#the entire implication of his backstory and the way he's voiced points to like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ferusaurelius · 2 years ago

Text

Spectre Evaluations Quartet

Ya’ll I can’t tell you how glad I am to have finished what started out as a silly one-shot and then decided to transform into a four-part series of developing-relationship ... Kryterius romantic comedy.

AO3 Links:

This will have no bearing on your evaluation.

Above center of mass in all respects.

Preserving joint environment lethality and ingenuity.

Adapt doctrine to circumstance.

... I’ve got a few fun background trivia points to expand on below the cut for anyone who is a fan of the pairing and this overall framework. ;)

Time for some fun character trivia that is alluded to in the stories, but that didn’t quite fit into the fics themselves:

1. This will have no bearing on your evaluation.

Nihlus in this AU is loosely based on the turian mercenary backstory I wrote for him in ‘The husbandry of victory is blood’, though only in the most raw outline. There are a few significant differences that will be apparent to anyone who has read both. It was important to me that Nihlus be both proud of his cultural differences and that Saren eventually take a great deal of care in acknowledging that pride.

I did not INTEND to write the whole quartet in such an experimental flavor of point of view! At least not at first. I tried to write the opening story in Chora’s Den with a more serious tone which just kept failing, no matter how I revised and poked and prodded. At some point, I just got the idea of Nihlus’s characteristic voice and reluctantly leaned into the absolutely ridiculous things it was telling me about what it was like to be a drunk ST&R candidate.

The most shocking moment in writing ‘This will have no bearing on your evaluation.’ (which was always its title!) occurred when wrapping up the ending scenes and realizing that Saren and Nihlus were respectively having two different conversations:

Saren: Realizing that Nihlus was making a genuine attempt to chat him up, since he hadn’t actually known that he was going to be chosen as a Spectre trainee. Saren has no idea what to do about a mentee who is personally interested in him, except put an immediate stop to all those questions so that he can focus on the job at hand. Beyond flustered by the implications, but also doesn’t want to admit to having anything remotely like an emotion, himself.

Nihlus: Confessing his many sins, still (unfortunately) realizing that Saren is actually his type for real and now they’re going to be working together. AWKWARD.

I wanted Nihlus to tell Saren the truth here even though it was going to make him look totally stupid!

The last scene is all about this dynamic and is intended to be the bedrock of their -- unique -- developing relationship:

Saren goes from interested, to blank-faced, to entirely still. Except that now his voice is flat, and his stare looks like it could melt a bulkhead.

“I will say this once,” Saren grates. “I expect you to keep the next two years professional. Your life and mine depend on whether or not you can maintain total focus on what I’m trying to teach you. Are we clear?”

Fuck, he’s hot.

“Aye, sir,” Nihlus answers, as automatic as if he were a fresh Ensign.

Saren accepts this answer, grudging. “While I am disappointed you did not acquire the selection results in advance of the announcement, I can appreciate the sheer audacity of your approach.”

What I intended to do here was illustrate on the one hand that Saren is absolutely laying down some ground rules for training, that Nihlus is still very much attracted to Saren (oops) and still capable of accepting those stated professional boundaries, and that Saren can respect Nihlus’s honesty and is offering a bit of concession or personal disclosure in return.

Even as the author, I didn’t expect Saren to admit that Nihlus had surprised or impressed him in any way. In retrospect (and after having written Saren as the background character in this series), I can see that Saren as a Spectre is used to nothing but lies and obfuscation and has no idea what to make of someone who is willing to confess to the truth of a situation so ridiculous that it beggars belief.

Nihlus doesn’t realize it yet, but Saren finds honesty to be a rare and valuable resource in his line of work. While Nihlus has a habit of constant internal narrative exaggeration, he’s also honest to a fault, especially with people he respects.

2. Above center of mass in all respects.

I wasn’t sure how much time I wanted to let pass between the first fic and this one, or where in the developing relationship I wanted to focus. However! I knew I wanted to stick to my absolutely rancid military jargon titles, and that I wanted to focus in some sense on the ‘evaluation’ implied by the previous story. What situation would create an opportunity for Nihlus to begin to realize that he’d earned Saren’s professional trust faster than anyone else in history?

Enter: the embassy hacking plotline, about six months into Nihlus’s training, after I thought Saren and Nihlus would have had time to get to know each other through regular assignments in the Skyllian Verge. I wanted to imply that they were busy enough outside the confines of the Citadel for something really dumb and standard to get overlooked (Nihlus’s security credentials).

At this point I also decided that I wanted Alleia (still no surname, hah!) to become a recurring character, and that she needed to be a Blackwatch technical expert stationed on the Citadel. I generally imply that Saren’s usual area of operations is in the Skyllian Verge, so I wanted to set up a situation that would prompt him to return to the Citadel to “take care of things personally.”

It’s implied that a suspected ‘rogue’ salarian Special Tactics Group agent is framing the batarian Special Intervention Unit for a hacking incident at the turian embassy on the Citadel. While I don’t cover this in the story, Saren knows for a fact that he’s well-respected enough that such a plot is unlikely to have been conducted by any of the special operations units he’s already cowed into submission. He suspects independent sabotage conducted by a group he’d already been watching in Zakera Ward, so he sends Nihlus to talk to Alleia while he does his own investigating.

Offscreen, Saren seizes a too-good-to-be-true ambush opportunity to catch the suspect and gets himself blown up in the process. Normal. His calculation is that, if he does end up seriously injured and/or overestimates his ability to shield, Nihlus will be inbound fast enough to handle the rest of the situation -- and it’ll be one less threat to galactic stability, since there will no longer be any questions about infighting between STG and SIU. Which he considers a waste of time and resources when he could be handling real problems.

It’s a MUCH bigger explosion and trap than Saren anticipated (who knew?), but he still walks away thanks to his crazy!strong biotic abilities.

What Saren didn’t anticipate is that Nihlus knows him well enough to intuit every step in his decision-making process and is also FURIOUS about it!

Nihlus incorrectly interprets the situation as Saren not waiting for backup on a whim, at least until Saren matter-of-factly states that he chose to take the risk only because he had Nihlus inbound as backup:

Nihlus has had enough.

“What, precisely, was the point of calling for backup if you were going to break down the front door. Alone! And then walk into a trap before we arrived?”

He can’t help the fury in his voice. He wants to snarl, too, but lets six years of Hierarchy discipline confine him to glaring full in Saren’s face, instead.

Alleia says nothing in the silence.

“It was a calculated risk,” Saren answers evenly, meeting him stare for stare. “I knew you weren’t far behind.”

This is the first time Saren has expressed that level of trust to Nihlus in so many words!

Right after this, I got to further reinforce Saren’s level of respect for Nihlus’s abilities and judgment by actually bringing in that first performance evaluation. ;) I had a lot of fun letting Nihlus realize that Saren’s seemingly arbitrary expectations for his assistance were ... very likely ... grounded in a more nuanced view of his abilities than he expected.

Nihlus is still confused and exasperated, but he’s also never gotten a performance review that unambiguously positive in his career -- much less from someone who appears to be the galaxy’s least enthusiastic mentor. Nihlus was prepared to be reprimanded for yelling at Saren, even if he was right about the risks and there being better alternative plans, but he was totally unprepared for positive feedback. XD

The theme/purpose of this chapter is establishing that Saren and Nihlus both exist with a professional rapport that (until now) they have been building together without openly acknowledging.

I had a great time allowing Nihlus to be beyond frustrated with Saren’s (apparent) neglect in the opening scenes, then frantic and worried at getting a request for backup, then furious about Saren’s decision to walk into a trap, and then finally deflated in the face of Saren’s regard.

Hard for Nihlus to stay mad about Saren relying on him for backup, after all! LOL.

3. Preserving joint environment lethality and ingenuity.

These events take place 18 months into Nihlus’s training, approximately a year after the previous fic’s embassy incident.

You can thank my research for my First Contact War AU fic for the whole opening scene with Nihlus as a marksman and armorer -- it decided to wake up and choose violence! Nihlus as a competitive shooter is a bit of a change from my other mercenary background handcanon thoughts, but it fit this AU setting really well and gave me an excuse to elaborate a bit on where Nihlus might have more expertise than Saren.

Alternative options to embarrass Nihlus I’d originally considered instead of Armax Arsenal Arena: damaged power armor and the undressing trope (but with an undersuit, and having to pretend he’s not attracted to the person he’s helping ... lol); something more mission-fic oriented with Alleia and Thanas as deputies/on loan from their regular units; Nihlus doing something a bit ridiculous and a bit brave and then having Saren get him out of trouble.

I’m really glad I went with the Arena plot in the end! Sparring-as-flirting is a favorite trope of mine, and this setup delivered on all counts. I got to turn it into a roundabout double-date thanks to Alleia and Thanas, with Nihlus snarking about Saren’s problems with pistol technique (see, Nihlus cares!) and then ... getting to write Nihlus doing a surprise trust fall with Saren! And Saren catching him!

They’re both surprised about this, by the way:

A barrel presses up beneath his jaw, and all at once he’s not alone.

“Surrender,” Saren says.

At point-blank, getting shot is gonna sting. He only has one chance to escape.

“Never,” he growls, going deadweight and fully expecting to hit the deck. In a real fight? Nope, not happening. But hitting a target on his back from prone isn't the craziest thing he's ever done.

Which is not what happens. A flare of dark energy catches him in the back, and then recedes until it’s just Saren’s hands between him and a hard landing on the floor.

“Really, Nihlus?” Saren asks, somewhere between amused and exasperated, still out of breath from the snap biotics.

Fuck, he may have miscalculated. Nihlus is warm from his neck to his toes. He’d give anything to see Saren’s face, but he doesn’t dare look.

This was so FUN to write! I didn’t even start knowing how or what was going to happen in this scenario, but the minute the whole ‘Saren catches Nihlus’ idea occurred to me, I knew it was the right direction to take.

Nihlus is expecting Saren’s reflex here to be totally different! He’s expecting to be shot, not caught! Everything happens so fast that there’s no hiding from either of them: Nihlus is personally invested enough to do free armory work for Saren on his off-time, and Saren’s actual instinct here is to keep Nihlus from falling.

Honestly, this was also my first real opportunity to hint that Saren is not as indifferent to Nihlus as he might have been at first. Wherever they started in relation to each other, I wanted to hint that the relationship dynamic and grown and changed in the intervening months even though both of them would still be reluctant to try to define or put any labels on each other.

Joke’s on Saren, too -- he thought he wanted things to stay professional, turns out he actually does kinda like Nihlus personally, as well. Oops! Didn’t see that one coming. ;)

While it’s not explicitly stated, Saren doesn’t have the consistent manual dexterity required to be an accurate shot without additional stabilizer mods or other aids. He prefers to rely on his biotics to do damage instead, though he still carries other armaments as options.

It wasn’t easy to keep this one true to the funny/snarky formula of the others while figuring out how to set up the emotional revelation in the end, but with tweaking it eventually fell into place.

4. Adapt doctrine to circumstance.

This was an absolute bear to write. While I knew that I wanted to at least give Alleia some screentime, and I suspected that was going to be at a promotion ceremony that turned into a larger event than Nihlus anticipated -- the intermediate transitions remained a challenge.

While my FCW AU fic has Saren as a Blackwatch recruit, for this scenario I chose to stick with a biotic Cabal background.

I knew I also wanted Nihlus to not expect Saren to commit to attending whatever ceremonies were taking place -- so that he could be pleasantly surprised. ;)

The formality of this occasion also let me take a little creative license with what a dress Cabal uniform might look like, as well as setting up Saren’s complex (implied) relationship with his military honors and infamy. I was NOT expecting any of that background to make it into the story, and there’s plenty that is still missing.

For instance: this is the first time Saren’s worn his Star of Palaven in public, too! He received it shortly before he rejected Anderson for Spectre candidacy in this timeline (the paperwork took a little more than seven years), but also not long before he met Nihlus, and there was no graceful way to get used to the protocols since he was already a Spectre when he was officially decorated.

Nihlus has no idea that Saren has already made a number of complicated choices in attending Fleet promotion ceremonies, while also arranging for Nihlus’s surprise promotion ... in a way that all of his Navy peers will respect:

“Not even a whisper of a warning,” she sighs. “If I’d known, I’d have been ready to take vids. Then I could show you what your face looked like when he decided you merited a rank-pinning honor that dates back to before the Unification, delivered by a Recipient of the Star of Palaven.”

Nihlus puts his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Saren pinning Nihlus with his own rank insignia is one of the few Navy gestures that still has all the old meanings. In front of a Fleet audience? Not a single turian will have missed the significance of that trust being given to someone merc-born.

If he thinks about it too long it still makes him dizzy.

“It was also romantic, if you believe in that sort of thing,” Alleia teases.

He wishes he didn’t.

Again, I had SO MUCH FUN with figuring out how else Saren might potentially choose to make Nihlus’s promotion an occasion.

I’d read somewhere that military officers who were being promoted themselves occasionally gave their old rank insignia to the officers who were coming up behind them, to fill their old position, as a mark of esteem -- and I chose to alter that symbolism a bit for the Hierarchy Navy.

While I only hint at this in the text: Saren pinning Nihlus with his rank insignia is one of those culturally Hierachy Navy touchstones that mixes the professional and the personal, and it’s also a gesture that, by its nature and by tradition, can only be done once in a career.

Alleia is correct that there are also romantic epics that feature this traditional gesture as a trope! XD

Finally, I knew from the very start that, since Saren was the one to draw the boundaries, he’d also have to be the one to instigate a discussion or an adjustment in the limits he’d set between him and Nihlus.

I considered a number of other scenarios where Saren left a note afterward, or put off that conversation, or did something else other than what happened here: immediately stating his intentions.

It was also hugely fun to work out how Saren might plausibly arrange to make Nihlus’s Spectre promotion as “by-the-book” Navy respectful as possible. I think you’ll agree that he outdid himself. ;)

PHEW. Now that I’m finished with the series, I’m also open to other asks. Either about this AU, different background details, turian headcanons, or other curiosities.

If you’re reading this: I have a tentative plan for a longer fanfic featuring these two characters, though with a more traditional POV structure. I’m not a terribly fast writer, so that’s about as much as I can say at this point...

#mass effect fanfiction #kryterius #my writing #meta #bar!fic link masterpost #ferus chats #I'm open to asks about this variant of these characters #just decided to noodle around a bit with some reflections #now that I've finally put the quartet to bed #saren arterius #nihlus kryik #i should not be allowed anywhere near ao3 #for obvious reasons #im laughing #i have so many wips at this point

36 notes · View notes

sokkastyles · 3 years ago

Note

There’s some really bad takes in the tags I saw others point out too on twitter that Zuko is a woobified asshole and narcissistic guy who doesn’t have any empathy like in the beach and only kinda cares ab things similar to his own pain and he’s selfish and wangle was always way more empathetic and understanding especially of Katara and that he is actually a colonizer full of toxic violence & he isn’t a soft person & thats all “made up fanon Zuko” not real Zuko. What are your thoughts?

I have no idea what is going on in the tags but that's...quite a lot, lol.

Let's take this one by one, though.

First of all, I've posted about my thoughts on "woobified asshole" with regards to Zuko before, but I hate the way "woobie" is thrown around as an insult in fandom in general. A woobie is a character that people sympathize with because they suffer. The original concept of a woobie is a character that you want to see comforted, and the term comes from a word for a security blanket. Usually accusations of woobification get thrown around at popular characters who are usually male and usually attractive, and also usually morally complicated in some way, with the implication that the woobified characters is undeserving of such sympathy or that fans only sympathize with them because they are attractive and girls are stupid. I can't think of any reason why it's a problem that a character is woobified that doesn't boil down to misogyny or virtue signaling, and often a combination of both. Otherwise what exactly is the problem here? That people sympathize with Zuko? That they want to see him comforted? He's an abused sixteen year old. The last time I got into discourse about people "woobifying" Zuko, someone literally tried to claim that he shouldn't be treated like a child. Like, excuse me, but Zuko IS a child. One of the most cathartic moments in the series is when the kid literally breaks down in his uncle's arms and people really want to go around sneering about "woobification"? Shut up.

If it's the morality issue, even if Zuko were the worst person in the world I still wouldn't think it was a problem for people to woobify him, but as it is, he has a whole entire redemption arc where he ends the series dedicating the rest of his life to restoring peace to the world. If there's ever a character who deserves a pat on the back, I'd say Zuko is.

narcissistic guy who doesn’t have any empathy like in the beach and only kinda cares ab things similar to his own pain and he’s selfish

I could list everything that Zuko has ever done to disprove this, but I don't actually need to, and such generalizations don't deserve to be taken that seriously anyway. But I do want to remind people that Zuko's establishing character backstory was that he got banished for trying to defend an entire division of soldiers that he had never met nor would ever meet, because it was the right thing to do, because he did not want to see people killed for no reason, and because, as the crown prince, he felt personally responsible to try and use the power he had to help them, as opposed to the powerful adults around him who wanted to use their power for selfish reasons. Zuko stood up to those adults - one of whom was his own terrifying, abusive father - at great cost to himself and his own power and comfort when he didn't need to at all.

After that, Zuko could have completely shut himself off from the rest of the world and only cared about himself, and indeed, he spends a good three years trying to do just that. He does behave selfishly, he grandstands, he throws tantrums, but he also still has that impulse towards empathy and goodness, which he gradually learns to embrace again. His character arc is a triumph of goodness, and anyone who claims to be a voice for morality who is trying to diminish this fact...really isn't making the moral statement they think they are making. What truly good person would rather have more villains in the world than redeemed ones?

As for "The Beach," it is amazing to me that people try to bring up Zuko having an existential crisis and not being a good boyfriend as something to hold against him since the reason he acts like that is because he DOES have empathy and he just can't take being in this shallow world anymore with these people who understand nothing of what he's come to learn in the past three years.

Like, god, Zuko, why don't you pay more attention to your imperialistic girlfriend and making sure she has snacks at a beach party instead of like, worrying about war and poor people, hm??? Or your uncle in prison, or the next time your father might decide to physically harm you. What an asshole. /s

and wangle was always way more empathetic and understanding especially of Katara

I know you mean Aang, but I'm kinda giggling at "wangle," the unsung hero of the story.

way more empathetic and understanding especially of Katara

Oh, you mean like this?

Zuko: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.

Aang: I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge.

Katara: [Angrily.] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that's what I need! Maybe that's what he deserves!

Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

Which one had more empathy for Katara's pain here, again? Maybe we should ask Katara.

Katara looking at Aang:

Katara looking at Zuko:

I know I'm nitpicking one scene but like, if you really want to play the comparison game, this is a good place to do it, since this episode contrasts Katara's relationship with the two. Otherwise, Katara and Zuko were enemies for much of the series so like, arguing that Aang "had more empathy for her" is kind of pointless and reeks of Nice Guy-ism. You don't get empathy points just for being her friend longer.

he is actually a colonizer full of toxic violence & he isn’t a soft person & thats all “made up fanon Zuko” not real Zuko

I didn't know that the ATLA fandom was so powerful that they were able to manifest a whole two books of this three book series themselves.

I mean, look how this fanon content of Zuko calling out his father and walking away from colonization and imperialism and toxic violence almost looks like the real thing:

And you're right, Zuko being soft was just totally made up by some very dedicated fan artists and fic writers who somehow got their content to air on nickelodeon when Avatar: the Last Airbender vs His Evil Nemesis Colonizer Zuko Who Is Dastardly Trying to Steal His Forever Girl was supposed to be airing.

It's disgusting, really.

#zuko #zutara #antikataang #the discourse

115 notes · View notes

leverage-commentary · 4 years ago

Text

Leverage Season 3, Episode 4, The Scheherezade Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

John: From left to right on your radio dial this is John Rogers, executive producer.

Aldis: This is DJ Chocolate Skittles, also known as Aldis Hodge.

Chris: And this is Chris Downey, executive producer and writer of this episode, The Scheherazade Job.

John: Aldis has very kindly decided to join us for this commentary since he was-

Aldis: Hello!

John: He did a lot of work on this episode. This one rode-

Chris: Oh yeah

John: This was one of those ones where you're just like, ‘This actor's gonna be working his ass off for this.’

Aldis: Oh joy.

John: Well Chris, why don't you tell us the origin of this episode?

Chris: Ah well the origin came from a- my friend here to the left, Aldis, back in season one we were just talking about you know things we like to do in our spare time and Aldis mentioned that he loved the violin, he’d been studying it, it was the closest thing to the human voice for an instrument.

Aldis: Yes.

Chris: And coincidentally my wife is a violinist and at the time I said to you, ‘I'm gonna find a way in an episode of Leverage to have you play the violin’ and what did you say to me?

Aldis: I think I said, ‘Do it.’

[Laughter]

Chris: And then you laughed at me.

Aldis: Yeah, we were shooting what was that, the season finale?

Chris: Might've been the season finale

Aldis: That was- yeah, Pasadena?

John: Yup

Aldis: Yeah, yeah, I remember that conversation.

Chris: And this is Martha Boles, terrific actress from Los Angeles.

John: This is interesting actually, we had a- when we were setting up the bad guy here, we had an interesting conversation about- and this is one of those things you talk about in television. Should the reporter be white or not?

Chris: Yeah.

John: Yeah. We were looking at casting and we were like, no it should be a black reporter working with that. And then we got some, you know, feedback that's like, well now it's a white crew of criminals, apparently missing Aldis’s presence, helping out a black reporter.

Aldis: Don’t worry, they miss me all the time.

John: It's one of those- it’s tricky, it's one of those things where one of the reasons we kinda were leery of doing international crimes, first season and second season. And you kinda- because it's always a minefield, it just is. And now in third season, everyone’s comfortable and everyone knows the show well enough that you can kinda try to swing outside the box. I think Chris did a great job taking this outside the box for the first time on the show.

Chris: Yeah it was- it was interesting cause most- I think we talked about this, most episodes start with the bad guy and we kinda work our way from there. We kinda talk about ‘what's the bad guy, what does he want, what is his weaknesses’. And this is one of those episodes that started with a big idea late in the episode which was the orchestra heist, and we kinda worked from there to kind of try and figure out whose our bad guy? And that's- we decided- we hadn't done an African kleptocrat, we wanted to do that for a long time, and this seemed like a good opportunity to do that.

John: Now also when doing a straight heist, because we were coming at it as a straight heist, we wanted a small highly portable object. The cleaner the object, the cleaner the goal of the heist, the more you can work around the elegance of the heist itself. And when you're staring with an elegant heist, which is the music heist, you have to do something very clean, which was diamonds. And so it all sort of fed into this one storyline.

Chris: Yes, yes.

Aldis: Didn't you want to play the organ? At first I mean that's plain and portable and-

[Laughter]

John: Yes, originally it was a giant Wurlitzer organ.

Aldis: Yeah, just a whole thing.

John: This was a ton of fun, this was a great little fight scene.

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: Kane had too much fun shooting this.

Chris: He had a lot of fun here. And these gentlemen are Garfield Wedderburn and- yeah, Garfield Wedderburn is the lead goon here; his name is goon.

Aldis: Goon.

[Laughter]

Chris: And there he is doing this- some kind of scary tai chi?

Aldis: That was actually a joke and it just made it on the reel, it was like-

John: You know what? We saw it in the dailies, we were gonna cut out of it but it was like- but the idea he would just scare the shit out of those guys to get them to go. ‘Can your dog do that?’ That was great.

Chris: ‘Can your dog do that?’

John: It is nice every now and then to remind people exactly why everyone on the team is there.

Chris: By the way, I love that you named the dog Megabyte.

Aldis: Megabyte, yeah, yes.

John: That was you, that’s right.

Chris: That was all you.

Aldis: If anybody can get that, Megabyte, yes. Now if one of those days we just see the dog, which will probably be a poofy little yorkie or something like that.

John: Dogs are too expensive; we can't afford them.

Chris: We can't afford them.

Aldis: We can't afford dogs.

Chris: We'll do a virtual dog.

Aldis: A virtual dog, yes.

John: That's sad.

Aldis: The little mechanical one with the batteries? Yeah.

Chris: Sure.

John: Now continuing the original conversation, so we knew we were working backwards towards an African kleptocrat, but how do you find a guy who’s like based in the states, so we’re not flying overseas, we’re not trying to fake a city you can't fake on our budget. And so that led us to the research and- did we find someone who was real, Chris?

Chris: Well, there's no similarities to persons living or dead. But, um-

John: We’d like to say for both legal reasons, and so we don't get shot in the face.

Chris: Yes, please.

John: Oh my god, this guy is real and he's horrible!

Chris: He's real, he's horrible. He's not a classical music fan, that was something we brought to it, to facilitate the story. But he is a very wealthy relative of an African kleptocrat who has a house here in the United States and in Paris and has a Bugatti and all the things you would imagine a kleptocrat would.

John: All the way down, actually, to the fact that the reason he does not fall under the- is not criminalized under some of the kleptocrat laws we have here in the States, with the same plot point we have in the show, which is he's been a friend in the war on terror.

Chris: Yes, yes that’s all true.

John: Which looks like he pretty much turns in political opponents.

Chris: Wow, we certainly don't want to say that he does that, but-

John: But oh come on.

Chris: And here we have-

John: Your name’s on the show, they're gonna kill you. I'm not too worried.

[Laughter]

John: And here's Elisabetta Canalis, the loveliest Elisabetta Canalis.

Aldis: Aldis Hodge was never here, was never here. This actually is the second time we've seen her in the entire arc of this third season. So now the audience is getting another taste of exactly who she is, because she just left us off with blackmail, and now, you know, we're digging into her story. Of course at the end of the show, we get to see that she's not as fair game as she comes up to be.

Chris: Yeah, and we wanted to make her kind of you know sexy and mysterious, and I like this scene cause-

Aldis: Sexy what? Sexy?

Chris: Yeah well she-

John: Well there's no reason we just shoot her legs in every scene.

[Laughter]

Aldis: Exactly, there's no reason to put her in heels and closeups on the face, no! Not at all.

John: This was a nice bit that you came up with: the idea that kind of flirting, sexy, dangerous. And Nate Ford being smart enough to realize it’s a very bad idea.

Chris: I love this, this is one of my favorite flashes.

John: It's one of my favorite zooms, it's a hypothetical zoom, it's something we never usually do.

Chris: I like it because right here she looks so bored,

[Laughter]

Chris: There's something about the insouciance of it, of her.

John: Oh another guy being garotted in front of me.

Chris: Oh stop the tape.

John: It's another Thursday for me.

Chris: And he was- Tim was great at, you know, holding his throat like that.

John: Yeah the- well the sort of implication, again, is again, it’s tricky the team has been playing a lot without ever being taken down themselves. Tim has to carry a lot of the weight acting because he's the one who interacts with Elizabetta the most, to convey the threat she portrays to make sure you take her seriously. And nice diagrams on the glass boards. I always love the glass boards

Aldis: Provided by…?

John: Who drew on that one? I don't think I drew on that one, I wasn't there for that one.

Aldis: Really?

John: No, that handwriting is too good that's not me. Usually- yeah, usually I spew the bullshit that goes up on the glass.

Chris: Now what's nice-

Aldis: And it- oh, sorry, go ahead

Chris: Oh I was gonna say it’s a nice opportunity to get a little bit into Eliot's backstory which we, in the early scene in the bar, he alludes to the fact that knows about these- what goes on in these countries, these Chinese- these child soldiers. And you know I think here you can kinda see this whole- this whole particular case is really, you know, affecting him directly.

John: Yeah it's part of the over the course of the arc, kind of peeling back everybodys past this season. And we gave Eliot you know- we really wanted to sort of reset and remind people for the finale that Eliot, you know Eliot killed people. Eliot was not a good guy and is trying to be a better guy.

Aldis: What I had to say was nowhere near as intuitive as that, but the prior scene a lot of- a lot of times you'll see Sophie wearing that dog tag, it’s blank. It's like a name tag, but it's blank, and that's an ode to the fact that she hasn't given Nate her real name. And it kind plays throughout the entire season so for those of you have paid attention-

John: We actually used it, we actually- the audience doesn't know those dog tags are blank because she doesnt show the dog tags. But when she told us she was doing it we wrote-

Aldis: Did I just give up a secret?

John: No, no, no it’s cool. What happened is: she wears them. And we were like, ‘What are those?’ And she told us dog tags are blank, it's a little private joke. So we wrote it into the show, that's why she gets the blank pendant in episode 13, cause we just thought that was really cool and that's something Gina came up with on her own.

Aldis: It's just gonna be a drinking game every time they spot the dog tags.

John: Sure, there's already a lot of drinking games.

Aldis: There are.

John: There are a lot on the web, you go on there's a lot of drinking games.

Aldis: Every time we say ‘seriously’, drink!

[Laughter]

Aldis: Not that we promote that here, no.

Chris: Not at all.

John: No, I don't do all of these with a beer in my hand.

Chris: No no drinking games.

Aldis: What is that you're drinking John, water?

John: It’s- yes, dark Irish water.

Aldis: Yes.

John: This was a nice again- we started splitting people up so we could- the coverage is a little easier. and it helped us remind- Third season we started taking a lot of the prep that was implied in act 0 of seasons 1 and 2 and moving it into act 1 and act 2 of this season. Where you see them doing the prep and putting together the plan on the fly as they get information.

Chris: Right.

John: Which both makes it more dynamic, and helps us with shooting.

Chris: Yeah, I mean this is a very plan-intensive episode, and you want to try and make the planning side interesting visually.

John: Yeah because there's so much pipe to lay in a believable way to get to that great fourth act. I mean you have to make sure the audience is utterly invested by that point.

Chris: I like this little bit with you guys right here.

Aldis: Me and Kane man, when we get together it's always a party.

Chris: But what's great about you guys is it's not always the bickering brothers, where you're yelling at each other that makes me laugh. It's just the little throwaway things of the two of you together.

Aldis: It's the little things that bring the sparkle to your eye, the little things.

[Laughter]

Chris: And they just the way we did this-

Aldis: This was a funny sequence to shoot.

John: Yeah this was great. This was- what did we name the reporter?

Chris: Guy Hamilton which is an ode to Mel Gibson's character in The Year of Living Dangerously.

[Laughter]

Chris: For all you folks out there keeping score. By the way, I forgot yesterday when we did Gone Fishing Job that you are- your names when you went into the bank and were Brody and Quinn from Jaws.

John: Because you're gonna need a bigger boat.

Chris: This looks great, by the way!

Aldis: I'm pretty sure you need another drink for that.

Chris: Look at that, he's there!

John: I've seen far less convincing stuff on CNN.

[Laughter]

John: I'm fairly sure, yeah

Chris: And there's Giancarlo Esposito fantastic.

John: Friend of Tim, came in and did this for us. Really really great, flew in.

Aldis: His daughters’ actually in the orchestra, they- one plays violin the other plays viola.

John: Oh cool.

Aldis: Yeah, so he had a lot to discuss.

John: I love seeing the evil dude Skype list; I just realized we could see it on there. It’s like ‘Lefou is away. Where is Lefou?’

Chris: Pizza Hut? Why does he have Pizza Hut on Skype?

John: On Skype? That's weird. And who is that lurking behind him?

Chris: Oh lurking behind him is Nnamdi Asomugha who is an all pro cornerback for the Oakland Raiders. Arguably the best cornerback in the NFL.

Aldis: And you have your Raiders ball here, it's perfect.

Chris: And I have my Raiders ball here to prove it.

John: Now how did he wind up on the show?

Chris: Well, you know, like any famous Hollywood story, it started at a hockey game.

[Laughter]

Chris: My- we have a mutual agent, and he invited me to a hockey game and said, ‘This is my friend Nnamdi.’ And although I am a big sports fan, for some reason the best cornerback in the NFL eluded me and I just met him as a guy. And we were chatting and found out he was- he acted and I asked him at the time, his families from Nigeria and I- this was a year ago, and I said, ‘Can you do a good African accent?’ He said, ‘Oh definitely.’ I said, ‘Alright, well if we get a part for, you know a big guy, menacing guy with an African accent I'll call you’. And lo and behold, episode came up and he did a fantastic job.

John: I think his family is from Ethiopia, actually.

Chris: No, I think he’s Nigerian.

John: Nigerian? Oh ok. And here- this is her playing Christie Connelly again.

Chris: Yes, yes.

John: Yes, this is why we started bringing back the- as we realized that they are gonna be roles that the- it also sort of came up as we did our research that con artists tend to settle into certain roles that they've done background on, and also that they've established the credentials to. We mention later actually on another episode that she's like, ‘I got seven years worth of work on this identity’, so she's doing a similar gig, so why not use the same name?

Chris: And let's be honest it's also our nod to James Garner, who was Jimmy Joe Meeker in multiple episodes of the Rockford Files.

John: Yes exactly, also she gets to use her native accent in this.

Chris: Yeah, that’s right!

John: Cause Gina is from New Zealand, not England. Most people- she grew up in England but she was born in New Zealand, and was a child in New Zealand, so she gets to use her kiwi accent here. Very kicky little gold chain going on there.

Chris: And I love this, this is a great kind of subtle sales pitch that she just sells so well.

John: Yeah. And again this is one of those great things in the show, not blowing smoke up our own skirts, but the fun of having great actors is you con, con, con, and then you park it on these little two-person scenes and it's fun, you know, it actually plays.

Chris: And here's- you know I like the idea that we've kind of developed with Hardison’s character that, you know, he's chafing a little bit around the crew, and, kind of, as the youngest member of the crew, kind of like, sees that he’d like to run his own crew someday and kind of expressing that here. I mean how did you approach this Aldis? Was that something that you kinda thought of for the character?

Aldis: I approached it, I stretched, I, uh, did a couple push ups.

John: Well we get a lot of emails from him ‘I should be the lead of the show,’ so it's a similar thing.

[Laughter]

Chris: But I know we had discussions about it not being a typical father/son kind of vibe. Right?

Aldis: Right, right, right. This is- this entire situation was newly presented to me in the script. That's when I found out that I was like, ‘OK, Hardison wants to step up.’ But I think that- I mean, it's a great premise and he is the youngest, so he has the most to learn because he hasn't figured out all of his bad habits just yet.

Chris: Right.

Aldis: And so he can sit back, watch his team, watch how they work, watch the mistakes they make, and then ten season later, hint hint, audience, hint hint-

Chris: Ten seasons when you'll be all of 35.

[Laughter]

Aldis: Exactly.

John: Then you'll be ready to lead the crew.

Aldis: Exactly.

John: Yeah no it's- we really played around with it. It's not father/son it's sort of- it’s really Paper Chase but for crime.

Chris: Yes, yes, very much, I think that's a great way of putting it. And I love, here, too, if I can blow some more smoke up you, that, you know, we play big characters in these cons that are, like, larger than life. I mean, I think, you know, the Ice Man Job character comes to mind-

Aldis: [Mimicking the accent he did] The Ice Man Job.

Chris: When you play a kind of a small reserved guy, all inside, it's such a nice change, and it’s like it adds a vulnerability to these con characters that I think is great.

Aldis: He's very not- he wasn't a meek character, but he's very, very humble.

Chris: Humble that's better.

Aldis: He came from a hard life, he knew how to appreciate what was there, he knows how to prioritize, you know, to put everything else before his own needs. And that's kinda where I felt this character was coming from. He couldn't be too big or else, you know, with all of the skills, his grandeur, he would have done something with that by now; he's a cab driver, so he's gotta be quiet about something.

John: And the- also, this was the first time I think we put- we had talked about the different skills, as you go into every season you talk about like, ‘How do we make sure we focus on the characters? How do we make sure nobody blends in the background?’ And one of the things is reminding everyone- and we did this really in the Jailbreak and especially in this one to set it up, Parker is great at three dimensional heists. Parker rotates objects in three dimensional space. So she's Nate's partner here; he might be able to cook up plans, but she's the one telling him the parameters of those plans with the physical heists.

Aldis: Right.

John: No one is better than her at physical insertion, and that's one of the things we kinda hammered during this season.

Aldis: I think our skills- I mean we’re all necessary to one another, but our skills kinda levy a system of checks and balances-

John: Yeah.

Aldis: The way the government should do it. But we can do one thing and take it only so far and then pass it off, then the next team member polishes it up and takes you to the very next level.

John: What- Chris why don't you talk about how we structured the heist?

Chris: Well you know the- back when we were trying to break the story the initial idea behind it was that there would be two levels of tension in the big act, in the big heist. There would be part of the team breaking in to steal the object, and there would be Hardison on stage sweating out having to play this impossible solo in front of people. And the problem that I was running into was: why did these two things have to happen at the same time? Why now? Why can't they be breaking in on a Wednesday, you know, when Hardison's not scheduled to play this. And John, you said- thought about it for a minute, and you said, ‘Well obviously it's the only time that they can do the heist is when there’s- when the orchestra is playing because that's when they have to turn off the motion detectors.’

Aldis: Because John has stolen from an orchestra before, when they-

[Laughter]

Aldis: He speaks from personal experience.

Chris: And I took a minute and I said, ‘I could kiss you on the mouth.’

[Laughter]

John: That was one of those ‘what's in the Arclight’ days? I contributed almost nothing else to this episode. I was busy off doing the season opener. We were banging these out before the rest of the staff- and I came up with that bit and I'm like, ‘You're gold, go have fun, I’m out.’ I got that, and then we basically- knowing the motion detectors couldn't be beaten and played us back into the other security measures, and created this impossible vault. And that was also fun, we started for the first time throwing stuff at the team where it's like, ‘yeah there's some stuff you just can't beat,’ you know, that you have to go sideways.

Aldis: I’d like to note here that I'm wearing every possible shade of gray that there is known to man.

[Laughter]

John: Why is that? Is that an emotional choice? Is that about his ambivalence about his role in the con? Or is that-?

Aldis: I have no idea

John: Always say- you know what? Do the thing I just did with him, start with ‘obviously’ it's a good way- when you wanna throw up an enormous amount of bullshit just start with ‘Obviously.’

Aldis: Obviously!

John: And then just, people buy it.

Aldis: What we wanted to do was confuse the audience.

John: Oh Scheherezade, exactly how'd you choose Scheherezade?

Chris: Well we needed- we needed a piece that was public domain, as a practical matter, because we have budget constraints in this show. And that ended on a violin solo. And it was- I forgot what the other candidates were, but my wife, I have to give her credit at least a little, fantastic violinist, picked Scheherezade and said, ‘You gotta listen to this.’ And I listened to the last 7 minutes because I knew we needed it to kind of roll out in real time over the course of the heist. And the solo just kinda like dropped me, I thought, ‘Oh my god, this is gonna be fantastic.’ And then when I did a little research on Scheherezade’s story, how she was the wife of a- in the story of the Arabian Nights he killed- every night he married a different wife, and killed them the next morning. And then Scheherezade walked in and figured she'd be finished, but every night she told him a story, and the story kept him on- you know, on the edge of his seat, she never told him the ending and finally after 1001 nights he married her. So I said OK, that’s the first grifter in history’. And that just kinda fit in thematically with the whole episode, and that's when we knew we had to use that piece.

John: And our music guy Joe Deluca putting a lovely little sort of spin, sort of-

Chris: Yeah he had a very nice-

John: -Arabian Nights spin on the score there. Now, you play violin. What did you think when we dropped Scheherezade on your lap?

Aldis: Well I was screaming inside, running for my life.

[Laughter]

Aldis: Jesus I've only been playing just for- not even five years, and when I took the music to my music teacher, she like- lord have mercy, she had a heart attack. She was like- she had been playing professionally for 20 years before she tackled Scheherezade. My other teacher had been playing, also, I believe between 20 and 30 years before she tackled Scheherezade so I had no confidence whatsoever. No, kidding, obviously I was very impressed with the piece. It's a beautiful piece. I love the song and I was actually very open to the challenge. I just wanted to make sure I did it well enough to do the song some justice. Now shooting these scenes being surrounded by actual musicians was awe-inspiring and-

John: Really? You really? Oh.

Aldis: Man, it was terrifying.

Chris: Yeah where did this rank among the scarier things you've done on the show? Where would you put this?

Aldis: This is the top right here.

Chris: This is the top right here.

John: So not running on top of a moving train.

[Laughter]

Aldis: Not at all man.

John: Really? That was fine, but this? This was terrifying.

Aldis: I'm a nut man, I'm a nut. I can do that because-

John: I can tell you as your executive producer with an insurance policy on you, you can do this whenever you want, don't do the train again.

Aldis: I shan't! I shall not.

Chris: And this actor, Michael Winther, fantastic New York stage actor who came in and did an amazing job. It was originally written I think he was Spanish and then I asked Michael-

John: Well you were kinda basing it on Dudamel.

Chris: Exactly it was based on Gustavo Dudamel who was the Venezuelan, kind of, rockstar conductor of the LA Philharmonic.

Aldis: Oh yeah.

Chris: Yeah, and Michael said that he could do German and I thought well there's nothing more intimidating than someone talking to you with a German accent.

Aldis: German accent, yeah.

John: Really?

Chris: And he was just great.

John: Even if it's like ‘I would like some hugs now,’ still it's creepy, it's not- yeah.

[Laughter]

John: Apologies, and now the angry letters from people with a German accent will be coming in.

Aldis: Exactly, you'll be getting a letter from the government.

John: A nice stall, you can't get it too far. And, you know, this again is kinda focusing on how everyone does things. Parker needs paper. Parker needs plans. Parker needs drawings. This is how she thinks. She was trained by an old school thief, and it's cool cause we're kinda hinting at the thing you're gonna find out in episode 5, like how she was trained, you know, trained by an old school thief, she thinks like an old school thief.

Aldis: Yeah

John: And then we do the fun- and this is, when you're constructing something based on a high concept, the fun of it was we have an impossible heist, stuff rolls back from that. Okay if it's impossible, that means we have to see the planning, we have to see the surveillance, we have to see the surveillance to establish to the audience the rules of the heist.

Chris: Right.

John: Cause you had already said, and I will say the first thing you said to me was ‘I wanna do a heist where there's no words.’

Chris: Yes.

John: And I said ‘You're out of your mind and it's unshootable’. I actually utterly dismissed you, and then you came back like, ‘We do it this way.’ And I was like, ‘Alright, that’s slightly less insane.’ But that required the rest of the episode to do an enormous amount of work.

Chris: Yeah, you need to know- once you got to the heist, you need to know exactly what people were doing and why, without any dialogue. And so- and that kinda required that the heist needed to be fairly simple.

John: Yes.

Chris: So, you know, that kinda was a little bit liberating for me, cause once I realized, OK, I drew this corridor, you know, we had to get past this keypad, and then there was a room, we had to blow a hole in the floor, it was like from a to b to c, as long as I made it fairly simple and easy to remember in the planning stages, we could carry it out.

John: And this is also one of the great things about physical production. You actually flew up and scouted this, right?

Chris: Yeah, we did.

John: You adjusted the heist based around the physical location.

Chris: Yeah well, we built this hallway here-

John: Is that a build? I thought it was a-

Chris: This is the hardest working hallway in show business.

John: I thought it was the hallway on the other side of the concert hall?

Chris: No, no.

Aldis: No, me and Chrisitan built it ourselves.

John: Oh that's where Elizabetta was. That's right, there you go.

Chris: That’s right.

John: Yeah, now we're establishing the rules, and a little hint there that Nnamdi is not your ordinary thug.

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: Yes.

John: Yeah, just that little wince.

Chris: And here, again, you know, it was we had plans in front of Tim that he could actually trace the line and that's exactly where you were going. Those are the plans of the set.

John: Those are the plans for the set?

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: Yeah!

John: That’s great!

Chris: I mean that showed him, he could draw- I showed him here's where you draw the hole, that’s where it’s gonna be.

John: Yeah and big props to Bekka Melino and everybody in production design this year. That vault looked gorgeous.

Chris: Yeah, it did.

John: Everything looked gorgeous, you know, set dec.

Chris: I have to give her credit for something else in that too. In the original script, the locker numbers in the vault were numbered; they were just numbered. And she called me up and said, ‘What do you think if we made like some kind of symbol or something for them, and maybe like musical terms?’ And I said, ‘That's fantastic.’ And it kinda helped build the character of Moto as someone who is just, you know, obsessed with music.

Aldis: Appreciates music.

John: Yeah.

Chris: And here's where-

Aldis: This is a tough thing, a tough deal for me. Not me personally, but for Hardison because of the fact that- I mean, this is a big deal trying to walk away from a mission with such reasonable cause.

Chris: Right.

Aldis: Only because of the fact that he's afraid, it's not because his life is endangered, it's simply because he's afraid.

Chris: Did you feel like that was- I mean, but performing without being prepared is like the, sort of, go to nightmare that people have, right?

John: Only if you were pantless could this be worse.

Aldis: Exactly, it's also the fact that if he performs poorly he could mess up the entire heist.

Chris: Yes

Aldis: But he was more afraid of himself performing badly then messing up the heist. And-

John: It's an interesting look into the character, because he's a perfectionist and he tends to- he’s tended to take the path he has in life because he's been able to be good at it.

Aldis: Yes.

Chris: Right.

John: You know, it's always interesting once you're past school and once you're an adult when you try to do things, you try to learn a new skill once you're out of your teens, and you realize ‘Oh, this is very hard.‘

Aldis: Yeah it's like learning violin.

John: Yeah exactly.

Aldis: As an adult, as I am doing now.

John: Really hard. But no, you just couldn't drop Scheherezade on you.

Chris: Here's a great-

John: This is a great shot actually, because we actually never shot this. This was footage of them actually getting into place.

Chris: Yes.

John: From the dailies that we had when we rolled the camera on. And that we wound up assembling together into a shot and then digitally placing the conductor into the middle of it.

Chris: Oh yeah, when we get to the later shot of the conductor there, that was- that’s totally digital. This the- orchestra is Marshall Tuttle is the conductor of the orchestra, it’s a local Portland community college orchestra. And they, you know, I have to give a lot of props to them because they got the music and they had to mock play the piece, but that meant they had to prepare for it, they had to know.

Aldis: Yeah I actually learned from them that day the rest of the piece. I mean all I knew up to that point was the solo. Until they said- and I knew bits and pieces of the other music until they said, ‘Hey, so we actually wanna shoot you playing the, you know, the bit before stuff.’ I’m like, ‘Right now, guys?’

John: Oh yes, a surprise by the way.

Aldis: Surprise!

John: This quick thing, they're gonna pop the camera on you there as you do this thing you just learned how to do.

Aldis: So I was just watching my fellow musicians around me as we shot, I was just watching their fingers and going off of them but hopefully you can’t tell.

John: That's a great little shake, that head shake like, ‘No, let's not get too heavily invested’.

Aldis: That was a real head shake that was ‘I do not wanna shoot this scene right now.’

[Laughter]

John: Could we please stop?

Aldis: None of the trepidation in this is faked, it’s real fear people. Real fear.

[Laughter]

Aldis: I dreaded this more than anything.

Chris: So there was less acting in this than typical episodes because you actually had fear.

Aldis: The fear yes, no acting at all, man, it was not hard to be afraid. At all. Whatsoever.

John: And here's Elizabetta, and it was interesting- I will be totally honest we knew we needed stuff for the finale-

Chris: Yeah.

John: And no idea what we needed it to be yet.

Chris: Right and right. And also to a certain degree, you know, when you have a MacGuffin, you know an item I want you to get, and you struggle as to what it could be, and we did struggle, we argued what is- what's in the envelope? And ultimately it's pretty cool when you don't know what it is.

John: Yeah it's point blank. It’s- yeah.

Chris: And you know we don't want to give anything away, but it did help us in the finale.

John: Yeah, well they've seen it by now, in theory.

Chris: Oh, okay.

John: Usually they watch all the way through and then do the commentaries.

Chris: That’s fine then. So that's fine, I'm not a spoiler.

Aldis: So what was in the envelope, fellows?

John: In the envelope is the evidence that the Italian needs because she's part of the shadowy international intelligence organization that launders money through Moto’s blood diamond accounts.

Chris: Yes.

John: And yeah that's actually- if you do a lot of research in money laundering, we did a lot of money laundering this year.

Aldis: Yes we did.

John: You find out that a lot of sort of black ops stuff, and a lot of the governments- there's a reason it's still around. You know governments find it useful, you know, and certain parts of governments find money laundering, international money laundering useful.

Chris: And here we go now we start- we start the clock and the dialogue is about to end pretty quickly.

John: Yeah I think we did like two touches, two clarifying things once we test screened it.

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: We did an entire fourth act with just pure music.

Chris: Yeah, this is it here, we go.

John: Yeah this is it. Nnamdi did a great job in this, by the way, I want to say, because he's acting without dialogue and that's hard, you know, for a young actor.

Aldis: It’s like stare at this paper bag and make it interesting.

John: Yeah, exactly.

Chris: And I have to give Brian Gonosey here, our editor, a lot of credit here, too, because this was like editing a music video, because this was- we had to kinda time this stuff to the music, and this was, you know, this- in listening to the piece, you know, in my mind I had punching in numbers for this part, cause I could hear it in my head, and-

Aldis: Now this-

Chris: And now- oh.

Aldis: No, I’m sorry, go ahead.

Chris: Well this is just when you have an all pro quarterback from the NFL on your show, and you have Christian Kane who is a gigantic football fan, you're gonna have him knock him down in full run.

Aldis: Now Christian really took that hit.

Chris: He sure did folks.

John: He hit that wall hard, baby!

Aldis: This man is paid to hit people.

[Laughter]

John: Beth took this hit too.

Aldis: Yeah.

Chris: She did take that hit.

Aldis: She took it like a trooper.

John: Wait where'd- Chris played football for a while, what was he, tailback? What was Chris?

Chris: Well I know, back in high school, yeah.

Aldis: He played in it, and he wrestled, too. Nnamdi is a big guy.

John: Nnamdi is a big guy.

Aldis: He's like 6’ 4” something, 6’ 6”?

Chris: And he wanted to do all his own stunts and we were like, ‘Please, we do not want Al Davis on our ass.’

[Laughter]

John: ‘I'm sorry, did you hurt the greatest quarterback in the NFL in your little pretend show this weekend?’

Chris: He's like, ‘You know what the stunt mans doing? I can do that!’ And we said, ‘We know! Please don’t!’

Aldis: Now the NFL owns Leverage.

John: We’d have a bigger budget, that'd be alright.

[Laughter]

John: And then now down through the floor, this was fun playing around with- thank you Mythbusters, playing around with directional blowouts, and thermite and all the other sort of how to- oh that's a- and Nnamdi won't go down.

Chris: No, he won’t.

John: We were- this- he’s the thug who ate his Wheaties.

Aldis: I think that's a great part about this entire sequence and just the character in general is: cause he finally- somebody gave Eliot a challenge, a real challenge you know. It was kinda like the season finale for the first season.

John: But that guy had technique, you know, that was the thing. What Eliot is facing right now is another dude who kills people professionally.

Aldis: Yeah.

John: You know, and just with power. It's also fun cause it’s- all Eliot/Parker scenes are inherently fun.

Chris: And here, and this was all built around the music. We knew this was gonna- we were gonna build to- there's a giant gong hit here and that was gonna be- that was the whole thing was timed to the explosion and now one of the words ‘boom’.

Aldis: We really blew a hole in a floor and let Nnamdi fall through? He was a trooper, he took it?

John: Yes, please don’t tell the Raiders.

Chris: Please don't tell Al Davis.

Aldis: I'm kidding, guys. Kinda.

John: This was actually shot later, we actually rebuilt the ceiling and then dropped it in later.

Chris: Yeah, it’s great.

John: They did a great job because they- it was like ‘We need you to build that ceiling that we built a couple episodes, but put a hole in it.’ Like, ‘Alright.’ Yeah. And Nate being in the middle of it unexpectedly is a wonderful development.

Chris: Even this, all this all the editing was just timed perfectly to the music as he pulls, Walle is his character, pulls into the corner. And here it is.

John: That's a nice beat, actually, was Sophie- that's a nice choice by Gina, Sophie being totally confident because she knows, she's already in on the hypnosis thing. So she's already ahead of it, and what that was meant to be encouraging.

Chris: Now here it is.

Aldis: [Humming the song]

Chris: And, you know, I have to say my wife, violinist, gives you huge props here for your fingering and your bow work.

Aldis: Thank you. You do realize this song haunted me as I was practicing and preparing for it? It literally was playing in my head when no other sound was on in the room. I painted a picture called The Scheherazade. I painted the notes themselves because I had to get it outta my head. It was-

Chris: That’s great.

John: Where's the painting?

Aldis: It’s still back in Portland waiting for me to get back to it.

John: Nice.

Chris: Now what kind of response did you get from people when this aired?

Aldis: A lot of musicians actually said I did a good job, which I was proud about. I was- I was more concerned about how musicians would take it. Because they know what to look for, and as I watched I was like, ‘Alright,’ you know, cringing, but a lot of them they really, really dug it.

John: Well you always see the flaws in your performance, you know.

Aldis: Yeah of course because I’m looking for it, as the actor. By the way, this scene when Beth has the tear, that wasn't a tear she just had allergies, but played to her strengths and- right there the yeah.

John: It's just the smoke and stuff, the allergies.

Aldis: Very dusty, you know, we just kept it, we kept it. I’m kidding Beth’s a great actress, she did that on her own.

Chris: She’s fantastic. She did that, I mean, that's pretty amazing.

Aldis: Yeah was that her choice there?

Chris: Yeah.

John: Yeah, that wasn’t in the script.

Chris: And we didn't have a lot of time for that, too, we were really running out of time for that scene and they, boy were they great reacting to it.

Aldis: The boy did it! Uh!

[Laughter]

Aldis: Y'all know what this is! Sexual chocolate!

John: We’re gonna have to make t-shirts now, I hope.

Aldis: We are gonna have to make t-shirts.

Chris: Now in the original script, you got a girl's phone number; we had to cut it for time but there was.

John: Sexy violinists.

Aldis: It's alright, Hardison gets numbers.

Chris: You know, Hardison, we've been trying to hook you up and I'm sorry we ran out of time.

John: Well, you know that's alright, there's- I don't think the fans would like the girl.

Aldis: I think if I ever got hooked up, fans would just murder Hardison because-

John: They would not be happy.

Aldis: They're waiting on Parker.

John: Well also, you know, and what's interesting is: you've kind of changed looks since the first season. You were a very skinny kid when you came in that first season. You turned 21 the night we hired you.

Aldis: Yeah 21, I'm 24 now.

John: Yeah, you put a little man weight on you now.

Aldis: Man weight, shaved the whiskers a little bit, try to give you a little something different each year. Next year I'm gonna come in about 250 pounds.

John: Nice, maybe with a cane cause you can't quite walk, you got the gout.

Aldis: Cankles baby.

John: Rock the gout. This is brutal- just looking for the rematch.

Chris: I love the look.

John: Every time I see this, I try to figure out a way to bring that character back.

Chris: Can we bring him back?

John: Seriously man, that look as he rolls forward is like, I want that rematch.

Chris: You know he makes more money than everyone in- you know, I mean he's- he’ll fly out on a private jet and come do it.

John: Just I gotta figure out something. And then I remember cause it was great, cause- I was actually out of town and then you shot this, and I didn’t see anything until I saw the first cut of this. I didn't see any dailies and so I saw the first cut of this and when he rolled forward that time I'm like ‘Oh! No wait, I know there's no rematch’ but-

Aldis: Yeah.

John: It’s- it was fun it was being able to watch this episode as a fan was a big treat.

Chris: Yeah, and here it was trying to pay off the Scheherezade story by having Nate make up something on the fly.

John: Yeah, it's the- thematically it yeah it starts with a con, it has a heist in the middle, and ends with a con.

Chris: Ends with a con.

Aldis: Yeah.

John: And you just the balls- the sheer stones it takes, ‘I have no idea what's in this.’

Chris: Yeah, right?

John: Just absolute sheer stones. To just bet on a sealed deck. We actually talked about that, we had played around with poker episodes and just what kind of- we talked at length- and it's one of those things that will never wind up in the show but we wind up talking in the room, what kind of gambler Nate is. And Nate is a guy who will bet on whole cards he hasn't seen.

Chris: Right, yes.

John: Yeah which is not necessarily the smartest thing in the world, but that’s that guy.

Aldis: He's the kind of guy who loses all his money first at the table, but eventually gains a couple chips back.

John: Yeah, yeah. Or manages to just be luckier than smarter, but smart enough to know he's lucky.

Chris: And I have to say Marcel Davis here played Simian Moto the president, and did an amazing job. I mean he's a local Portland actor.

John: Yeah, really- Portland. Never disappoints, Portland is a great place with great actors.

Chris: Now you can kinda see Gina slipping in there. It was- I know we had a couple of comments.

John: We had ten people on that set!

Chris: It was hard.

John: She's that black shape that kinda moves in with the secret service.

Aldis: I just saw her slip in there, keep your eyes open.

Chris: Keep your eyes open folks. She had- apparently she had a great time assembling this gun.

John: She was kinda rocking out the Helen Mirren in RED there.

Chris: She was.

John: She was really kinda- that was hot. She did- I watched the dailies on that like eight times, come on, she's very good at this. And the gloat, the drag out, the gloat.

Chris: The gloat and the drag away.

John: Very nice and the president. Oh Nnamdi wants to go! Let them go! Let them fight! That drinking game for Enter the Dragon. It’s like every time.

Chris: There we go, another time we’ll bring him back.

Aldis: Let's just send this out to all the Oakland raiders fans and see if they put in a vote, do you want Nnamdi back?

Chris: Do you wanna see Nnamdi back, please?

Aldis: Let's see what happens.

John: Promised by the DVD. Yeah.

Aldis: I feel it'll be promising.

John: And this was a nice set up, and again it was interesting because she had such the upper hand in the first episode, this is the one where Chris really kinda reset that, yeah, Nate Ford is not a patsy.

Chris: Yeah.

John: You know he is- there's a reason they’re using him. He's a dangerous guy, and he's become more of a dangerous guy this year because he's acknowledged who he is. Last year this would've played out differently.

Chris: Yeah, no it was- you know, the sequence was flirty, dangerous, a little bit of banter then she puts the screws to him and then he puts the screws to her here.

John: Yeah cause he knows. He knows, he dealt with these types of people, you know, he's not ignorant of exactly how big a game he's playing in right now. Great, great shot. She- this is a 1960s shot, that shot right there, I really love this. And she's got a very classic late 60s look and that was interesting because we used it- we actually called the character the Italian as shorthand because it was an archetype from the 60s, and then when she came on the show we were trying to come up with a name it's like, we're not gonna beat The Italian.

Chris: No no, it’s the best.

John: Just keep it there. And it kinda kept her in the headspace, when we wrote the scripts it kept her in that zone.

Aldis: And when she happened to actually be Italian!

John: We started with that, that was the-

Aldis: Ahhh, ohhh, ahhhh!

John: Did we not explain that to you?

Aldis: Ahhhh!

John: We just happened to get Elisabetta. Yeah, there you go.

Aldis: There go- ahhh!

Chris: And this is a nice kind of close out to, you know we sort of set up earlier that Eliot has some regrets of things that he may have done back when he was a soldier. Things he saw in Africa. And I thought Tim had a nice ad lib here, cause he kinda indicated that it was Eliot's idea to provide money for kids in the community based on them selling the violin.

John: And that's- and yeah it was another thing, too, as we moved into the third season of, why are these people still together. You know the second year they had realized they were family but were not emotionally evolved enough to explain, to acknowledge that. Third year where they are together and you begin to see- you know Hardison sees this as his crime college. And he loves these people, but this is his crime college. You know, Eliot is beginning to see the path to his redemption. You know, Nate is the acknowledgement of his identity. Parker is becoming a human being. You know, everyone has their reason they're there. You know, Sophie's reason to be there is basically, she had come back to run the crew while Nate was in prison. And to be acknowledged as the co-lead. This is a great scene. By the way, you play this wonderfully, this is a big turn here.

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: Thanks.

Chris: It was- you know this was a tricky reveal here because- and I'll say that on the hypnosis front I consulted with a hypnotist-

[Laughter]

Chris: This is not just me making stuff up out of thin air.

John: I'm the one to make stuff up out of thin air, Chris actually researches shit.

Chris: And in fact, the hypnotist said to me that if somebody had a- was extremely proficient in something at an early age, whether it was athletics or music, that he could put someone in a deep trance state and return them to their ability, that their life experience is kinda what's gotten in the way of their ability, that it's all up there in their head. And that's all that we’re saying here, we’re not saying that he made you- Nate made Hardison able to play, Hardison always knew how to play, it was just cleaning out the cobwebs to get you back.

Aldis: Right.

John: Also Sophie's- Gina's playing that complicitness in a really nice way, which is she went with it, she didn't like it, and she doesn't necessarily like what Nate’s become. Also fun, you had really focused on this is, during the research, the idea that prison is a bad idea for most criminals. Most criminals just go in and become better criminals. It's- they call it crime college, you know, and what tricks had Nate picked up while he was inside.

Chris: And look ultimately that the one of the things that makes Nate able to run this crew from- is that he's not a nice guy. And that he will push any button to get whatever he wants done. And that makes him, I think, a better leader, and a more interesting character than if he's just you know got your back every time you're in trouble.

John: We cannot say this enough: Nate Ford is not a nice man.

Chris: Yeah.

Aldis: Right.

John: But that's what's required in the world that we set up in this show. And that's Scheherezade Job! Amazing job, both of you. I really wanna say this, I came to this as a viewer and this is one of my favorite episodes of the season, and of the entire run.

Aldis: It's one of my favorites.

John: I told the first time I watched this, I told Chris I wish my name was on it. I wish that I had the ‘Written by’ credit.

Chris: And you, you know I made a little comment to you back in season one, and boy did you make me happy.

Aldis: It happened.

John: It’s great.

Aldis: Well thank you man I enjoyed it. The script was one of my best scripts, one of my favorite scripts from the entire three seasons, so.

John: Thanks man.

Chris: Thanks.

John: Alright stay tuned more coming up.

Aldis: Peace.

#Leverage #Leverage TNT #Leverage Audio Commentary Transcripts #Audio Commentary #Transcripts #Parker #Alec Hardison #Elliot Spencer #Nate Ford #Sophie Deveraux #Season 3 #Episode 4 #Season 3 Episode 4 #The Scheherazade Job

80 notes · View notes

evilmortys · 4 years ago

Text

okay, so, here are my thoughts on the finale,

i’m gonna start with the things i didn’t like, just because of who i am as a person! my feelings are mixed, but... looks lovingly at evil morty. he truly was the only exception as usual ♥

i’m not going to lie, this whole thing felt. rushed. although some of rick’s meta commentary about not touching citadel shit because it was canon and he and morty were supposed to be going back to lighthearted one off adventures, and “the second he reveals that he’s evil, we’re out” made me laugh, it also felt very disingenuous and ham-fisted. having him do all these fourth wall breaks honestly took away from the impact of what this episode could have been, but whatever.

i just got the vibe that they wanted everyone to stfu about the citadel and evil morty, so they quickly stuck together this episode that dealt with fans’ demand in one fell swoop so they could move on from the existence of both plotlines. i honestly thought it was a bit wasteful since tales from the citadel resonated with a lot of fans and it was an interesting bit of worldbuilding with compelling narratives going on.

you already all likely know how irritated i am with morty’s character degrading so much once again. this entire season has been building him up to becoming so much more capable, only to wrench it away from him again by instead having his co-dependency with rick ramped up to the point it was literally out of character. this has come out of nowhere. at no point in the show’s entire run has morty ever been this needy with rick.

again, i feel like this may have been written around what eventually ended up happening at the citadel, with the revelation that mortys are ‘bred for forgiveness.’ it would have been far more compelling for our morty to have continued to go down the path of being decidedly unforgiving of rick’s bullshit, thereby making him deviate from the norm in a similar way to evil morty himself and implicating that the cycle of a morty going to these extremes is going to be repeated once again.

rick did not deserve or earn voicing the recognition that his dynamic with morty was toxic, and abusive. are you fucking kidding me? the smartest man in the universe only JUST clocked onto that? bullshit! he’s known all along, and he’s been using it for his own gain! he doesn’t get to just say it with that regretful voice as if he’s been clueless / oblivious to it this entire time. they just wanted the audience to feel sympathetic for him by throwing in this tidbit and a tragic backstory, as if that even sort of makes up for everything he’s put his family through.

abandoning the people you’ve hurt is ALSO abusive and toxic behaviour! he’s done it time and time again! how is acknowledging the fact that you hurt people, that you hurt your family, the people that love you despite the fact you objectively don’t deserve it, then ditching them once again instead of staying with them and improving as a person and helping everyone heal from what you’ve put them through, ANY BETTER?? he never changes!!

i also couldn’t really process the fact that rick just handed morty his portal gun like it was nothing-- i feel like him topping it off and using it behind rick’s back should have been a bigger deal than what it was. also, morty would not break a guy out of a mental asylum without a second thought. he simply wouldn’t do that.

we’ve fallen right back into the status quo of morty being stupid and rick being the smartest one in the room who always knows what’s going on, even when he actually shouldn’t for the sake of a few meta jokes. which is more annoying than i can put into words tbqh

obviously i hated all the parallels they were attempting to make between rick and morty having a romantic relationship and “breaking up.” never has morty behaved so uncharacteristically in any other episode of the show. it honestly felt disrespectful to all the growth he’s had as a character to reduce him to something so pathetic.

i guess this is less of a thing i disliked, and more of a commentary on rick’s character? but once again, his hypocrisy really leapt out at me once it was revealed that he always has a hand in bringing together beths and jerrys in order to ensure that more mortys will end up in the multiverse. i find it unbelievably sad that he’ll willingly ensnare the two of them in the throes of a relationship that he knows is likely to become toxic and cause the both of them to be miserable throughout their time together; they’re rarely happy / compatible together and always end up sticking it out for the kids. it also makes his constant shitting on jerry even more egregious and almost serves to call his love for his daughter into question for me. he’s using her as a means to his own ends by manipulating situations so she’ll meet jerry and they’ll likely end up together.

don’t get me wrong, i actually really loved the fact he had a hand in founding the citadel he now loathes so much, and i think the constant creation of mortys as grandsons ‘bred to forgive’ ricks is so fucked up and awful in the most intriguing way. it’s akin to him fiddling with the concept of keeping mortys in constant pain to cloak his comings and goings around the multiverse (on paper, morty, on paper!), except this time he did it in reality.

evil morty. oh my god, evil morty. my saving grace. my ray of light. i’m so, so, so pleased with the way he was handled. while i admit i was looking forward to more of a slow - burn thing, getting a bit of insight into his presidency and possibly exploring a dynamic with him and c-137 (we’ll get to that)... i honestly still really loved what ended up happening with him, even though i still believe on some level that they just wanted to tie up his narrative thread so fans wouldn’t remain fixated on him.

of course he did. of course that motherfucker rick created a boundary within the infinite multiverse that ensured he’d always be the smartest man within it as far as mortys and other people in his life were concerned. i’ve always found it odd that such universes were never brought up even in passing; the nature of infinite possibilities always dictated that someone smarter than him must exist out there, and that worlds existed where he was nobody special.

him being morally gray. i could cry. i was clinging on to the hope that it would be shown he hates ricks more than he looks down on mortys, and it absolutely was. while he was okay with killing and hurting mortys to achieve his own “selfish” ends, it’s clear that he’s unhappy with the cycle of abuse from their infinite grandfathers that pushes him to these extremes, loathes the concept that mortys are not supposed to defy their ricks. “if you’ve ever been sick of him, you’ve been evil morty too.” he hates ricks FAR more than he does mortys, and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands. he believes mortys are beyond help because of the way they stick by rick-- the fact they’re literally created with being yes-men for rick in mind.

he didn’t seek to make changes for the greater good of other mortys within the citadel. i think he understood on some level, it was impossible. i think he has this belief that other mortys are part of the problem, because they perpetuate the cyclic dynamic of toxicity and harm-- they don’t move to break free from it the way he does, and so he feels no guilt leaving them behind while he breaks into the aspect of the multiverse where rick has no power. it’s honestly heartbreaking that he’s come to have a mindset like that.

i think seeing c-137 reach out to help rick up once again instead of accepting what i hope and pray was a semi - genuine offer to join him as he departed was just yet another instance of him witnessing a morty doing the most to save the man who makes their lives a living hell. if he was truly unsympathetic, he’d have made no such offer. if he thinks a morty is capable of pulling away from the hold ricks have on them, he wants them out of this shit just as much as he himself wants to break free from it. i think he has the mindset that i know they tried to play it off with “haha the other seat’s a toilet,” but i don’t think that was the case and they were once again just undermining the moment for no good reason. SCREAMS!! don’t get me wrong what he did WAS selfish and evil. but in a way you can understand where it derives from

again, it REALLY irritates me they’ve undone so much of morty’s character just to ensure he wouldn’t end up taking evil morty up on his proposition. if morty had retained even a tenth of the character growth he’s been having from late season four until towards the end of season five, wherein it began to unravel, he’d have left rick. undeniably.

the yellow portal. oh my god............

it made me so fucking emotional to see that. he’s won. he’s free.

#rick and morty #evil morty #okay this isn't even all of them but it will do #alex talks!

112 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

Text

Death and an Angel part 6

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Three things happen at once.

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: Swearing, backstory, angsty angst, fluffy fluff, mutual pining finally acknowledged, overuse of italics, don’t mess with Din’s Cupid or he’ll kill you

Author Note: Important please read this! Ok, so if you’ve been following along you’ll know I had no outline for this originally. And well, that’s come back to bite me. I had to make an edit to Part 2, a small one but still the very beginning will look marginally different if you’ve read it before today’s date Dec. 16, 2020. Basically, I took away the implication that You don’t know exactly how You became a Cupid. So, yeah. Hopefully moving forward I’ll be better handling all this *awkward shuffling*. As always, thank you for all the support and I appreciate every one of you so much ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 5 and Part 7

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Silence floods the ship in the wake of your admission, stifling and charged with enough tension you fear breathing too loud will set off a chain reaction with disastrous results. It makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle, every instinct inside of you screaming to teleport away, if only so you no longer have to see Din stubbornly trying and failing to hide his internal turmoil behind a mask of indifference.

When he opens his mouth, you tense but the question slices through you all the same. “When?”

You hesitate, making a face. “Din, we really don’t have time for this. Let’s just move on—”

Without warning, the hand holding your elbow slides to your wrist and twists, turning your palm up for inspection. Din stares at the blank expanse of skin, then slowly his gaze lifts, and he releases you as if you’ve poisoned him.

“You’ve never lied to me before, angel. Did you honestly think now was the best time to start?” he asks, and something breaks inside of you when he looks at you as if you’ve become a total stranger to him.

But before any pain can begin to sink in, anger overcomes you as his assumption registers.

“I’m not lying, you asshole,” you say sharply, feeling a faint pulse of petty satisfaction when you notice the subtle way his stance shifts defensively, betraying his surprise at your boldness. Resting your hands on your hips, you fix him with your fiercest glare. “For all that you are a powerful ancient being of the universe, you are also the biggest, most ignorant fool I’ve ever met. You have absolutely no idea how Cupids become Cupids, do you?”

You don’t offer him even a second to respond, too wound up and fueled by the overwhelming desire to make him get it. To make him understand you’re not purposefully trying to hurt him. If it were up to you, you’d make sure he never felt any kind of pain. But that would require having a choice and that is the one thing the universe did not grant you as a Cupid.

“Every Cupid was once a mortal with a soulmate,” you explain, choosing each word with careful precision while watching his face to make sure his focus never wavers. “And every one of us was rejected by them. When we die, we’re transformed into Cupids, losing our soulmate markings in the process.” When you feel your bottom lip begin to wobble, you pause to take a steadying breath. “You asked me before, what is the true purpose of a Cupid? It’s to help others find the kind of love we never experienced for ourselves.”

Din stands there in front of you, still staring passively, and you’re scared for a moment your words have made no difference, but then his jaw clenches so tightly you hear his teeth grinding.

“You were rejected?” he growls, vicious and guttural, the sound of a feral beast.

He pivots, fist colliding with the wall with enough force it dents the metal beneath his knuckles. You flinch at the noise, shocked at the abuse he’s inflicted upon his beloved ship. Every bone in his hand should have shattered upon impact, but because Death is immune to such damage he merely turns back to you, breathing raggedly and eyes blackened with rage.

“Tell me his name.”

You’ve already begun shaking your head before you say, “So you can go hunt him down? Hell no. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.”

Instead of pacifying him, this only infuriates him further. “How can you say that? That bastard broke your heart when he was supposed to cherish you, protect you, love you above all else.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask peevishly, letting your temper get the better of you. Sparing a moment to mentally count to ten, you quietly reveal, “I can say it doesn’t matter because I don’t even remember who he was. There is no point sending you to kill someone who’s face I can’t pick out of a crowd.”

The sudden way Din’s whole body slumps in response to the news, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, expression scrunched and dumbfounded, would have made you laugh if the circumstances were entirely different. Being what they are, you can only meet his stare evenly, silently assuring him you’re not joking in the slightest.

“I don’t understand,” Din says at last, looking like he wants to approach but is unsure you’ll welcome his nearness so he keeps his distance. “You never told me you had memory loss before. What happened to you?”

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. For as long as I’ve been a Cupid, all my memories from my mortal life have dark spots, like something poked holes in them.”

Din glances away as he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘Or someone’ but before you can comment, his tone rises to its usual volume as he says, “Is this why you collect all those old newspapers? To try to help you remember?”

You recall with embarrassment him having previously commented on the pile in your living room. That moment feels like years ago, the two of you sitting in your apartment and Din asking...if Cupids were on the list of potential soulmates. Was that his way of asking if you were on the list? Surely not. He’s much cleverer than that.

...Isn’t he?

“I just,” you shake your head, refocusing on the current conversation. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll find something that fills in the gaps. I don’t like this pit in my stomach, this feeling that I’ve forgotten something important.” You huff a self-deprecating chuckle. “Other than my soulmate, I mean.”

He offers you a smile, small and lopsided, likely meant to be consoling, but you see right through it. You see his pain in the tightness around his mouth, in the way his fingers flex at his sides like it’s taking all his self-control not to reach out to you. Your confession has hurt him. Badly. It’s the kind of hurt no amount of bacta can heal.

The silence returns, different than the one usually experienced during hyperspace in that it wishes to be broken, for someone to say something, anything. You would grant its wish except your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head. Deep down, there is a part of you which knows there is nothing you can say that will fix this—this being the chasm forming between you and Din, widening with every passing second spent staring wordlessly at each other.

Would telling him sooner have prevented this heartbreak? Probably. But looking back, you can’t think of an opportune moment. You had never thought your crush could be requited—not just because you were already matched, but also because it had always seemed so ridiculous, imagining the great and powerful Death feeling anything remotely close to affection for an unimportant, low-ranking Cupid.

“Angel,” Din begins after a few minutes, his voice anchoring you back in the present. He’s staring over your shoulder, brow furrowed thoughtfully and you can practically hear the gears turning inside his head. “Earlier, you said you didn’t tell your boss I was your client. Why didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, before an unexpected wave of boldness comes over you. Digging your finger into the armor on his chest, you remind him, “You came to me first, remember? Not them. So, I figured you didn’t want them knowing.”

“I couldn’t care less who knows,” Din deadpans.

“Oh.” You blink, hand falling back along your side, because what else can you say.

“You want to know what I think?” Oh Maker, he’s stepping closer until there’s only a foot of space between you two. His voice is a low, raspy murmur, sending your heartbeat into overdrive. “I think you didn’t want them knowing because you like being the only angel who does.”

You start to squirm, fight or flight instincts at total war with each other. His theory isn’t too far from the truth, making it all the worse hearing it out loud because it practically oozes possessiveness which is exactly what you’d feared.

“Before you pull away from me again,” Din continues, knowing you and your mind too damn well. “I want you to listen when I say nothing that you’ve told me changes how I feel about you.”

“Din—” you try, only for your voice to crack.

Then three things happen at once.

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

“I’ve been alone my entire existence and I kept telling myself that was how the universe intended it to be. That I couldn’t love anyone because I kill everything I touch.” A smile pulls at his lips when he looks down at his bare hand and a note of awe slips into his voice. “Then you came along, beautiful and clumsy and unafraid to call me out for being an ass. I started looking forward to each full moon because it meant I got to see you and admire every new detail about your life you chose to share with me. And then when this appeared,” he nods towards the soulmate marking, gleaming faintly beneath the overhead lighting, “all I could think of was you.”

You feel your throat becoming thick as you blink back tears, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Why didn’t you say anything at the train station? Why would you let me try to set you up with matches if you liked me that way?”

Din grimaces, abashed. “Because after you said there weren’t any Cupids on your list, I realized you didn’t know I liked you. I convinced myself I had to show you how I felt, instead of tell you. Although,” he holds up a finger, backtracking, “I actually almost did confess, on our way to Sorgan, but you stopped me. And that just further convinced me actions spoke louder than words. I knew none of the people you found me could ever compare with you, so I thought once you saw each unsuccessful connection, you’d realize the only hand I want to hold is yours.”

“Din, it can’t be me.” Your protest is weak, on the verge of caving in, forcing you to try another angle. “I can’t have two soulmates.”

He inhales a breath so sharp and unexpected, it startles your poor heart into skipping a beat.

Din looks at you like you’ve gifted him all the stars in the galaxy, brown eyes blown wide with hope. “Angel, do you mean it? That you consider me—”

“Of course, you idiot.” You attempt a laugh, but it comes out sounding broken and forced. “As Death, as Din, as whoever you want to be, I’ll always consider you. But...what if what happened on Sorgan happens to us? What if the universe doesn’t favor us?”

“I just want to be yours.” Din extends his hand towards you. “And if that means breaking the universe’s rules, then fuck it. We’ll make up our own. Together.”

Time seems to stand still, like you’ve entered a realm separate from the rest of the universe where you’re able to forget you have a complicated past, filled with holes and a soulmate who rejected you. Here it’s just you, Din, and his offer to love you unconditionally. Here you have a choice.

And it’s the easiest one you’ve ever made.

You slowly lift up your hand to hover in front of his, fingers trembling as they uncurl.

“Together,” you whisper.

And then your hands are moving to meet one another, closer and closer until his fingertips brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through your nervous system. Oh, Maker, you had described what you imagined a soulmate connection was like, but you had no idea this is the true experience. It’s like a sunrise dissolving midnight skies, lighting up your surroundings with breathtaking vibrancy. You can’t fathom how you survived all this time being in his presence without feeling his touch.

“Dank farrik,” he mutters hoarsely, sounding just as overwhelmed and awestruck as you feel.

You open your mouth, but instead of words a whimper of agony escapes instead. That lovely warmth spreading from your linked hands has started to boil, white-hot and furious. It’s as if all your internal parts have caught fire and are slowly withering to ash—your organs, your bones, even your kriffing blood.

Your body crumples and Din cries out your name, but you don’t get to hear him say it, unconscious before your head collides with the floor.

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan

#din x you #din djarin x you #din x reader #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #my fic #death and an angel #soulmate au #Pedro Pascal

410 notes · View notes

lizz-blizt · 3 years ago

Text

Ok so, having just watched the trailer for the little mermaid live action, my thoughts are mixed. Mostly confusion and apprehension. But maybe it'll come out good. Or at least comprehensible.

Good Thoughts

The design of Ariel's tail is really pretty. Like holy gods of water I love the colors they put on it and it looks like it'd be a great cosplay. I think they took some inspo from the stage adaptations for it.

Ariel is a black girl with red hair. Something I really like as an aesthetic choice on real people.

Ursula seems to be a plus-sized woman. I'm glad they kept that.

There will be songs

Confusion/Bad Thoughts

Ariel and Queen Selina (who I will be talking about later) are the ONLY black people in the listed cast so far. That's a big issue if one of the selling points of your movie is having black mermaids. It just makes the ones you do have stand out and seem like tokenism

Scuttle (the male presenting seagul) is being played by Awkafina. Why? If she was gonna play anybody why have it be the seagul and not another mermaid? Is she trying to launch a career as a voice actor for movies? If so, great. If not, then why?

Who the hell is Queen Selina? She can't be Ariel's mom, that lady died when Ariel and her sisters were young guppies. Is she the grandma? Wouldn't be an odd choice as some monarchies do keep the queen mother around but then she wouldn't be listed as 'Queen'

If Queen Selina is Ariel's mom, why is she here? As a backstory reason for why Triton doesn't like humans? If that's the case then I actually applaud this choice since that answers a question without having to watch the prequel movie to get the answer. Also, did they change her name because they didn't want the confusion/incest jokes that came when they named her Athena?

The implication that Selina is Ariel's mom carries the implication that she's alive and at least semi present in the story. That pisses me off. I grew up with Triton as one of the ONLY examples of a single father in fiction and goddammit he was trying his best!!!! I want kids to grow up with a good example of being a single father because single dads exist and alot of them are FUCKING GREAT!!!! I don't want that to be taken away!

Ursula is being played by Melissa McCarthy. I haven't kept up with her career but last I checked wasn't she a comedy actor? Are they gonna make Ursula have comic moments? Won't that undermine her as a villain since Melissa's comedy is based on her messing up or miscomprhending the situation. I hope she has the range to be sinister and calculating like Ursula is.

Who are gonna be playing Ariel's sisters? I know it's still early but I wonder who will be playing them?

One scene in the animated movie has Ariel wearing nothing but a seashell bra until she gets her sail dress. I hope they if not cut that out or only shoot from like upper back and above. Thats an awkward part i feel they can cut out.

Almost the entire trailer is in the dark. Even when they show a thriving coral reef. The ocean is not that dark. Especially in the coral reef area, which is known for being bright. Goddammit stop shooting everything so dark!!!!! When I go to the movies I wanna be able to SEE THE MOVIE!!!!

I don't like the shade of red they seem to be going with for Ariel's hair. Make it a brighter shade, it'll look good trust me.

Pay your VFX artists better disney and let them do their work in peace. You'll get a better movie that way.

Link to the trailer:

https://youtu.be/0-wPm99PF9U

#disney #little mermaid #therell probably be more to this #live action #little mermaid 2023 #ariel #im a disney adult #im also sick of these live action movies #i want gabriela to make a cameo #they do know that mermaid wear little to no clothing right #i dont think they thought this through #i hope its worth my time to watch it #i want this movie to be good so bad

3 notes · View notes

blookmallow · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a rating on child animatronics like you did with the clowns

i sure can

welcome to animatronic nightmare preschool

theres a trend ive discussed about spirit before where all their female animatronics tend to be either the “old hag” type, or “creepy little girl” - and now that im thinking about it i actually couldn’t think of any boy characters ive ever seen. i dont know why this is exactly. theres something to analyze there but im not really sure what it is. i found a few but almost ALL of them are little girls. i dont know what to say about this but i did notice it

there IS a boy in this group though:

ring around the rosie

enter the ritual

just some nice kids having a fun time. it may be cliché at this point but i love the “spooky nursery rhyme” trope anyway (and y’know, ring around the rosie was already creepy to begin with. im not sure if the theory that it’s really about the black plague is actually true but its still highly questionable to include the line “ashes, ashes, we all fall down” in a childrens rhyme with no explanation either way)

for some reason the fact that none of them have hands and its just their sleeves tied together is really funny to me and i dont know why. they also dont have feet and im not sure if its a technical limitation for convenience purposes or if they’re supposed to be little ghost children but it definitely comes across like they’re little ghost children who tied their sleeves together to try to feel like they’re holding hands which is very cute. 10/10 big fan of this one

i already mentioned harriet hustle in this post, shes fantastic

angeline

i LOVE this one shes SO cute

i dont really understand how she's supposed to be scary, the description is like "she'll scare the lights out of your guests" or w/e but like, she's just. a kid who can see ghosts. she herself isn't even a ghost. i like her id adopt her i think she'd be a fun addition to a graveyard scene 10/10

abandoned annie

ok technically this one is a doll but im counting her anyway, shes one of my FAVORITE spirit animatronics bc A) i love creepy dolls B) shes cute and most importantly C) her entire fucking face unhinges i need y’all to watch the video on this one its so good 12/10 ive said this before but animatronics that do something completely fucking unexpected are my absolute favorite

broken girl

completely batshit. horrifying. shes actually initially standing upright and then snaps backward and screams and the image does not do it justice i highly recommend the video for this one. not much there as a Character but as “really effective way to scare the shit out of someone” its, i would imagine, incredibly effective. 9/10

there’s also menacing molly who looks similar and has the same kind of “facing away from you but then snaps backward” scare but is on a swing and sings “I see dead people, I see ghosts 💖i see the things that hate you the most” before she does her jumpscare which is incredibly funny to me

double trouble

creepy little girl trope meets creepy twins trope, at first glance i thought this was just like, discount grady twins (which it looks like they also have, in blatant knockoff form. they’re uh, not good) but it looks like their description backstory is that they killed their mother and disappeared with their rumored-insane father so its slightly different. one of their phrases is “daddy says we have to play outside :( he doesnt want any more blood on the floor” and i love it

they have a pretty good sense of personality and character to them even if its not necessarily groundbreaking. 7/10

ellie hatchet

i love this one bc so many of the creepy little girl animatronics are just pretty much standing there being creepy but not ellie. she’s fucking DONE with all of you. you come near her she will swing an axe at your face. 6/10 not really a big stand out but i appreciate her undying rage

lunging lily

shes spooky. she jumps out at you. thats about it. i dont really have anything to say about this one. that sure is a creepy little girl that jumpscares you. i like that she goes “help me... help me...” before she jumps out but i feel like it would be hard to get the timing right for that to actually work as a lure to make guests curious where the sound’s coming from since most of these are motion activated. anyway 6/10 shes just not very interesting

johnny punk

one of the rare boy characters, i have actually seen him in store and just completely forgot about him because he was that uninteresting. he doesn’t really do much and his backstory on site is just like, “He's got a nice house, loving parents and a severe attitude problem.”

like this isn’t an undead child back for revenge against those who wronged him or a crazed circus runaway or anything. he’s just a bratty kid. hes like a 13 year old who just saw Joker and has decided to make it his entire personality. this comes across less as a threatening figure and more just like some shitty kid who thinks he’s cool. i glanced at the comments on the wiki page and it turns out absolutely everyone hates him which is completely hilarious to me

2/10 nobody likes you johnny go do your homework and apologize to your mother

i also found limb eating zombie boy, who is considerably better

gross. bloody. would probably be pretty effective if you had him like, placed among some boxes or something so people dont see him at first and aren’t expecting him there. pretty standard zombie. i dont have much to say. He’s Fine. 6/10

mommy’s favorite

ive seen this one in the stores several times, I think we have her there now, and i just don’t. get it? she just moves back and forth with the “shhh” gesture and it’s like, ok, she’s vaguely creepy, but what’s going on here. she just says “don’t wake my mommy! she’s been sleeping for a long time!” so i guess the implication is that her mother is dead and she doesn’t understand, which is just sad rather than scary. the description says she makes mommy’s tea just how she likes it with five drops from the special skull bottle, which could imply she killed her mom, which would make more sense as a horror character, but if that’s How Mommy Likes It that implies the mother instructed her daughter to unknowingly poison her, which is horrifying but in a way darker sense than a spooky halloween prop lmfao

anyway if i have to go digging into descriptions to try to figure out what this character is or what shes supposed to be or anything i just dont feel like its a very effective character design. and i did read it and i still dont really get it. 2/10 i just feel like im missing something here

anyway there’s a bunch more variations of “scary possessed child” that are all basically the same, so im just gonna close this out with:

swinging skeletal boy

allo there, guvna

look at this dapper little victorian child im gonna cry he’s so cute

he just swings but has this surprisingly endearing soft little voice which COMPLETELY contrasts the weird shit he actually says. hes this precious little skeleton kid with a sweet little voice who goes “your skin is so nice :) can i have it? haha. that’s okay. I’ll take it when you’re sleeping”

absolutely love animatronics with that “wait WHAT did that thing just say” factor to them i love this guy 11/10 good boy my new son

i would also like to mention that people are also continuing to dunk on johnny punk in this guy’s comment section too fsadkflj people hate that shitty joker kid so much their hatred has bled into other completely unrelated swinging children

#spirit halloween #spirit animatronics #halloween #halloween animatronics #pinned

21 notes · View notes

cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago

Text

A Lovely Night: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~900

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, very brief food mention, vague school setting, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this chapter is basically serving simply as exposition/backstory. The contents of Chapter 2 are what I originally got the idea for.

...

Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. The two had met in middle school, and had competed against each other passionately in the oddest and strangest ways ever since. They often got into hissing matches (or as Janus' brother Patton called them, hissy fits) with each other when either of them got ruffled up enough. But despite the fact that their relationship was entirely competitive, Janus and Virgil never meant any ill will towards each other.

Once, in his chunky black platforms, Virgil accidentally stomped directly on Janus' foot. Janus had sucked in a breath through his teeth, immediately recoiling his foot. Virgil just watched for a moment as Janus sat, cradling his foot and wincing, before opening his lunch pack and fishing around rather feverishly. He chucked an ice pack next to where Janus sat on a stair, and quickly turned to pace off to his next class. He didn't want to see Janus' reaction; that was too scary, but he felt bad for stepping on his friend's foot.

A year later, Janus happened upon Virgil having an anxiety attack.

He had his arms wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing out each of his huffing breaths, as he sat cowering against the wall of the main school building. Janus knew enough about anxiety attacks - his brother Patton got them too - so he quickly changed his course to approach Virgil cautiously. Virgil was huffing sobs at this point, and Janus knew he needed to act fast.

He sat beside Virgil and brought an arm around him. When Virgil didn't react, Janus scooped him up entirely and sat him in his lap, wrapping his arms around him protectively and beginning to whisper sweet nothings to him in a very low and calming voice.

"You're safe, Virgil, you're safe. I've got you."

After about twenty minutes, three attempts at a grounding exercise, and a struggle to copy Janus' breathing, Virgil was okay again.

He made to ask Janus how he'd known what to do, but Janus just scooped Virgil back out of his lap, handed him a large bottle of water and an apple from a concealed pocket in his jacket, and turned to leave without a word. Virgil'd take the secret to his grave that he'd genuinely smiled while drinking the water and eating the apple, steeling himself for his next class.

Freshman year, Virgil and Janus met their soon-to-be boyfriend Roman for the first time. He'd come from a different middle school, and he was immediately drawn to Janus and Virgil as much as they were drawn to him.

Virgil and Janus had never before spent time together outside of school or recess or waiting for their parents to pick them up, (which on one rainy day resulted in two completely and utterly soaked teenagers continually daring each other to make "snow" angels in large puddles) but as they both grew closer to Roman, Roman began inviting them both out and to his house to "hang out".

It took just a few months for Roman to confess his feelings for the two of them in an extremely dramatic fashion, involving him supplying lots of flowers and lots of tears. He confessed to both Virgil and Janus together, and to Roman's great confusion, Virgil and Janus claimed stubbornly to have zero romantic feelings for each other. Regardless, they all agreed to a polyamorous relationship, so that Roman and Virgil could be with each other, Janus and Roman could be with each other, and Virgil and Janus could maintain their odd friendship.

Things bloomed from there, and Janus and Virgil began spending even more unusually significant amounts of time with each other, since Roman usually took them both out on dates simultaneously. On rare occasions, they'd go out individually, but the three of them spending time together created an energy that was always undeniably fun. By the time they reached their Junior year, it began to go without saying that any date Janus or Virgil planned to take Roman on would also include Roman's other boyfriend.

This was all going rather lovely, in both Janus and Virgil's opinion. Except for one tiny problem.

Completely and utterly unbeknownst to each other, they'd both developed a massive crush on the other over the years. And one would think that this would be a simple resolution, since they and their boyfriend were polyamorous and Roman had, in fact, expected them to each be in love with the other when they'd first started dating him (and Roman had mentioned amply that if they were to "finally admit" their feelings, that he'd be more than ecstatic for his boyfriends to get together with each other). However, they would both bet their mother's entire right arm that the other didn't reciprocate these feelings. And both were, in full honesty, quite fearful that any sort of admission of their feelings would shatter the dynamic the three had. Hurting Roman or each other was the last thing either of them wanted to do.

And so, they both hopelessly pined. Blissful, almost-perfect months filled with romantic antics passed.

But one day, by an imperfectly-perfect quick change of plans, everything flipped like a pancake.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts janus #anxceit #roceit #prinxiety #human au #high school au?#idk im done tagging

32 notes · View notes

yelenasdog · 4 years ago

Text

wondrous mess (40s!bucky x fem reader)

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst with some tooth rotting fluff halfway

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: war is so cruel, it’s only fair that the both of them have to expirience it’s wrath together.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 11k+ (my longest fic!!)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: the beginning shows implications of alcoholic tendencies and behavior as well as derogatory terms from the 40s to describe those who are suffering from alcoholism, war, character death, denial of death, being a widow, cheating, crying, implications of sex, that’s abt it. if i missed any, feel free to shoot me an ask or message :)

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (listen to these in order for best reading experience)

☆time flies- mac miller

☆at last- etta james

☆crying time- dean martin

☆paper rings- taylor swift

☆fine line- harry styles

☆dream a little dream of me- ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong

☆twilight time- the platters

☆you don’t have to say you love me- jerry vale

☆moon river- andy williams

☆as the world caves in- matt maltese

☆we’ll meet again- vera lynn

☆everlong (acoustic version)- foo fighters

𝚊/𝚗: i hope u enjoy this!! i’ve worked so hard on this and done so much research, it truly took the most time and effort i’ve ever used in a fic. there’s more disclaimers at the end :)

·。·☆·。·。

December 28th, 1941

The alleyway was dark, unnerving, and cold. A man’s loud and gruff voice projected through the nearly empty alley, bouncing off of the newly propaganda strewn walls. His arm was left hanging defenseless in the air.

“Don’t go, please, we’ll talk it out.” His 5 o’clock shadow seemed more prominent, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of alcohol while his breath was that of smoke.

He had changed since they had gotten together, but he wasn’t the only one.

She turned on her heels from where she stood just outside the backstreet, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill.

She had aged in the time she had been with Jake, the lines on her face deepening, the bags under her eyes darkening with blue and purple hues. Her painted lips had become cemented in a scowl, her formerly bright smile rarely seeing the light of day. But the distraught girl had no intentions of letting her new Bésame mascara go to waste on some jerk, much like the past few years of her life had. She strutted towards the blonde, regaining her lost composure.

She jabbed a manicured finger onto his chest, causing the man to recede slowly, the girl he had angered not far behind.

“You listen here, you crumb. I will not sit around all slack happy so you can go around and kiss some other dame behind my back.” She removed her hand, crossing it tightly against her chest with her other arm.

“Well, I was buzzed, that bird wasn’t even any importanc-“

“You’re unbelievable!” She gasped, rolling her eyes. She turned away once again. Jake followed in suit.

“Leave me alone, Jake.” She kept her eyes straight ahead on the unfamiliar Brooklyn sidewalk. She had originally come to the area to surprise her now ex- boyfriend after his work in the factory, but was in for a shock when she saw him making out with some girl (not for the first time) just outside the diner on the way.

So even if she didn’t have a clue where she was going, she sure as hell was going to act like she did. Seeing that her stride wasn’t faltering, he made an outcry of her name followed by a bellowed “No!”

Jake grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, continuing to walk down the cobblestone street. There were cars buzzing past, and people talking around her on the street.

Couples. Happy couples who she quite honestly envied.

“You’re not allowed to touch me like that anymore.” Jake scoffed at her seemingly venomous words, wrapping a strong hand around her dainty wrist.

“Now don’t go into a decline, it’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes narrowed at the sandy blond.

“Oh, please. You kissed her, and all the others, because you wanted to and because you could. No regard for anyone’s feelings but your own, just like always. And I’m sick of it, I really am!” She threw her hands up, and they fell back to her side with an audible plop against the gabardine fabric.

Jake looked around nervously at all the people whose attention he had drawn, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Don’t make a scene,” he called her by her nickname in a vain attempt to draw out her sympathy. “Please, we can work it out like we always do.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no place to do so. And I think I’ve made my point fairly evidently. Jake Nelson, you are nothing but a swigger and a cheat, and I want nothing to do with it any longer. Goodbye.” She felt a rush of adrenaline as she picked her head up, the setting sun in what to her seemed a poetic manor.

She didn’t know where she was, how she would get home, where she would sleep. But he was gone. That parasite that had been feeding off of her and her emotions, taking advantage of her again and again, was finally gone. And it felt great. She took a breath of the heavily polluted air, noting how it somehow seemed clearer.

She could breathe again, and the feeling was intoxicating. In her newfound bliss, she continued walking for she didn’t know (nor care to find out) how long.

The sky that had since changed from it’s scarlets and oranges to an indigo sheet (becoming nearly impossible to see the stars with all the heavy smoke wafting in the air from the ever so busy factories) provided a hint at exactly how long it had been since she began her adventure.

She would stare at the buildings as she walked past, analyzing those who walked in and out of them, considering the way they walked, how some appeared dreary, others animated, and making up backstories for them each in her mind. Some of her stories were sadder than others, and some had the most glorious of tales. She liked to think that she was correct about her human hypotheses, even if she was the furthest thing from it.

She swung her head to the left side of the street she was walking on, and not far ahead, she noticed a rickety looking old bar. After her day's events, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink, so she pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the dimly lit area.

The airy sound of piano filled the air, a joyful demeanor to the place. Couples (which she still envied, even if momentarily the said envy had gone vacant) were dancing about happily. Not a care in the world. Not in the moment, at least.

But when she made it past the entrance, that moment stopped. It was like every head turned, all conversations paused, the clinking of the piano keys was no longer to be heard. She gave a small nervous smile to the occupants of the room as she walked to the bar itself, standing just a tad bit taller at the attention.

And as soon as the moment had stopped, it seemed to have started back up again when she ended up at her destination. Because as she had learned, time truly never stopped for anyone.

The piano’s melody resumed, everyone was back on their feet in no time. She took a look around, soaking up the atmosphere in complete awe, feeling free as a bird of some sort.

Soon enough, she was slowly sipping away at her concoction while facing the splintering door, her head occupied with thoughts concerning what came next, how she would handle the effects of this adrenaline high she was now stepping off. Her thinking was interrupted, though, by a deep voice and a tap on the shoulder, making her jump in her seat.

“‘Scuse me?”

She turned on her stool to face whoever it was that wanted her attention. Both figures eyes widened at the sight of the other, shock spreading across their faces.

“Well if it isn’t James Barnes!” She spoke, genuine excitement filling her soul. He called out her old nickname, contended with his discovery.

“It’s been awhile! And please, doll, it’s Bucky.” He reminded her with a charming smile. A warm blush rose up from her neck to her cheeks, and butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach, fluttering about like nobody's business. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink to avoid meeting his eyes (which were much prettier than she ever had remembered from school).

The clean shaven boy- or man as of late, pulled out a chair next to her, sitting down. The two engaged in friendly conversation, their laughs mixing in the warm, thick air with the sounds of the music. Her heart was beating out of her chest, leaving her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again.

After some time of very pleasant conversation, a less effervescent matter had risen.

“So,” James began, taking a swig from his glass. “Still with that souse, what was his name,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Jake! That’s his name, Jake!”

The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a laugh.

He was enchanted already.

She began to tell a toned down version of the occurrences with Jake, Bucky remaining captivated by her presence the entire time. James would speak up every few statements, always resulting in her losing her place, not that she minded.

Towards the end of the so called story, there was an interruption towards the front of the bar.

The moment stopped once more, but in a quite different manner than how it did when she had first entered.

He hollered out her name, followed by an equally as loud “Where are you?” He turned to a man to his left. “Where is she?” He slurred. The scruffy man only shrugged, scooting away from the drunken one that had walked into the brick building.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” She questioned, slowly walking towards the man, trying not to upset him further.

“Why’d you leave me, huh?! Why’d you cause a scene and go?” He was hysterical. Tears ran down his red face and his hands feverishly grabbed at his scraggly locks for some sense of comfort.

“Jake, you’re not in your right mind. Leave me alone and go home, you’re leaving your mother worrying, I’m sure of it.”

Her voice began to shake, ripples of emotion that had been repressed for the past years bubbling up to the surface, taunting her, threatening her, to erupt.

And God, his mother, his poor mother.

The frail old woman was half the reason she had even stayed with Jake in the first place,

Her heart was weak, and her son’s behavior never left her any room to breath. So the girl would dedicate much of her time to cooking meals for the widowed Ms. Nelson, bringing them over and sitting with her for hours on end, speaking with her of Jake’s childhood, memories of her late husband spending time with the boy along with it.

Her favorite stories throughout them all, though, were the ones of Jake’s childhood pup, a golden retriever called Benjamin.

Ms. Nelson loved to tell the story of how odd it was that the young boy chose the human name, rather than something frivolous and fun, like Buddy, or Peanut.

So a teary eyed version of the girl would think back to that story whenever Jake would behave in this manner, she would think of Benjamin and a youthful Jake, frolicking in the Oklahoma fields where Jake had grown up.

An extremely happy child, an even sweeter boy.

But no longer could she do so. Not now, after Jake had gone and betrayed her for some random girl.

Some random girl who would never sit with his mother for hours, listening to her weep about her broken son who she pretended to not notice was silently suffering. Some random girl who wouldn’t comfort him when he had a rough day at work, trying to be an active distraction so that he wouldn’t turn to his vice.

Because she had loved Jake Nelson, even if she wanted to pretend she didn’t.

And it hurt her to walk away, but she had to, for his own good.

Which led her to push the image of a golden fluff ball and the face of a smiling small boy out of her mind completely, weighing herself down to the present, meeting Jake’s sad emerald eyes. She walked forward, taking him by the shoulders. Her voice was hushed as she spoke.

“Jake. You’ve become someone I don’t know, someone that’s hard to love. But I did it anyway for a long, long time. Maybe some other time, perhaps even in another life, we can be together. But that all depends on you.

You’ve hurt me, and I can’t pretend you haven’t any longer, Jake. So go home. Please.”

Her eyes hunted through his, sifting for some sign of reassurance that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“But I love you-” He whispered, acting a stuttering mess. Everyone at the bar had gone back to whatever they were doing before he came into the room, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever mess it was obvious the two of them were in.

She took hold of the brown fabric of his coat, gently turning him towards the door. She walked behind him, her hand not leaving his back for some subconscious fear he would do something he would regret once he was of sober mentality.

She discarded it as nonsense;

But nevertheless, her death grip on him never faltered, even for a moment.

As soon as she made it outside, she waved over a cab, the bright yellow vehicle being the only completely visible object in the cool night.

It pulled over with a loud screech, leaving rubber tracks on the damp asphalt. She wrinkled her nose, before digging around her embroidered bag in a flurry, pulling together $5.27 exactly. She knew it would be enough to cover the long ride from the factory to his home, as the high cost of the ride was one of his many worries he did his best to forget in any way he could possibly fathom.

So she told the cabbie his address, helping Jake into the back of the car. He held her hand and looked up to her with pleading eyes. She squeezed it once before putting his back on his lap.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She smiled softly, briefly touching his cheek before shutting the door. She saw him look out the dirty window, before leaning back into the leather headrest and letting his tired eyes flutter to a close, finding momentary bliss, despite all going on around him.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, watching him until the taxi was just barely visible, to where calling it a yellow blob would be generous. But she followed it with her eyes not a moment later, for she had some explicable fear from a tall-tale her mother had told her long ago, about how you would never see someone again if you watched them off completely.

Whether that be by death or some curious mishap along the journey towards it, she never quite felt the urge to find out. And one could take that as a bitter yet nectarous testament to her feelings towards Jake, but even if she wanted to, she wasn’t even sure if she could herself.

She revolved in zombie like fashion, too caught up in her own world once more, to notice a certain brown haired (soon to be, not that he knew it) sergeant.

A stormy look of displeasure had casted itself across his stark features, but his cerulean eyes remained cordial, almost like a safe haven of calm waters to find refuge in.

And almost like in every cliche love story that ever was, she bumped into Bucky, gasping before transitioning into an expression of her regret, a waterfall of apologies gushing from her lips.

He called her by her nickname once more, catching her attention and making her heart skip a beat.

“Seriously, it’s alright, no harm done.”

She zipped her mouth shut, so to say, and just gave a curt nod before starting to go inside. And ever the gentleman, Bucky let her get halfway to the door before calling out her name. She turned once more, salty droplets beginning to roll down her face.

“Yes?”

He looked down to his feet and then to the bustling city street beside him. After much contemplation in the span of what felt like hours (but was only a few moments), he met her eye.

“I know it’s not my place, and if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, we don’t have to, but what happened in there-”

He paused, taking a deep breath in a futile effort to put his nerves at bay, keep the storm from shore to the best of his abilities. He puffed his cheeks, offering his arm before retreating it again, similarly to the way Jake had however many hours ago.

“You don’t deserve that.” He shook his head, left to right, his ungelled hair shiny under the yellow street lights, making him look like an angel.

“I know.”

He shuffled closer to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind howled around them in an agonizing manner, how lone wolves under a full moon would do the same.

They watched as their frosty breaths floated like smoke in the air, their faces illuminated by the storefront displays lining the streets from Christmas that was only a few days prior, leaving no time to take down the brightly colored decor. You could practically hear the animated Santa Claus’ “Ho ho ho!” from where he sat in the front of a toy store, beckoning those who walked past to come on inside and take a look, maybe spend a few dollars.

But to Y/n, it felt as if the cheery old man was simply mocking her as she was in her current state.

“Really, I mean that, I do.”

Now to reiterate, Bucky was a gentleman, that much was clear. So although he outright wanted to tell her that it seemed as if she didn’t realize her own worth and that, Hell, Steve could treat her better than that punk. But alas, he kept it to himself, only doing his best to comfort her, upsetting her further, never an intention in his mind.

She nodded, giving a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, really.”

She shivered, admiring the red and green lights around her, her glazed over eyes reflecting the image of them beautifully, almost like a work of stained glass art in her iris.

“You wanna head back inside? You look kinda chilly.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to stay out here for awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

All that was heard then, was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone, with the occasional car whizzing past. But then, she asked him to stay.

Her voice was soft, so much so, in fact, that she possessed what Bucky would say was mistakable for the voice of a mouse, which he would know after spending as many years around Steve that he had. He almost had missed it, but by some miracle, maybe a lucky star, he didn’t

So he turned around, not saying anything to disturb her seemingly exteriorly serene state, only walking up behind her, pulling off his jacket and placing it on top of her shoulders. He smoothed it out briefly, his touch feather light. For he wasn’t sure if he was breaching a certain level of intimacy, breaking any boundaries, with a woman who was practically a stranger.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded again.

“This is fine.” She closed her eyes, feeling much warmer now, but she was slightly torn on if the newfound comfort was accredited to the jacket resting upon her shoulders, or the company standing patiently beside her.

She was starting to think it might just be a little bit of both.

June 14th, 1943

The two's relationship (if you could call it that) was painstakingly slow, not that Bucky ever minded.

Word of the war and when, not who, would get drafted had spread, and any waking second for the past years, she was terrified the man she was developing ever strong feelings for would be ripped away with only a moments notice.

But regardless of that, she had a hard time trusting him, that much was true. It wasn’t his fault, not in the slightest. She wished more than anything to forget her past with Jake, but it was no use. So it took her much time to be able to trust James. But he was patient, and he always stayed.

So when he did get called away, it was a rude awakening.

She had only recently met Steve, before Bucky (who she still called James) was sent overseas. Her maternal instinct she didn’t even know she had immediately kicked into overdrive at first sight of the sickly boy, making her promise Buck that she would watch over him, much to Steve’s dismay. Although, there was no doubt in any of their minds she would in the first place, it was a given.

(Steve secretly loved the way she fussed over him, but he would never admit to that.)

The three of them had a lovely time at the Stark Expo the night before Bucky left, leaving a happy new memory for Y/n to drift to whenever she missed the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and his cologne, that was all uniquely him.

She would picture entangling her arms with Steve and Bucky’s own as she skipped happily, pulling the boys along behind her; not too rough of course, for Steve’s sake

She had been full of an electric happiness that night, stealing kisses with James when Steve wasn’t looking, a pink tint falling upon his plump cheeks. She stole his hat right off his head of hair that she loved to run her fingers through so much and put it on, crooked so much so it nearly fell right off. She wore it the whole rest of the night, Bucky wanting to never see her take it off, if it were possible.

Later that night when he took her home, she stood by the doorway, the porch light doing a sad job of lighting up the area, casting a faint amber glow across James’ features.

The hairs left astray from where she had Bucky’s hunter green cap previously were lit up, forming a halo.

She was a wondrous mess, and James simply adored her in that moment.

(He also adored her in any other instance since the minute he had laid his eyes on her, but the point still stands.)

You could smell the grass if you had tried, freshly cut and still damp from the late night shower they had run through while making their way home, turning through twisty alleyways, feet pattering against walkways.

Their hands had been slipping apart the entire time, perhaps an attempt by Freyr for a cruel joke in the last hours the lovers would spend together before James was to leave.

Maybe he was up in the sky at Mount Olympus, laughing down at the two mortals as the girl kept her hand gripped securely around the man’s stronger limb, refusing under any circumstances to let go. Maybe his laugh turned to a fond smile from above, finding pleasure in how his jest resulted in such an act of youthful care, not minding in the slightest that it had been counterproductive in the best ways.

“Thank you, James. I had an amazing night.”

He grinned ear to ear, awkwardly shuffling closer to her silhouette.

“Same here, doll.”

And just like that, she had crumbled like a coffee cake, another warm and itchy wave silking up her neck. Past the neckline of the uncomfortable dress she wore because she knew Bucky loved it (even though he would no longer love it and would insist she never wear it again if his ears heard any words of upset at the garment fall past her lips).

It traveled right past her best pearls with the rhinestone right in the center that she had made sure to wear because James had once told her that they made her eyes sparkle, that sly son of a gun.

The twinkle truly had been there solely because of him on that day and most others, but she would allow him to believe what he wanted to believe until the end of time, if it kept that boyish smile cemented on his pretty face.

But as it eventually always would, his smile began to falter, shifting into a slight pout, then into a full on frown as soon as her eyes had become visibly misty.

Bucky reached a hand forward snatching the cap from her head. She huffed, and he rolled his eyes as he placed it back on his head.

“I’ll be needing this tomorrow, sorry, sweetheart.”

They both laughed for a moment, the memories of the night still fresh in their young minds.

“I’m going to miss you, James.”

Her chin suddenly quivered, her nose ran, and her thoughts were racing at the speed of light.

She couldn’t lose him. No, not yet, she wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t ever be ready. She hadn't even begun to express to him how much she loved him, let alone that she couldn’t bear to live a day without him (as the information was quite new to her as well). So how in God’s name was she supposed to ship him off to war, just like that, practically a sitting duck for those bastard nazis to poke and prod at all they want?

“I’ll miss you more, darlin’. More than you know.”

They both made an attempt at watery smiles that ended up looking more like two painful grimaces, which was more of a reflection of their current moods than the aforementioned. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, anything. One of her quick witted facts, maybe a scolding perhaps, for having such a negative attitude in the current predicament.

Not able to stare at his collapsing facade any longer, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She quickly reciprocated, placing a strong hand on her waist.

There was a longing look in her eyes as the gears of her brain turned, carefully formulating what she wanted to say.

“Marry me.”

Well, formulating is a strong word.

He laughed at the notion, the sound ringing out and echoing off the small porch. But the whimsical tune soon halted when he realized he was the only one making it.

“Doll, are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life, James.” She moved her hands to take his, holding them up to her chest and shaking them as she spoke with a supplicate glance. He said her nickname in a careful manner, trying to articulate a response, muttering something about not having a ring, how their families (Becca included) would be furious they missed the wedding. But she was having none of it.

“Well I’m sure given the circumstances, they’d understand, and if they don’t then oh well. And quite frankly, as for the ring, I could care less, James, make a ring out of paper and slap it on my finger, it's all the same to me. We can go to the court tomorrow morning before I see you off-”

She moved her head down to where Bucky was gazing, tilting it back up with her pointer finger.

“Let me marry you, dammit.”

They laughed for a second, both of them this time, although her’s was much more convincing.

“But why now?”

She paused again, the only sound to be heard was the soft chirping of the crickets hidden in the grass.

“Because I know you're far too much of a gentleman to leave me widowed, James Barnes.”

He pressed soft kisses on her knuckles, meeting her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, only every day.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, pulling her in by the waist. He connected their lips, and felt her smile into the kiss. He also happened to feel a hand creeping up to where his hat rested on the crown of his head, but the feeling wasn’t prolonged.

She snatched it off his shiny locks with a devilish grin, a sparkle in her eye shining like the North star Bucky soon would be gazing upon at night to direct him through the dark nights.

“You should keep that on for forever, you know. Looks better on you, anyway.”

She raised a messy eyebrow, the corner of her bright red mouth turning into a smirk.

“Oh really, is that so?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, kissing her nose and watching in delight as it crinkled up and a high pitched giggle escaped from her lips. Then it was quiet for some time, the only thing able to be heard was the droplets of rainwater sliding off the roof and plopping on the floor as her and James stood in contemplation.

“I’ll marry you, doll.”

She smiled at him warmly, leaning into his larger frame completely, the scratchy green fabric of his uniform flush against her cheek.

“I know.”

He barked a loud laugh, and she felt it through the fabric covering his chest, savouring the feeling.

“You know? Well how did you know?”

She only sighed, moving to open her rickety front door, which the whole neighborhood probably knew judging by the squeak that echoed from it.

“Because, just as I said before. You’re a gentleman. You’d never turn down a proposal in public, especially not from me.”

Bucky’s face contorted, and the gears of his head turned as he made an honest effort at understanding how they were in public.

“But, we’re not?”

She shook her head, stepping into her home and then turning to face him straight on.

“Technically, we were on the patio, which is in the yard, which is in the neighborhood, which is in public. Now, if I were to propose to you right now with you-”

She tugged his arm, forcing him into the building.

“-also in my home, you would have every right to say no.”

She looked up, scanning his features. Admiring his cheekbones, his lips, and his sharp jaw. But most prevalently, she found herself absolutely enchanted by his eyes, as she always was.

“But I won’t.”

“But you won’t.”

She smiled, the look on her face resembling that of a fox smirking at her prey. She waltzed to the door, closing it softly.

“So,” she began, taking hold of Bucky’s hands.

“Tomorrow morning it is, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” She questioned, both of them having ideas that were entirely the same.

“I think I might have an inkling of an idea.”

She huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You and your ideas, James. Always ‘thinking’ of something new.”

He only hummed in agreement, nuzzling his forehead against hers, before moving down to her ear.

“I’d like to believe I act on those ideas. Would you agree?”

You can most likely guess her answer.

The next morning was a mixture of great sorrow and great joy all at once. Sure, they had to get up at the crack of dawn on what would be Bucky’s last chance to sleep in for a very long time, and sure, the minister had given them very strange looks, but it had been done.

And to the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Barnes, it was worth it completely.

But nearly as soon as the exciting event had ended, she was standing on the slimy pebbles of Brooklyn's Pier 57, doing her best to not lose her footing on the wet stones. She had given James one final goodbye kiss, before watching him board the Dominion Monarch to be shipped off to England.

The large vessel departed, and for once, she allowed a few tears to slip down her blushed cheeks, her smeared mascara coming with it, just as she knew it would. The bitter droplets were warm, a juxtaposition to the feeling in the pit of her stomach formed by the voice nagging at her that Bucky would never see her again. That her wedding day would be the last time she would ever see her husband. It was a possible reality she never wanted to have to face.

And after so long, she decided she was tired of waiting. So she made a call.

“Hello? Is this Agent Margaret Carter?”

December 25th, 1943

Bucky Barnes was not opposed to the idea of Y/n joining the army. He was appalled.

So when on the crisp morning of December 25th, it was quite a surprise when he opened what he had presumed to be a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas from his wife, and rather receiving some interesting news.

He had been laying his backside against a tree, the scratchy bark feeling rather uncomfortable. He smiled, smiled at the news of his wife going to war, not that he knew, when Steve handed him the parchment, taking another sip of some watered down joe from an aluminum cup, before excitedly ripping into it like a little boy.

“I wanted to save it for today,” Steve had told him, his chest puffed out in pride for keeping the secret for so long.

Bucky initially had found it humorous and exciting, why wouldn’t he have? But his mood soon changed after reading just a few lines in.

“James, my love,

I hope this message finds you and the rest of the boys in good health, tell them I wish them all a happy Christmas, as well. There really isn’t a simple way to put this, and I hope it doesn’t put a damper on your holiday spirit, but I’ve been tired of sitting around, so I’ve spoken to Steve’s friend, Agent Carter. I now have enlisted in the SSR as Agent Barnes.”

The paper clenched in his fist, his eyes screwing shut. He didn’t even bother reading the rest before standing up and walking over to Steve, a fiery look set in his eyes. Steve soon caught on to his anger, standing up and parting his lips as he neared.

“Steve, did you know?”

Steve, a horrible liar, shrugged, furrowing his brows. “About what? Buck, what's wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers! Did you know about her enlisting?”

At that, it went silent in the forest aside from the rustling of the branches, and the chirps of early rising blackbirds.

The rest of the Commandos turned, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Steve gestured for them to calm down and return to normal with a dramatic sweep of his arms, with most of them complying, but not without a few snarky comments from Dum Dum and Gabe protesting the treatment.

“Listen, I tried to stop her-”

“Well apparently, you did a horrible job. God, Agent Barnes. That’s what she'll be known as now. We'll have the whole bunch! Sarge and Agent, wow, we are gonna be one decorated family, ain’t that right, Steve?”

Bucky was ranting and rambling now, spewing angry nonsense at Steve as if that would change a thing. Steve felt a pang of guilt, hanging his head and biting his knuckle.

“Buck, is it a problem that she’ll be an Agent?”

Bucky paused, his nostrils flaring and his eyes slanting.

“Of course it’s a problem, Steve! If they put her in the field, God knows what’ll happen! What if I have to see that name on a plaque some day, huh? In a museum, in some memorial for fallen agents.” His arm put emphasis on every word he shouted, and his voice had grown raspy, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Steve sat his exasperated friend down, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It distressed Steve to see Bucky this upset, after all he had done for him over the years. So if he could try to make him feel even the slightest bit relieved, he would in any way he had to.

“Bucky?”

He looked up, his eyes red and nose puffy.

“Think about how you're feeling right now. The fear, the hurt, the anxiety, all of it.”

“Steve, I don’t get how this is going to help me-”

“Just trust me.”

Bucky nodded, slumping over again.

“That’s how she feels. That’s how she felt when the war was announced, how she felt when you submitted your draft, how she felt when you were called away, Hell, how she feels every second of every hour that you’re not with her.”

“Still not helping.”

“Shut up, jerk.” They laughed, Steve elbowing him in his shoulder. The sound echoed through the lush green of the space, the tension noticeably thinner.

“The point is, the pain that this all has caused for everyone is inevitable, inescapable. So learn from it, and savour it. In the long run, we’ll be okay, Buck. I promise you that.”

James bit his bottom lip, puncturing the chapped skin, the blood pounding in his head making it hard to process what Steve had said. But what he did manage to gather, was that they would be okay.

February 11th, 1944

“Peggy, I’m nervous.”

“What? Are you kidding? You must be kidding, you’re ridiculous.”

Peggy gave the girl a dirty look from where she stood behind her in front of the only full length mirror at the base, looking as she straightened out her skirt and touched up her “victory” colored lip.

“I’m not kidding, Peg. What if he’s mad?”

The other agent only laughed, briefly touching her on the shoulder before walking around her to where a map of the Hydra bases they had been tracking were laid out. Peggy fiddled with one of the flags for a moment, speaking to a soldier nearby. She impatiently tapped her crimson nails on the board, the sound driving her friend insane. Peggy then began to speak, not even looking up from where she stood, bent over as she examined something else.

“Darling, the only thing Barnes will be mad about by now, is not seeing you for so long. If he was angry before, he’s long forgotten about it, I assure you that.”

She nodded (even though nobody except a nosy recruit had witnessed it).

“You know what, I think you’re right. Thanks, Peg.”

Margaret half smiled, “mmhm” ing, but keeping her head down. She did, however, lift it up when she heard the other woman’s heels clicking in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me?” Peggy remarked, brows raised and her arms crossed.

Agent Barnes turned, her painted lips beckoning Peggy to go on in a most humorous manner.

“We aren’t done here! Get over here and help me mark this up, I’m nearly finished.”

She rolled her eyes, to which Peggy only rushed her more.

By the time they were done (spoiler, she was not almost finished) several hours had passed, and the camp was now lit only by the lanterns and the moon in the obsidian sky.

The stars were visibly bright that night, twinkling like small diamonds without the restriction of smoke from busy factories and the blockage of the ever so fascinating skyscrapers.

Mr and Mrs. Barnes both were watching the stars that night, smiling at the thought of the other doing the same.

Yes, even Bucky, smiling at the thought of his wife despite his neck developing a crick from having laid on the knapsack in the back of the truck for so long. A lovestruck glance was still plastered on his face as he stared up, the road bumpy underneath the wheels of the vehicle. His body would jolt as a cause from this every once in a while, but he paid it no mind, the soft smile staying put.

Steve watched Bucky’s facial expressions, a grin coming across his own features.

“You thinkin’ about her?”

Steve looked up to the sky.

“Always am.”

“I know you want to wait up for him, but I promise as soon as I get word of if he’s here, I’ll wake you. You need rest.”

The agent only smiled, her eyes staying trained on the stars above. “I’ll come to bed soon, Peg. I swear.”

But Margaret knew her friend all too well, so she simply bid her goodnight and shook her head.

She whispered, though her friend was too far away to hear her, laying on her backside and tucking her arms behind her head on the damp grass.

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

She had fallen asleep on the green that night, the stars wooing her into a slumber with thoughts of her beloved. She was only awoken when she felt the ground rumble beneath her, and heard the loud whirring of a hummer engine. She sat up, pressing her hands in the wet soil. She squinted and was barely able to make out two tall men jumping out from the back of the car.

She was initially unsure of who it was, but a shield being reflected on by the pale moonlight, and a hearty laugh soon confirmed her suspicions. She gasped and only to herself muttered Bucky’s name, picking herself up off the ground, running as fast as her feet could take her.

“James! James!”

He turned his head from where he was talking to Colonel Phillips, immediately recognizing the voice as his wife’s. By the time he had noticed, she was already to him, so all he could do was welcome her with open arms. Literally.

She jumped into his arms, planting kisses all over his face. He laughed and laughed, Steve, and the Colonel, too, cracking a smile at the two’s reunion. She pulled away momentarily, looking over his dirty face. She ran her fingertips over the scratches and gashes, still having a hard time believing that after all this time, even under all the grime and blood and sweat, it was truly him.

“Sarge, it’s been awhile.” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Same to you, Mrs. Barnes. Too long.” He commented, leaning forward and burying himself in her neck, allowing her to cradle him. He inhaled her perfume, taking the scent to memory for when he would inevitably have to go away once again, leaving her behind.

(So he thought.)

“That would be Agent Barnes to you.”

Bucky saluted, nodding and throwing a wink in her direction, before leaning in and planting a firm kiss to her lips that now only had remnants of red left around the edges from when she had applied it earlier on in the day. Their voices were now reduced to raspy whispers, both of them completely out of breath.

“Well either way, I’ve missed you greatly, Agent Barnes.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way.”

The two of them also felt extremely tired, leaving them to fall asleep that night packed side by side on a small cot in the corner of Steve’s tent. The brown sheets were horribly scratchy, and they had to mainly rely on each others bodies for heat. But despite this, all felt well, as if this new normal was finally worth it.

In the morning, Steve had wanted to let the pair sleep in as long as humanly possible. The sun rising was one thing the great Captain America couldn't prevent, though. So as yellow light began to stream through the barely there material of their temporary home, the Barnes’ were given a somewhat pleasant awakening.

Birds sang, bugs hummed, and the loud voices of Steve and Bucky’s soldiers could be heard, along with Steve occasionally hushing them if they came too close to their tent, still trying to preserve their well deserved rest.

The thought made her smile, eyes slowly coming to an open. Bucky’s hand grew tighter on her waist, running circles on the silky fabric by her hip. Hers delicately made its way to brush messy brown locks from James’ closed eyes, the feeling comparable to a feather tickling the bridge of his nose.

He scrunched it, blinking a few times, before commiting the view of waking up to the face of his wife for the first time to his memory, locked away to where Hydra would hopefully never take it.

“Good morning, Agent Barnes.”

She shook her head, snuggling further into his chest and stretching her arms. “Mmmhm, not right now.” He placed a confused hand on her back, tracing a line up and down.“I thought it was only Agent Barnes?”

“Not in bed, James.”She looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.”

It was quiet in the tent, then. But always the one to break the silence, Bucky began to speak, his morning voice so incredibly low that it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I mean, being my wife is a job in itself.”

They laughed, she shook her head and whacked his chest.

“Right you are.”

She stood up out of bed, shifting her hair to one shoulder with her hand. The glass on the face of her small watch reflected onto the walls, painting a rainbow stripe of light above Bucky’s head. She moved about, her babydoll pink colored slip moving along with her, almost as a toga would flow behind a goddess in the wind. James watched in amazement from his position propped up on his elbows, complete and total awe evident in his heart eyes for his wife.

God, how he loved to say that, and hear it roll off of his tongue. Just to think it, even.

His wife.

He truly was a lucky man. And as she felt holes being stared into her back, she turned and giggled at Bucky’s antics.

“Now, I know your mother taught a gentleman such as yourself that ogling at women is rude, hmm?” She questioned, throwing the discarded slip at Bucky’s peeping eyes, then pulling on her uniform and beginning to fix her hair and makeup. Fingers moved quickly and expertly as she went about, her red nails almost appearing to move so quickly they were blurring.

He scoffed, forcing his nimble fingers through his knotted hair that could have been comparable to the nest that the very birds that played a hand in awakening them had resided in.

“Even if that woman is my very beautiful wife who I haven’t seen since I went away for war?”

He looked up, eyes bluer than Bing Cosby’s. (Sure, she had only seen them in the magazines, but hey, they seemed quite nice.) She finished putting on her lipstick, walking over and placing a hand under his chin. He looked up in a dreamy haze, basically begging for her lips to be placed on his.

She rolled her eyes and placed a long and sweet kiss upon his plump lips, restoring some of the color that sleep had stolen from them. She giggled at the lipstick left on his ivory skin, wetting her thumb and smudging it in a poor attempt to remove it. He cocked his head like some sort of puppy, slimming his eyes in an amused confusion.

“I guess that’s an exception.”

She leaned forward, leaving a short peck on his forehead, before ruffling his hair and making her way out of the tent. She briefly stopped hanging onto the post that acted as a door of sorts.

“Also, brush your teeth and hair, James. You stink.”

They smiled goofily at each other and she bit her lip, bidding him goodbye. And with that, she was off.

It was later in the day, now, and Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the commandos were in with the Colonel, discussing an upcoming mission. Peggy and Agent Barnes were decoding some of the Hydra messages the commandos had gathered on their previous mission in their general vicinity at the same time.

The paper was yellowed and stiff under her fingers, her eyes could barely stay focused on the multiple symbols in front of her, practically jumping off the page, vibrating at a high frequency.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to free her mind of the distraction that was her husband and honorary little (not so much now physically, but still) brother planning what sounded like an incredibly dangerous mission.

It was like a buzzing in her ear, the mention of capturing one of Hydra’s most valued scientists, and risking their lives in the process. And of course, he often did do just that, risking his life.

But call it wife's intuition, (Is that a thing? She isn’t sure) but she had a horrible feeling about it in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her she should hug him a little tighter, kiss him a little harder, that kind of thing. And perhaps it could be discarded as the paranoia that had spread through many spouses as the war had started up, in fact, she wished it was.

Too lost in her own thoughts, it took Bucky’s hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance. He began to quietly and cautiously speak her name in his position.

She turned, jumping ever so slightly.

“Doll, you alright? Colonel was calling your name, you seemed real out of it.” He placed a hand on her forehead, then to her cheek, checking for any signs of a possible fever.

She didn’t reply to his concerns, only setting her hand utop his, leaning into him and closing her eyes. She opened them only moments later to see James squinting, his glance serious. He was quiet as he spoke, hesitating slightly. He muttered her name, trying to meet her eyes. He looked to see what was wrong, analyzing her, so badly wanting to fix whatever hurt there was lingering in her heart.

They stayed in that position for a while, the rest of the office seemingly standing still. She was the first to remove her hand, Bucky’s following suite.

“There’s a mission, in the Alps. Colonel wants you to come with the commandos and I, Peggy’s to stay here and work coms. He said something ‘bout needing someone who can sneak into places they shouldn’t be.” He chuckled, the sound bringing slight reassurance to her worrying mind.

“I’ll brief you tonight.”

She nodded, looking to her feet and whispering a quiet “okay”. They exchanged I love you’s, and then all that was heard was the faint clicking of James’ boots as he left her standing.

March 2nd, 1945

It was downright freezing in the Swiss forest.

And It would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the fact she had Bucky to keep her warm, the man acting as a living furnace despite the frigid temperatures. The trek to do recom on the train they were intercepting was treacherous, feet ached, fingers were frosted, and the group spent much of their time (minus Steve, he had done enough of that when he was a sickly 90 pound asmatic) complaining to Mrs. Barnes, much to her dismay.

Usually, she would tell them off with a shake of her head or a slap to the arm, discarding their whines are nonsense.

In return for putting up with said nonsense, the commandos took her under their wing, so to say.

They never treated her differently than the rest of the group (or else she would have probably made her displeasure known, which both James and Steven warned them heavily against). Sharing the scotch, poking fun. In fact, if it weren’t for the nature of their escapade, she would have gone as far to say that she was having fun.

The only exception to this treatment was if she had to change, oftentimes borrowing a henley of Bucky’s or a pair of his trousers, the extra fabric heating her up quite nicely. Bucky would stand in front of whatever tree trunk she was hiding behind, watching to make sure no wandering eyes made any shameful attempts to catch a glimpse.

But overall, they worked well together, and were beginning to grow into a family, not that any of them would admit it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re the chances this goes horribly wrong?”

He looked to his right to meet her eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife. They both turned back to the landscape of mountains, which were ironically quite beautiful. They were greeted with howling wind biting their noses and cheeks, causing her to let out a yelp, turning her head and tucking into Bucky’s arm briefly. He smiled and stroked the top of her messily tied back hair, allowing her to momentarily find comfort within his hold for what they didn't know would be the last time.

“With me? Nah, We’ll be alright. Zero to none.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his cocky behavior as she always would, his smirk settling her nerves.

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “We’ll be alright.”

March 4th, 1945

The brick remains of the pub were dimly lit by the lone street lamp standing bravely on the cobblestone, illuminating the puffy faces of the two sitting inside. Steve, stone cold sober, and Agent Barnes, drunk and with tears streaming down her flushed skin. The dust had barely settled; it could still be felt, burning her nostrils.

She heard heels, a telltale sign that Peggy had arrived, sorting through the rubble.

She had approached calmly, observing the situation. Steve muttered something about not being able to get drunk, earning some heartfelt speech from the other agent and a proclamation of a newfound fire for justice in Steve. But Peggy’s sorrowful glance soon became unreadable, then transitioning into one of anger and sympathy, however that was possible.

She tried calling the surviving Barnes’ name, voice stern. She snatched the bottle from her friends hand, noticing she had downed the whole thing.

She began some winded spiel, none of it processing, only a faint buzz in one ear out the other.

“I know you’re hurting, but James would have wanted you to pick yourself up, an-”

“He lied. You know that? The bastard lied.”

She wiped a singular tear from her left eye, staring blankly at the ring that still managed to shine even then, in what was close to total darkness in every sense.

“He said that we would be alright. That him and I would be okay. And then he went and you know what he did, Peg? He died.”

Steve looked up, and stood, walking to where she was across from him.

He gently tugged her up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

She was stiff as a board at first but slowly melted into it, realizing that it felt nice to be cared for by him like she did all those years ago, the favor being returned when she most needed it.

“We’ll fix this, I promise.”

She closed her eyes tighter, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I know.”

May 26th, 1945

“Steve, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go, grab the parachute and go, I’ll send your coordinates to Peggy! Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Steve, it’s alright.”

He met her eyes, water pooling in both of their orbs.

“I’ll be with him.” She forced a smile, taking hold of one of Steve’s gloved hands.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

The time was passing, they could hear the uncomfortable sloshing of the Arctic water below them, coming closer and closer. Jagged ice taunted them, glistening faintly in the light.

“Please, don’t do this to Peg.”

Steve had made his decision, as had she.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

The sound was difficult to decipher at the command center, static intercepting the voices of the pair as they bargained with death. But it was clear enough in order for everyone to realize what was happening.

Heads were bowed, tears fell, and even the Colonel allowed a salty drop to roll down his weathered cheek.

Steve and Peggy conversed, while Barnes sat next to Steve, closing her eyes. She was content. She was finally going home.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

Then, the line went dead.

“See ya, Rogers.”

2011

“This guy is still alive!”

“And the girl?”

The other man only shook his head.

2013

Skye dragged her finger along the etchings on the gray stone, mentally reading the names of fallen soldiers and agents.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history can be traced on walls like this.”

Then she came upon something peculiar. Her finger lingered momentarily, the name on the plaque bringing back memories of when she was a young girl in school, learning about James Buchanan Barnes, one of two Howling Commandos to have died in the line of duty. The other, she couldn’t quite seem to remember.

“Huh. Bucky Barnes.” She looked a moment longer, reading the script underneath James’ name.

“There was another Barnes?”

She turned to Agent Ward who was standing behind her, arms crossed and chin down.

“Yeah. They were married. Some say she put that plane in the water on purpose. That she could have left, but wanted to see him again after he died.

Puts it in perspective- What we do.”

2014

The lights in the exhibit were bright, too bright. Faces were plastered everywhere, familiar faces. The soldier felt lost without his handler, no direction whatsoever as he aimlessly wandered.

Aimlessly wandering, what a foreign concept. Not running from an enemy, or sneaking around, a shadow. Free to do whatever he pleases.

He saw his own reflection on a glass panel, information of who he supposedly was written next to it, about when he was born, when he had died. Videos playing on repeat of him and Steve nearby caught his attention, leading him to slowly make his way towards the shiny screen. He saw himself laugh, smiling with whoever this Steve guy was.

Then the screen switched to him and a girl.

In a slight contrast, the girl was the one laughing this time, her smile igniting something within the soldier, overwhelming him with a flurry of emotion and realization.

He panicked, turning to his left, only to see her again, standing next to him in a large mural. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A voice began to speak, clouding his senses even more.

It spoke about Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers, how they were “inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It continued, and his confusion grew even further. It mentioned a girl who had what he learned to be his last name.

Not a mother, or a sister, but a wife.

“They became the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

Her name rang in his head, over and over again. He was married, he had a wife.

Had.

He walked up to where her clothes were displayed under her portrait, reaching a tentative hand out and feeling the fabric, rough from time. He could remember doing that before, but the fabric was silkier, then. It was different as a whole. It was pink satin, and the wearer was his wife, he now could see.

He was in a tent, laying on a scratchy cot, the girl laying with him, in his arms.

“Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.” Her smile and laugh were heavenly, her voice like honey. Her touch was smooth and left a tingle in its wake, bringing peace to his bustling mind.

Then he was suddenly back in the museum, hand still planted firmly on the hem of the shirt.

“Excuse me? Sir? You can’t be touching that.”

The soldier turned, facing the scrawny worker. His glasses were too large, hair too short, and pants 2 sizes too big. He gulped, doing a double take from the mural of James Barnes (who last time he checked a history book, had his remains somewhere buried under piles of ice and snow in the mountains of the Alps) and the man in front of him, who matched the recently trending image his coworker showed him of the Winter Soldier, the assassin who had over two dozen kills under his belt.

And if this were a mission, the soldier would have killed the man, executed him without second thought.

But now, he had free will. He had a choice.

So he chose to mutter a low “sorry” under his breath, pulling his baseball cap further over his brow and exiting the facility as quickly as possible.

The worker quit that night.

2016

A feed began to play on the tiny screen that Tony, Steve, and Bucky were crowded around, no video, just black with a thin line, moving in accordance with the audio. The sound was choppy, like it had been modified.

Zemo’s beady eyes slanted, a cold smile growing on his bearded face.

“I’ll be with him.”

“What the hell is this?” James yelled the question aimed towards both Zemo and himself.

But Steve knew exactly what it was, knew that voice, knew the feeling of the cold water enveloping him as he did his best to keep her warm in her final moments, a final favor for both Bucky and his wife.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

It was quiet, the line stopped moving.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

“See ya, Rogers.”

The audio cut out.

“It’s her.” Bucky’s metal fist audibly clenched, his eyes darkening.

“You let her die, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“You killed her! I had a wife, and you let her die!”

Steve backed up, instinctively raising the shield from Bucky once more.

“That was her choice, Bucky.”

He was calm. Too calm.

“I don’t give a damn what her choice was, you should’ve pushed her out of that damn plane if you had to.”

“She wouldn’t have survived that fall, Buck, even with a parachute, she probably would have drowned, or gotten hypothermia or-”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky rushed forward, anger infiltrating every fibre of his being. He threw a punch with his metal arm, a loud clang ringing out as it collided with the vibranium shield.

2024

“We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

The room was pitch black aside from the blinking light on the record player, letting Bucky know that power was still running through the wires of the machine, keeping the same song spinning, over, and over, and over again.

The same one that’s been playing for the past 2 months. Over, and over, and over again.

The door creaked, sending a stream of light cascading across Bucky’s ridden features from his place where he was sat staring blankly at her tags laying in his flesh hand. He had started wearing them when she insisted, just in case anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to have a physical reminder of her. He had refused to give her his own, not wanting to admit anything might go wrong to where she would need them.

What a joke.

Zola had recovered them from around his neck, later to be stored away and then found by Steve in 2015 during a Hydra base invasion. He had immediately recognized the name pressed onto the material, and assumed someone who was an undercover agent snagged them during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., never thinking anything more of it.

“This isn’t healthy, man.” Sam spoke softly from the door, his hand never leaving the doorknob.

“When we got snapped away, I didn’t mind it.”

Sam opened the door even more, sliding in the slim crack, closing it behind him.

Bucky’s glance never faltered.

“I thought that maybe, I’d finally see her again. And, I know it was selfish-” He laughed dryly, meeting Sam’s warm eyes.

“But she wasn’t there. When I died, she wasn’t there.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, now, and he was unsure of how to proceed with the fragile shell of a man in front of him.

“Then everyone came back 5 years later, she still wasn’t there.” He chuckled once more, feeling over her name on the plates, tossing the chain over his head. It was quiet, the record stopped.

“And this sounds crazy, but I got to thinking, that she must still be alive-”

“You know she’s gone, Bucky.”

James stood up, walking over to Sam, a terrifying blaze set in his eyes. He was frantic, hands moving about the air, neck straining.

“She’s not, Hydra has her! I’m certain, just like they had me. What else would explain her not being there?”

“You’re in denial,”

“No, I’m not! She’s waiting for me! She’s waiting for me to come find her, Sam!” He yelled, every word louder than the last.

And Sam Wilson had enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed James by the wrist, taking his chances.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some sense into you.”

More yelling and fighting ensued, all the way to the car, Bucky only ceasing his behavior upon realizing where they were heading. He was silent, then.

Getting out of the vehicle, they stepped onto freshly wet soil, green patches fading to a burnt orange, the rain a poor attempt at revival. They could hear their own footsteps all the way to their final destination, turmoil settling in.

“Why’d you take me here, Sam?”

It had started raining, the cold droplets making his hair stick to his forehead, and his tears invisible.

Mere inches before him sat two headstones, both fairly worn. The first, reading “Cap. Steven Grant Rogers, a true American hero. Loving brother, friend, and son.”

The second? Her.

Most of the words all blended together, it was clear Steve’s was the only one that had any regular visitors, willing to clean off any dirt or grime, or occasionally bring flowers (always red roses for Cap, as for his wife, he hoped that when it did happen, it was her favorites, lilies. He doubted it was, though).

The only words that managed to stick out, at least to him, were “Barnes” and “loving wife”. He inhaled, capturing the scent of fresh rain and roses, grounding him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, but she’s gone, you know?”

He nodded, squatting down in an awkward position.

“Can I have a minute?”

Sam nodded, turning to go.

“‘Course, I’ll be in the car.”

Bucky waited until he could no longer see the outline of the shorter man, before taking the tags off from where they rested around his neck, positioning them utop the marble slab. He gathered a few weeds, messily shoving them into the vase, dirt and stray blades of grass falling all over the place. He tried to brush it off, only creating a sludge-like watery mixture.

He leaned forward, taking hold of the hard stone.

“I’m coming for you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll find you.”

“Bucky?” Sam yelled from the car, confused at the extended amount of time his friend was taking.

James turned, yelling over his shoulder, “Coming!”

Once Bucky got back to the car, Sam reached over and patted his back, starting the engine.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

James only smiled, looking out behind him to where they all said was her final resting place, excitement for the future running through his veins.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting further back into the seat, closing his eyes.

“I’ll be alright.”

·。·☆·。·。

hi!

disclaimer: (skip if u dont care) so i’ve had personal expiriences w alcoholism, and my pov has changed so much on the disease and as well as how to handle it w more empathy, and i just hope that is conveyed. my hope w my work is never to upset or offend anyone, and i hope u enjoyed. if u have a prob w anything, shoot me a message or ask to chat :)

go drink water, eat protein (if u can!) and take an electronics break. i love u,

xx hj

139 notes · View notes

maybedefinitely404 · 5 years ago

Text

Day 2: Roceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 2: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate

Content warning: vague neglectful/bad home life mentions, liquor store mention (no drinking), implied past parental death.

Word count: 2.6k

When they first met, they didn’t like each other. Would they go so far as to say they hated each other? Probably not. But it was no secret that Roman and Janus didn’t get along, even if they traveled in a mutual friend group. If the two interacted at all, it was in snide remarks and gripes that had everyone else in the group groaning in annoyance. They just wanted five minutes of peace, that’s all. Just five minutes.

Roman was too preppy, Janus said. He was loud and abrasive and presumptuous and arrogant, an annoying theatre boy with too much energy. Other’s feelings came second to his dramatic and overplayed grievances.

Janus was too self centered, Roman retorted. He was untrustworthy and creepy and a compulsive liar, a loner with a mysterious backstory. Everything about him was kept hidden under a mask of indifference.

These things were true to some extent, but the group still loved them both too much to reject either one. So they both stayed, bothered by the other’s presence and unwilling to admit that maybe they disliked the other because they were so similar. They were both extravagant and theatrical and burdened with concealed insecurities, points that all of the rest of the group brought up regularly and they both vehemently denied.

It all changed one morning during school, on a regular Wednesday with average weather after an uneventful English class, when Roman got overly excited at the cast list for the newest show being put up and dropped his art bag. Without a second of hesitation, Janus crouched to help him collect the supplies that had flown across the hallway. That was when Roman’s sleeve slid up, as he was reaching for a paint pen that had rolled up against a locker, and Janus nearly choked.

00:00

He blurted out his accusation before he could stop himself.

“You said you haven’t met your soulmate! And you call me secretive?”

Roman snarled almost animalistically, covering his completed timer back up and grabbing the now full bag off the ground.

“If you must know, my timer’s always been like that. I don’t know when it ran out; too young to remember. I don’t even know if it was ever counting down in the first place. Defective.” He flicked the numbers on his wrist.

“Does anyone else know?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the uncharacteristic sympathy in Janus’ voice. “Just Remus.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Why all the questions, Fibber on the Roof? Since when do you care about anything I do?”

Janus was quiet, breathing out a frustrated breath before folding down the bottom of his gloves, the same gloves that Roman taunted daily for making him look like every single Disney villain, the same gloves that made Roman turn to the rest of the group and insist that the guy was hiding something. Turns out he was right.

“My timer’s out too. I was too young to remember as well.”

Roman wasn’t able to respond, and Janus was surprisingly relieved. The silent solidarity in the other’s eyes was enough of an olive branch, just another thing they had in common. It was a pain the others didn’t understand, a frustration that couldn’t be fixed. So if from that point on, the bickering lessened and they finally allowed their shared interests to overlap, they surely wouldn’t be the ones to bring it up.

That’s how they found themselves, almost half a year later, sitting on the swings of a musty playground near Janus’ house, watching the sunset in an unspoken agreement to put off going back until absolutely necessary. It was just another thing they had in common; shitty home life. They didn’t talk about it much, because they knew how much it sucked to discuss, so they let the facts stand at the forefront and the nitty gritty emotions and smaller mental repercussions stay healthily buried. What did it matter? Their parents were awful, ‘nuff said.

“I just think it’s ridiculous, the amount of time he spent writing it.”

“He wrote and composed an entire play single handedly, J! Not a single word of it is dialogue, and it all rhymes! You try doing that in seven years.”

“I’m just saying, doesn’t it come to the point where you have to admit it’s too much work? Did he even know for a fact it would be successful?”

“He made it work, didn’t he? That’s what faith is for.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s what makes Lin Manuel Miranda a god, and you, a worm.”

Janus gasped and raised a mock hand to his chest, drawing a loud laugh from Roman. While the shorter of the two still wore his gloves daily, the other had slowly gained the confidence to wear short sleeves and display his empty timer, though god help the fool who asked him anything about it. The conversation with the group had gone well, though Jan hadn’t admitted that his situation was the same. They hadn’t known him as long, and they both agreed that it was a sensitive topic. Roman didn’t push him.

“The sun’s setting.”

“I had no idea,” Janus smirked, although the implications of the fast approaching darkness made a pit settle in his stomach.

“We don’t have to leave yet. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I don’t really get in trouble that often,” The shorter murmured, kicking his feet in the dust under him, “She’s more just... forgetful. Ignorant. I’m not even sure she fully knows I exist all the time.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at the first bit of information he’d learned about Janus’ home life, besides knowing it was just ‘bad’. He was debating between quietly prodding him to continue or to just let it sit when Janus made the choice for him.

“The other day she asked me to go to the liquor store for her and literally didn’t believe me when I said I’m only eighteen. Then again, she’s forgotten my birthday for the last, what, ten years? So I guess she just lost track, got ahead of herself. I don’t know.”

“When’s your birthday?” It was the only response Roman could think of.

“August seventh,” He whispered, almost like it was a dark secret he was scared to admit.

“Wait, actually?”

Janus turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah?”

“You’re joking. This is a joke, right?”

“I can probably find my birth certificate if you need proof. Why are you losing your shit?”

“That’s my birthday too!”

Janus matched Roman’s face splitting grin with one of his own, his worries slipping away. They’d all been irrational anyways, so good riddance. He quickly settled his face into a more neutral one, the unusual expression hurting his cheeks. A calm air settled between them as their eyes locked, almost in a trance, before Janus snapped out of it and turned his attention to the pink hues of the dimming sky.

“What are the chances?”

There was a lot Roman didn’t know about the newest member of the friend group, he realized after dropping Janus off at home and starting the walk back to his. Usually he’d pop in his earbuds, taking the longest back roads and detours to put off arriving even more, but today his head was lost in his thoughts. What else didn’t he know about the blond boy he was so infatuated with?

Two weeks later, Janus edged the front door of his house open, calling out a tentative “Mom?” before pushing it open all the way and pulling Roman in. There was no answer through the empty halls so he yanked the taller boy upstairs, praying that his mom wasn’t home instead of just ignoring his call. It wasn’t until he shut his bedroom door and leaned heavily against it did he remember to breathe, meeting Roman’s eyes shakily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Parent’s are…”

“Yeah. It’s better if she doesn’t know you’re here.”

Roman nodded, finally looking around the room. One wall was completely adorned with old records, some cracked in places or missing pieces entirely. He found himself drawn to it, running a finger down the closest one to him as Janus collapsed on his bed, ruffling the yellow blanket beneath him. He took a moment to pull off his gloves, revealing his soulmark, a secret that only Roman had the honor of seeing. An old jukebox stood proudly in the corner, covered in a fine layer of dust.

“You definitely have an aesthetic,” Roman hummed, taking notes on the implications of the dust and not approaching the old machine. If Janus didn’t touch it, neither should he. Instead he sat down at the other’s desk, spinning himself lazily in the chair.

“It was all my dad’s old stuff. He loved music and antiques a lot. The record player was his, too.”

He followed Janus’ gaze and nodded, overly tempted to take one of the records from the wall and trying to play it, but knowing that would only end badly. The record player was covered in the same thin sheet of dust.

“Holy Hera, is that a baby picture of you?” His mind, apparently unable to stay on one topic for more than ten seconds, had decided to focus on the framed picture on the bedside table. He crossed the room and sat next to Janus on the bed, leaning closer to the photo but not daring to touch it. He inspected the woman, who could only be Janus’ mother, holding the tiny bundle and smiling weakly at the camera, her eyes tired and hair tied in a messy bun.

“Yeah,” Janus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “That’s the only picture I have with her. She hates cameras, always said she was self conscious and shit. It sucks that the only one I have, I don’t even remember taking.”

Roman knew he should respond to the surprisingly vulnerable statement, but his eyes had zeroed onto the still slightly slimy, wrinkly baby in the photo. Its little fists were tucked against his face, eyes closed peacefully, a moment of bliss that time forgot. That’s not what caught his attention, though. He squinted, edging just that much closer to the photo.

“You were born at Jacob Banks Memorial Hospital? I thought you lived in Chicago before you moved out here.” The tiny golden embroidery in the edge of the blanket was just focused enough to make out, as if he didn’t have an identical blanket at home, stashed under his bed in a box of other memories that were too special to throw away. He’d run his finger over the stitching a hundred times, reread the words and committed the blanket to memory, just for that high of simple childhood. And now, here was Janus as a baby, swaddled in the same blanket.

From the same hospital.

From the same day.

“Yeah. My parents were visiting relatives in town when my mom went into early labor. We didn’t end up actually moving here until a couple years ago.” Janus didn’t seem to notice the gears turning in Roman’s head as he reached forward, plucking the picture off the table and bringing it closer to his face. He tapped the glass, just above baby Janus’ arms.

“Right there, my timer. It’s just a few minutes left. I met my soulmate as a baby and no one cared enough to check who it was.”

“Janus.”

“I called the hospital as soon as I was old enough to comprehend, but they said they couldn’t help me. Didn’t have a record of anything to do with soulmates. Some help, huh.”

“Janus!”

“What? I’m trying to be melodramatic, Roman.”

“That’s the same hospital I was born in.”

“Okay? It’s the only one in town, I’m not overly surprised-” The lightbulb went off, and his head jerked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

They both were quiet for a moment, like the whole house was holding it’s breath, before Janus finally spoke, his voice a choked whisper. “Imagine with me, if you will,” he murmured, taking the picture and inspecting it closely. Not so much for sake of searching for details he wouldn’t have missed the hundreds of hours he spent inspecting the photo, more so just to avoid looking at the person beside him. “Two babies, born in the same place on the same day, put into the same small hospital nursery. They see each other, and click, their timers are out. Except both their parents don’t give a flying rat’s ass-”

“And so they never realize they met, and live their entire lives shrouded in mystery,” Roman finished quietly, suddenly terrified of the new ice they were walking on.

“Hypothetically, of course.”

His head snapped up and the spell was broken, meeting Janus’ pale eyes and jumping to his feet, flapping his hands to dispel his nervous energy. “Okay. Okay! That could… that could make sense! All signs point that way, right?” He began to pace the length of Janus’ room, head tilted towards the ceiling, “And I mean, god, I’ve liked you for how long now? So I’m definitely not upset!”

“You’ve what?”

“Alright, so we can call the hospital, or go there, or something! I’m sure they can tell us how many babies were born that day, that doesn’t seem like confidential information, right? And if it was just us three, you, me, and Remus, then that’ll settle it!”

“Wait, no, Roman, stop!”

Janus launched himself at Roman before he could click the call button on the Google search of the hospital, already dedicated to his plan. He ripped the phone from his grasp and tossed it onto the bed after pressing the power button, grabbing Roman’s hands tightly.

“Jan, what the hell? That’s the only way we’re going to know for sure if we’re-”

“But what if we’re not?!”

The two settled into silence after the outburst, searching each other’s faces intently. They both shared scared expressions, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness, the possibility of years worth of questions finally being answered. The promise that their two soulmarks weren’t dysfunctional, weren’t broken, and fate that had led them together one way or another.

But what if they weren’t?

“What if it’s a coincidence? What if you find out that your mom checked out before mine even got there, or our paths never could have crossed, or there were twenty babies born that day and there’s no sure way to know that we are each other’s soulmates? What if you find out that your soulmark said two years and mine ran out with someone else completely?”

“You’re starting to sound like Virgil,” Roman said quietly, almost fondly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“Roman, if you’re my soulmate, I’d be elated,” Janus’ hushed tone matched his, “But I don’t know what I’ll do if I build my hope and then find out it’s not true.” They were quiet again, and Janus was suddenly hyper aware that he was still holding Roman’s hands, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He fought the urge to look away, look anywhere other than Roman’s bright eyes, because this was the closest they’d ever been and he was scared one flinch might break the charm they were in.

“We don’t have to check,” the taller whispered, “If you are, I’m content just… believing it.”

“You always were a cheesy romantic.” The phrase was meant to be cutting, but the uncontainable grin across his face greatly lessened its impact.

“I’m a Disney lover, what can I say?”

Janus snorted, dropping his head on to Roman’s shoulder, his heart nearly stopping altogether when the taller boy wrapped his arms around him and pulled them a step closer together. “So we’re agreeing on this? That we’re soulmates?” His voice was muffled against Roman’s shirt.

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Fuck the system, right?”

“Overthrow the government. Commit arson in the name of anarchy. Society is a prison.”

“Dramatic, and that’s coming from me,” Roman drawled, rocking them back and forth slowly, dancing to unheard music, “Hey, Janus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#tsshipmonth2020 #lywrites #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #soulmateseptember #tw abuse #tw neglect

189 notes · View notes