lips, followed by Steve’s own.

He brought your joined hands to his lips, planting a kiss on your skin.

Your brain and heart melted at the gentle gesture, full of devotion. Your glassy eyes found his, inviting and shining with something your mind didn’t seem to be able to grasp.

“You make me greedy and… maybe a bit possessive when another man tries and flirts with you. You make me giddy to come back to you. You make me want to show you and everyone else that I love you, no matter who’s looking. You make me happy,” he finished, his voice falling to a whisper, intimate and sweet, one that caused your whole body to shiver.

You blinked away the wetness of your eyes, surprised to find few tears welling up in Steve’s as well.

“Steve… I- I can’t even-- I-“ you stumbled over the thousands of words swirling in your head, not making any sense at all, but humming with overwhelming feeling of adoration.

Apparently, he didn’t mind, because he cleared his throat, easing one of his hands from the tangled mess of limbs in your lap, his fingers sneaking into the pocket of his jeans as he shifted his position a bit, all of sudden taller, face to face with you as he kneeled.

On one knee.

With a box laid on his palm.

A very distinctively sized box.

Your heart stopped, your breath hitching in your throat, your lips parting. For a fraction of second, the only thing that existed was the mesmerizing blue and green of Steve’s eyes, the world falling silent, not even your pulse drumming in your ears; and then it started hammering frantically, filling your eardrums with cotton, muffling Steve’s next words to a barely audible level.

“And…” he granted himself a deep inhale, one lick of his lips as if his mouth suddenly felt as dry as yours. “And you could make me the luckiest man in the world… if you said yes?”

You bit your lower lip with almost enough force to draw blood.

You hand shook as it found Steve’s cheek, fascinated and in utter disbelief at what was happening, what he was… proposing.

How this disaster of a night turned out like this, bringing the one thing that was so unexpected it nearly caused you vertigo?

Because Steve was there, kneeling in front of you, with a ring, which meant that he wasn’t only reacting to your freak-out, asking out of pity, wishing to reassure you; no, he must have thought about it before, possibly even planned it to happen in a certain time horizon.

“Please, marry me?” he whispered, gulping as you continued just staring at him, too shocked and delighted to form a single word.

But you had to. Christ, you craved to; however, it was so damn difficult to say one syllable that would change your life forever.

How was this happening?

Silence stretched and you could see Steve’s features hardening just a tiny bit, his brows furrowing a millimetre, the pools of his eyes transforming into the most effective and back-stabbing puppy eyes he could pull.

As if I were about to say ‘no’ before.

If it was only the spur of the moment, if he went to the nearest vending machine to buy you a ring for a dollar, you might have considered hesitating. But this was clearly something Steve wanted, might have been wanting for a while.

There was never any other option for you. No different answer.

“Yes,” you finally found your voice and Steve’s shoulders fell, his eyelids sliding shut as he let out a sigh of relief and you couldn’t but chuckle, high on giddiness as you repeated the word over and over. “Yes, yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you-“

“Oh thank god,” Steve muttered as you continued your silly monotonous monologue of agreement and he delicately slid a ring on your left hand; a shaky hand. To be fair, his own trembled as well.

And then his lips shut you up as he sealed the deal with a kiss of a century, a kiss sparkling with delight and love, with a promise of a beautiful future; beautiful, because it would belong to the two of you together.

Breathless, you stole a second as you pulled away, meeting Steve’s gaze radiating happiness.

“But are you sure? I can‘t even make a casser-“

“Fuck Barnes and his casserole, I know what I want from my future wife,” Steve snarled, rising to his full height, swinging you to his arms bridal style with one swift movement, making you shriek and laugh as you quickly steadied yourself by gripping on his shoulder.

He grinned down at you, seemingly endlessly content with you in his arms. Oh, you definitely were.

“And what that might be?” you suggested coyly, high on the electricity of the moment, drunk on the sudden festive atmosphere.

“Right now? I want the two of us to make love…” he growled playfully at you, heading to the bedroom with a swing in his step. “And if you want, we can try to make a baby…” he continued, his tone growing a little menacing once more. “And then I’m gonna go and punch Buck in his face for making my future wife cry. All in the right time…”

“All in the right time,” you echoed drowsily and met Steve’s eager lips halfway to yours.

-.-.- bonus -.-.-

Bucky looked up from the screen when a knock sounded, the visitor entering without waiting for permission.

Before he could even think of snapping at them, he noticed the familiar and yet so unfamiliar figure of his best friend, once a wheezing little guy, now a supersoldier who barely fit to the door.

“Hey Buck!” Steve greeted him with a grin, lifting a plastic bag with a food container. “Brought you something!”

Seeing the container, Bucky’s tired form perked up.

Sustenance! Homecooked, probably. God, yes please.

Steve chuckled at Bucky’s delighted expression. “What’s that?”

“Casserole,” Steve said simply, laying the bag on Bucky’s desk with no regards for the papers scattered there. Any other day, Bucky might have scolded him, but obviously, a homecooked meal had priority. “Leftovers from dinner my fiancée cooked yesterday.”

The brunet eagerly opened the container, feasting his eyes on the content, saliva already pooling in his mouth. Ah, so she had listened, she coo-

His heart positively stopped when the meaning of Steve’s words finally registered, his head snapping to Steve, who wore a bashful smile on his lips.

“No shit! Congratulation, man!”

Steve’s smile widened, a very much visible happy twinkle in his eye and Bucky couldn’t but jump to his feet and pull the blond into a fierce hug, patting his back.

“My man! You’re such a punk! How did it happen? How did you even-“

Steve reciprocated the hug, but shook his head. “We’ll tell everyone, but for now you’re the only one who knows it happened in the first place. Thanks. I gotta run, actually.”

“To celebrate, I hope, Steven! Ce-le-brate!”

“We did,” Steve uttered with a mischievous grin and at that, Bucky made a face, but patted his shoulder once more. It wasn’t every day his best pal proposed, he could survive that visual for once.

“I bet you did.”

Steve chuckled once more, heading for the door. Bucky, now excited both at his friend’s succces and the food, wiped the coffee spoon from his tea and dug in, parking his backside to his chair once more.

He felt his lips twist in a scowl at the strange taste, rolling the bite in his mouth, displeased. He noticed Steve hesitating by the door, his eyebrow raised as if expectantly.

For a moment, Bucky considered lying, but… he didn’t have the heart. Jesus, this was disgusting, he couldn’t possibly let him-

Bucky forced himself to swallow before speaking up.

“Steve… sorry, but this is terrible.”

A smirk only describable as fucking cocky spread on the blond’s lips. “I know. Good thing I’m marrying her and not you, huh? For me, a good casserole ain’t no dealbreaker!”

And with that, Steve left the office, his shoulders shaking with hushed laughter.

Bucky eyed the food in front of him with distaste, ruminating over Steve’s words.

“…well-played, Mrs. Rogers. Well-played.”

-.-.-

S.R.masterlist

-.-.-

Thanks for reading ;) If you enjoyed, please, consider letting me know in any way :))

Merry Christmas to you all (aka Veselé Vánoce vám všem!)

P.S. - blame the bonus on @eliza5616 who asked about Bucky’s fate. Thanks!

#steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #reader insert #fluff #fluff and angst #emotional hurt and comfort #marvel fics #fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes #anika ann

624 notes · View notes

twdmusicboxmystery · 4 years ago

Text

TWD 10x16: A Certain Doom - Details and Dialogue

Okay, let’s get into details, because there’s some good stuff here.

***Spoilers abound below for 10x16. Don’t read until you’ve watched.***

We’re kind of side-eyeing the beginning and Eugene’s injury. He has a head injury, and there’s a car on its side. We don't actually see Eugene's injury. We don't see him fall off his bike or anything. It just starts with him sitting up against the car that's on its side and he seems to have had some sort of accident. So, it's something unseen that causes the accident.

He is bleeding from the head, much like Connie is at the end, and the whole scene with the car on its side reminded me of the short bus in 5×05. We see the wheel of his bike being bent, as I said before. When he gets discouraged about not being able to get there on time to meet Stephanie, he has one interesting line about time. I think Yumiko was saying they would figure it out. He says, "unless it involves slowing the passage of time…" (time reference). Then he says they need to "go eye to eye with reality and turn back for home." (Sirius/North Star/Home reference.) And in part of Zeke’s reply, he says, "we are not going back." Which we might be able to tie to S5’s "you can't go back," theme.

Then we see Daryl and Carol setting booby-traps in the stairwells of the hospital. They're talking about Michonne. Daryl says he just can't stop thinking that he might not ever see Michonne again. And then he says, "just like everyone else." Carol says, "I'm still here."

The “I'm still here” is what Beth said to Carol at Grady. And once again, this is being filmed in the same hospital as Grady. Carol also said, “I’m still here” to Daryl in 5x06, Consumed, when they were searching for Beth. So this is a prevalent theme.

And there’s really two things to consider here. We can tie it to Beth in a literal way, because she’s one of the people Daryl believes he’ll never see again. But I also wondered if we should be applying this to Beth instead of Michonne. I wasn’t sure how. Just a thought I had. I’m gonna come back to this.

There’s an A/B reference. Luke says it when they're talking about the plan. He's explaining what they have to do with the walkers and he says they have to get from A to B. So, I believe B refers to the cliff where they're going to lead the walkers over into the water. A is just where they are now, or at the hospital. So, we could definitely read into that. Symbolically, A = Grady hospital. B = where Beth shows up to help save everyone?

We had a part where the Whisperers were coming through the door and into the hospital were Judith and FG are. Dog starts barking and runs off into another part of the hospital and FG tells Judith to go get Dog. That was really it, but it jumped out at me because we once again, kind of like the snow in S9, we have Dog running off and Judith going to get him. It feels like a recurring motif. And nothing really came of it in this episode. They’re in the hospital so Dog doesn’t really have anywhere to go, but they made a point of having Gabriel tell Judith to go get Dog.

Orange Reference

First, let’s appreciate that everyone escapes the hospital through an elevator shaft. Using a rope. Yeah, really not a coincidence, guys. 👀

They reach a point where everyone is evacuated except Judith, Gabriel, Scott, and Rachel. Gabriel tells the other three to go. Judith asks if he's not coming. FG plans to stay behind to fight the Whisperers, so everyone else has time to get out and to make sure they don't cut the rope (the one everyone's climbing down the elevator shaft with). Judith asks if Rosita knows Gabriel is planning to stay behind. Father Gabriel gives Judith a message for Rosita. "Eres mi media naranja."

Apparently, Judith knows Spanish, because she halfway translates it. She says, "half orange?" That immediately caught my attention. I couldn't help but think of the orange soda Daryl drinks in S6, that he's looking for on behalf of Denise. That's also when they meet Jesus and the wheel comes off Jesus's truck (wheels in this episode include Eugene’s bike and the one that falls off the wagon).

So naturally, I had to look up this phrase. It loosely translates to “you are my other half of the orange” which is a colloquialism meaning, “you’re my soulmate (or other half).”

Now, obviously, that makes sense in this context because it's Gabriel's way of telling Rosita he loves her and she's his soulmate. But I can't help but go back to that orange soda in s6. We know Denise was a Beth proxy and they were drinking the orange soda, which was for Denise. I think it’s a way of saying that Denise (again, not literally, but as a Beth proxy) is Daryl’s soulmate.

So, I looked up a couple of different translations for this phrase. Check these out. One of them actually says “musical soulmate.”

@wdway also reminded me that Denise actually found an orange soda on her own, in a blue cooler, next to some railroad tracks, right before Dwight shot her in the eye with an arrow.

And this is where I’m gonna circle back around to the booby trap scene. Watching the episode live on Sunday, something occurred to me. There’s a particularly gnarly scene where one of the Whisperers trips the booby trap. We know it’s a whisperer and not a walker because there’s a lot of blood on the right side of his face, and also walkers generally can’t come up steps. But this dude obviously died and has a bolt or piece of wood sticking out of his eye. On the one hand, the one-eye thing is a Sirius Reference.

But it also specifically hearkens back to Denise and the way she died. So we have people Daryl doesn’t believe he’ll ever see again, dialogue that was used around Beth at Grady, the fact that this episode is actually filmed inside the Grady hospital, references to orange, with a meaning of soulmates, connecting to the orange soda we saw around Denise, and then the explosions they set while using said dialogue causing a death just like Denise’s and doubling as a Sirius reference.

Yeah, I get that sometimes we probably read too much into small things, but this is just WAY too much to ignore. This is why I said it doesn’t particularly bother me that we didn’t see her in 10x16. Was I disappointed? Of course. But I still feel like everything points to her being REALLY close.

Gabriel also quotes more scripture. He says, "the Lord's house is a tower. The righteous enter and are safe." I looked it up and that's Proverbs 18:10. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. Obviously, there's the tower reference and it's also become sort of a test of faith for Gabriel. Because he said this right before the Whisperers come through and almost kill him. In fact he comes really close to dying before the ninja, along with Maggie, shows up and saves him. It was almost like his faith brought him through.

It also reminded me of 6×12 when TF attacked the Savior outpost. If you remember, one of them got outside the outpost and Gabriel killed him, but he was quoting Scripture then too, saying, "in my father's house are many mansions. If were not so, I would have told you." It seemed like a parallel to that, but I'm not sure how to interpret it or how to connect the two scriptures. I’d love to hear if anyone has any thoughts on it.

In terms of Daryl and Carol’s convo at the end, I don’t have tons to say. In fact, the thing that jumped out at me the most is that she asked if he was okay and he said, “Yeah.” I think that’s a direct contrast to previous seasons when they had the same convo and the answer was, “Gotta be.” It shows that Daryl’s in a better place now than he used to be. And to me, that shows that he’s in the perfect state of mind for Beth to appear.

Lastly, I’ll say a quick word about the final scene with Eugene, where the Commonwealth soldiers show up. Eugene makes what I think are several Star Trek references here. He gives a speech about how they won’t stop looking for Stephanie or other people. Basically, he says they came out here to find new people and he intends to keep looking until they find them, whether Stephanie's group or someone else. He believes that there are people around there and that if they just keep looking a little longer, they'll run into them. (Maybe the same theme we saw with Daryl and Aaron searching for people in S5?)

But Eugene says that's why they started “trekking” in the first place. The reason they “boldly voyaged” forward. And then he uses the word assimilate or assimilating several times. It struck me as a Star Trek reference and the assimilation feels like a reference to the Borg (a cyborg collective hive, for those who weren’t trekkies).

So, I don't know that this is necessarily a TD thing. I'm wondering if the Commonwealth, because it is sort of a collective, is being compared to the Borg. Right after this dialogue, the CW soldiers burst out. I'm not positive that's what they're going for. Just the thoughts I had.

The only other thing I'll say is that, even more than the promo pictures we have of them walking past the train cars, this scene gave me Terminus vibes. For one thing, Ezekiel suggests they spend the night in one of the train cars. And when the Commonwealth soldiers show up, these great big floodlights on top of the train cars suddenly turn on.

So, the Commonwealth soldiers haven’t stumbled upon Eugene’s group by happenstance. This train yard is a place they’re using and have outfitted with lights and traps. I feel like Terminus, symbolically, might be coming back around through the Commonwealth. So, it will be interesting to see where that goes.

That’s all for details. Tomorrow, I’ll talk about The World Beyond and some interesting ties to TD symbolism I saw in the episode.

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

10 notes · View notes

therealfluke · 5 years ago

Text

hello hello ! wld j like to say that if ur already following me and ur like “why” it is because. this is may. i j reserved from my rph so the alias it went under was lucky. which actually,, so fitting w this theme (goes by a name that means an unlikely coincidence, last name is associated with luck, etc.). in addition, if “lucky” by britney spears immediately got stuck in ur head... that was the ultimate goal. also listen,,,, u r not the only one who hates my url. and finally! i saved the old posts on here and j made them private for posterity (obviously) and also,, my sanity.

‹ OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN, HE/HIM, CIS MAN, BISEXUAL. › levi “fluke” fisher is the twenty-seven year old from salem, massachussets / new york city, new york. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said, ❝ IT FEELS LIKE I’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. ❞ they claim final destination is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would form an alliance with the murderer, then annoy the murderer into killing him by asking too many questions. their fears include rats, isolation and living the rest of his life without muse d, and they don’t know we know, but… in spite of a promise he made to his family, friends and self, he has a baggie of heroin on him at all times so he can prove to himself he’s strong (which is a lie – it’s really for a ‘just in case’ situation) . hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ MUSE C from OTHERSIDE penned by, LUCKY, 20, EST. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: levi “fluke” james fisher

hometown: salem, ma // moved to new york city, new york at twenty-two

date of birth: march 10, 1992*

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three Zodiac Chart™ because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: pisces sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising (he is!! so ruled by his emotions!!)

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: museum night guard ( fired ) / leech off of his older siblings

mbti: infp

enneagram: 4w5

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “stars” - nina simone ( cover )

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: death (under mysterious circumstances, but officially dubbed murder), night terrors / hallucinations?, drug abuse / addiction ( oxy, heroin ), accidental overdose, death by overdose

it began with josephine (“jo”), levi, charlotte (“lottie”), and christopher (“chris”) – in that order. or, perhaps, that reverse order – see: chris was the oldest.

they were all born to very kind and lovely parents. the majority of levi’s memories with his parents take place in a large house they were intending to flip. given its size and the price it would sell for, they spent more than their fair share of time in there. that being said, because their parents were often busy flipping and marketing the house, they all relied on each other for fun, even in spite of the sizable age difference between himself (and jo, who i have forgotten to mention is his “younger” twin) and christopher.

the longer they spent there, however, the more uneasy they grew. i mean, it was basically its own version of the manor – it was also guillermo del toro’s wet dream. levi could’ve sworn he’d had some run-ins with spooks, but no confirmation was ever, nor could ever be, offered. so the manor feels... very normal.

anyway, when levi was eight, his mother and father met an untimely demise. a break-in gone wrong while the kids were with their grandparents, they were told. at the time, levi... was eight and, therefore, had no doubts. now, however, he mulls over the many possibilities – it was a big house, the likelihood that they really could’ve been in that wrong of a place at that wrong of a time felt very unlikely. some form of suicide? something otherworldly? they seemed about as likely. he’s pretty sure lottie and chris know the truth, but...

after that, they were sent to live with their grandparents. while not particularly ideal, they recognized that it was far better than the foster care system. however, these recurring spooks didn’t just stop when he moved. his grandparents and older siblings blamed it on childhood night terrors, jo believed him.

as they continued into his teen years, they claimed it was sleep paralysis. he confided in jo, in secret, that they weren’t strictly at night. he knew very well that, if he shared that with his grandparents or older siblings, they would think he really needed help. maybe he did, he never truly learned.

when chris moved out to go to college, and when lottie followed just a few years after, levi found it was just jo and himself. their grandparents were beginning to go past old age and reach senility. they had bouts of forgetting.

levi chose not to go to college, but insisted jo, who’d always wanted to go, go without him. she went to new york city, he stayed behind with his grandparents in salem up until their death when he was twenty-two. it was early in his eyes, but for, say, his brother, it was pretty record-breaking.

when he was twenty-one, after the death of his grandparents, he left salem and all of its reminders of childhood terrors and lies. he found jo in new york and began living with her and working as a night guard at one of the many museums.

but a mere one (1) year later, jo, usually straight-edge, decided she would finally go to her first college party in celebration of being so close to graduating. yeehaw. levi was invited to go with her, but had been warned far too recently that, if he missed one more shift, he’d be fired.

on the topic of his night shifts, his terrors seemed to go away when he moved to new york. it seemed as though he’d left them all in salem, but there were definitely moments in a huge and empty museum that he could’ve sworn he’d seen something. anyway, back to the main point:

jo didn’t return until the next morning and, when she did, she expressed the excellency she had experienced the night before. she wasn’t afraid of telling him she’d tried drugs for the first time – no, that night, it’d just been weed. he’d tried weed in high school, trying to figure out if it would help with his terrors. for a hot second, it did... which is what led to his own demise.

(OK! so from here on out, i’ll be talking about the other muses in the subplot. i’m gonna do my best to leave their story and keep their drug of choice vague! anyway!)

jo began falling deeper into the drug world after meeting and beginning to date muse b and eventually fell into harder tingz™. she never tried to pressure fluke into trying anything, but he witnessed the reaction to it. between that and having looked up to his younger sister ( by, like, two minutes ) for nearly the entirety of his life, he decided to try whatever she did.

however, unlike her, he quickly escalated to heroin.

he started out smoking it... then snorting it... then began shooting it. he liked shooting it the best – not only because he reached the high quicker, but also because it required more of a ritual. as a fan of ritualistic behavior, the lead-up was almost as enjoyable as the high itself. unfortunately, it did leave him with many trackmarks and an even higher risk of reliance and overdose.

he didn’t go out to many parties after that. he preferred shooting in the company of the few, not the many. if his sister and friends did, that was their prerogative, but it was just... more peaceful...

suddenly, he didn’t ever think about the terrors or the lies or the shadows in the museum. he was eventually fired, yes, and had to start ‘earning’ money via asking his other siblings.

when the topic came up between himself and his little group of friends on whether or not they should quit, he had no answer.

in 2018, at twenty-six, his usual dealer had cut him off due to the money he was no longer good for. finding a much cheaper one, he took the same dose, but the amount of other chemicals it was cut with sent him to the hospital. given plenty of naloxone, he came out of it alive and clean and, due to the nature of it all, was deemed a fluke.

he didn’t take to that at first. he was lucky, yes, but a fluke ? it couldn’t have been that unlikely... especially when he fell back into it after finding another dealer and being totally fine. however, when he heard jo had overdosed and actually died ?

yes, he was a fluke.

he was so blinded with rage at muse a at first for leading his absolute crutch to her death, he was so blinded with rage at muse b for first introducing her to a world of harder drugs, he was so blinded with rage at himself for being the one who survived when she was the one who actually could’ve done something with her life.

so he embraced the word ‘fluke’ – he acknowledged that he was one during her eulogy, he told his other siblings he’d been the fluke at her wake. when he began saying it enough times, it caught on, whether he meant for it to or not.

he’s no longer so angry at muse a and muse b for what they did. muse b wanted to get sober, after all, and muse a , much like himself, was simply an addict. they couldn’t help not being prepared to give it up. he’s still furious at himself.

now that they've all gone clean, however, fluke is somewhat more pleased. he’s fairly certain he’ll never not be in mourning. quite frankly, he’s fairly certain he’ll eventually relapse. even worse, in spite of the group promise, he’s brought contraband with him to “prove his strength” ( see: that’s what he tells himself ).

riffing off of that, in the manor, his terrors have begun returning and he’s unable to nail if it’s because of the similarities between it and the home he remembers so well or if it’s because he’s now sober of it it’s because... it’s just the manor itself.

he’s still certain it’s all real.

TL;DR:

basically lived in a replica of the manor when he was a kid with his loving parents and three other siblings. is pretty sure he saw some paranormal stuff goin on. parents were “murdered” but he suspects something else. moved in with grandparents and continued seeing some paranormal stuff. only his twin sister, muse d (jo), believed that it wasn’t just night terrors. jo went to college, he stayed behind. grandparents died rip. he went to nyc where jo was and eventually met muse a and muse b when they all fell into hard drug use. almost died because of poorly cut heroin. jo died some months later. hates himself. rip. alexa, play “my heart will go on” but the recorder version.

PERSONALITY INFO:

sad boi energy

if u read thru this and didn’t think “why does she keep basing her characters off of characters from thohh” then,,, u should go watch thohh bc,,, it’s so obvious (we even over here picturing victoria pedretti as jo unless someone applies for her at some point afhsljk) hlfajdsa

has a terrible tendency to find someone to feed off of – someone to be codependent off of. without jo, he’s floundering.

is very * eyes emoji * at,,, many things. the explanation for his parents’ death? * eyes emoji * the spooks that almost everyone came up with excuses for? * eyes emoji * staying sober? * eyes emoji *

didn’t mean to start going by fluke, but started using the word to describe himself so much, it just happened organically.

i have stated before. that im bad at these sections. so feel free to j consult the zodiac / mbti / enneagram above haofuwdlijk

not rly personality but lil hc is that he goes back to that huge victorian house all the time and uses a ouija board to see if he can contact ANYONE :\ the ultimate eeyore :\

another lil hc is that he’s actually a v talented pianist. his mother sort of taught him the basics and he went on to learn classical through sheet music and schooling, then songs from rock bands/artists who incorporated keys in their music. brought the 7-octave keyboard his grandparents bought him... apparently doesn’t need it because there’s a huge piano hajfdkls

if u want 2 hear abt some of my paranormal hcs lmk i wld put them here but?? some r actually creepy (and/or involve blood) which we luv for me!!

FEARS:

rats: when he was living in that big house™, there were plenty of rat infestations. he often got those mixed up with his spooks™. there were also a lot of rats at his grandparents’ house and at his and jo’s apartment. it’s more of a general fear, but. (also... rat poison? drug abuse? symbolism.)

isolation: for an introvert, he’s really bad at being alone. for one things, he gets lonely which is very detrimental to his already fragile mental state, especially considering he’s pretty sure he’ll relapse. in addition, he’s much worse at dealing with any spooks™ that come his way when he’s completely alone. when someone else is in the room, even if he isn’t actively talking to them, at least there’s the comfort of not being alone in it all.

living the rest of his life without muse d: even if she was the one who began their drug journey, she was the only person who ever believed anything fluke said – she was the only person he ever felt actually listened to him and cared about him with no ‘if’ or ‘but’ attached. he also always found her much wiser than himself and could’ve sworn she would’ve gone to rehab after getting well with muse a one last time. she was the one who was going somewhere and she was the one who loved him unconditionally. no wonder he’s got sad boi energy :\

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

his other brother and sister! i’ll probs send in wcs for them to the main, but if you think they wld sound cool, lmk. luv that. (update!! take one of them you cowards.)

the dealer who actually dealt him quality heroin

the dealer who dealt him heroin cut with god-knows-what

someone he accidentally starts to sink with himself

exes

fwb

ons

enemies (not super great at making them, but is still able to)

the new person he’s decided to latch onto

childhood friends (if there are other salem (or at least massachussetts) characters!)

idk!! we can also look at urs and/or brainstorm!!

ok ! like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !

#manor.talk #(there's a tl;dr btw ahlfsj)

4 notes · View notes

alias-levi · 5 years ago

Text

Novel Prep Tag

Big thanks go out to @keen2meecha for the tag! This one took me for ever to fill out but I eventually managed. Also, to save you from scrolling for 30 minutes, I set the cut. I warned you.

First Look

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences

Two hitmen, who learned to keep business and private life separate, happen to meet each other more often than not. Jumping over their own shadows, they get used to each other and things seem to get less work-related.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be?

That’s hard bc I have no plan right now. I’m trying to push myself to a chapter length of, like, 3k-5k; and aim for a number of 20 chapters maybe. So we’ll end up somewhere between 60k and 100k.

3. What’s your novel’s aesthetic?

A rainy night in a big city. The asphalt is illuminated by traffic lights and neon signs. The air is filled with the sounds of traffic and cars.

But also a quiet house in the middle of nowhere. Two people co-existing, not talking much rather speaking through the music that fills the house.

Additionally, killing. Throwing hands until an arm is wrapped around the target’s neck to suffocate them. Or exhaling, calming the heartbeat as much as possible before gently pulling the trigger. Splattering blood over the walls.

4. What other stories have inspired your novel?

Definitely the John Wick Universe and the Hitman Universe (which I initially got the idea from). My WIP currently takes place in the John Wick Universe but I try to distance it through the second draft/editing phase.

5. Three images that get the feel of your novel

Main Characters

6. Who is your protagonist?

Yrsa Agnarsdóttir. She is from Iceland and in her mid-twenties. Also she works as hitwoman. (For more info check out her OC Intro.)

Alexej Kznetsov. He is from Poland and in his late-twenties. He also works as a hitman. (For more info check out his OC Intro.)

7. Who is their closest ally?

There isn’t really a space for allies in their lives, since both, Yrsa and Alexej, spend most of their time travelling and working (alone).

However, for Yrsa there is still her family and her best friend who have her back. Though, they don’t know about her real profession. In later chapters Alexej joins this list.

Alexej, on the other hand, can’t relie on his (biological) family. Also friends are not really his cup of tea. So, there’s way to go for him.

8. Who is their enemy?

Enemies aren’t really a thing in this story but much rather I’d call it competition/rivals.

If the job offer for a hitman is not exclusive but public, it’s first come forst serve. The first person to show up and get the job done is the one who gets paid. Everyone else to show up after that gets left out in the cold.

9. What do they want more than anything?

Alexej? Probably just for Yrsa to shut up and calm down for once.

Yrsa? I have no idea yet. Maybe Alexej to loosen up a bit.

10. Why can’t they have it?

She doesn’t care. As simple as that. Yrsa doesn’t care about what people (other than her really close friends and family) think about her. But for Alexej? Maybe. Some day.

Alexej is way too reserved. He needs his time to get used to Yrsa, and her lively nature, before he can shake off the stiffness.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Alexej feels guilty for his younger brother’s death. He had promised him that he would always protect him. Realizing that he should have been there and save him from the fire, had broken something deep within Alexej.

12. Draw your character

I’m sorry, I won’t make you suffer like that.

13. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

For Yrsa it would be a family member dying (natural cause) or getting hurt (due to her job). She keeps them very close and loves them dearly. Also a friend, like Einar, dying because of whatever reason would really throw her off the track.

Alexej is less easy thrown off the track. He is quick to close his heart and shut down feelings. Something as shallow as a friend getting hurt or dying wouldn’t be that much of a deal. Also “friends” is a term that he doesn’t usually use to describe anybody.

Therefore, it must be something that hit really close to home for Alexej. Maybe visiting his parents and realizing that they didn’t change at all in all those years he had been gone. Bonus points if they also blame him for his brother’s death, like he himself already does.

Yes, yes I’m hinting at a chapter throughout the book here. Thanks for noticing lmao

Plot Points

14. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Uhh... None, actually? This story is just about watching two people get used to the presence of someone else for the first time in a while. Also about seeing them become closer and, uh, dip into a romantic relationship.

15. Do you know how it ends?

Yes, and I plan on making a second part.

16. What is the theme?

The working title is a quote I read online and I think it’s from the Hitman video games or one of the movies.

“We determine who we are by what we do” obviously states that our destiny is in our own hands. What we do, how we act, is how we are. Everything we do has an impact on our future, and it’s up to us to control this.

But this story is also about the things we are forced to do to survive. Sometimes we can’t chose “what we do” and therefore it has less of an impact on us.

17. What is a recurring symbol?

Fighting, I guess. But also relaxing and coming down from the highs in very particular and private places.

18. Where is the story set?

As for the time We determine […] takes place in the modern world, like ours. Regarding a place it’s set all over the world, since both characters travel a lot. Though, there are recurring locations, like Yrsa’s house in Iceland.

19. Do you have images and scenes in mind already?

I’m still plotting and outlining but also started the first draft and make a lot of things up as I go. But I do have the major/key events, drafted and designed to the last detail, in my head already.

20. What excited you about this story?

I guess it was attempting to write something slow, where the characters need to grow before they’re ready to get involved in the relationship. I have never written something like that before so I see this as a bit of a challenge.

Also I haven’t really written anything for a long while. Especially anything longer. That also made me decide to officially pick up on this.

21. What is your usual writing method?

After vaguely making things up in my head while watching movies or series, I write that down slightly more detailed in an app where I can already structure everything and easily change stuff. Then, when I actually start typing things out, the real creative flow starts and I feed everything into a Google Doc or Word Doc.

Uh, I’m just gonna tag a bunch of people. I don’t know whether all of you have a WIP you work on but if you feel like doing it, here you go!

@liz-pooh @yogurt-writing @anxious-bean-writing @aelenko (but I think you got tagged already)

#community gathering #we determine who we are by what we do #novel prep tag #wip: wwa

1 note · View note

winterbaby89 · 7 years ago

Text

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke - Chapter Two

A Captain Swan, Season 1 Canon Divergence Collaboration by: @hollyethecurious, and @winterbaby89

Beta’d by: @ilovemesomekillianjones

Amazing Artwork by: @xhookswenchx

Rated M for language and dark themes (and maybe (probably) some sexy times… later ;o)

Summary: Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Twenty-eight years later, Killian Jones awakes in Storybrooke expecting just another ordinary day, that is until a number of abnormal occurrences disrupts his otherwise scheduled life. The greatest of which is a new face in town. A young woman by the name of Emma. Emma. What a lovely name…

Disclaimer: Canon dialogue and scenes from various episodes will appear within this fic. To Adam, Eddie, and the OUAT writers goes all the credit.

Line breaks indicate change in POV or Scene.

Also available on ao3, my fic page, and Hollye′s fic page And if you want to catch up on the last chapter.

This work is no longer available on FF.net. Unfortunately the site does not allow authors to co-publish collaborative works.

Chapter Two

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Hands. Plural. As in, he had two of them again. How?

Was it a side effect of Regina’s curse or from his being...

The Dark One.

The bloody Dark One.

I’m the bloody Dark One!

It had all come back in a rush. Fast and sporadic flashes of memories - his memories - that told the story of his long life. A life that spanned centuries, and yet the truth of it had hit him in an instant. The truth of who he truly was.

Killian Jones.

Orphan.

Slave.

Lieutenant.

Pirate.

Captain Hook.

Dark One.

Killian shuddered at that final memory, and then panic seized him once again. He spun around surveying the room, expecting the Crocodile to manifest himself at any moment with his mocking and jeering. But he hadn’t appeared. Not in the bar. Not on the long walk home. Not even now as Killian paced the length of his manor.

Why?

‘This new realm is a land without magic’, he remembered suddenly. Regina’s words, just before she’d solicited him to kill her mother, echoing in his ear.

A Land Without Magic.

‘Where The Dark One will be stripped of his power.’

For the first time in what seemed like hours Killian took a deep, steadying breath. The Dark One had no power in this land. He had no power in this land. Even still, Killian could feel the rage, the anguish, and the all encompassing darkness he’d felt in that clearing. The memory of their collective presence haunting him more severely than any of his other demons ever had.

And even if they now lay dormant within him, it didn’t change one other fact… he was still Captain Hook. A villain in his own right. A scourge and a scoundrel out for only one thing. Revenge.

Killian pressed his fingers onto the now vacant space on his forearm. Milah.

Revenge had been his, but at what cost?

He’d become the very thing he hated the most. The very thing she hated most. Rumplestiltskin may not have been The Dark One when they’d been together, but Killian had seen it in her eyes when he’d told her of his run in with her husband turned Dark One on the docks; the loathing at what he’d become coursing through her.

For centuries Killian had justified his own depravity and darkness because it was all in pursuit of avenging her. He believed that she’d understand, would offer him absolution for his actions because the ends would justify the means. But now…

Now all he felt was shame. Shame at what he’d become, and thankful to all the gods that she had not lived to see how far he’d fallen in his quest for vengeance. And not just Milah, but Liam as well.

Liam.

Killian clasped at the chain hanging from his neck, but knew it would not hold what he sought. Liam’s ring. What had become of it? What had become of all his possessions? His hook, his coat, his sword, his…

Dagger.

The Dark One dagger.

It had been in his hand when the curse hit, and even though he knew it no longer had the power to control him (at least, that is, as long as Regina’s curse and the lack of magic in this land kept The Dark Ones at bay) he in no way wanted it in anyone else’s possession other than his own.

Killian tore the manor apart in his search, upending rooms he had no memory of ever even entering before. Memories of his cursed life interspersed with his real life. Bloody hell, leave it to Regina to over complicate matters. As if three hundred years of his own memories weren’t enough for his mind to contend with, now he had twenty-eight years of practically the same day recurring over and over again in his head. The only detail making the days distinct from one another was Henry.

Henry. He knew.

The lad knew about the curse. He’d mentioned it before, his suspicions that the stories in the book his teacher had given him were true. Killian had recognized it as a coping mechanism, a way for the lad to try and escape the reality of his unhappy life. A way to ground himself to something more hopeful.

Killian now understood why Henry Mills had come to mean so much to him. He was a lost boy, just like Killian.

On some level Killian had recognized that trait in Henry, even as he had forgotten his true self. It’s probably what had prompted him to suggest that the boy seek out information about his birth parents in the first place. Of course, he never considered that Henry would actually run off in search of the woman who’d given birth to him. But seek her out, the lad had, and her presence in Storybrooke had already begun to change things.

The mystery of why her name broke the spell he had been under notwithstanding, Killian knew he’d only just scratched the surface of the intrigue Emma Swan possessed. But he couldn’t focus on that now. On her. He had a dagger to find and a secret to keep.

As Emma dressed the next morning, and thought about stopping at the diner for breakfast, she heard a knock on the door. Answering it revealed Regina with a basket of apples in hand, and a fake smile plastered on her face. Great, I have to deal with her crap before I’ve even had the chance to drink my first cup of coffee? Just great. Before Emma could manage a polite hello, Regina thrust an apple toward her and started in on some random spiel.

“Did you know the honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hardy of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as 40 below and keep growing. It can weather any storm. I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl, and to this day I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers.”

“Thanks,” Emma responded dubiously as she took the proffered apple Regina extended to her, still clutching her cup in her right hand.

“I'm sure you'll enjoy them on your drive home.” Regina tried to hand over the full basket of apples, but Emma took a half step backward, refusing to reach out for it.

“Actually, I'm gonna stay for a while.”

A brief flicker of anger and agitation crossed Regina’s face at Emma’s declaration and refusal before she schooled her features into a mask of pleasant nonchalance. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn't need you confusing him.”

“All due respect, Madam Mayor, the fact that you have now threatened me twice in the last twelve hours makes me want to stay more.”

“Since when were apples a threat?”

“I can read between the lines. Sorry. I just want to make sure Henry's okay.”

“He's fine, dear. Any problems he has are being taken care of.”

A concern for Henry’s well being swelled within her chest at Regina’s words, prompting her to ask, “What does that mean?”

“It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Ms. Swan, only one of us knows what's best for Henry.”

That’s right, Emma thought. She remembered meeting Henry’s therapist the other night when she brought him back to Storybrooke, he was the kind man that had given her directions to Regina’s place. She remembered as a sense of relief flooded through her that Regina wasn’t referring to something more sinister. Great I’m starting to think like Henry, she’s not the Evil Queen, just a concerned parent, most likely a bad parent, but concerned nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm starting to think you're right about that.” Emma didn’t miss the glare Regina sent her way at that comment.

“It's time for you to go.”

“Or what?” Emma challenged.

“Don't underestimate me, Ms. Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of.” Considering that the end of the disturbing conversation, Emma shut the door without another word to Regina, and locked it before going back to getting ready for the day.

Thirty minutes later, Emma found herself perched at the counter in Granny’s diner. Perusing the menu, she debated what to order, when Ruby set down a hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream in front of her.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t order that.”

“Yeah, I know. You have an admirer.” At that comment, Emma turned and tried to tamp down the hope that it might be from a certain blue eyed gentleman who had haunted her dreams the night before, only to see Sheriff Humbert. Her disappointment swelled within her as she picked up the cocoa and approached his table, intending to let the poor man down gently.

“Ah, so you decided to stay.”

Was it really that much of a surprise to him? “Observant, important for a cop.”

“It's good news for our tourist business. It's bad for our local signage.” Graham looked a little uncomfortable with the awkward pause as his joke fell flat. “It's... it's a joke. Because you ran over our sign.”

The only immediate response she can muster is to roll her eyes at his terrible attempt at a joke. “Look, the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on my chocolate, 'cause most people don't, but I am not here to flirt, so thank you, but, no thank you.” Gently placing the cup on the table, she considers whether or not she would have accepted it from a different, accented man.

“I didn't send it.”

“I did. I like cinnamon, too.”

Her head shot towards the front table by the window at the sound of Henry’s voice. How did I not see him there earlier? “Don't you have school?”

“Duh. I'm ten. Walk me.”

He’s definitely my kid with that eyeroll. Without so much as another look at the sheriff, Emma placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and began steering him out the door towards the bus stop.

Killian stopped abruptly in the back hallway of the diner as he watched the Swan girl and Henry make their way out of the diner and along the sidewalk that led to the bus stop. He was going to have to come up with some sort of excuse for avoiding Henry, as he was not quite ready to bring himself to lie to the boy by keeping up with his cursed facade in the lad’s presence. For now, he had a more pressing issue at hand; one he hoped the good Sheriff might be able to assist him with.

Killian prided himself on possessing a stealth that served him well in keeping people on their toes, or catching them off guard with his approach, but he’d never been able to get a jump on the Sheriff. The man somehow always knew when Killian, or anyone else, was approaching him, he seemed to have a sixth sense about him. In light of Killian’s regained memories he wondered just who Graham was back in their realm, and what the man would say if he knew that it was the infamous Captain Hook, or The Dark One for that matter, that was making himself welcome in his booth.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones. Something I can assist you with?” the Sheriff questioned, his disdain only slightly veiled in his tone.

“Actually, Sheriff. I’ve come to do my civic duty as a responsible citizen and business owner,” Killian replied as he placed a hand gun on the table between them, causing the Sheriff to tense momentarily before Killian could add, “I found it at the docks. Thought it best to turn it in to the proper authorities.”

The truth was Killian had found it during the search of his home overnight. Guns, knives, legal documents, and all manner of possessions had been uncovered. While not completely inconsistent with his nature, the items weren’t altogether authentic to who he was, cursed or otherwise, either, and no dagger had been found among them. It was only after he’d felt certain that no location within his home had been overlooked that Killian began to consider where within the town he might continue his search.

The stash of weapons he’d found concealed in various rooms had led him to the idea that the dagger may lay unclaimed within the Sheriff’s station. Not wanting to tip the lawman’s suspicions any further than they would be prone to, Killian had devised the ruse of turning over the firearm in hopes of naturally opening up the opportunity to question Graham about unclaimed blades.

“You found it?” Graham questioned suspiciously.

“Aye.”

“At the docks?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re just turning it in?”

“Would you rather I not?” Killian quipped inquiringly. “Too much paperwork involved, or are you running out of room to store unclaimed weapons at the Sheriff’s station?”

“We don’t have any unclaimed weapons at the station,” Graham admitted, unaware that he’d just provided the pirate with the very information he sought.

Damn! Killian cursed to himself. He’d have to continue his search elsewhere.

“Right. Well, first time for everything I suppose. I’ll leave you to it then, Sheriff.”

Killian exited the booth and took purposeful strides toward the door. He ran through his mental list of potential locations the dagger could be hiding, as he made his way to the sidewalk a flash of blonde curls and red leather caught his eye. He watched Emma make her way through the door that led up to Dr. Hopper’s office, or according to Henry, Jiminy Cricket’s office, and was once again struck by the urgent pull he felt toward the beguiling woman.

Shaking off such fanciful notions he turned himself towards the docks. He had a dagger to find and a day of searching through warehouses, offices, and his beloved Jolly Roger ahead of him.

Emma lounged on her bed at the B&B as she scoured the files that Dr. Hopper had given her about Henry. So far nothing was jumping out at her, but she wasn’t completely sure what she was looking for. She wasn’t a therapist, and until about three days ago she hadn’t considered herself a parent either. Not that she did even now that Henry was in her life.

A sharp knock at the door added to her current disgruntled state. When she found Sheriff Humbert on the other side she couldn’t help the sarcastic greeting that fell from her lips.

“Hey there. If you're concerned about the Do not disturb signs, don't worry, I've left them alone.”

“Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?”

“No,” Emma clipped firmly as she placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.

“I was shocked, too, given your shy, delicate sensibilities,” Graham mocked, earning him an eyeroll. “He says you demanded to see Henry's files and when he refused, you came back and stole them.”

“He gave them to me.”

“Alas, he's telling a different tale. May I check your room, or must I get a search warrant?”

Unbelievable. Emma turned and allowed Graham to enter. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Is this what you're looking for?” she asked, gesturing to the numerous papers scattered across the bed.

“Well, you're very accommodating,” Graham needled as he picked up a few papers before delivering the news Emma had been waiting for, even as she reeled at the outrageousness of it all. “I'm afraid, Ms. Swan, you're under arrest. Again.”

“You know I'm being set up, don't you?” It was more a statement than a question as Graham affixed cuffs to her wrists.

“And who, may I ask, is setting you up?”

Emma continued to proclaim her innocence, casting accusations at Regina all the way from the B&B to the Sheriff Station. She questioned Graham about Regina’s hold and influence on the town even as he booked her.

“Regina may be a touch intimidating, but I don't think she'd go as far as a frame job,” Graham argued.

“How far would she go? What does she have her hands in?”

“Well, she's the Mayor. She has her hands in everything.”

“Including the police force?” Emma accused.

“Hey,” an excited voice echoed from the hallway.

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Graham asked.

“His mother told him what happened,” Mary Margaret supplied, having accompanied Henry to the station from school.

“Of course she did,” Emma exasperated as she stared pointedly at Graham before addressing her son with a bit of trepidation. “Henry, I don't know what she said-”

“You're a genius,” Henry interrupted.

“What?”

“I know what you were up to. You were gathering intel for Operation Cobra,” Henry speculated with hushed excitement.

“I'm sorry. I'm a bit lost,” Graham confessed.

“It's need-to-know, sheriff,” Henry said dismissively, “and all you need to know is that Ms. Blanchard's gonna bail her out.”

“You are? Why?” Emma questioned incredulously.

“I, uh, trust you,” the petite woman stated skittishly.

Looking between Henry’s smug face and Mary Margaret’s quiet understanding Emma felt her need for retribution spike as she turned to Graham with her hands out in front of her.

“Well, if you would uncuff me, I have something to do.”

Killian aimlessly wandered along the streets of Storybrooke, having had no success in locating the dagger. Though, he had uncovered more intriguing items that would require his attention and focus once the bloody damned blade was back in his possession.

He was starting to wonder if the infernal thing had come over in the curse at all. For all he knew, it remained in the Enchanted Forest sealed away in the vault he had emerged from after the Crocodile’s death. The only way Killian could be truly sure was to either keep searching and find the bloody thing or march into the Mayor’s office and ask Her Majesty. The latter option was not one he was willing to entertain, so he continued his trek as he ticked off all the locations he’d already explored.

Not in the manor, not at the Sheriff’s station, no sign of it in any of my usual hiding places within the Jolly. The warehouses and dock offices were a bust as well. Perhaps I should… what is that blasted noise!

The sound of a motor cut through Killian’s internal mutterings as he realized he was just across the street from the Town Hall. His curiosity piqued at the unusual sound, Killian made his way towards the building’s courtyard to investigate, but then quickly had to find a place to tuck himself away as he saw the Evil Queen exit the building.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the mayor exclaimed as she rushed across the courtyard towards the racket that continued to permeate the area.

A racket, that Killian could now see was being caused by the lovely Emma. She was wielding a chainsaw, ruthlessly plundering the Mayor’s prized apple tree as she made a quip about picking apples. Now, more than just Killian’s curiosity was piqued at the sight before him.

“You're out of your mind.”

“No, you are, if you think a shoddy frame job's enough to scare me off.”

Frame job? What else have I missed? Killian wondered.

“You're gonna have to do better than that. You come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I'm capable of.”

Killian watched as Swan violently tossed the chainsaw aside and challenged, “Your move,” before stomping away. A fresh appreciation for the tough lass washed over him. So, she and the Queen are at odds, then? Not surprising, he supposed, Regina’s at odds with everyone in this accursed town.

Just as Killian was preparing to extricate himself from the dark cluster of shrubbery he’d hidden away in, Sheriff Humbert pulled up in his police cruiser, no doubt having received a complaint about the noise of the chainsaw. Killian decided to remain tucked away for their exchange. Treasure and priceless commodities came in many forms, none more valuable in his experience than good, old fashioned gossip. Information that one could use against one’s enemies was a prize worth harboring in the bushes for.

Killian patiently listened as Regina expressed her desire to once again have Swan arrested, only to have the Sheriff question the effectiveness of such an action, even as he inferred his suspicions that Emma had, indeed, been set-up for her earlier transgressions.

“I think your schoolboy crush is clouding your judgment,” Regina barbed accusingly at the Sheriff.

The accusation caused a spark of rage to ignite in Killian’s chest, he bit back a growl that threatened to reverberate from within. Taken aback by having such a fierce response to the implication that Graham may harbor feelings for the same woman who had so ensnared him, Killian nearly missed the remainder of their exchange.

“You want me to arrest her again, I will,” Graham complied.

“Good.”

“But she's gonna keep coming at you, and I know you, you're gonna keep going at her, and you will do whatever it takes to get her out of here and you may succeed-”

“No, I will succeed. He's my son. It's what's best for him.”

Killian could barely contain the scathing retort that burned his throat, knowing now just how manipulative and cruel the woman had been in regards to the boy.

“I know that's what you believe,” Graham stated sympathetically, “but if this escalates, it seems to me the only one who will get hurt is Henry.”

Killian watched as Graham departed, leaving both he and Regina to stew in their thoughts of how the repercussions of Emma’s presence in Storybrooke would ultimately affect the boy. Even with the gut-wrenching realization of his true self, and the knowledge of what lay dormant just beneath his surface, Killian could not bring himself to resent Henry for bringing his birth mother there, and ultimately waking him from his cursed state. She was changing things, and Killian believed that such changes would only benefit Henry. It was apparent, however, that Her Majesty did not share this sentiment.

“There has got to be a way of getting rid of that woman without Henry blaming me,” Regina muttered to herself, as she passed Killian’s hiding spot. “If ever there was a time I needed my powers… wait-”

Killian’s attention sharpened at Regina’s mention of her powers. I thought this was a land without magic?

“Perhaps that little imp had something stashed away. Somehow my curse failed to bring him over, but perhaps there is something in the pawn shop that could be of use.” Regina’s speculations prompted her to abandon her immediate concerns for the mangled tree, and Killian watched as she rushed back into her office building - presumably to grab her purse and keys.

The Crocodile. Regina didn’t realize the truth of just why the curse had failed to deliver Rumplestiltskin to this land. But she believed something useful of his might be hidden away within the abandoned pawn shop?

Killian began to wonder whether or not a certain item he’d been in search of might be located there as well. He was at a disadvantage, seeing as he was on foot and Regina would have her car to get her there ahead of him, so Killian wasted no time in making his way back towards Main Street, hoping against hope that her search would not lead to the dagger before he arrived.

Chapter Three

Tagging some lovelies that have asked to be tagged, as well as some we believe might enjoy. Please let us know if you do, or don’t wish to be tagged.

@abeylin1982 @aprilqueen84 @artistic-writer @ashar663 @captain-k-jones @captain-swan-coffee @downeystarkjr @florenzu @freakassbuthunter @gingerchangeling @golfgirld @greenleaf777 @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @leiaswanjoneskid @like-waves-on-the-beach @rookiehookie @seriouslyhooked @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @yayimallamaagain

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #cursed killian #dark hook #season 1 #cs fanfic #Captain Swan #dark hook comes to storybrooke #winterbaby89writes #words by hollye #cs fan fic #cs fan fiction #captain swan fic #cs #captain swan fanfiction

38 notes · View notes

babygirl06301 · 8 years ago

Text

Spike Analysis - “Lover’s Walk”

“Lover’s Walk,” bitches! Of the Spike-centric episodes we’ve had in the past, I wouldn’t say that this episode is the absolute, hands-down, best…but it’s pretty fucking good. Let’s start this by acknowledging that Spike is hella cute throughout this entire thing. Did you do that? Good.

So, we’ve got Spike. We’ve got Buffy. We’ve got Angel. We’ve got marshmallows and holy water grenades. I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t really know where to start with Spike’s development in this episode. I’m not going to go through it scene by scene necessarily, but I’ll try and keep you up to date with what scene I’m thinking of when I’m talking about one thing or the other.

Alright. Last we heard, Spike and Dru had left town after the whole Angelus thing. Spike said he’d never come back. Well, that didn’t fucking happen, did it? Please notice that in this episode, he said again that he wouldn’t come back to Sunnydale. Spike’s always been a shit liar, ya know? Dru’s broken up with him because he’s too soft (which…did she see him when she sired him? Sensitive as fuck, that one. Cute as hell, but still). Therefore, Spike’s back in Sunnydale. He knocks over the sign, which seems to become a recurring theme for him, and he’s drunk as shit. Of course, later in Angel, he mentions that it isn’t so easy for vampires to get drunk, so he must have been smashed. Which is, apparently, the only kind of “smashed” he’s been able to get since Dru left him.

I mentioned in the “Becoming: Part 2” analysis, and will continue to mention it numerous more times, but seeing Spike not be William the Bloody is always great. I much prefer Spike the Sensitive over Spike: Guy Who Killed Two Slayers. But this episode is like…bad. You know what I mean? Like, he’s very distraught over Dru and it’s kind of strange. Not in a bad way because I’d rather him weep and throw dolls than brood (sorry, Angelcakes).

Sidebar: that scene were Spike passes out in the outdoor area at Angel’s mansion and his hand catches on fire in the morning? Did you guys know that James did that stunt himself, but like, you’re supposed to put it out within two seconds because the protective layer (that keeps your hand from actually catching fire) will wear off? But James thought it’d be funny to let it go a bit longer, so he burnt the literal shit out of his hand, but he hid it from everyone because it was his last shot and he was afraid that, if they ever asked him back again, they wouldn’t let him do his own stunts anymore?

Anyway. So then Spike kills the shopkeeper and kidnaps Willow and Xander so Willow can do the love spell for him. That scene in the factory where Spike sort of confides in Willow is the best shit ever. Jumping a little forward here, one of the key components of Spike’s character development in this episode is that he’s interacting (again) with Buffy, but also with Willow and Angel. And by interacting, I mean that he’s not trying to kill them. Spike hadn’t really interacted with Angel in a semi-positive way before this episode. It was typically with Angelus, and otherwise, his contact with Angel was violent. I know he did threaten to kill Willow a few times, but I think his focus was more on Dru than anything else at that point. Although, I don’t think he didn’t kill anyone because “I want Dru back,” I think he didn’t kill anyone because “…nah.”

Back to Willow. Spike talking to her about Dru and how much she hurt him is ***super cute!!!*** But beyond that, Spike basically said that he’d rather die than not be with Dru. Die. Again, like I said in the previous post, Spike’s character is drenched in paradox, but a vampire’s whole goal (on a basic level) is to survive. So? But all that makes sense within the realm of his character because Dru was his first relationship. Isn’t that strange to think about? Not his first love, but his first requited love. I’m sure we all have some semblance of an idea of how people usually react when their first relationships end. Let’s keep going because, aside from being adorable, that scene doesn’t speak a whole lot to his development.

I have conflicting feelings about the situation with Joyce in the kitchen. Like, on the one hand, I don’t think Spike would kill her, but on the other, he’s still evil. I mentioned in the last post that Spike has a certain respect for mother’s (based on his past), but I’m not sure that that would affect his animalistic instinct to kill. Maybe in this episode, though, it would. Because he came back to Sunnydale to kill Angel, seemingly, but he didn’t do anything to anybody the entire time besides knocking Xander out. I think the explanation with the kitchen scene is just that Spike needed a mom. He needed someone to be on his side for a little while.

Okay, Spuffy flag on the field. Is that a good sports thing to say? I don’t care enough about athletics to try for a better one. So, we remember Buffy locking Angelus out of her house in season 2, right? Because he’s evil, blah blah. And we remember her inviting Spike into her house so they could discuss taking Angelus down. “Lover’s Walk” is the first episode in which Angel returns to Buffy’s home since he came back from whatever hell dimension he was in. And, as soon as Buffy saw him there, she invited him back in. Because the circumstances had changed. Well, excuse me, but I think after the brief truce her and Spike had, the circumstances were well fucking changed, so why didn’t she disinvite him from her house? She could’ve thought he wouldn’t come back? No. She’s never trusted Spike, why in God’s name would she think the vampire notorious for killing two Slayers would stay out of her life? She knew she could take him/he wasn’t dangerous? Bullshit. To his face, yeah, but we’ve got substantial evidence (even into seasons 6 and 7) that Buffy is afraid of William the Bloody on some level. And if nothing else, shouldn’t she have locked him out just to protect her mother?

It’s just fishy to me, that’s all I’m saying. Not that it’s inherently Spuffy, maybe she’s just lazy, but that’s all I’m saying. Let’s move onto what will come to be known as the Magic Box. We get that awesome shot of Buffy, Angel, and Spike ready to fight like hell. Including “Tabula Rasa,” this is the first of two times that Spike has been trapped in the magic shop because he pissed off a big bad (The Mayor/loan shark) and his vampire minions.

So, these three fighting together lends itself really nicely to including Spike into the Sunnydale scene. He never really did become a Scooby (minus, maybe, the months after Buffy’s death), but those few moments were sort of like an “I could get used to this” thing for the audience.

Be kind rewind here for a second: the speech. You know the one I mean. The “you’ll never be friends” speech. One of my all-time favorite things about Spike is that he’s literally always right (if it doesn’t involve himself). Here’s the thing: Spike seems to feel very comfortable in the fact that he’s a hopeless romantic. Old habits die hard, I guess, but that’s really strange. Because we can see, especially in the following season, that he hates feeling as though he’s less than a man or that he isn’t “bad” or isn’t dangerous. Anything that makes him seem weak, he hates. Now, being a romantic doesn’t imply weakness, but Buffy sure fucking thinks so. She said he was pathetic, he was a loser, whatever. I’m sure some of that was to piss him off, but I’m also sure some of that was meant to act as irony within the writing because what the fuck does she think she’s been doing with Captain Forehead over here?

Moving on from that, it’s honestly such a good bit on love. I’ve heard literally so many people say that it’s the best quote on love they’ve ever heard. For someone who’s known for being shit at poetry…

I have one last quick thing to say about The Speech, and then we’ll wrap up. I kind of love the theme the show took with Spike and the symbolism of blood (I’m referring to the “Love isn’t brains, children. It’s blood” line). I can think of at least three times within the space of the show that Spike has reiterated the importance or the purpose of blood for one reason or the other. It makes sense because he’s a vampire, but it’s more than that. It’s like it’s some holy thing that holds a lot meaning and weight, like it’s sacred to him. I guess Spike has a bit of a history of exaggerating his feelings with things, but it’s interesting.

We’ve only got a bit left here. So, we can tell that the fighting made Spike feel a lot more confident in himself. Probably Drusilla implying that he’d gone soft and then leaving him made him feel emasculated and staking a few vamps was the antidote. One thing I want to quickly point out there: it’s almost like a bit of foreshadowing for his arc with the chip, right? Like, it’s pretty obvious that as long as Spike can kill something, he’s a happy camper. Then he says that thing about torturing Dru until she likes him again. And then he says what is probably my favorite quote from this episode, other than his speech on love: “Love’s a funny thing.” The reason I love it so much is because that’s pretty much Spike’s character in a nutshell. I mean, all the things he’s done or been put through for love is pretty fucking astounding. Not to mention, this sums up basically all the Scoobies’ lives at the moment of this episode. Yeah, love’s pretty damn quirky when you catch your significant other making out with a friend’s significant other and then you fall through some stairs and get impaled with rebar.

Last thing I want to point out in this episode: Buffy breaks up with Angel (for a time, anyway). She says she can fool everyone but not herself…or Spike. All I’m sayin’ is: some things never change.

So, that’s it! A little bit longer than “Becoming: Part 2,” and I got off track a lot, but hey. I’m not exactly sure which episode I’m going to analyze next. Season 4 is very fractured when it comes to Spike. He’s got a lot of really important revelations: the chip, being attracted to Buffy (when Faith was in her body), realizing he could hurt a demon, adjusting to working with the Scoobies for money. But all that shit is in separate episodes. And I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about some of the better Spike episodes like “Something Blue” because there wasn’t really development, just some really cringy kissing noises. So, I think what I’m going to end up doing is maybe a post or two where I combine a couple episodes and talk about them and, if there’s still something left over to talk about, I’ll tack it onto whatever the last season 4 post is. Or make a bulk, season 4 post. I dunno, but I’ll figure that out later. Hope you enjoyed my rambles!

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #spike analysis #spike and buffy #spuffy #spike from buffy #spike from angel #angel #buffy summers #angel and spike #spangel #angel and buffy #bangel #willow and xander #Xander Harris #willow rosenberg #daniel osbourne #cordelia chase #willow and oz #xander and cordelia

67 notes · View notes