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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Note

hi bestie! xmas request for u <333 could you do one where the avengers clearly know that peter and the reader like eachother, so they (very undiscreetly) place mistletoes literally everywhere in the hq to get the lil babies of the groups to kiss? thank uuuuuuu love u!

Under The Mistletoe

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Masterlist

“Good morning everyone.” You greeted the Avengers as you walked in the kitchen one morning.

“Good morning.” Peters eyes followed you as you sat down next to him at the table. “I made you hot chocolate.”

“You did? You’re so sweet.” You took the mug from him and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

“Well you mentioned last night that you were always freezing in the morning so I thought this would warm you up.” Peter smiled sweetly at you, face flushed from the kiss.

“You’re too good to me. I was gonna put some whip cream on it. Do you want some?” You offered as you went to the refrigerator.

“Sure. Thank you.” Peter nodded as you put some whip cream on his hot chocolate. The rest of the Avengers watched the interaction, exchanging knowing glances every once in a while.

“So, what did you guys do last night?” Natasha asked curiously as she leaned on her hand.

“We went on patrol together and then walked around the city. It was snowing so it was really pretty.” You smiled as you remembered the night before. Natasha and Bruce made eye contact, giving each other a knowing look.

“Didn’t you get cold?” Bruce asked for his own amusement.

“My suit has a built in heater.” Peter told him.

“But Y/n’s suit doesn’t.” Tony added, understanding what was going on.

“Peter had his arm around me so the heat kept us both warm.” You told them as you sipped your mug, making everyone gush.

“Uh huh.” Tony nodded as he watched Peter put his arm around your chair. “So you went for a moonlit stroll through the city. Pretty romantic, don’t you think? Was it a date?”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “No.”

“We’re just friends.” You nodded a few too many times.

“You got some whip cream on your face.” Peter noticed the white dollop on your nose.

“Oh. Oops.” You laughed in embarrassment and went to wipe it off.

“I got it.” Peter wiped your face with his thumb, leaving both of you in a blushing mess.

“Thanks.” You giggled, gazing lovingly into his eyes.

“Right. Just friends.” Rhodey grimaced as he watched the disgusting love fest in front of him.

“So what are you doing today?” Natasha asked, finding the whole situation hysterical.

“We were gonna watch some holiday movies in my room before patrol.” Peter told her.

“Speaking of that, do you want to get started?” You asked him. “We have a lot to get through.”

“Sure. Bye guys.” Peter waved before resting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out of the room. Once you left, the Avengers let out the collective laugh they had been holding in.

“So…they’re in love, right? We can agree on that?” Tony asked as he looked around the room, seeing everyone nod at him.

“I have never seen anyone so whipped.” Rhodey laughed as he sipped his coffee.

“How have they not admitted their feelings?” Nat asked the room. “It’s so obvious.”

“This is worse than me and Nat.” Steve commented.

“Or me and Nat.” Bruce added.

“Or me and Nat.” Tony agreed.

“When are those crazy kids gonna get together?” Steve chuckled as he opened the newspaper.

“This gives me an idea.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he got a familiar devilish glint in his eyes.

“Oh no.” Steve recognized the glint. “This can’t be good.”

“By the end of the holiday season, I want Y/n and Peter to be together.” Tony said decidedly. “This will require a group effort in making it happen. In the weeks leading up to the holidays, I expect each and every one of you to get our dear Peter and Y/n to realize they like each other.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Nat humored him.

“You will all plant mistletoe somewhere in the building.” Tony grinned wickedly. “The mistletoe that gets the most kisses out of them wins.”

“Wins what?” Bruce asked, just as intrigued as the rest of the team.

“Whatever you want. I don’t know if the giant building with my name on it gave it away, but I have money.” Tony stated. “Lots of it. Or how about this, the winner can pick and design a new room to be added to the tower.”

“I could use a physical therapy room.” Rhodey spoke up. “I don’t know if you guys remember, but my legs don’t work on their own anymore ever since I fell out of the sky.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” Steve realized.

“Yeah. Nobody really talks about that.” Bruce agreed.

“I think we could all benefit from a new training room.” Nat threw in. “The old one has a permanent sweaty man smell.”

“We already have a training room. What we really need is some personal up keeping. Keeping myself this blonde is not cheap. A hair parlor in the building would be nice.” Steve suggested.

“Parlor.” Tony chuckled under his breath.

“I second that.” Bucky piped up.

“Of course you do, Jared Leto.” Tony teased.

“We don’t need a hair salon. What we need is another lab.” Bruce declared.

“Or a ballet studio.” Nat gasped.

“I think we should install an Olive Garden.” Bucky shrugged.

“How about a room full of murals of myself?” Thor smiled. “You can all gaze upon them and push yourself to stop being tiny and small.”

“Or another gym.” Rhodey shrugged.

“Or a wine cellar. But for beer! A beer cellar.” Thor cheered.

“We can discuss the room later.” Tony quieted everyone down. “If you really want these things, get the kids together. You know what you have to do.”

Tony

You and Peter often ate breakfast together in the same spot everyday, and Tony used that information to his advantage. He skillfully hung some mistletoe above your usual seats and patiently waited for your arrival. Soon enough, Tony heard your footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Hey Petey.” You rubbed Peter’s back before taking a seat next to him. “Hi Mr. Stark.”

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled before looking up and gasping. “Oh golly gee, would ya look at that? Mistletoe! Who put that there?”

“Oh, wow.” Peter said as he looked up to see mistletoe hanging above the two of you. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have looked up if you hadn’t pointed it out.” You said skeptically as you eyed Tony.

“Ha.” Tony forced a laugh. “Well, now you see it. Bye!”

He quickly left the room and hid behind a wall where he could watch his plan unfold.

“That wasn’t at all weird.” You chuckled as you turned in your seat.

“He probably put Red Bull in his protein shake again.” Peter laughed as well, fingers brushing yours a little on the table.

“Yeah.” You nodded, suddenly feeling awkward now that you were both aware of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. You both looked away from each other, red in the face and sneaking occasional glances at the plant.

“I, um, I’ve never actually seen mistletoe in person before.” Peter said to break the silence. “I’ve only heard about it in songs.”

“Me too.” You nodded rapidly. “Or in movies and stuff.”

“Yeah.” Peter gulped. “And stuff.”

You looked at each other for a moment, shy smiles on your faces.

“I mean, since it’s both of our first times getting caught under it, it’d be a shame not to honor the tradition.” You suggested sheepishly as you averted your eyes.

“Right.” Peter said quickly. “It’s tradition. We basically have to.”

“Yeah. It’s practically a right of passage for the holiday season.” You said simply as you leaned closer to Peter.

“Exactly.” Peter agreed, leaning in as well. Your faces were almost touching now, just a few more inches until contact.

“Um.” You let out a nervous laugh before shutting your eyes and leaning in. Peter met you the rest of the way, your lips connecting directly under the mistletoe. You smiled a little into the kiss before pressing your hand to his cheek to keep him in place. Peter pulled away after a minute, gazing fondly in your eyes as he opened them. He’d been waiting to kiss you for the longest time, and it was just as perfect as he imagined.

“Thanks.” Peter said, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment after he said it.

“You’re welcome.” You laughed at him, squeezing his shoulder in admiration.

“I’m glad we could, erm, fulfill the tradition.” Peter laughed at his own awkwardness as he shook his head.

“Me too.” You nodded with a flushed face. “I feel more in the holiday spirit already.”

“Same, same.” Peter trailed off, looking around the room to distract from the awkwardness.

“Can we just pretend that didn’t happen and eat our breakfast?” You requested, looking at him shyly.

“Please.” Peter agreed. “It never happened.”

Rhodey

Bruce was making his way to the lab when he saw Rhodey hiding behind a wall, staring at hanging mistletoe.

“Why are you standing here?” Bruce whispered as he stood behind Rhodey.

“I told Y/n to meet me in the kitchen and I’m sending her a bunch of texts so she keeps her eyes on her phone. I also told Peter to meet me in the theater. They’ll have to go through that doorway where I strategically placed mistletoe. Once they bump into each other, they’ll have to kiss and I’ll get a point.” Rhodey explained his masterplan in a hushed tone.

“Why do you want them to bump into each other? Can’t they just see each other in the doorway?” Bruce whispered back.

“Man, have you ever seen a romantic comedy?” Rhodey sighed. “The girl has to bump into the boy so he knows she’s clumsy and not like other girls.”

“I think you’re getting a little too invested in this. It’s just a room.” Bruce reminded him, beginning to think he was behind on the contest.

“Its not about the room.” Rhodey insisted. “I just want to beat Rogers and his stupid parlor.”

“Shh.” Bruce hushed him. “Here they come.”

Bruce and Rhodey watched as you and Peter smacked into each other in the doorway.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Peter said as he caught you from falling.

“That’s okay. I wasn’t looking either.” You smiled at him, staying in his arms.

“How are you gonna get them to notice the mistletoe?” Bruce whispered.

Rhodey silently took out a large fan and switched it on, sending a breeze towards you and Peter. The breeze made the bells on the mistletoe chime, causing you and Peter to look up.

“Is that mistletoe?” He asked as he pointed to it.

“It looks like it.” You commented. “I guess Mr. Stark decorated the tower.”

“Kinda crazy we got caught under it twice.” Peter chuckled nervously, hoping he’d get the chance to kiss you again.

“I know. But hey, it’s tradition.” You shrugged, also hoping you’d get to kiss him.

“Yeah. Tradition.” Peter was barely listening to himself speak as he stared at your lips. You laughed a little as your arms went around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was just as good as the first time, if not better. You pulled away after a moment and sighed against his mouth.

“I, um, I gotta meet Rhodey in the nitchken.” You stumbled over your words.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to see him in the popcorn palace.” Peter spoke, not even knowing what he was saying.

“I’ll see you later, Petey.” You squeezed his arm gently and made your way to the kitchen.

“Bye.” Peter mumbled before going to the theater. Rhodey turned to Bruce with a boastful grin and held a finger to symbolize the point he has just gotten. Bruce swallowed nervously, realizing he had to get on it if he wanted to win.

Bruce

“Banner.” Tony came to Bruce’s side with a suspicious look. “You look awfully devious today.”

“You’re much more likely to walk next to someone than to be caught under a doorway with them. That’s why I put a bouquet of roses and mistletoe on the table between their rooms. Every time they pass it, they’ll have to kiss.” Bruce explained as he turned to Tony with bloodshot eyes. He had been working on the plan all night and it showed.

“You unsuspecting genius.” Tony gasped.

“How is that unsuspected?” Bruce deadpanned. “I’m a certified genius. That’s why I was recruited.

“Yeah? And I’m a certified freak. 7 days a week.” Tony said as he stared at the bouquet of mistletoe. It didn’t take long for you and Peter to come out of your rooms and meet in front of the bouquet.

“Hey, Petey.” You greeted him. “What are you up to?”

“I was gonna grab a snack and then watch Dance Moms compilations.” Peter told you.

“Without me?” You pretended to be offended.

“I was gonna ask you to join.” Peter rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“I’d love to.” You smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, is this mistletoe?” Peter realized the bouquet right as you were about to leave.

“Damn, it’s everywhere, huh?” You laughed as you touched the roses, warmed by the color.

“Do we still have to kiss of its not over our heads?” Peter wondered.

“Yes!” Bruce whispered sharply.

“You heard that too right?�� Your eyes widened as you looked around for where the voice came from.

“Yeah. I thought it was my conscience.” Peter sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered from the bouquet to Peter, back to the bouquet.

“I mean, we might as well kiss.” You shrugged. “Mistletoe is still mistletoe.”

“You’re right. It would be a waste not to.” Peter nodded eagerly.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss lasted longer than usual as you both let it linger.

“The plan was smart but you only got one kiss out of it.” Tony whispered to Bruce as you and Peter went to the kitchen.

“Just wait.” Bruce told him. Some enough, you and Peter returned with an armful of snacks.

“Oh, we passed it again.” Peter said robotically, knowing you’d pass it again.

“Oops.” You said sarcastically. “I guess we have to kiss again.”

“Ugh. Every time.” Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled you towards his lips. You gripped his shirt collar and continued kissing him as you pulled him into your room.

“See?” Bruce smirked. “Certified genius.”

Down the hall, Natasha had seen the whole thing, chewing her lips as she came up with a plan.

Natasha

Natasha set her plan in motion a few days later, waiting in the kitchen for you as she stirred a bowl of muffin mix. Peter sat at the counter, reading over one of Bruce’s articles in a book. You came into the kitchen wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that matched Peters, the sight of you making Peter smile.

“Hi Nat.” You beamed at her as you took a seat next to Peter at the kitchen counter. “Whatcha making?”

“I’m making muffins with the berries from mistletoe.” Nat said cheerfully. “They should be really good.”

“You bake?” You asked curiously. “You mean they taught you culinary skills when training you to be an assassin?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For example, I love ballet. We might even be getting a ballet studio in the tower soon.” She said coyly, making you and Peter exchange a suspicious glance.

“Wow. That’ll be really cool.” Peter played along, skeptically of her intentions.

“Right? Does this look okay to you guys?” Nat asked as she held the mistletoe above your head. “I can’t tell it it’s good to use or not.”

“It looks fine to me.” Peter shrugged as he looked up at it.

“Oh, silly me.” Nat clicked her tongue. “You guys are totally under it. I guess you’ll have to kiss.”

You and Peter exchanged another look before pecking each other on the lips.

“Hmm. I still can’t tell. Can you check again?” Nat asked as she held it up again.

“It still looks fine.” You told her, growing suspicious.

“And you still have to kiss.” She sighed like it was an inconvenience. You narrowed your eyes at her before kissing Peter on the cheek.

“Are you guys sure it’s okay? One more time, please.” Nat held it over your heads a final time. Peter looked at you skeptically before leaning in for a kiss. Both of you were well aware of the sneaky smile on Natashas face.

“Wait, let me see if I can find another one.” Natasha took another bunch of mistletoe out of her grocery bag and pretended to inspect it. She made a whole show of it, making it look like she simply couldn’t find out if it was okay to use. She sighed sadly and looked to you guys for help before holding it up. You and Peter laughed in disbelief before kissing on the lips.

“Wow. Did I accidentally make you guys kiss 4 times?” Nat spoke loudly, as id she was letting all the people in the tower know. “That’s a lot. Looks like we’ll be getting that ballet studio after all.”

“Yeah. That is a lot.” Thor appeared in the doorway upon hearing Natashas declaration. He eyed you and Peter with a ponderous look on his face, becoming aware that he was losing the competition.

“Oops. I just remembered that mistletoe is poisonous.” Nat finished her bit. “Guess I won’t be making these! Bye guys!”

She swiftly left the room, leaving the mistletoe on the counter. You and Peter looked at each other, equally confused about what was happening. Thor walked further into the kitchen and pretended to take interest in the mistletoe. He held it up over his head before holding it over you and Peter.

“Are you two sure this mistletoe is good for use?” He asked, stealing Nat’s idea.

“We’re not kissing for you.” Peter told him flatly.

“I never liked you anyway.” Thor stated as he dropped the mistletoe and left the kitchen. He wandered the tower until he found Pepper reading in the living room.

“Pans. I have some bad news.” Thor sighed as he laid on the couch like he was in a therapists office. “The competition your husband started is rigged.”

“Why do you say that?” Pepper wondered.

“Because I’m losing!” Thor whined. “Gods do not lose to humans. Unless it’s a contest for tiny people.”

“How many kisses have you gotten?” Pepper asked, well aware of the contest.

“0 so far.” He sighed. “Everyone else has four or five. Banner has seven!”

“So you just have to come up with a plan that blows everyone else out of the water.” Pepper shrugged.

“Like what?”

“Everyone else has gotten them to kiss, right?” Pepper asked.

“Yes.” Thor nodded.

“You can get them to date.” Pepper said like it was simple.

“Why, that’s brilliant! Thank you, Pans!” Thor cheered as he got off the couch. “You have done me well.”

“You’re welcome.” Pepper chuckled as she flipped the page.

“Wait, your husband is also in this competition.” Thor realized. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because when Tony wins something, he gets way too cocky and thinks he’s above doing any laundry or cleaning.” Pepper explained. “Someone else has to win or he’ll buy Mexico or something.”

“Thank you, lady Pans.” Thor grinned. “I will not disappoint.”

Thor

“May I come in? I’m just kidding. I am coming in regardless of your answer.” Thor chuckled as he barged into your room. You and Peter had been sitting on the bed, jumping from fear as he came in.

“Hi, Thor.” You said skeptically as Thor pulled up a chair. “Can we help you with something?”

“For the past few weeks, the Avengers have been holding a stupid contest that I am losing to see who can get you two to kiss the most.” Thor explained. “They have been using mistletoe to carry out this stupid contest.”

“Wait, what?” You and Peter looked at each other in shock. Suddenly, the strange behavior and random mistletoe sightings all made sense.

“That’s why there’s mistletoe everywhere?” You asked. “And why did you guys do this in the first place? Why us?”

“Because you two like each other.” Thor shrugged. “And everyone knows it. Except for you two. You don’t know it.”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “We do not-“

“Shh.” Thor hushed him. “Don’t talk to me. Talk to each other. You’re welcome.”

Thor smiled kindly before getting out of his chair and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I can’t believe they did this.” Peter groaned. “Forcing us to kiss because they think we like each other? Who comes up with that?”

“I know right?” You agreed. “How we feel about each other is none of their business.”

“Exactly. And what do they know? If I liked you, I think I would know.” Peter forced a laugh, well aware that he liked you.

“Yeah. We would know.” You nodded before looking at him skeptically. “We would know, right?”

“I don’t know.” Peter answered honestly. “It’s kinda hard to tell how I feel about you. I never know if something that happens between us is platonic or romantic.”

“Me either.” You spoke softly as you put your hand on his. “Kissing isn’t really platonic, though.”

“I guess not.” Peter chuckled as he looked at you. You stared at him for a moment, heart beating in your ears as you thought out your next step.

“Peter, do you like me?” You asked slowly, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Um, kinda, yeah.”

“Kinda?” You laughed softly at his answer.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed and squeezed your hand. “I don’t know what to say in this situation.”

“Just tell me how you feel.” You shrugged.

“I feel like I’ve been lingering around places where the mistletoe in hopes that you’ll walk by and kiss me.” Peter confessed, looking at you with a shy smile.

“Well that’s not platonic.” You teased him, leaning into him a little.

“No, it’s not.” Peter agreed. Your eyes flicked to his lips briefly before leaning in to kiss him, pulling his face closer to yours with the hand that wasn’t holding his. He kissed you back once he got over the surprise, sitting up straighter to get closer to you.

“You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me, Petey.” You whispered once you pulled away. “You can do it whenever you want.”

“I’m gonna take you up on that.” Peter smiled softly at you.

“I hope you do.” You flirted before connecting your lips to his again. On the other side of the door, Thor had his ear pressed up against the crack, listening to every word with a huge grin.

“I am so going to win this contest.”

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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

Text

The Rebel (Cillian X OC OneShot)

Warning - smut - and this IS only a one shot, I can't cope writing another series at the minute 😂

Request? Yep!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @darlingjaye

"The fuck does she get off?" Cillian cried, throwing his bag across the trailer he shared with Paul Anderson.

"Someone's a fan of my new love interest!" Paul laughed watching Cillian fume as he paced the small trailer over and over again.

"I knew casting her was a mistake, she's fucking delusional!!!"

"What's she done now..."

"Literally THREW her coffee cup at her PA because she put milk in it... THREW IT!!! At her PA!!! Poor girl was fucking terrified man!"

"She's hot though, ain't she?'

"What? Fuck sake Paul you ever NOT think with your dick?" Paul smirked, raising his eyebrows at Cillian knowingly. "Yes okay, she's a good looking girl, but that doesn't mean she can get away with trampling over people to get her own way does it?"

"Maybe she just needs a good, solid man to ground her a little, bring her back to earth a bit?" Paul smirked.

"Go for it man, good luck to you. Last fella she had probably still needs therapy."

"Oh I wasn't talking about me mate." Cillian looked at him suspiciously.

"What?"

"Oh for fucks sake Cillian, when was your last eye test? Can you not see what's clear as daylight, right in front of you??" Cillian's eyes widened, not understanding a word coming out of Paul's mouth.

"You've lost me."

"Wonder if she's part Irish. Or wants to be...." Cillian's face contorted.

"Don't use that line it's fucking cheesy... Never works either. What's your point?"

"Mate if you don't get in there quick, she's gonna lose interest and Finn will be at it like a shot!"

"You're having a laugh aren't you? I'm not even remotely interested!"

"Uh huh. Okay. Just don't say I didn't warn you eh?" Paul put his baseball cap on and headed out the door, still with a smirk on his face. Cillian took a seat on the sofa and ran his fingers through what was left of his hair, rolling his eyes. Yes, Natalie was fucking hot... But my god was she challenging.

Throwing that cup today was one thing. Telling the director she didn't like her character was another. Her original character was supposed to be Tommy's new 'plaything' behind Lizzie's back, but Natalie had apparently requested a change of direction - she wanted to be Arthur's new love interest, nothing to do with Tommy at all. That confused Cillian, and he'd had to think back to see if he'd ever worked with her in the past, obviously he'd pissed her off at some stage, why else would being his onscreen love interest be so repulsive to her that she demanded an entire script change?

Heading into the bathroom, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He wasn't exactly repulsive, surely? Yes he had a few more wrinkles now that he did in series one, but he was nearly 45 now...

He shook his head quickly - why did it even bother him whether she found him attractive or not?? She was 32, not that much younger than him but still way out of his league, and to top it off she was a fucking nightmare!

But those legs... Her eyes... Her lips... He couldn't help himself imagining those lips wrapped around his cock when he lay in bed in his Manchester apartment alone at night... Without thinking he found himself palming the growing erection under his jeans, feeling that familiar stirring in his groin. Shaking his head quickly, he splashed his face with cold water and rearranged himself in his jeans, calming himself down before he embarrassed himself. Once his erection had gone down, he headed back out of the trailer and over to his hire car, the driver ready and waiting to take him back to the apartment block.

Natalie opened her apartment door and crashed onto the sofa, exhausted. A full week of intense filming, she was more than ready for a soak in the bath and a glass of Shiraz. Opening the cupboard in the kitchen area she groaned - no wine. She also remembered the bubble bath she'd bought, and subsequently left in her trailer back on set...

She fished around in her bag for her room key again, and bit her lip. She knew exactly who would have a bottle of bubble bath... She groaned to herself, having successfully avoided him up until now but her aching limbs were crying out for some Radox. She left her apartment and knocked on the door across the hall.

Cillian answered a few minutes later with just a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet.

"Erm... Hey?" He asked, not opening the door fully, more hiding himself behind it.

"Okay um, this is random I know, but I was just wondering if maybe you had any bubble bath going spare? Please?"

"Really?" He laughed.

"Is it so surprising to you that a girl likes a bath now and again?"

"No actually, what's surprising is that you actually have manners."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said 'please'. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Listen, you either have bubble bath spare, or you don't, it's a simple fucking question Cillian."

"Those tactics won't work with me love." Cillian

"Forget it, for fucks sake..." She turned to leave, rolling her eyes.

"Wait.. yes I have spare. Come in, I'll grab it for you." He pushed the door open so Natalie could walk inside, before heading into the bathroom. Coming back out with his jeans on, she couldn't help but be drawn to his toned chest and biceps, his upper body still damp from his own bath moments before she'd disturbed him.

Cillian caught her checking him out and smirked a little, handing over the bottle of Radox. She took it, smiling a touch herself.

"You smile too." She lowered her eyes and tried to hide the grin on her face. "You're not as hard faced as you try and make out, are you?" His arms were folded across his chest now, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Her eyes suddenly watered, and she bit her lip. Cillian frowned watching her well up and instinctively moved closer, taking her shoulders into his hands.

"Hey now... I didn't mean to upset you..."

"No... No I deserved it. God I'm so sick of this!"

"Sick of what?"

"I have this reputation of being a diva... With my career... I just like things to be perfect and when they're not I can lose my temper so quickly and it's fucking horrible and I make people hate me!" She choked back a sob, and Cillian pulled her into his arms, holding her as her shoulders shook.

"We all like things to be perfect Nat, but life doesn't work out like a fairytale, things just go wrong and that's okay?"

"I know, and I always feel so fucking guilty afterwards.. I can't stop now - my reputation is the only thing keeping me in the press, keeping me relevant..."

"You're kidding, right? So all this bitchiness, the demanding ways - it's an act?"

"Some of my best work has been off camera Cill." He couldn't help but laugh. He opened the cupboard and pulled out two small glasses, followed by a bottle of Irish Whiskey. Offering Nat one, she nodded, and they both moved into the lounge area.

They talked for a while - comparing stories of Hollywood, other actors they'd worked with, before Cillian cleared his throat. He needed to know the truth about her changing the script to be Arthur's love interest rather than Tommy's, and now she'd sank a few whiskeys, she was probably loose enough to tell him straight.

She hung her head, embarrassed. She knew he'd probably find out eventually, being one of the producers, but she hoped if she avoided him long enough she'd never need to reveal the truth to him.

"I also turned down Inception. And they offered me Thandie Newton's role in The Retreat."

"Okay..."

"I turned them all down when I found out you were in them."

"Ouch!" He chuckled nervously, "I don't think I want to ask why!"

"Because.. and this is awkward so don't laugh yeah?" He nodded as a promise not to, but his eyes widened when she revealed the truth. "Because I've had a crush on you since I was a teenager... And I didn't wanna make it awkward but I guess I just kinda did.."

Cillian was stunned into silence for a minute, or five. His silence made her nervous, and she pulled herself off the sofa to head out, realising how much of a fool she'd made herself. Making a mental note to blame the whiskey in the morning, she stood up, only to feel his hands suddenly on her waist as he stood up next to her.

"So that's why you didn't want to play Tommy's love interest, huh?" He held her in front of him, his hands squeezing her hips as he pulled her closer.

"Would've been too awkward.. for me at least.." closer still, their faces now inches apart.

"Does this feel awkward?" Their bodies met, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel how aroused he was, pressed up against her, making her breathing heavier.

"No..." He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against hers, just ghosting over them.

"And this?" He whispered, his hands moving up, not quite over her breasts, just underneath them and round her lower ribs. She couldn't speak, just shook her head. Her breath hitching in her throat as a hand snaked back down, under her leggings and underwear, softly caressing her inner thigh and mound. Cillian glanced at her, her eyes closed and breathing deepening as his fingers traced her core, pushing a finger inside her to feel how much she was throbbing for him.

"Want me to help you with that?" She nodded again, and felt his fingers probe her, moving up slightly to brush against her clit making her hips grind against him and her fingers press into his biceps. His fingers moved slowly, circling the small bud.

"That feels good...." She panted, rocking her hips to ride his fingers, needing more.

He responded by moving his fingers quicker, pushing the small button harder. Her head fell against his chest and she groaned, her orgasm coming quickly.

"Gonna make a mess on my fingers, Nat?" He whispered in her ear, her breath coming in short bursts now. His other hand moved to her hair, pulling the bobble from it and letting it fall down her back, running his fingers through and tugging it to pull her head back. His lips on her neck, biting and sucking at the skin. Her hand resting on his arm, keeping him in place as he fingered her.

"Don't stop... Don't stop... Faster..." She gasped, and he happily complied. Rubbing her clit hard now under her clothing.

"Make a mess on me, cum for me..." She came with a force she'd never felt before, gripping onto his arms and holding his arm steady, riding her hips against his hand as her orgasm began to subside. He gave her a few minutes to catch her breath before pulling his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste her, groaning at the sweetness and pressing his lips against hers.

Bringing her close again, he backed her up until her calves hit the sofa, before laying her against the cushions and pulling her leggings down, her underwear with them. She spread her legs, biting her lip as his mouth kissed up her thighs.

"You want me to fuck you, Nat?" He lifted her t shirt over her head, her body completely bare now as she nodded.

Her fingers pulled at his jeans, and he unfastened them, easing his erection out before allowing them to fall to the floor, kicking them across the room. Natalie pushed him onto the sofa, sitting up against the cushions before straddling him, his hard cock now pressed against her soaked core.

"I'm gonna fuck you, that okay?" She smiled, her forehead pressed against his as she sunk down on his length, gasping at the sensation of being completely filled by the man she had fantasised about for years. His hands moved to her hips, before she moved them, putting them behind his head, taking full control. He smirked, before his mouth fell open - her hips riding him felt incredible. Pulling her body up, keeping the tip inside, she bounced gently, teasing him. Sinking down on him again, only to repeat the process. His legs were shaking from the sensations.

"Don't tease me, ride me." His blue eyes were like ice, and Nat sunk down so he was fully sheathed before moving her hips back and forth. She released his hands and gripped onto his shoulders for leverage, arching her body backwards slightly so his cock hit against her g spot deep inside her. One of his hands moved to her ass cheek, the other to one of her breasts, both of them squeezing and kneading at the flesh as her body grinded against him.

The hand on her ass moved round to circle her still sensitive clit, making her hips jerk faster.

"Cillian.... Cillian...." Her breathy moans of his name, the way her pussy clamped him, claiming him completely, the feel of her firm breast in his hand, the way her eyes fluttered closed as her orgasm approached... She was intoxicating.

"Baby.. I'm close..." He groaned, feeling that burning coil in his abdomen.

"Me too... I'm on the pill..." He grinned and held her hips still, pounding his hips up hard from underneath her. He had to cover her mouth to silence her loud screams, careful not to alert Paul in the next apartment. That only seemed to turn her on more, and she took two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking them, still tasting herself on them from earlier. The hand on her ass slapped it and squeezed it hard in response, making her cry out.

"That's it... Good girl... Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." Her orgasm flowed from her at his words, and she felt him shoot several streams of hot cum deep inside her as her walls clenched around him, milking him for all he had to give her.

Their foreheads pressed together again, both panting as they rode out the waves of pleasure.

"Does that live up to your fantasy?" He chuckled, groaning a little as she gave him a final clench of her walls.

"More than... Fuck that was incredible..." She gasped, gently rocking against him, not wanting him to leave her body just yet. She could feel him hardening again, in fact she wasn't sure he even softened.

"Don't stop, keep moving... Nice and slow.. Just like that..." He helped her hips move slowly, riding him gently.

"You're insatiable, aren't you..." She groaned.

"You feel too good wrapped around me, full of my cum deep inside you... You gonna let me fill you up again yeah?" She didn't answer, instead just allowed him to move her against him. He brought her hand down to rub her clit, needing to feel her cum again. She circled the bud gently at first, then feeling his cock start to twitch inside her she picked up the pace. He suddenly moved them so she was underneath him, his hips pistoning into her as he bent his head down to watch her fingers pleasuring herself.

"I'm gonna cum, Cillian...."

"I'm right there with you, come on..." A deep groan from both of them as they came together, him filling her up for the second time.

His body fell against hers as she held his shoulders, his face buried in her neck lightly caressing the skin with the tip of his nose.

"Fuck... Natalie... I haven't been able to do that for years," he laughed, hissing slightly pulling his sensitive cock out of her. Their mixed juices flowing from her onto the sofa cushion.

"I only came over for bubble bath.." she chuckled, her head laid back against the arm of the sofa as she caught her breath.

"My bath's probably still warm, might as well jump in with me?" He offered.

"No funny business in there, I think I need a breather..."

"Better make it a quick bath then. You're not leaving this apartment tonight. Or this weekend, in fact."

#cillian x oc #cillian x smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x smut

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 4 years ago

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1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

To Begin Again by @chloehl10 / lovelarry10

[Harry/Louis, 23k, Teen and Up, tumblr post]

“I, uh, I’m really sorry for yelling at you like I did.”

“Hey, I deserved it and more. I’m lucky you didn’t come and deck me on the nose,” Louis said, holding his hands up as if to surrender. “Seriously, you went lightly on me. If a crazy dog was leaping around me and my kids, I’d have lost my shit long before you did, and it would have been a lot more sweary than yours as well.”

Harry laughed at that, quite liking the man now he was getting to know him. This Louis seemed to have a good sense of humour, and his dog was fairly likeable too, laying there sound asleep, sunbathing.

“Well, I don’t usually lose my temper, so I just wanted to apologise.”

“It’s me who needs to say sorry. My stupid dog ate their bloody eggs, and on Easter Sunday at that. It’s a good job we don’t go to church, Cliff, or we’d both be going straight to hell. Nice ears, by the way. I meant to say earlier.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Harry’s ready to spend a fun Easter morning with his two children at the park, but it’s thrown into chaos when an over-excited dog and his owner come barrelling into their lives…

A Small Matter (A Matter of Trust) by @kingsofeverything

[Harry/Louis, 18k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows he and his Grindr hookup would be perfect together, if only he could convince him to give a relationship a chance.

Or Harry has a thing for jock straps. Louis likes to wear them.

Are you proud of me? by @sadaveniren

[Harry/Louis, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis was completely naked, except for a silk scarf that Harry had never seen before. It was tied around his neck like a bow. His lithe body was cast in dramatic shadows as he descended the stairs and all Harry could think was holy shit, mine, mine, mine.

“Well this is a shame. I was hoping you’d keep the boa.”

Harry blinked in surprise at his voice. He was too caught up in his perfection. “What?”

“I guess the leather will do. I do love you dressed in leather.”

aka I show up 2 weeks late with Grammy Fic

Right Back Home to You by @behindmeday

[Harry/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

It wasn’t the first time Harry and Nick were cut off before they really got started talking. In fact, it seemed to be happening more often than not. Nick had an insane schedule that no rational person would choose, but Harry’s was even worse. Between the early mornings on The Breakfast Show and the never-ending time zone changes of tour, it seemed that Harry and Nick weren’t really meant to have any real conversations these days.

Or, Harry writes Nick a song.

take my hand (my whole life too) by @beckydoesthings / beckywritesthings

[Harry/Louis, 44k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“You’re famous?” he asks, deciding to dive straight into the heart of the issue.

Harry winces, dropping his gaze to the table. “Erm… famous is one word for it.”

Well, that’s reassuring. Louis raises an eyebrow until Harry heaves a sigh and continues.

“How much do you know about the British monarchy?”

His stomach drops to the floor in a heartbeat, jaw following suit. There’s no way that what Harry’s insinuating is possible. But as the time ticks by, there’s no change in the deadly serious expression on Harry’s face, fingers twitching steadily on the table as he waits for Louis’ answer.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Or a Crazy Rich Asians AU with a royal twist where Harry is a prince, Louis is most definitely not, and there’s a royal wedding to attend.

Forever Is In Your Eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Harry/Louis, 126k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

Stuck in an eternal spring by @chrysopon / flamboyo

[Louis/Zayn, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Louis is about to go crazy in the silent solitude of London’s lockdown. The only breach into the grey monotony of his days is the hope of catching a glimpse of the dark-haired guy who lives in the building across the street. One night they have their night cigarette together while both in their flats, twenty meters and an empty, quiet street between them. It becomes a habit, but maybe there’s hope for it to become something more.

It’s Been So Long by @elsi-bee / elsi_bee

[Harry/Louis, 31k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Harry Styles’ first crush was one of his sister’s best friends, a certain someone named Louis Tomlinson. And Louis? He just vaguely remembers Gemma’s younger brother from back in the day.

A lot can change in ten years.

Featuring Niall and Liam as Harry’s friends, flirting, fluff, and flashbacks to the awkward days of high school.

This Dream Lost by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

[Liam/Louis/Harry, 5k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s a dangerous game to play his Alpha like this, and it gives Harry a thrill through his spine he’s not sure he likes. It’ll be worth it, but he doubts he’ll be pulling any surprises on Louis for a while after this. He can’t fucking stand it as is and it’s not even really for Louis, it’s for Liam.

Mercy by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

[Niall/Shawn Mendes, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“I-” Shawn licks his lips, eyes bright and wide with the shock.

Balls in his court now. He could refuse, step away from the line they’re toeing and laugh it off. But he doesn’t, just like Niall knew he wouldn’t. Because Shawn wants this. They both do, and that’s what makes it so fucking insane.

Blind Faith by @2tiedships2

[Harry/Louis, 18k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Harry?” Liam prompted.

“I’m blind,” Harry eventually said, trying his best to keep himself from crying.

Liam was silent for a few moments, before responding, “That’s not exactly news, H. You were blind when I met you a year and a half ago. Have you been in denial this whole time or something?”

“No, Liam,” Harry cut in. “This is different. I’m not legally blind like I used to say. It’s not just my night vision. The tunnel from my tunnel vision has closed. I’m fucking blind! I moved halfway around the world in the hope of finding my soulmate and it’s obviously not happening now. Not even a soulmate is going to want to put up with a blind alpha.“

The Journal by @wait4ever / RecycledStardust & @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28

[Louis/Harry, 14k, General, tumblr post]

When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he’s never heard of, he doesn’t exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there. A myriad of odd coincidences and a few kind smiles from the shopkeeper have the two of them working hard to solve the mystery of this strange journal that seems to have been waiting for Harry for almost a hundred and thirty years.

But I’m the Quarterback by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28

[Harry/Louis, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry Styles is the quarterback of Sunny High’s football team, dating the beautiful head cheerleader, and determined to enter his senior year with focus and discipline. That is, until a strange man shows up at his home, makes his girlfriend break up with him, and convinces his parents to send him off to a “reparative therapy camp” over the summer.

At True Directions, Harry meets four other boys and five girls, all there to be cured of their homosexuality. He has to find a way out of this place as soon as possible—Christ, he isn’t even gay!

Know a Trick or Two by @sadaveniren

[Harry/Louis, 45k, Explicit, tumblr post]

The night before Louis is scheduled for a Portkey to begin training with the Vratsa Vultures in Bulgaria he heads into Muggle London for one last night of fun. A few months later he finds out he’s having a child.

Eleven years ago Harry had a one night stand and now there’s a strange man on his doorstep telling him his daughter is something called a wizard and she’s got a place at the British wizarding school Hogwarts.

Aka the one where Muggle Harry and Wizard Louis have a one night stand and get more than they bargained out of it.

Until That Day by @kingsofeverything

[Harry/Louis, 44k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry Styles is days away from walking down the aisle when his previous failed weddings are turned into a public spectacle by jaded London journalist Louis Tomlinson. Hoping to witness Harry leave another groom at the altar, Louis heads to Holmes Chapel, where nothing goes as planned, and he finds himself falling for the serial heartbreaker.

A Runaway Bride movie AU

Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 63k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. “They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn’t actually have much in common with the show at all.

Passing By by @larryyouknow

[Harry/Louis, 48k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Sometimes, people are in each other’s lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn’t even know he’s into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There’s something more to their friendship but it ain’t gonna be smooth sailing.

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #1dsource #trackinghome #april 2021 #april masterpost #sorry if you got notified for the first post #tumblr destroyed it and it had to be redone

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1quastion-isitgrank · 4 years ago

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share this forever endeavor with you

wow this was down to the wire, but i finished my short fic for @jonmartinweek day 8! (title from “forever endeavor” by the altogether)

***

They got lucky. Three years later, and not a day goes by that that thought doesn’t cross Jon’s mind. To end up Somewhere Else, and not only that but to end up in a place where the powers hadn’t made a home for themselves on the edges of reality— it was more than they deserved. Well, more than he deserved. But against all odds, they were here. The first year had been tough— wounds, both mental and physical, needed to begin to heal, and the reality of trying to build a life for oneself in a world where you didn’t technically exist was an incredibly stressful and painstaking process. But again, they got lucky, and eventually they got everything straightened out. Martin began working at a local cafe, and Jon got a position teaching English at a nearby secondary school. They had jobs, a flat that they shared, even a cat— a tiny black kitten they had named Sable. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was good. They were happy.

However, that doesn’t stop Jon from waking up early one summer morning with a pit in his stomach, exactly three years since they had arrived in this place. Most days he can keep it out of his head— a combination of therapy and time doing wonders for his mind. Today was the exception, a twisted, corrupted anniversary. Three years to the day he had set unknowable horrors loose on other worlds, had looked a heartbroken Martin in the eye as he realized Jon had broken his promise, had taken them both away from the world they knew, forever. Most days he doesn’t feel the guilt, anymore, recognizing the truth: powers unknowing and uncaring had manipulated him in unimaginable ways, using him for their own will, their own desire for power. Today, though, it washes over him like a wave, twisting his stomach into knots and making it feel like he can’t breathe properly. He rolled over, hoping to find some comfort in Martin’s arms, but his boyfriend was gone. Not surprising for this time of day— Martin works a lot of early mornings— but his presence is especially missed today. Jon took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, willing the three year old memories to leave his brain.

A clatter from the kitchen startled him, but was a welcome distraction nonetheless. Martin always fed Sable before he left for work in the morning, but that didn’t stop her from trying to climb into and onto places she wasn’t supposed to be as soon as she thought she was alone. Jon sat up, reaching over to his dresser and grabbing a t-shirt, which he promptly pulled on. His hair had gotten long again over the past three years, and he quickly twisted it up into a bun before heading for the kitchen. As he turned the corner, he mentally prepared himself for whatever disaster Sable might have caused. He never had it in him to scold her for it, but he would have to clean it up. And yet, when he entered the kitchen there was no sign of the mischievous kitten. Instead, there was a flustered-looking Martin, kneeling on the floor and attempting to rearrange what appeared to be about half of their pots and pans so that he could fit them back into the cabinet. A bowl of pancake batter sat on the countertop, along with a pan that Martin had presumably had to pull out from underneath many others, causing the chaos that now spread out before him. Jon chuckled, about to make a clever comment (before kneeling down to help his boyfriend, of course), when he spotted something else on the counter that made his breath catch in his throat. It was small, but unmistakable, dark blue velvet and rounded edges. A ring box.

Of course, it was then that Martin looked up and saw Jon. “Christ, Jon,” he said, visibly startled. “I thought you were still asleep— I was gonna make breakfast for you, and—” A look of panic crossed his face, clearly remembering what sat on the countertop. He jumped to his feet, attempting to be inconspicuous as he glanced back at the counter and moved so that he was blocking Jon’s view of the box.

Jon couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was the luckiest man in the world. “That’s alright, Martin. I’m up now, I can help.” He stepped over the pots and pans littering the floor, bringing himself nearly chest to chest with Martin. “Here,” he said, reaching past him towards the counter. He was only planning on grabbing the pan, just to mess with Martin a little bit, but a hand darted out to stop him.

“No!” Martin nearly shouted. “I mean— erm, it’s fine. I can— I can finish up, I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, just— just go back to sleep for a little bit, okay?”

“Acting awfully suspicious, aren’t we?” Jon asked, smirking. “Are you… hiding something from me, Martin Blackwood?”

“What?” Martin sounded nervous. “What— why would you think that?”

“Oh, no reason,” Jon said lightly. He stepped back, turning around as though he was about to leave. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll go back to bed.” For just a moment, he turned back to face Martin. “You can just, uh, give me a ring, when breakfast is ready.”

“I can— oh!” Martin deflated slightly, looking rather defeated, yet he couldn’t seem to help the laugh that escaped him. “Fuck, Jon. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Sorry,” Jon smiled apologetically, “It was just sitting right there, and I—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Martin said, still chuckling. “C’mere.”

Martin took Jon’s hand and led him out of the kitchen. He sat him down at their dining table before getting down on one knee in front of him.

“I’m still going to ask you properly,” he declared.

Jon nodded, his smile now in real danger of becoming a permanent fixture on his face.

“Right. Okay,” Martin said, almost to himself. Then, he pulled out the ring box, looking up at Jon. “So. I know how today can be for you. I know it’s hard, remembering everything that happened, and I know that there isn’t really any “fixing” it. But I thought, maybe, we could make today a different anniversary, too. Have some good memories along with the painful ones. Because, yeah, these past three years have been difficult, but I’ve also been happier than I’ve ever been, Jon, and it’s because of you. Whatever happened to us in the past, my life is better because you’re a part of it, and whatever the future holds, I know I want you by my side. You are the love of my life, Jonathan Sims. Will you marry me?”

Jon nodded again, more frantically this time, fighting the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Yes. Of course, of course I will, I love you, Martin, I love you so much.” He slid out of the chair, sinking down to the floor so he could kiss Martin, wrap his arms around him, hold him tight.

They got lucky, ending up in a world where they could be free. Jon still wakes up once a year to memories of horrors that feel all too real. They both still have nightmares. Some nights they lie awake in bed, holding each other, neither saying a word but both knowing exactly the sort of thoughts that are running through the other’s mind. They also go on dates. Picnics, walks in the park, even the occasional theatre production. They cook meals together, creating everything from five star gourmet meals to charred piles of disaster. And, a couple months after Martin’s proposal, they finally exchange vows, and they definitely don’t cry. (They both cry.) It’s not always easy, but there’s still joy to be found, and find it they do. And whatever hardships come, they know they’ll always face them together.

#jonmartinweek2021 #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #welcome to: the sappiest thing i've ever written #brought to you by: i should definitely have spent tonight doing hw but instead i wrote this #also if you've read chapter 3 of my only completed multichapter aziraphale/crowley fic and you notice any similarities..... no you didn't <3 #listen i'm a sucker for proposals not going as planned but still being sweet anyway what can i say

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remedialpotions · 4 years ago

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An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #so just to be clear Hermione's mum did not look at the drawing #she's not a creep lol #also nobody should take the mention of bruschetta as 'excellent' as an endorsement of raw tomatoes

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sylvesterlestermanchester · 4 years ago

Text

Fearfully and Wonderfully

Summary: Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to experience when he starts his first semester at Uni, but he was pretty sure an incredibly sheltered Catholic boy stealing his heart wasn’t on his list of typical college tropes.

Word Count: 12401

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. All mixed together. Fun times!

Warnings: Conversion therapy, homophobia, brief allusions to sex and genitals. One puke joke?

A/N: This is my first ever published fic-I’ve been writing for literally years little bits and pieces, but COVID has me going crazy and I just wanted to put some effort into an actual thing. Thanks for reading!

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked through the door to his dorm the first time, parents and sullen little brother in tow. All of his knowledge about Uni had been from TV and movies-maybe he would have some frat guy in the bed across from him, or maybe a stoner, or maybe a weird silent dude who will disappear after the first week and let Dan put their beds together so they would actually fit his gangly body.

What he isn’t expecting is to have an eight-year-old girl bodyslam herself into his legs, followed by a loud groan and a sharp voice scolding “Suzanne, we told you to stop running!”

Dan’s eyes look down at the (quickly retreating) girl and blinks a few times as he takes in the scene in front of him. There are way too many people in the crowded room right now-he counts two identical boys, both around 10, bouncing on the stiff dorm bed, one pre-teen digging through a cardboard box, a girl around Adrian’s age whispering something to an older woman with a toddler in her arms, standing next to a quiet-looking tall man, and, of course, the eight-year-old, now having been scooped up by a sheepish looking guy around Dan’s age who’s giving him an apologetic smile. This must be the Philip Lester on his room assignment form. “Sorry. My family is kind of, erm, excited.” He says with a small, nervous laugh and sets the girl aside before sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Phil! You must be, um...Daniel, right?”

Dan takes a second to readjust the bags in his arms to shake Phil’s hand awkwardly, trying not to look too overwhelmed at the scene in front of him. “Dan’s fine.”

The kids have all frozen in place, staring at Dan with wide eyes like Dan just sprouted a second head. There’s a few long beats of silence as Phil shakes his hand just a little too enthusiastically for just a bit too long.

Finally, Phil’s mum places a hand on her son’s shoulder, beaming brightly. “It’s so great our boys will be living together!” She cheers to Dan’s mum, who looks a bit bewildered. Ms. Lester gently takes a few of Dan’s bags and sets them on the bed, continuing to chatter on. “Come on, we can unpack while you two get to know each other better. I need to know who my son is going to be rooming with, right?” She continues to babble in a thick northern drawl as Dan glances back at his parents, who look like they’re about to bolt for the door and leave their son to be swallowed whole by these people.

“You’re rooming with an absolute freak,” Adrian mumbles in his ear with a small smirk. “Karma is a bitch, huh?” “Shut up.” Dan hisses back through his teeth, trying to look as interested as possible as Phil’s mum keeps talking.

“The weather here is so nice-it’s already getting cold up in Rossendale, can you believe it? Max and Adam were running around outside, and I was so scared they were gonna catch cold, you know how quickly little ones do. Oh, the drive here was wonderful-” “We saw cows!” One of the kids butts in, and suddenly they’re all talking, any nervousness they had around the strangers suddenly vanishing.

“And horses!” “We got hamburgers, and there was this huge truck-it had to have, like, forty wheels-” Phil seems to take after his dad, quietly but quickly unpacking since his siblings have seemingly given up on it in favor of telling Dan’s family every detail of the six-hour car ride. At one point he makes eye contact with Phil, who gives him an apologetic look, his cheeks flushed and an embarrassed grin on his face as the kids chatter along excitedly like they’ve never talked to another person before.

Finally, right when Dan feels like his ears are going to fall off, Phil speaks up again. “I-I think I can get this from here, guys. Mum, Dad, why don’t we go out for a walk before we say goodbye? I know you guys want to see the geese on campus, right?” The kids all cheer like geese are the most exciting thing on Earth, scrambling for the door. Phil’s mum gives Dan a tight hug and Phil’s dad, still not having spoken a single word, even gives his shoulder an uncomfortable pat before they head out. The small space suddenly feels vast and empty, and the silence is almost tangible. “Well. They seemed...friendly.” Dan’s mum says after a few moments, his dad snorting.

“You’re in for quite a year, huh, kid?” He jokes. Dan laughs weakly, but in all honesty, it doesn’t seem that funny.

Just what did he get himself into?

Dan’s curled up in his bed when Phil finally comes back a few hours later, giving Dan that same crooked, shy grin from earlier. Now that it’s just him and not him with (presumably) his entire Brady Bunch-style family, he can get a better look at his roommate. He’s tall, about an inch taller than Dan, and lanky. His black jeans are just a bit high on his ankles, and his faded green shirt clings to his skinny frame. As Dan’s eyes travel higher he takes in his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes wide behind his oversized glasses, all behind shaggy black hair that doesn’t match his ginger eyebrows-ginger like every other family member of his. Dan suddenly feels a bit self-conscious in his Game of Thrones pajamas and old school shirt, pulling his covers up a bit higher as he takes in the other young man with a strange feeling in his chest. He’s definitely different than anyone Dan’s ever known. But damn, if he isn’t cute.

“Sorry if my family was a lot today.” He says after a slight moment of silence, a slight giggle slipping out as he walks over to one of the boxes on his side of the room. “I’m the first to go to Uni out of my brothers and sisters, so my parents decided to, like, make it into a whole thing.”

The memory of the chaos is still fresh in Dan’s mind, but hearing Phil talk about it, he can’t help but smile a bit as well. “I’m the oldest, so I get it. And they were nice. Your siblings are very...uh, talkative.” He says slowly, trying not to sound rude, but Phil’s giggling again before he can worry too much about it.

“We’re from kind of the middle of nowhere, so they’re just excited to see, like, humans outside of Rossendale for the first time.” Phil joked as he started reorganizing some of the things his siblings had just sort of dumped around the room. “Plus, they don’t usually get sugar, but they had soda on the way here. So they were practically about to explode by the time we pulled in. They just exploded all of that excitement onto you.”

Dan can’t help but laugh a bit at that as he watches Phil set some thick books up one way and then rearranges them. “Oh, Jesus. That car ride must have been nuts.” Phil looks over his shoulder, grinning wider now. He looks more and more relaxed each minute, as if he was just as nervous about Dan as Dan was about him. “You have no idea, oh my gosh. They were already wound up for today, and then there was soda, and Max and Alex-they get carsick even worse than I do, and then Suzanne had to pee, like, forty times an hour, and Mum was all weepy...this has been the longest day of my life.” He joked, laughing along with Dan.

Even though Dan can’t connect any of the kids to their names, he feels like he knows them decently well. In fact, as the conversation drifts into more goofy road trip stories, Dan’s surprised with just how close he feels to Phil like they’ve known each other before they even met.

It’s strange, he finds. But then again, Phil’s pretty strange, after all.

Dan doesn’t fully realize how strange Phil is until the next day. There’s a few hints-Dan makes a reference to some TikTok audio and Phil admits he’s never used it before, staring in awe as Dan scrolls through his ForYou Page for him. When they head off to orientation in one of the lecture halls, Phil’s head jolts up and his face flushes bright red when one of the countless speakers jokingly curses (if you can count “ass” as a curse-Dan honestly can’t). But it’s not until they’re out at the quad with some of their new peers for lunch when Chris turns to Phil and asks if he went to the school his cousin went to up north. “Oh, I didn’t go to school.” Phil says with a bright smile, before quickly adding “I mean-I was homeschooled. So I just kinda did the work when I wanted to.”

“Your parents homeschooled you? Didn’t Dan say you had, like, twenty siblings?” Louise questions as they all turn to look at Phil. Dan feels a migraine coming on just imagining being home with all of those kids all bloody day, though he can actually picture Mrs. Lester teaching them all pretty well. Phil laughed a bit, cheeks flushing pink as he looked down at his sandwich.

“We all were. My mum and dad didn’t like the schools in our area-they wanted us to be more connected to the church, said that “our values weren’t instilled in traditional education’.” He explained with a small shrug. When PJ raised an eyebrow at that Phil pulled a small cross necklace out from under his shirt. “I’m Catholic. I actually have plans for Seminary after getting my bachelor’s-so if you’re planning on getting married, I’m taking bookings now.” Phil’s last comment was clearly meant to lighten up the mood, but it’s obvious that the subject matter was making the group a little uncomfortable, considering they all just met. Dan’s mentally running through Phil’s belongings in their dorm-were all those books Bibles? Was he going to start hanging crosses everywhere? Or make him wake up early on Sundays?

Before his brain could spiral out further Chris blurted out “So, were you raised in a Jesus bubble or something?” Louise smacks his arm but Phil giggled. “I-I have been told I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life before, yeah.” “Were you allowed...TV?” PJ asks slowly, eyes widening when Phil shook his head.

“Not cable. We could watch DVDs, but they had to be approved, so it was usually educational. I know a lot of animal facts, actually. Did you know hippo-”

“What about the internet?” Louise cuts him off.

“Not after my older brother got caught Googling “bikini girls” when he was 10.” Phil joked lightly. “But even before that, my mum was pretty anti-internet. If I really needed it for school or whatever, I’d go down to the library.”

“No Harry Potter?” “Promotes witchcraft. Apparently. I haven’t read it for myself, but-”

“Dating?” “Not without serious intention to marry-and I’m not exactly ready for that, so-” “Running water?” “You know what’s funny?” Phil says, giggling a bit and bringing his knees loosely to his chest. “You guys think I’m weird, which is totally understandable. But your guys’ lives before this sound weird to me, too. Like-Chris, you got to play video games as a kid, right? And I was taught that those would turn me into some homicidal maniac. Dan, I saw you have a horoscope app-that’s the occult, so that’s a huge no-no.” Wow, okay. Before Dan could feel too offended, though, and Chris could jump in, Phil keeps going. “But, like, I get that you’re not a witch, or Chris, you’re not gonna chop me up into little pieces when I’m sleeping. There’s gotta be some middle ground here, right? So...you guys could show me how to live more like you, and maybe you guys would be more interested in what I’m into?”

There’s a small silence that falls across the group before a wicked grin slowly appears on Louise’s face.

“What do you want to learn first?”

The next few weeks are a bit of a whirlwind for Dan. Between classes, hanging out with new friends, homework, scrambling to find a job, remembering to text his mum and let her know he hasn’t died, he’s barely able to keep his head on straight. But the time he spends trying to introduce Phil to the “real world” is some of his favorite.

Phil had set some ground rules-nothing that could kill him or ruin his life if it got out on social media. If he got too uncomfortable, he was allowed to tap out, but he’d give it an honest attempt. And nothing Satanic. (Dan had laughed until he realized by the look on his face that he wasn’t joking).

Granted, their friend group hadn’t done a great job at the start. PJ thought it would be hilarious to let Phil start with some “iconic reading material”.

Dan had been in class when they had presented the book to him, and the two were in their respective beds when Dan heard a shocked gasp from Phil’s side of the room.

“You good, mate?” He rolled over, watching as Phil sat upright and started flipping through the pages. “Do-Do you know about this book?” He asked, face turning impossibly redder as he held up the cover for Dan. 50 Shades of Gray. As Dan burst out laughing, his roommate whined playfully.

“What-Phil, who gave this to you?” “PJ said it was necessary reading!”

“PJ is a dunce. Give it here, I’ll protect you from the big bad book.” Dan teases, but Phil quickly shoves the book into his hands like it’s on fire.

“I’m gonna have nightmares about ties and rich men for weeks.” He grumbled playfully, curling up on his bed and reaching for his phone. “I’m never trusting Peej again.”

Louise turns full maternal the next day when he struggles to recount the experience in polite language (Dan holding back laughter), and she decides to go the complete opposite way, launching a mission to, as she put it, “reshape Phil’s lost childhood”. Phil lightly pushes back against wording, because he feels like he had quite a nice childhood, thank you very much.

Still, Louise comes over a couple of nights later, armed with her laptop.

“They couldn’t come up with a more creative name than “High School Musical”?” Phil teased gently as she pulled it up on her screen.

“Phil, you sweet boy, High School Musical is a cultural milestone that you need experience. So no backtalk!”

“Whatever you say.” He said, sitting on the other side of her and holding a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

They watch the first movie, and then the second, and then Phil’s begging to watch the third. As the final song plays Dan glances over and sees that Phil has his head ducked down, shoulders shaking gently.

“Phil?” Louise asks gently right as a choked sob erupts from him. She lets out a yelp as Phil flings his arms around her neck, laughing shakily. “It was just...Troy chose basketball and music…both of his passions...” He blubbers out, nuzzling into her shoulder as she coos. “You’re so weird, hon. You know that?” Once he’s calmed down enough (when Dan offers him a hug the waterworks start up all over again, sniffling. “So. Is that what your guys’ school was like?”

Louise and Dan glance at each other before bursting into laughter, only stopping a couple of minutes later when Louise turns to Phil once more. “If you liked High School Musical, you’re going to love this show Victorious…”

Of course, it’s not all smutty books and (incredible) movie trilogies.

Being homeschooled meant that all Phil knows is doing school when he feels like it. Lucky for Phil, he’s a huge nerd, so homework and studying actually excite him. The problem is, these things tend to excite him at 3 in the morning, and he actually has classes to go to now outside of his room.

By day three of no sleep, Phil swears Dan’s grown wings, and Dan intervenes. They make up a rules sheet-bedtime is 2AM, wake up at 10AM, eat three meals a day, no more than five cups of coffee a day (of all the vices Phil was deprived of, caffeine was clearly not one of them-Dan’s never seen anyone drink more coffee in his life). He gets him down to one all-nighter a week, and in turn, Phil wakes him up each morning and helps him with schoolwork so Dan doesn’t have to face going to the tutoring center. It turns out that Phil’s kind of a genius, despite never being in a classroom until a couple of weeks prior.

Chris is the one who convinces Phil to get social media, telling him that “only serial killers and old people” don’t. Phil’s not the greatest at it at first (there’s a lot of pictures uploaded on accident to his Instagram stories and nonsense tweets), but he slowly gets more used to it, getting his terrible puns and weird things he sees on campus out to the world (all 20 of his followers).

Dan can’t help but get slightly annoyed when Phil’s phone is shoved in his face to choose a filter of some stupid looking goose that’s close to attacking him, but the look of pure elation that Phil gets when someone sends a dog meme in their group chat is enough to warm his heart in ways he didn’t want to address fully but knew he couldn’t ignore.

There’s so much to teach him, and it seems like each day something pops up. Still, Dan’s surprised by Phil’s world, too.

First, he brings them to a non-denominational bible study group. PJ groaned quietly as Phil handed them all cheap paperback Bibles before they entered the church.

“Can’t we do something a bit more...fun? With less reading?”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Phil said with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels. “And if you like it-which hopefully, you will-we can come back once a week, and I’ll get you some nicer Bibles. These are just to start out with.”

Louise forces a small “yay” as they head inside, Phil leading them through the sanctuary with a happy sigh before taking them down some stairs, where a young woman sits in front of a small arrangement of chairs. “Phil, you brought your friends!” The woman cheers and Phil laughs happily. “Caroline-this is Dan, PJ, Chris, and Lou. They’re new to all this, so we’ll go easy this week?” He joked lightly, and Caroline nods, asking them about their religious beliefs.

“Uh, went to church a few times with my Nan. Atheist.” Dan says, biting his lip. He never actually said the “a'' word around Phil, and he’s a bit nervous that he’s going to suddenly flip out, but he still seems just as excited as when he walked in.

“Atheist. Never been-parents hate churches. Can I still grab snacks?” Chris adds and Caroline laughs, nodding.

“I’m a little complicated, but it’s basically just hippie church.” PJ says, shrugging. “Singing and chanting and all.”

“I go about once a month-I’m Episcopal, officially, but I’ve been to other churches too.” Louise gently smiled, and with that, the group got started. They went around and talked about their weeks, a few upcoming events, a prayer, and then Caroline instructed them to get their books. Phil pulled a well-worn leather Bible out of his bag, and Dan’s eyes widened a bit when he opened it. There are post-it notes everywhere, with entire passages highlighted and notes covering practically every margin in Phil’s stupidly perfect handwriting. It’s clear that Phil’s spent a lot of time with the book.

“Since we have guests, I figured we’d take a break from our reading of Matthew and focus on a couple of specific verses today,” Caroline says brightly. “James 1:13-15: “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”

There’s a slight pause and Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?” “In simple terms-don’t say God isn’t the one to tempt you, because when you stray off His path, that’s on you.” One of the group members explains. “And if you do sin, it’ll lead to, uh, death.”

“Well, does God not tempt us to do bad things by putting so much pressure on us to be perfect?” A girl with blue hair jumps in, raising an eyebrow. “He sets the standard so high. Sometimes I’m just like, ‘Chill, dude. I can’t do everything. I’m not you.’ “

PJ snorts at that, giggling. “You call God dude?” They’re all laughing now, but Dan can’t believe it-he wants to jump in.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” His voice is a bit quiet but inquisitive. “Isn’t God supposed to be loving and forgiving? Why does He want you guys to be perfect? That sounds kind of...harsh.”

“Well, He knows we’re not perfect.” Phil says, and another guy nods.

“He asks for us to be because it strives us to be better. And it teaches us that messing up is okay.” The conversation keeps up for a bit before Caroline interrupts, asking them to focus on the latter half of the passage.

PJ narrows his eyes at the text before looking up. “Am I really gonna die if I sin?” “Well, sin was what led us away from eternal life in the first place-Adam and Eve kinda messed that up for us.”

“Yeah, but our personal sins can lead us to death, too. Not just old sins. That’s what God’s warning us about here.”

“Not every sin does, though. Like mixed-fabric shirts.” Louise grinned a little. “Or grabbing dudes by their nads during fights.” PJ’s eyes widened and he turned to Phil. “Are those actual rules?!” “It was a different time!” Phil giggled as he watched him flip through the pages quickly.

“Where does it say we can’t grab nads?’ “Can we stop saying nads in church?” Phil pointed out, still laughing despite his red face.

Caroline tuts and wags a finger playfully. “Uh-uh, Philip. No judgment. They can talk about nads all they want, now.”

The entire room is laughing again as Phil buries his face in his hands. Finally, when he controls his giggles, Caroline speaks again. “Do you think talking about that kind of stuff in church is a sin, Phil?”

It’s teasing at first, but Phil actually thinks about it for a moment.

“Well...my household was pretty strict growing up. I mean, I got yelled at once for just sneezing during church.” He admits slowly and Dan’s eyebrows furrow a little. He can’t imagine either of Phil’s parents yelling at him, or anyone, really. “But I get why it was. They wanted me to love God, and respect Him, just like they loved and respected me and I loved and respected them. So I think if you do things with love, genuine love, it’s not a sin. But if you do things out of hate, or anger, or with the intention of hurting, that’s a sin. And that’s not automatically bad-like T’andra said, we’re all gonna make mistakes. Just keep on acting with love, and I think you’re good.” There’s a pause, and Dan’s face flushes slightly. Not just at how much Phil was saying “love”, but the words he spoke, and the true thought and passion behind them.

The moment is cut short when PJ snorts. “So if I love nads, I can talk about them to Jesus?”

By the time the room is back under control, the group is over. “Y’know, that was actually pretty fun.” Chris said after they had all grabbed snacks and talked to everyone.

“It was! It was like...philosophical debate.” Dan said. “The real nitty-gritty. The topics of good, evil, life, death, corruption-” Louise shoved him gently. “So deep, Dan. Of course you enjoyed it.” She joked lightly before adding “No offense, Phil!” Phil doesn’t seem to care-he’s grinning so wide it must be hurting his cheeks, and Dan would be lying if he isn’t tempted to start reading the whole Bible from cover to cover just to see him grin like that again.

Phil also manages to bring them to actual church services a couple of times (though getting college students out of bed before noon on a weekend proves to be a practically impossible task).

Dan has to admit he’s not as impressed with this as he is with the study group. The group is fun-they can all talk, and laugh, and actually discuss the points. Church is...not. They sit on hard pews. They listen. They stand and sit and kneel and stand and sit and kneel. They sing a few songs, and while Phil’s quiet baritone makes Dan’s sore knees quiver, it’s not enough to really warrant him waking up at 8AM on a weekend.

Phil is politely understanding of this, though it’s clear that this is of certain importance to him that his friends might not ever understand. It’s admirable if nothing else.

Other than storytelling from his childhood (which does little to make him seem more normal, honestly) and the weekly study, though, Phil doesn’t talk too much about the church to his other friends. Dan, however, is different. Maybe it’s just the fact that they live together and their space is more shared, but Phil opens up to Dan a bit more about it. He reads passages and verses to Dan, he prays in front of him, and he answers his questions in a non-condescending way. Dan has to admit that while he likes what Phil says, he can’t find himself connecting to it in the way Phil has, with his entire heart and soul. But Dan can admire the stories and the way his friend sees the world, and this new world that he’s entering with him.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes that he’s seeing the world in two ways-Dan’s universe, and Phil’s universe. They’re so different, but (and he’s sure he’d never admit this out loud) Dan prefers when their universes collide.

When Dan comes home after a long day of classes and working at the campus bookstore, he’s exhausted. The soft music fades through the room as he opens the door to find Phil chewing on a pen, looking just as anxious as him. “I think my brain is leaking out my ears,” Phil said wearily, looking over the top of his glasses at Dan. “Do I have brain on my desk?” Dan snorts and rolls his eyes, reaching over and grabbing his textbook. “We need a break. And you need sleep-I know you took that second all-nighter last night, rule-breaker.” “Fine. Watch something with me?” He says after a moment, grabbing his laptop. They load up an episode of Zoey101 (they’d finished Victorious the week before) and hit play.

As the bars from the theme song fade out, Dan suddenly feels a strange pressure on his shoulder. He glances over and finds Phil with his cheek pressed to Dan’s shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose as he lets out a soft snore. Dan pauses the show, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of them. Dan and Phil.

He lives for those moments: Getting coffee after a class. Sending each other memes. Trying new food at the dining hall. Brief greetings in the halls. Shared looks as they hang out with their friend group.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes he's never fallen quite this hard before. He doesn’t just want to make out, all hot and heavy, or go further than just that. He just wants this-Dan and Phil-forever, even just as friends. He didn’t expect to find that in this pale, bible-banging weirdo, but now that he does he never wants to let him go.

Dan’s getting that feeling now more and more, the Dan and Phil feeling when they’re in the study group a few weeks later. They’re both sat towards the back, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter as they’re hunched over Dan’s Bible.

“I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver…” Phil says under his breath in a low, gravelly tone.

Dan turns to the next page. “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes!” He whispers, still trying to make his voice sound high-pitched.

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from-”

“Dan, Phil, I’m guessing you both are whispering about how excited you are about our retreat at Camp Brabeck?”

The two both fall silent, Dan quickly glancing between Phil and Caroline, her smile wearing a bit thin from having to call them out. Phil’s eyes are wide, suddenly all signs of laughter gone. “Camp Brabeck?” He squeaks out, and the leader nods.

“On our upcoming four-day weekend. It’s up North, so it’ll be a bit of a drive, but we’ve already got the vans rented out and everything.” She says before noticing Phil’s sudden change in demeanor. “Phil, you’re from around there, actually. Have you been before?”

Phil blinks a few times before nodding, curling up into his seat a little. “O-Oh. Well, I actually did, once, but-”

“Great! So you’ll be down to come, right? We’ve got more space in the van, and it’ll be fun…” Caroline says hopefully, not letting him argue as he starts shaking his head. “Plus, if you’ve already been there, you can tell us all about it! C’mon, this is right up your alley. I think you’ll-” “I’ll go if Dan does.” Phil blurts out suddenly, looking nervously over at. Dan’s definitely confused now-Phil loves the outdoors. He loves this group. He loves-well, to be fair, Phil seems to love most things. He’s racking his brain trying to figure out what it could be, but he just can’t, and now all eyes are on him, and-

“I mean...as long as someone brings bug spray.” Dan says slowly, Caroline beaming and writing on her clipboard before talking excitedly about the campground. The two stay quiet, Dan focusing on Phil’s eyes trained on her and hands gripping his Bible so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

The minute the group ends Phil makes a beeline to the door, walking so fast that Dan can’t catch up without actually chasing him. Dan’s phone dings a short moment later:

Sorry 2 run! Had 2 catch up w some1 4 a thing. Thx 4 signing up w me ^_^ - Phil!

Dan furrows his eyebrows, and not for the normal reason of Phil’s stupid abbreviations and the fact he insists upon signing all his texts. He’s trying to piece the pieces together from the few characters on his screen when Louise puts a hand on his shoulder. “So what was all that about?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, giggling a bit as she gives his arm a light squeeze. “What did you show him that spooked him so bad?” Before Dan can speak, Chris is at his side.

“He’s just embarrassed that Dan was flirting with him during the Jesus Power Hour.” “Dan, were you?” Louise gasped teasingly, and Dan sputters a bit, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. “Chris-what?! No, no, I wasn’t flirting. I wasn’t! He just-when she mentioned the retreat-and the camp-” Dan’s face is bright red now, suddenly the words from Solomon seem a lot less goofy and a lot more...romantic, to outsiders, with their heads bowed together with dumb grins on their faces.

Louise and Chris shoot Dan equally doubtful looks. “Dan-” She starts, but Dan grits his teeth.

“We’re not-neither of us are like that.” He snaps. As she steps back and Chris raises an eyebrow, guilt starts to pool in his stomach, but he can’t stop. “For one, I’m not gay, and two, Phil is gonna be a priest, remember? Aren’t they, like, sworn to celibacy?”

Chris and Louise glance at each other. “Mate...chill, yeah? We were just joking. We know you’re not...y’know.” “Good.” Dan said before turning and stomping up the steps, the unnerving sense that the painting of Jesus had his eyes following him the whole way.

A few minutes later, Dan is sitting in the back garden of the church that Phil helps tend to after services, the wind whipping through his hair. Usually, he’d be walking to a Starbucks with Phil, discussing that session’s theme in-depth and watching Phil’s face turn pink as Dan releases the string of expletives he’s been holding in for an entire hour. The expletives are running through his head at top speed, as he spends about three minutes crafting the perfect text message.

hey, i’m sorry if i weirded you out today! didn’t mean to haha. i was goofing off way too much and i know you take these meetings p seriously. i’ll take it more seriously next time and not distract you

Dan hits send after rereading it about a million times, groaning audibly as he does. It’s not exactly a “Sorry I have a crush on you and made you seem gay but I get you’ll never like me and that’s fine I just wanna spend all my time with you”, but it’s the best he can do.

No worries! OMGosh I was just embarrassed 2 b called out like that hahaha! 0_o <= Literally my face. I was def the 1 who was whispering 2 loud. Lol! -Phil!

dude, it was totally on me. Dan texts back, chewing on his bottom lip. Phil had looked pretty freaked out, but if he was fine, maybe they could just...move past it? really, i started it.

Noooooooo! I take all the blame. I had some cookies b4 group and I was on major sugar rush. Btw...I had some of those cookies ur nan sent! Sorry, I’ll buy some snacks 4 us. Ask her to send more, tho? So good <3 Thank u! Take dancing men as an apology (/-_-)/ |(-_-|) -Phil!

okay, seriously, who taught you to text like this? my head hurts trying to decipher everything

DANCING MEN 4 U (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) ~(*-*)~ (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) -Phil!

you’re ridiculous. Dan can’t help but laugh, in spite of the churning feeling in his stomach. He drops his phone onto the grass next to him and looks up at the sky.

“If you know Phil so well, big guy, what do I do?” He asks before he can stop himself, before pausing. Half of him expects a thunderstorm to start, and him to get struck by lightning, or a rainbow to leap across the sky and the clouds to part to show Phil’s shining face as the sun. But after a few long moments of silence, Dan realizes he’s not going to get any divine intervention and groans.

“Well...let me know when you figure it out.”

The next couple of weeks go by quickly. Everything seems normal-they go to classes, they go to work, they go to group, they goof off. The four-day weekend creeps upon them, but before they know it the whole group is up at 6AM standing in front of a huge white van.

“This isn’t cult-ish at all.” PJ yawns, chucking his duffle bag into the trunk. Louise sips her coffee and squints over at Phil.

“This has to be a sin, you know. Not giving a girl her beauty sleep.” Usually, Phil would spout something about “being beautiful in His eyes”, but right now he’s getting the same sense of panic in his eyes that he had when the camp was first mentioned, laughing weakly as he adjusts his glasses. Dan is just awake enough to get the sense that Phil has been repressing the idea of the trip until this exact moment, but he also knows just how to fix it. He had been stockpiling on Phil knowledge for this exact moment.

Phil jumps a bit as Dan nudges him. “Relax. Listen, I know what’s up.” He says quietly, watching as his friend’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“What?!” Phil yelps a bit as Dan gently leads him away from the rest of the group. “I mean...what do you know? What’s up?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

Dan holds back a fond noise as he smiles gently, shaking his head. “No need to be embarrassed, Phil. My mom went through the same thing for years.” As Phil looks more and more concerned, wringing his hands, Dan digs in his own backpack for a moment before pulling out a small box of Dramamine and handing it to him. “So you don’t upchuck all over us.”

There’s a beat as Phil stares down at the box, eyes wide, and Dan almost thinks he’s got it wrong. Does Phil not get carsick? Was he insulted? Was he really that embarrassed by it?

Phil finally starts to giggle, but it seems more relieved than anything. He nudges Dan lightly and opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah, Dan and Phil! The dynamic duo. You two can sit in the back with the bags!” Caroline’s voice cuts through whatever Phil’s about to say, and he turns to Dan with a small shrug.

“Looks like it’ll just be you I puke on.” He says, a slight grin on his face as he pulls the door open for Dan, who rolls his eyes but steps in “Gotta get you a poncho for the splash zone.” Dan gags playfully before squeezing in to sit next to Phil amongst all the bags, rolling his eyes and plugging his earbuds in before holding out one bud to Phil and turning on their shared playlist-a mix of indie, Christian rock, (mostly clean) emo jams, and Disney Channel top hits. It’s not the most welcoming thing to listen to at 6AM, but if it keeps Phil calm and Dan from actually needing a poncho, he’ll welcome it.

The majority of the drive is spent in and out of sleep for Dan, guitar chords and vocals bouncing around his sleep-deprived brain. He’s not fully conscious until around noon when they’re about an hour away from the camp. The roads are getting twisty, and it’s then that he notices that Phil has his eyes screwed shut and face scrunched up, both hands shoved into his messenger bag. It only takes a slight peek for Dan to see his fingers curled tightly around his well-worn Bible, and he bites his lip.

Phil talks about leaps of faith a lot in group. Dan doesn’t quite get it, but he’s pretty sure he’s taking one when he slides his hand into the other’s bag and gently coaxes Phil’s hand into his own. The young man stiffens up for a moment before turning to stare at Dan with wide eyes.

“Shush. It’ll help nausea.” Dan mumbles, his own face red and praying that Phil won’t ask how exactly it will. There’s a pause before Phil smiles weakly, turning his face away, and Dan is about five seconds away from opening the van door and hurtling himself onto the road.

Phil’s probably just been playing nice, and now Dan’s gone and made it uncomfortable for the both of them, and Phil can’t even look at him. Dan’s whole body turns hot, but right before he can pull away, he feels Phil’s slender fingers intertwine with his own.

It’s not the first time they’ve held hands-they do it at the start and end of study groups, and at church, and that one time Phil got them all to hold hands while standing on a hill to reenact the ending of High School Musical 2 for his Instagram. Dan was a bit flustered then, too. But this is different. It’s...intimate. Phil’s never held his hand with such need before, fingers locked with his and palm quivering gently as he mouths a silent “thank you.” Dan feels his entire body buzz, and he can’t help but close his eyes and try to focus on the music and not the fact that he feels like he’s literally twelve years old.

The rest of the ride somehow takes an eternity and only a minute before the van stops, Chris bemoaning his hunger loudly and the rest chattering excitedly. Phil finally opens his eyes and turns to Dan, slowly pulling his hand away.

They both look at their hands, and then back at each other. There’s a long pause before he opens his mouth, and Dan’s heart starts pounding so hard he’s surprised Phil can’t hear it.

All that Dan has thought about them staying platonic goes out the window. Dan wants nothing more than to lunge forward and shove his lips against Phil’s, to run his hands through his hair, to climb into his lap and- “I didn’t puke!” Phil blurts out loudly, loud enough that everyone hears. The group falls silent before one of the other young men, Raz, gives Phil a thumbs up. “Good for you, bud. C’mon, let’s get these bags up to the cabin, and then we can get some food to celebrate.” Phil laughs a bit too hard at that, face bright red. As he clamors out of the van he leaves Dan in the backseat, trying to climb over the mountain of bags as he watches his friend chatter away as if nothing happened. He watches for a moment before shaking his head quickly, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He was just making things more complicated than they needed to be. They didn’t share a moment. No way.

Dan hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks along with PJ and Lou, struggling to stop the loop of those ten seconds from playing in his head.

Dan liked that the Bible study group wasn’t too Jesus-y. It was more philosophical than anything. Even church was just an hour a week on the weeks he went, which was really only once a month when Phil promised brunch afterward.

This weekend, he and his friends had realized, seemed to be where the group could get enough Jesus to last them until the next retreat. It started with grace before lunch-simple enough. But then a pastor had started to preach to them during lunch. And then after lunch. And then afternoon Bible study-for two hours, with a lot more reading and praying than actual discussion. Pj, Chris, and Louise were clearly trying not to fall asleep, while Phil sat off a bit, eyes trained on either the priest or his Bible, hugging himself tightly as he stayed completely silent.

“It’s just so boring!” Louise groaned once they were all finally outside and out of earshot. “I’m sorry, I know this is what you want to do with the rest of your life, Phil, but we’re in nature! Why are we just stuck in some stuffy room listening to an old dude read for hours when we can see the cool stuff God apparently built for us?” “God wants me to climb some of those rocks over there.” PJ agreed, snapping a few pictures on his phone. “He tried to call me earlier to tell me so, but reception sucks here.”

Phil laughed a bit, but it’s definitely more hollow than his normal giggles. “I’m sorry, I-I really thought-”

“Wait. Haven’t you been here before?” Louise asked as PJ started jogging over to the huge rocks, Chris following shortly after. Phil paused before rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I mean, yeah, but-”

They’re both cut off by someone calling Phil’s name, and he whirls around to see the priest-the same “old dude” Louise had just been insulting-walk over and clap a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Philip, you must have grown a full foot since I last saw you!” Dan glances over at Phil with a slightly surprised look. He knew Phil had been here before, sure. But to know this man? Someone who seemed so different from Phil in so many ways?

“O-Oh, Father Richard. Hey. Guys, Father Richard worked at the camp I came to a-a couple of years ago.” “And Philip was one of the finest boys there, wasn’t he?” If the man notices Phil shift from one foot to the other nervously, he sure doesn’t show it. “I mean, they were all wonderful young men, don’t get me wrong. But Philip-you’re truly going to be a man of the cloth. Don’t you both think?” Dan is watching Father Richard’s face closely, immediately feeling himself wanting to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it wasn’t for Phil, he’d have made an excuse and walked off by now. It seems like Louise isn’t thrilled, either, but she smiles and nods a bit. “It’s clearly his passion, uh, Father Richard.”

“Oh, absolutely. As long as he keeps his head out of the clouds.” He throws his head back and laughs, Phil’s grin looking more like a grimace as he chuckles along. “I swear, this boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him!” “I think Phil’s pretty smart, actually.” Dan says suddenly, a good bit of bite to his tone. He’s not sure why, but something about this guy gives him the creeps. He stares him in the eyes as he gets a surprised look from both him and Phil.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Well...I suppose he’s matured a lot over the past two years. Good to see you again, boy. We’ll have to catch up.” With that he heads off, giving Dan a slightly curious look as he does so, and Phil watches him go before shaking his head.

“Jeez. Phil Lester Fan Club over here.” Louise teased gently before frowning. “What’s his deal?” Phil bit his lip and sighed. “That’s how he is.” He explained quietly, yelping as Louise pulled him into a tight hug.

“Philly…” She cooed before moving to sit on the grass with him, motioning for Dan to do the same. “Talk to us? You’re not usually closed off like this. We know something’s up.” Phil squirms, and Dan can tell he’s debating whether or not to lie. He’s seen it before-when Chris asked if he looked good in his new neon t-shirt, or when some girl asked him once if she was being too annoying after complaining about her roommate to them for five minutes straight. “I just...I came to this camp when I was younger and had different ideas than I do now.” He explains finally.

“Like how interesting that Richard guy was?” Dan tries to joke, instantly regretting it as Phil brings his knees to his chest and curls up into himself.

His voice gets quiet, as it does sometimes when things get serious in group meetings and he’s comforting someone with a verse or trying to explain a tough concept to Dan.

“Like...I was raised to think God ruled with a vengeance. If you sinned in any way, He would punish you. That’s what my parents said. We were supposed to fear Him, y’know? And when I came here...Father Richard pushed that hard.” Phil explained gently. “But I don’t think God’s like that. I think we’re all sinners-we all make mistakes. James 3:2 and all that. God loves us in spite of our flaws. Hearing him talk about God like he was so cruel, and then reading about His love for us...it was the first time it didn’t add up for me.”

Dan’s eyes widened. In all his time of knowing Phil-two months doesn’t sound like much, but it feels like a lifetime ago-he’s never once heard him speak against his parent’s beliefs. Sure, he could admit that they were a bit extreme at times, but it was always quickly followed with how their intentions were good and that everything had been great.

“And as someone who wants to be a priest, I don’t think the way to get people to turn to God is to scream at them until they repent and scare them into not sinning. I think you need to be like Jesus. Hate the sin, love the sinner.” He continued, forcing a tiny smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because we’re all His children, after all. And He’s got a path for all of us-fear won’t guide us onto that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Louise reaches down, giving his hair an affectionate tousle. “You start preaching like that and I’ll come to your church every Sunday. I’ll even sing in the choir.” She joked. A slow beam spread across Phil’s face-a a genuine one, and he stood up before pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you both. I-If I had known he would’ve been here, I’d have at least warned you-”

“Shush, mate. You had no idea. Trust me, you’re way too much of a softie to lie to us, we know that.” Dan laughed a bit, giving Phil’s back a light pat. Phil giggled a bit before pulling away, taking a deep breath.

“Wanna go make sure Chris and Peej don’t crack their heads open?” He said finally, and before they could say anything the two of them were taking off towards the rocks, Dan chasing after both of them. Despite his grin, he still couldn’t help but feel like his head was heavy with questions. Father Richard had seemed boring, and a bit grumpy, but not angry. Were Phil’s changing beliefs really all that had happened?

Phil had seemed relieved to talk for a bit, but the mood shifted again once evening activities started. Father Richard had preached again during dinner-and again, nothing terrible happened. He made a few dry jokes, he talked about having ��complete and total faith”, he read some long passages that Dan didn’t care about. He was too busy glancing over at Phil next to him, who had left his food practically untouched.

Then there are evening vespers, with Phil’s hands clenched together so tightly in prayer that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails dig into the skin. The firepit seems to be going well-he shares a s’more with Dan, but before he could get another he’s pulled aside by Father Richard. Dan’s sure at one point the two glance over at Dan, but then Phil’s walking back over, trying to look interested in some story one of the group members is telling as he brings his knees to his chest. Even Chris and PJ seem to notice that something’s going on, but with a pointed look from Dan, they give him some space.

They turn in for the night, but Dan wakes up way too early to find Phil curled up on his bunk pouring over his Bible. The bags under his eyes tell Dan that he didn’t sleep a wink last night, and he sighs. “C’mon, you gotta show me where the showerhouse is.” He says gently, and Phil looks up at him with a tired laugh. “Do I?” He teased weakly. After a minute though, he sits up and stretches. “Mmm...fine. But no chickening out.” With that he hops down from the bunk, peeling off his shirt before walking over to his bag.

Dan’s pretty sure he gulps audibly as Phil grabs a change of clothes and a towel, eyes wandering over him. Though Phil braved the communal showers at Uni, he was always sure to change in the stall-Dan had never seen him in so much as a pair of shorts that went higher than his knees. And yet, here he was. Dan would feel guilty about watching him, especially considering he knew Phil was having a tough time, but…

He couldn’t help it. His best friend looked hot as hell from behind. He couldn’t help but admire his slim frame, his lean but toned arms, and when he turned around, the slight smattering of chest hair that slowly turned into a happy trail that crept lower, into-

“I’m telling you now, if you forget a towel you’ll regret it.” He said, voice still low from sleep, and Dan snapped his head up. “Towel! Right! Let me go grab that.” He squeaked and quickly moved to grab it, trying to hide his flushed cheeks as he snagged a change of clothes as well. By the time he looked up Phil was already heading for the door, humming under his breath, and Dan followed him quickly.

After a few moments of silence, Phil spoke. “Father Richard is leaving tonight, so you won’t have to sit through his lectures after today. He’s just stopping by to talk to us. So we’ll have less worship-y stuff and more free time tomorrow.” Phil glanced over at Dan. “Sorry if I’m weird about it. I just..y’know.”

Dan nodded and relaxed into the shared feeling of relief, even if he didn’t exactly know what Phil was talking about. Before he could ask, though, they were at the small building-just a row of four stalls that looked like bathroom stalls, built out of wood. As Dan stepped inside and stripped-definitely not thinking about how Phil was doing the same just inches away, especially as he heard his sweatpants hit the ground-he rubbed his eyes. “Is there coffee here?”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need coffee here.” Phil laughed a bit, a genuine one, and Dan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at where his head peeked over the stall.

“Dude, I’ve seen you-sweet fuck!” Dan shrieked as he turned the single knob on and freezing cold water shot out of a showerhead on the ceiling. “How the fuck do you get the hot water?!”

Phil was really laughing now, his witch cackle carrying over Dan’s screams. “No hot water at camp.” He sang playfully. “And no swearing, either, but-”

“Christ on a bike, no wonder you were fucking miserable here!” The words come out before he can realize it, and suddenly he freezes (as well as he can while shivering like mad), but Phil only laughs harder.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dan can hear the grin in his voice, and he lets out a long breath. “Whatever. Shitting fucking fuck! Let’s get this over with.”

Dan somehow manages to survive the worst shower of his life, his hair curling as he towels himself off before tugging on clothes and leaving the showerhouse. If it wasn’t for the bright smile on Phil’s face, he’d say it wasn’t worth it. But at least for right now, Phil is his old, giggly self again, and Dan comes to the realization he’d do just about anything to keep him like that.

Unfortunately for Dan, it doesn’t last long. As they’re walking back to the cabin, Phil glances across the way and sees Father Richard, walking through the trees. “Oh, shoot, c’mon-” Phil grabs Dan’s arm and tugs him along a bit faster, not looking behind him for nearly a full minute. As he glances over and sees the look on Dan’s face he finally stops, sighing softly. The joy from before is gone. “Sorry. I just...too early to try to handle that right now.” “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s just get going to the cabin, yeah? I’m still freezing.” Dan jokes weakly, and Phil tries to crack a smile, still looking uncomfortable as they walk along the trail in silence.

The rest of the day is disturbingly similar to yesterday, and the whole group is sensing that Phil is just...off. He’s usually eager to jump into discussions, but even when Father Richard gives them the chance to talk, Phil seems totally holed up in himself, mumbling something about wanting to give others a time to speak (which pushes the topic along to Louise, who fumbles it totally and is earned a condescending smile from Father Richard).

By lunch, Dan thinks he can’t sit through another hour of this. By mid-afternoon, he’s considering faking being possessed by Satan. And by dinner, he’s come up with about forty ways to fake the possession. The only reason keeping him from doing so is that when he mutters it to PJ he tells him to wait until after dinner-if he keeps Chris from food, he’ll have bigger things to worry about than a camp full of religious fanatics thinking he’s possessed.

They set the tables and then get in line to eat dinner. Dan immediately realizes Phil isn’t anywhere to be found, exchanging concerned looks with Louise. When they get five minutes into dinner and realize that Father Richard is also missing, he starts to worry.

What if Father Richard was...well, what would he do?

The truth is, Dan doesn’t know what the big deal is with this guy. He honestly doesn’t seem to be too bad, but the control he has over Phil’s emotions is genuinely weird. Still, he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

“Hey, Caroline!” He says, quickly jogging over to the young woman, and she gives Dan a kind smile. “Dan, hey! How have you been enjoying this so far?” She asked gently, resting a hand on his arm. “I know it can be intense, considering your, um...well, you weren’t exactly in the church before you joined us, and-”

“Caroline, it’s all great, but do you know where Phil is?”

She smiles and gives Dan’s arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you two found each other, you know that? You guys are like-”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t be mushy, even if you guys are my favorite freshmen.” She winked before waving her hand towards the door. “He’s out by the lake with Father Rich. They go way back, did you know?”

Dan nods slowly. It’s clearly not the answer he wanted, because Caroline leans in. “Don’t tell him I said this, but trust me, Phil’s not choosing Father Richard over you. You’re still his BFF.”

Wonderful. That’s the reassurance he needed right now, that Phil wasn’t going to choose a 65-year-old man to be his ‘BFF”. He manages to smile and thank Caroline before going to wait on the mess hall deck. If Richard was going to drag Phil away, then dammit, he was going to be the first to talk to him when he got back.

Phil doesn’t come back up to the mess hall for at least another hour. His eyes are rimmed red, and he’s alone. The second Dan hears his footsteps he shoots up. “Phil!” He shouts after he yanks his earbuds out, and Phil lets out a yelp, laughing shakily. “Oh my God, did he-did he make you cry?!”

Phil rubs his eyes quickly and giggles weakly. “Dan, I cry at everything. We cried together over that muffin in the dining hall on Wednesday, remember?”

Dan doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but suddenly Phil’s arms are pulling him into a long hug. “We just had a long talk. Don’t tell me I missed anything?”

“They went on some dumb night hike, but-don’t tell me you wanted to go on the night hike?” He asked as he saw the disappointment on Phil’s face, frowning. “We can go! We can go right now, and meet them, and-” “Dan. Breathe, okay?” He giggled and led Dan inside. “Our group can go on our own little night hike tomorrow, I’ll survive. Besides. I haven’t gotten to spend time with you these past couple of days, and I’ve missed you.” Phil’s voice is a bit softer, and he gives him a shy smile.

Dan’s face turns red and he sits down in one of the faded couches, Phil flopping next to him. “It’s only been, like, a day and a half.” He mumbles.

“It’s been a long day and a half.” Dan nods slowly, looking up at Phil. “Is he gone?” “Yep. Just left camp now. Didn’t wanna make a fuss.” Dan can’t help but roll his eyes a bit at that, shaking his head. “Now, c’mon. Can we talk about something fun? Like…” He reaches out and snatches up an old copy of Women’s Health from a bin by the fireplace, clearly meant for kindling. “What advice can we find for two lovely women like ourselves?”

As he flutters his eyelashes at him, Dan can’t help but laugh, grabbing the magazine from him. The two swap it back and forth, giggling like children at the stupid advice and making fun of all the pictures. The tension from before melts away, and suddenly it’s just Dan and Phil, the two of them being absolute idiots and laughing over nothing. After the last day and a half, it feels amazing to just laugh.

When they finish that one they go to the next one in the bin. They read through issues of Runner’s World, Golf Digest, Christian Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and even a Highlights before Phil’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

“Oooh, I need some food. Why don’t I go grab us some snacks from the kitchen? There’s some board games in one of the closets, find something for us to play?”

With that, he’s up and going into the kitchen, and Dan wanders over to one of the closet doors. Sure enough, he sees some old board game boxes peeking out behind some moving boxes. Dan goes to move one out of the way when he catches a peek of the pile of brochures inside. His eyes run over the text and clip-art outline of a strong-looking man. Program Judges 6:12 at Camp Brabeck: For teen boys and young men struggling with sexual impurity.

Sexual impurity? Dan grabs the brochure and flips it open.

Today, our young men are raised in a culture where abnormal lifestyles are being accepted, even praised and celebrated. It’s no wonder that more youth than ever before are turning out oversexualized and confused, and more than ever are struggling with same-sex desires...

From there on, the words start to blur together for Dan, and he flips the brochure over.

And then Dan sees it. In the top corner is Father Richard, smiling wide.

With his hand on Phil’s shoulder.

Dan feels his stomach churn violently as he looks at younger Phil. There’s no way it could be anyone else. Even if he’s a bit shorter, and his hair isn’t dyed, Dan’s studied Phil’s face long enough to know it’s him. As Dan grips the picture frame in his hands, Phil’s words from yesterday come back to him, hitting his chest like rocks.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

Phil worked with Father Richard, at this-this “camp”, this place. They worked together.

“God loves us in spite of our flaws.”

Not only was Phil not gay, thus extinguishing the slightest bit of hope he had, but Phil was actively homophobic. Phil worked at a bloody conversion therapy site, for fuck’s sake.

“He’s got a path for all of us.”

Phil wasn’t uncomfortable about Father Richard-he was uncomfortable about Dan and their friends being around Father Richard, and them finding out just what a homophobic, lying, fake-

“I found Pop-Tarts!”

Phil’s voice interrupts the swirling thoughts in his head, and he slowly turns, holding the brochure up. “Were you ever going to mention this?” Phil’s face goes pale. “I...Where did you…” He whispers, but Dan growls. Actually growls. Red hot anger is taking control now as days, weeks, months, years of suffocated emotions rises to the top suddenly. A lifetime of not fitting in, a lifetime of hiding, and to be rejected by Phil-like this.

“Nice pic of you and your friend, Phil. You worked with him on this? You and Richard, two pals-and you knew we’d judge you for it, so you just decided not to tell us?!”

“Wait, wait, Dan, no. It’s not like that. That’s not what-” Phil tries to butt in. Dan isn’t having it.

“Do you realize what kind of damage you do to people, Phil?! You can’t act like-like Little Mr. Innocent about this, this is some seriously fucked up shit you’ve done!” Dan’s properly yelling now, getting to his feet and not even stopping as Phil cowers back. “And-And worst of all, you hid it from us! You talk like you love everyone, hiding behind your stupid flowery language, but you’re a total fucking hateful dick!”

Phil suddenly stands as well, putting his hands in front of his chest, but irritation is creeping into his voice. “Daniel. Listen to me, you don’t understand. I’m not hateful-” “Oh-Oh yeah? Not hateful, huh? Not hateful when you say ‘gay is an artificial construct, created to celebrate people’s sinful homosexual desires’? Or when your stupid fucking camp goes to ‘remove young men from their unhealthy environment to bring them to Jesus and see the errors they’re making’?” Dan’s reading directly from the pamphlet now. “That doesn’t sound loving, Phil!”

“Dan, let me-” “There is literally nothing you could say to make this better. You think you’re helping, don’t you? But you’re just-just spreading hate, and-” Dan’s words are cut off as Phil suddenly grabs him by the back of his head, pulling him into a hard kiss. For possibly the first time in his life, Dan is rendered speechless, especially a few moments later when Phil pulls away and his eyes well up.

“Dan…” He choked out, sinking down onto the couch and starting to sob. “I didn’t-I didn’t-” After a moment he grabs the brochure weakly. “I didn’t work at the camp.” He chokes out finally, and Dan just stands frozen in place. “I was a camper.”

Dan hates that he doesn’t know whether he should trust him or not. But...this is Phil, crying ugly, hard sobs, and he can’t help but feel his heart break in two. “A...camper?” He asks slowly, moving to sit next to him but keeping his distance.

Phil lets out a pained noise but nods. “I signed up to go. Because I kept having these-these dreams, and these urges. And I thought if I did everything right, if I listened to Father R-Richard…” He has to stop himself to catch his breath as it comes quicker, curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. “I thought if I could be perfect, I could b-be like him. A priest. A husband, to a wife. A father to my k-kids. An ex-homosexual.” He said, tears streaming down his face. “Dan, I-I tried so hard…” Dan frowns, running a hand through his hair slowly. “You can’t just-I mean, I don’t think it works like that, Phil,” Dan says after a moment, and Phil nods quickly. “I know, I know. God knows I know. They tried everything on m-me. I mean, everything. But the more they did, the more angry I got, with myself, with Richard, with God. I hated God, Dan, I hated him so much, and I did all this stuff…” Dan can’t stop himself but reaching out and taking his hand at that, and Phil clings to it almost instantly. “I lied, and I ripped up my Bible, and I did stuff with the other guys there…”

Dan blinked a few times. For Phil, that was intense, and he can hear the guilt and true sorrow in his voice. “You-I mean, no offense, but kissing a few guys and tearing up a book aren’t exactly unforgivable sins.” He says, hoping to bring him comfort. To his surprise, Phil laughs sadly.

“I did more than just kiss, trust me. When Richard found me in the showers with one of the guys-”

At that Dan’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. Phil, who half an hour ago was blushing at ads for tampons, in the showers with a guy? “He-He decided I needed more intense therapy. It was hours and hours of just being told how disgusting I was, being shown these videos, being preached at, b-but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop feeling like I did.”

“Phil…” Dan feels his broken heart finally crumble. He pulls him into a hug, letting him sob into his hair.

“F-Finally I just lied my way th-through it. That’s what m-most of us do. And then I was th-the big success story, and they took that dumb picture, and it was finally over. I went home, and I was so mad I decided I’d go through my Bible-the nice, new one my parents had bought me, when they heard that ‘somebody’ tore up my old one-to s-see how wrong I was before and how terrible He was. So I stayed up for nearly a week, no school, no nothing. Just reading.”

Phil pulled away to reach out, grabbing his copy of the Bible from his bag “ And as I read, I…”

He took a deep breath as he opened it up and slowly turned the pages, motioning to the Post-Its and notes littering the scripture. “I didn’t find that. I found a God that wanted me to love-He wanted me to love my family, and my friends, and my neighbors, and-and guys. He wanted me to love you. He wanted me to love you, romantically.” At that, Dan feels his heart stop and he gently moves to look Phil in the eyes. “You really think that?” He whispered, Phil nodding quickly as he ran a hand through Dan’s hair.

“God gave us all the ability to love-fully, and deeply, and wonderfully. And-And I love you, so much. I didn’t want to freak you out, and I’m not ready to be out, but-” This time it’s Dan’s turn to cut him off with a slower, gentler kiss. “Shh. We don’t have to tell anyone.” He murmured.

“It can just be us?” Phil asked in a small voice. “Just you and me?”

At that, Dan is pretty sure he’s going to explode, because dear God that’s all he’s ever wanted. He wants to scream, he wants to jump up and down, he wants to run down the fucking mountain and throw rocks at Father Richard’s car-

Instead, Dan takes a deep breath before smiling and nodding. “Just me and you.” He agreed quietly.

He leaned in and kissed Phil again, cupping his cheeks. This time was gentler, and Phil let out a soft, relieved noise as his lips moved against Dan’s and he pulled Dan close to him.

“I love you,” Dan says once they pull away. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Have I ever read you Proverbs 17:28?” Phil interrupts with a giggle. Dan raises an eyebrow but grabs Phil’s Bible, flipping to it.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

“Did you just ask me to shut up and keep kissing you through a Bible verse?!” Dan whined, but he can’t help but grin as Phil kept laughing, nodding as he connected their lips again.

Time seems to stand still. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, ten hours, ten years-Dan can only guess how much time has passed when they hear the group off in the distance. “Shit-shit, okay, one last-” Dan jerked away but Phil giggled, grabbing the plate of Pop-Tarts and Dan’s hand before dragging him outside. He took him out a bit before they got down to the lake, sitting on the sand and wrapping his arms around Dan. Dan pauses before shyly climbing into his lap, and then they’re kissing again, Phil only pausing to catch his breath and murmur “I’m sorry you thought I could be homophobic.” “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before jumping to conclusions.” “I’m sorry I didn’t open up about what had happened.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been that guy in the showers with you.” The words leave Dan’s mouth before he can stop himself-humor is a coping mechanism for him, but right now, he wants to kick himself when he hears Phil’s gasp.

“Oi! Not yet, at least.” He said with a slight laugh, pressing his lips to Dan’s cheek and watching as his face burns red. He grins and presses a few pecks to his lips before looking up at the sky.

“...You really think God wants this for us?” Dan says and Phil closes his eyes, snuggling closer.

“‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:113 to 114’.” Phil recited quietly. “God made us fearfully-like, with great awe and respect of us-and wonderfully. He made us find each other, he made us love each other.” He kissed Dan’s nose. “So that’s us. Fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dan looks at Phil with a soft smile, a bit worn from all the excitement of the day, but feeling...free. “Fearfully and wonderfully, huh?”

Phil nods, and Dan pulls him even closer.

“I could get used to that.”

#phan #dan howell #phil lester #dan and phil #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfic au

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lifeofroos · 4 years ago

Text

Part 29. Let the uncomfortableness begin!

In Short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Hades blows them all away. More chapters can be found on AO3, FanFiction.net and under Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, fanfiction, Trials of apollo etc.

This might be crazy: Chapter 29: Gray Ginger Soda

‘Is there anything specific you want to talk about today?’ Dionysus asked.

I slowly scratched a ketchup stain of the table. ‘Hm…’

‘Eh, Yes, there is.’ We both looked around. My mouth fell open. None other than my father was standing in the middle of the Denny’s, with three cans in his hands.

I shot a glance at Mary, who was looking at Hades with her mouth open and her arms protectively wrapped around her baby bump. I could not blame her. I would be freaked out too if the lord of the dead was suddenly in my restaurant and I did not know him personally.

I turned back to Dionysus. He looked more surprised than angry (For now at least).

Hades strided over to our table (it wasn’t walking, one couldn’t call it walking. He was striding). When he was close, he slowed down for a second, before choosing to sit on the chair that was close to mine and far from Dionysus’s. He put the cans in the middle of our table. ‘There is… I have a few things we can talk about.’

Dionysus and I glanced at each other. Silently, we agreed to let him speak his mind. From behind the counter, Mary signed something at us that probably meant ‘is everything okay?’ I nodded, as a sign that it was okay. I had no idea what she would have done if it wasn’t, but that didn’t matter right now.

Hades snapped his fingers. In a moment, the front doors locked themselves and all the lamps, except for the one above our heads, shut off. I heard Mary gasp and scoff.

Dionysus sighed. ‘Hades, Mary is standing in the dark.

Hades rolled his eyes. The light above the counter flicked on again. Mary took a deep breath, before giving Hades a cool look.

Dionysus mimed something that might have meant ‘I’ll make up the difference for the customers that can’t come in.’ I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like a logical thing to mime at that moment.

Hades stared at us for a few seconds. Now that I could see him up-close, he seemed nervous ‘Eh… do I just… begin?’

Dionysus narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes, that might be productive,’ he answered. I looked at the cans. Gray Ginger Soda. Whatever it was.

‘Uh, I wanted to say something about… Nico coming to my place, and how I think he is... progressing.’ He was silent for a few seconds. ‘And I believe you are the one he usually speaks to, so it might be good if… you hear it as well. And, eh, I want to know what Nico thinks about it.’ Now he wasn’t just nervous, he seemed to be in a panic and a half.

Dionysus eyed the cans. ‘Thanks for the drinks, although…’

‘As if I would drink anything made by you.’ Oh, now the old man was his stern self again.

Dionysus rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. ‘Well, tell us your thoughts.’

‘My thoughts?’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Erm… I think…’ he stared at Dionysus. An expression of pure unwillingness rolled over his face.

Dionysus did not say anything. Usually, when I was having therapy, he would try to comfort me if it became too much to handle. But Hades was given no such treatment.

‘It’s okay, dad. He can’t tell this to anyone else.’ I gave Dionysus a look. He did not confirm nor deny my statement, which I took to mean that he would not blab it further, even though he totally could.

It was clear that dad did not believe me at all. But he swallowed, and went on: ‘I like that you come to the Underworld every once in a while.’

I nodded, while reaching for one of the cans. If nobody was going to drink it, I would. ‘I like that too. That’s why I keep coming.’

‘Oh.’ He shot a glance at Dionysus.

‘It is not like I force the kid to go,’ the wine god said.

Hades’ gaze got harder. ‘Of course not. But anyway, so, I like it.’ He gave another look to Dionysus. ‘And actually I don’t care if you tell the other gods about that.’ Dionysus rolled his eyes.

‘Hades, I won’t tell anybody anything about this, I promise,’ he sighed. Hades just stared at the cans, before continuing.

‘And also…’ he paused for a second, ‘I think that it has been going better with us. I… I helped you with those greek sentences.’ He swallowed the sentence ‘Even though they were ridiculously easy.’

I nodded, with a small smile. ‘Well, yes dad, I think it has been going better as well. And that is what I have been telling Dionysus.’ I nodded in his direction.

‘He keeps defending you and saying everything will be better,’ the wine god piped in. ‘Basically all the time.’ He raised his eyebrows. I looked at my can. Well, yes, maybe I defended my dad a lot. But he really was trying to be better.

Dionysus shrugged. ‘And I guess there is some truth in that. After all, you came here, prepared to say something, because you want to talk with not just him, but with his therapist as well.’ I looked up. Was that Dionysus defending Hades? Unbelievable.

‘Eh… yes.’ Hades shifted on the chair. I took a sip of the weird drink. It tasted like someone slamming me against the side of my head.

Hades took a deep breath. He looked like he was about to say something he revised for ages. ‘I…’

Dionysus stared out the window for some time, clearly trying to force himself to not be sarcastic. ‘It’s okay, go on,’ he said, so softly that it was almost unhearable.

‘I… is there any more I can do for him?’

Dad shut off. He looked at the cans. His shoulders were hanging down, as if this question defeated him for real. No, it wasn’t the question. It was the fact that he was asking it to Dionysus.

Dionysus couldn’t even say anything at first. ‘You… are asking me for advice about what more you two can do?’

Hades seemed to melt to a pile of misery on his chair.

‘Dionysus…’ I muttered.

‘No, no, I think that is… that is amazing, Hades. Eh…’

I took another sip. This was surely something.

Dionysus took a deep breath. ‘You should try to do what you are comfortable with and what you want to do. If… eh… you feel like giving him a hug, you should do that. But knowing you, it might be better to… I don’t know, walk the dog together or something.’ He shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘It is probably the best to work on communication and respect, like it always is,’ he said after a moment of reflection. ‘From what I have heard, you... still have some work to do there.’

‘Eh, yes,’ I cut in. ‘Well, dad, I would like it if we... talked more. And get better at seeing what the other is actually meaning with what he says. Or, eh, you could help me with more... life-y stuff. Other than Greek verbs.’

Hades stared at the table. I wondered what of what we said he had actually heard. ‘This is difficult.’

‘But you are doing it,’ Dionysus and I said at the same time.

He even managed to conjure up a laugh, even though it was laced with nerves. ‘Nico… what could I possibly help you with that is more... life-y? I…’ He shrugged. ‘I am the lord of the dead. What do I know of anything that concerns you? Then you could better…’ he waved in Dionysus' direction.

‘Yes, but you are my dad.’

His expression went completely blank. ‘Eh… yes.’ He shook his head. Two of the cans disappeared. Just mine stayed behind. Hades slowly got up.

In a last stretch of energy, he forced himself to look Dionysus right in the eye. ‘I…I… think I have to thank you for what you do,’ he whispered.

‘I should thank you for giving it a chance,’ Dionysus muttered back.

Hades shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t.’

It was quiet for a few seconds. ‘Thanks for the advice,’ Hades whispered. Then he disappeared.

Dionysus was completely knocked out of the park for a few seconds. Then, he took a very, very deep breath, while the lights flicked back on and the doors unlocked. Mary turned her head towards us. ‘Was that… planned?’

Dionysus shook his head, slowly. ‘No, Mary. I promise on the river Styx that if something like that is ever planned to happen in this Denny’s, I’ll tell you.’

I moved my head around, trying to comprehend it all. ‘That was... unexpected.’

‘It was. But… I think you might be right. He might… truly be willing to turn over a new leave.’

‘Yeah I… think so.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s… alright. I am going back on the 19th of september.’

‘Hm. The day after summer has ended.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what that means, right?’

‘Yes.’

He shrugged. ‘Watch out, Nico.’

When we stood up, Mary waddled towards us. ‘Good luck with that man, Nico.’

I picked my can of table. ‘Yes, thanks.’

Dionysus put a few banknotes on the table. ‘I’ll have to pay for all the money you could have made…’

‘That’s… it is never a lot.’

‘This is the evening shift, it is busier than during the night.’

Mary shrugged. ‘Still.’

‘Please take it. You need to buy stuff for the baby.’

‘We already have a lot of…’

‘No, believe me, you’ll need to buy more baby stuff.’

Mary put a hand on her stomach. ‘Okay. But next time I’ll give you double the drinks and you can’t say no.’

‘Deal,’ I said. Dionysus put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Mary,’ I said, before we disappeared.

When I walked past the Demeter cabin, I noticed that the flowers were already beginning to whiter. And summer wasn’t even here yet. I took a deep breath, as if to already mentally prepare myself for september, nineteen.

A/N: Persephone will be next and then I’ll finally get to Maria, like I promised an eon ago. (Okay, I’ll bite: How many years is an Eon? We don’t use this word a lot in the Dutch language).

Now go get yourself a glass of water. Or a can of Gray Ginger Soda, if you somehow have an entrance to the Underworld somewhere.

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r6s-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

Hello. I’m new to siege but I’m interested in making a request if that’s ok. Doklabei x male reader romance and reader has an eye patch he’s secretly insecure about. Thanks.

dokkaebi’s a big ol’ cutie tbh, and welcome to siege!

•••

dokkaebi x m!reader >> bad boy

•••

MASTERLIST

warnings: cursings, lil bit of sadness

•••

summary: your new friend learns more than they expected about you.

•••

doctor kateb stood outside of your room, waiting for you to dress yourself. you were mere days from being a full member of rainbow, and all that was left was a last-minute examination. once you presented yourself in jeans and light shirt, doc nodded and gestured a hand, leading you to his exam room.

“sit,” he instructed with a clipboard in hand. “when’s the last time you had a checkup?”

you thought, tapping your chin.

“since the beginning of my training,” you replied. “seven months, give or take.” he clicked his tongue and scribbled something down.

“...and how long ago was the ‘incident?’” doc inquired. you cringed at the thought.

“f—four months, doctor.”

“may i...?” you rested your hands on your thighs, letting doc put one hand on the side of your face and the other on your patch. as he pulled away the black cover, his brows furrowed in slight disgust seeing an empty socket. you started to sweat from shame. he continued his examination, sticking one finger out and implying for you to follow it. he took a step back and asked for you to grab it, which you missed due to your lack of depth perception.

“still needs a lot of healing, i say. assistance regarding vision may be necessary, as well.”

“you’re kidding!”

“i’m afraid not,” he continued. “losing an eye is a big deal, especially if you can’t tell how far away a threat is. it’s either therapy, or suspension.”

you couldn’t just lose the job you worked for years to get to. even with the minor slip-ups, this career path was the one for you.

“what kind of therapy?”

“an assistant,” he elaborated. “someone to get you around as you figure out the building’s layout.”

“like a lost child.”

“don’t think of it like that.”

“who would ‘assist’ me?”

“it would not be me, as i have my own tasks, and considering we have so very few people here genuinely knowledgeable in the medical field, i’ve instead selected someone more emotionally fit to be with you.”

almost on cue, a small, young woman walked into the office, meeting your eye with a smile. you quickly flipped your patch back down, waving uncomfortably with your other hand.

“this is miss nam. your similarities in age and personality concluded a compatibility.”

“grace, please,” the woman insisted, now standing beside the doctor. “or dokkaebi. i don’t mind.”

“dokk—miss— erm, grace!” you stammered. “y/n. or necro, i—i don’t mind.” she giggled, sending your heart into flutters. doc almost laughed watching you struggle, deciding to put an end to the awkward confrontation.

“if you could please take mister l/n back to his room,” he suggested, helping you stand. “i hope i made the right choice.”

“don’t worry, doc,” grace insisted. “him and i will get along just fine.” she turned to you with a grin, making you blush. the two of you exited, her arm on your bicep. you told her your room number and you set out, taking your time to keep your balance.

“necro, hm?” she asked sweetly. you nodded, turning to face the wall. “dark. how’d you get the name?”

“my gadget,” you explained nervously. “necrotizer. throw some of the mixture onto a wooden wall and sends it crumbling. silent but deadly.”

“i like it,” grace replied. “suits you.”

“hm?”

“you’re quiet,” she observed. “or maybe that’s just my effect on you.”

“oh, really?” you joked. “maybe i just don’t like you.” she gasped and placed her free hand on her chest, mouth open. you grinned, feeling a sense of comfort.

what if she saw me behind the eyepatch?

truth be told, you thought you were a monster. one-eyed and barely able to tell how far away something is is hard to cope with, especially with the physical and psychological healing you have to get through. if you just kept the patch on, it wouldn’t be a problem, right? capitão has one, and nobody says anything!

“how much about me did you know before we met?” you asked, curiosity taking hold.

“not much,” she admitted. “height, weight, age. saw your photo, too.”

“and am i as strikingly handsome as i seemed?”

“better,” she teased, laughing. “you‘re attractive, photo or in the flesh.” your stomach leaped, extremely flattered.

“you’re quite cute yourself,” you returned the compliment. she paused, caught off guard by the affectionate comment. then, her mouth turned into a line.

“your profile photo didn’t have the eyepatch,” grace mumbled. “is the picture old?”

“not really,” you explained. “the—the patch was, uh, recent.”

the two of you paused in front of your door, with you reaching out to open the door and let her in the continue the conversation.

“i don’t mean to be intrusive, but since we’ll be spending so much time together...”

you began to feel ill.

“how did it happen?” she asked hesitantly. suddenly, you heard it all. shouting, sirens, medical beeping...

“four months ago,” you began, quietly. “training.”

“something that bad happened during training?”

“it wasn’t supposed to go that way. i was a show-off with confidence that was too high for his skill. we were practicing with melee weaponry, and i thought it would be a good idea to end with a flourish. that ‘flourish’ landed straight in my eye instead of my opponent. if i wasn’t so god damned useless, i would’ve pulled it off, but what good can i do if i can’t even pass training without losing an organ?”

your explanation was short and simple, yet it still took grace by surprise. her eyes were wider, but somehow softer. she looked ready to cry, or run, or both. you locked eyes, waiting for her reaction of disgust and disappointment. she placed her hand on your leg, patting once.

“we... we all make mistakes we aren’t proud of,” she said. “sometimes, we lose things. that’s our job. our sacrifices and losses are on our shoulders, but the strength comes from learning to carry the past into the future, better than it was back then.”

she smiled, sighing.

“and, for the record, you look pretty badass with an eyepatch.”

“i do?”

“yeah, it’s this whole bad boy, sultry pirate kind of look.”

“you think i’m a bad boy?”

she raised an eyebrow, now smirking.

“are you?”

“if you want me to be.” you both laughed.

surely, with enough time, she’ll be more than your assistant, you hoped.

#dokkaebi #r6s dokkaebi #dokkaebi x reader #siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #siege imagine #r6s imagine #r6s x reader #r6s dokkaebi x reader #plague writes

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glassprism · 5 years ago

Note

Since you're also in other fandoms, are there any ships/pairings you like? Who's your favourite pairing in POTO? Who are your favourite characters (from POTO to all your other fandoms) and why? Ooh, here's a rather unusual one: who's your favourite side character (name one for all your fandoms!) and why?

Yeah, definitely! Though whether some can be counted as actual “ships” is debatable, as you’ll see in a bit.

For Phantom, my favorite “ship” is the love triangle - E/C/R. Not in a polyamorous, threesome way, but one where I love the dynamics of the characters, the way they affect one another, the ways Erik and Raoul are similar and different. So it’s not quite a “ship” in a traditional sense where I want characters to end up with each other, but more in the sense that I like to explore and analyze them.

As for other “ships” or pairings, I’m just going to list, like, every fandom or random-ass thing I’ve ever loved in semi-chronological order (time to go back to my middle school fandoms!). Under the cut for length.

Harry Potter: Sirius Black and Harry Potter. I adored the godfather-godson bond between the two (absolutely no romance; I clicked on an mpreg fic of the two when I was but a wee lass of twelve and it scarred me): how Harry was the last living reminder of Sirius’s best friend, whose death he still feels responsible for; how Sirius is the parental figure Harry wanted, how they were never able to be happy god damn it Rowling. (You can imagine how much my eleven year old self cried when I read the fifth book. Oh boy, the tears.)

Star Wars: Vader and Luke. Again, totally familial, father-son relationship only. (Speaking of scarring experiences, I once stumbled on a romance fic between the two, where yes, both of them were still father and son, and I have that summary etched into my brain permanently.) The way Vader obsessively hunts down Luke, the first emotional connection he has had with a person in literal decades! The way Luke has just ached all his life for a father figure, to the point where he will take a homicidal Sith lord if that’s who he is! How he never gives up on trying to redeem him! How Luke is right. Loud screeching.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Will Turner and Bootstrap Bill and Will Turner and Henry Turner. More sad father-son dynamics (you may be noticing a pattern here). Repeat what I said with the Star Wars relationships, only with more pirates and less homicide. (And way more parental abandonment guilt.)

Halloween: Michael Myers and Laurie Strode, remake universe. Yet again, no romance, just a severely messed-up brother-sister relationship. I can’t begin to tell you why I like the horrific relationship between a serial killer and the little sister he was so obsessed with he ruined her life, completely traumatized her, and ended up leading to her death, but I do. Maybe it’s the dark obsession aspect of it, that in the midst of all his murders, there’s still one person Michael Myers longs to have a connection with, the baby sister who represented total innocence in his mind. Maybe it’s the “what could have been” aspect too, as Laurie never recognizes him or realizes their connection until it’s far too late. Maybe I need to re-examine my life choices. I’ll figure it out someday.

Bat Boy The Musical: Bat Boy/Shelley. Yes, this is a romance; yes, they are half-brother and half-sister, yes, you can get on me about this, but in my defense how about you watch the musical and NOT come out of it shipping these two against all your better instincts.

POTO: E/C/R, as stated above and for all those reasons. Oh, and you know what - The Phantom and Gustave from Love Never Dies. Can’t get away from those father-son ships. I actually care about that relationship than E/C or R/C in LND (maybe because both E/C and R/C suck in the sequel so what else am I going to latch onto).

Batman: Listed here, but my heart really lies with three ships. Jaytim is the first: it’s the whole “angry woobie destroyer of worlds who hates everyone meets seemingly well-adjusted and cheerful individual who is secretly hiding their own issues” dynamic. Bane/Talia from The Dark Knight Rises is the second. Doesn’t matter if it’s familial, friendship, protector and protectee, or romantic, I eat it up, and to be fair, it’s never explicitly stated what the relationship is in the movie. All we know is that the two grew up together in a hellhole prison, probably dependent on and solely trusting only one another, and that bond continues even after they leave, and not even death will make them leave one another. Finally, we have Jason Todd/therapy from the Arkham games. Because the poor guy needs it.

MCU: STEVE/BUCKY (aka Stucky). This ship (again, could be friendship or romantic) dominated my thoughts for four years. Steve’s fish-out-of-water status! Bucky’s horrific imprisonment under Hydra. The way the two find each other after and the angst. The fact that Steve refuses to kill Bucky and, even after seventy years, succeeds in breakthing through to him because their connection runs that deep. The fact that Marvel just ruined this relationship so now I have to rely on fanfic. Oh yes, and I also slowly fell into the Kastle ship (Frank Castle aka The Punisher and Karen Page). Another “hardened killer with sad backstory who connects to idealistic young woman with hidden darkness” dynamic.

Terminator: T-800 aka “Uncle Bob” and John Connor. Returning to sad father-son dynamics, I have this from Terminator 2. A robot learning emotions! A boy learning to take his place as a leader and all-loving hero. The bond they form, partially because the T-800 will do nothing else but protect John and partially because John has no father-figure of his own, so his robot bodyguard will do. THE ENDING.

ASOIAF/GOT: I actually have very few ships from here other than Arya/Gendry (and only when they’re older) and, weirdly, Theon/Sansa from the show. The Gendrya ship is just cute, it may well be the most wholesome ship on here, while Theonsa has shades of Stucky in it, I suppose, given that Theon has been tortured so badly he can barely remember his own name, until Sansa turns up and reminds him enough that he breaks out of it to help her.

Favorite characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: My favorite characters from here are probably more side characters, so I’ll just say Hermione Granger. Her focus on academics, fear of failure, and conviction that the library holds all the answers, felt all too reminiscent of myself.

Star Wars: Darth Vader, no contest whatsoever. Cool mask, cool cape, cool lightsaber, and the absolute worst life one can imagine.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Interestingly, Will Turner. Yeah, I guess Jack Sparrow is cool and Elizabeth is absolutely awesome to watch and has the greatest change in the series, but oh-so-serious Will, with his deep loyalties and slow slide into moral ambiguity because of those loyalties, fascinates me.

Halloween: Laurie Strode, all versions. My favorite final girl, my survivor of trauma (except in the remake, where, well, she doesn’t survive). Also, her daughter in the Thorn trilogy, Jamie Lloyd, the most tragic little girl to walk across a horror movie screen.

Bat Boy The Musical: Ah, wow, haven’t thought about this. I guess Bat Boy and Shelley, more by default than anything.

POTO: Christine Daae, no contest. Love her character, love her arc, love her songs, love her costumes.

Batman: Listed here.

MCU: Bucky Barnes (unless he counts as a side character), but I also love Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Karen Page, Elektra Natchios... and I’ll leave it at that.

Terminator: John Connor. (There’s a reason I haven’t watched Dark Fate yet... or ever.)

ASOIAF/GOT: Three of them! Daenerys Targaryen, who I love because she tries so hard to rule well, who is so observant and cognizant of the things going on around her. Then Sansa Stark, who makes such astounding growth, who retains her empathy and compassion throughout, who is capable of startling perception and insight which most others underestimate. And finally, Cersei Lannister. She’s terrible. I love her.

And favorite side characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: Sirius Black may well have been my first fictional crush. But Remus Lupin is the kind of person (and teacher) I aspire to be.

Batman: I swear, depending on the comic series or movie, everyone is a side character. I’ll just link to my old ask again.

Star Wars: Batman syndrome all over again; every character in Star Wars might be a side character elsewhere, and every side character gets to be the main character of their own comic, book, movie, etc. Erm... I really liked Rose from the sequel trilogy and Chirrut Imwe from Rogue One. I find Mara Jade from the Legends universe fun to read. WAIT I GOT IT - Queen Amidala’s handmaidens from Episode I (Sabe, Rabe, Eirtae, Yane, Sache). Highly trained in both politics, decorum, and weaponry, able to be utterly nondescript or the Queen’s decoy at the drop of a hat? I love.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Hmm... you know what, I thought Syrena the mermaid was pretty cute.

Halloween: Rachel Carruthers! Your typical girl-next-door but well done and with a touching relationship with her foster sister. I will die mad about her death in the fifth movie.

Bat Boy The Musical: Uh.... I’ll get back to you on this...

POTO: Carlotta is super fun.

MCU: Oh heck, Dottie Underwood. (My taste in female characters goes like this: a) intelligent and observant, 2) sweet and compassionate, 3) batsh*t insane. She’s the third.)

Terminator: Not sure how much of a side character she is, but Kate Connor. Wife and second-in-command to John Connor, able to heal wounds and kick butt depending on what the movie requires.

ASOIAF/GOT: I’ll probably think of someone else, but you know what? Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, younger sister and wife to Aegon the Conqueror, whom he wed out of desire. Playful, spirited, loved to fly, sponsored musicians, initiated reforms for the smallfolk, what’s not to love? (Apart from one possibility of her death... but we don’t talk about that.)

#Anonymous #GP gets asks

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princebugs · 5 years ago

Text

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

---------------------------

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

---------------------------------------

ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

#gavin reed #detroit: become human #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #gav900 #if i told you niles wasnt the stalker would you believe me #anyways #hehe #lemme know what u think

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mxdanni · 6 years ago

Text

And Now You Don’t. Ethan x m!MC

My Open Heart Ethan Ramsey x m!MC series:

When Push Comes To Shove (p. 1 & p. 2)

He Wasn’t Meant to Hear

Confess (+ the crew at Donahue’s)

Likeable (+Dolores)

Thinking Straight (+Dolores)

The Right Kind of Therapy

Now You See Me (+Dr Banerji)

this one goes here (+Jenner)

Somebody’s Crush (+Elijah & Landry)

Summary: After accidentally learning about Dr Banerji, MC demands an explanation. The deal might involve a bribe (coffee), wine (at Ethan’s place) and other spilt secrets...

m!MC : Dr Cheng Lee

“...”

Cheng glanced at Dr Ramsey for what seemed like a hundredth time. The other just walked on, silently and scowling slightly at some thoughts of his own. The ones he wouldn’t care to share.

“It’s Dr Banerji, isn’t it?”

Dr Ramsey huffed.

“Oh, come on. I saw him,” persisted Cheng. “He suddenly retires, and now he’s admitted. Under a no name for no reason to make matters worse.”

Dr Ramsey shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not letting it go, are you, rookie?”

“Nope.”

“... should’ve known,” muttered Dr Ramsey.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Dr Ramsey, finally, looked up and to his right at Cheng. “I am telling you everything, alright? But not here.”

Cheng blinked. Then nodded and had to push the glasses up his nose. He thought about it for a second and grinned, “So you’re not leading me on to get rid of me, huh?”

“Wha–“

“Well, you did yell at me to follow you–“

“Not yelled–“

“It was more like ordered, really.” Cheng shrugged. “I don’t mind that much, you’re frustrated. Just don’t take it out on other people that often.” Cheng met Dr Ramsey’s eyes, the other was watching him very closely, his own face unreadable. “Okay, you told me to follow you after my shift, then we left Edenbrook and have been walking for some time now. In silence. And you have that scary scowling face of yours that sends the nurses hiding behind their station.”

“Really?”

Cheng chuckled at the surprised expression. “Yeah.” He grimaced and pulled on the corners of his eyes. “This one, you know,” Cheng snarled in the most intimidating voice he could manage.

“No,” Dr Ramsey reached out– but snatched his hand away before his fingers grazed Cheng’s forearm. “Do they really hide?”

“So you are not debating the scowl?” Cheng laughed, and the heavy mood seemed to be lifting a bit. “But no, they’re too scared to hide. Probably ‘cause if you don’t find them, it would make you angrier.” He pointed his finger up. “Bu-u-ut, I’ve heard they do toss a coin who comes out to help you.”

Dr Ramsey... well, almost chuckled. Cheng grinned to himself and said nothing, yet he did hear the muffled sound escape. He readjusted his glasses to cover up that he knew, or his face would’ve betrayed it all.

“So where’re we...?” Cheng traced off because Dr Ramsey, suddenly, dashed into a cafe. “Hey!” He hurried after.

There was no line at the counter so Cheng reached Dr Ramsey already ordering. “... and an... espresso romano. To go, please.” Dr Ramsey stopped Cheng’s hand reaching for his own pocket before Cheng said anything, and shook his head.

The barista handed them two cups rather quickly, and they went outside.

“So it is a bribe?” Cheng smirked.

“No–“

“Too bad. Bribe accepted!” Cheng saluted his cup and took a careful sip. “Wow, that’s good.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Dr Ramey’s lips. It was hardly even there, and yet Cheng noticed before it melted away. “Thought you’d like it. They serve it better but I’d rather not talk about, Naveen,” he lowered his voice at the name, “inside.”

“So where are we going then?” Cheng tried once again. He wasn’t even hoping to hear an answer this time.

“My place. It’s safe to talk there.”

“Oh?” Cheng missed a step when an answer did come.

“Objections?”

“No. None.” Cheng raised his hands. “I got nothing to do anyway. But just you know,” he grinned and glanced around the empty station, "I’m good at keeping secrets.”

"So I’ve noticed.”

“Wha-at? I don’t have a secret!”

“Uh-huh.” Dr Ramsey stepped into the train.

“Hey!” Cheng dashed after him and was about to settle onto the seat by his side. The train started moving as he was sitting down, and that sent Cheng flying a little. “Sorry.” He bumped into Dr Ramsey’s knee, and glasses slipped down his nose. Cheng hurriedly plumped himself down and smiled sheepishly.

Dr Ramsey cleared his throat. “We need to take a few stations,” he explained calmly, and his expression remained blank. He didn’t even look at Cheng. Dr Ramsey actually looked anywhere around the carriage but at Cheng.

They reached their destination in silence. Cheng glanced around to take the neighbourhood in but couldn’t bring himself to comment on it. Or anything else.

Dr Ramsey opened the door to his flat and held it open.

“Erm, thanks?” Cheng lingered in the doorway a bit and eyed Dr Ramsey up and down. "Ow!”

“Woof!”

“Hey, there buddy,” Cheng laughed and patted Jenner linking at his face. “So I’m a decoy, huh? And I was wondering why were you holding that door for me.” He grinned back at Dr Ramsey while still scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Is he always like that?”

Dr Ramsey cleared his throat and, rather awkwardly, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Give Dr Lee space, Jenner,” he scolded the dog, and Jenner jumped back to stand on all paws, rather than have two on Cheng.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Cheng bent forward to pat Jenner on the head. “Jenner’s just being very friendly.” He was almost sure he heard Dr Ramsey mutter something under his breath.

— — —

“I’m so sorry…” Cheng reached out, hesitating, yet did put his hand on Dr Ramsey’s knee. The other breathed out sharply and flinched at the contact but didn’t shove his hand away. “You know I understand just how exactly you feel, right?”

Dr Ramsey didn’t answer for some time, and Cheng waited. “Yes. You… you watch somebody very important to you, somebody you care about melt away, and can do nothing to stop it… it is so… so.”

“Helpless?” Cheng suggested.

Dr Ramsey scowled for a second but nodded in the end. “Helpless. Useless.” He moved his glass and watched the remaining vine swirl.

Jenner let out a high pitched whine as he settled at Cheng’s feet and lowered his head on them.

“I’m here.” Cheng squeezed Dr Ramsey's knee lightly. "I know, it doesn’t mean much but just so that you absolutely and surely know it. I’m here, and I am right here for you.”

Cheng felt his glasses slowly slip down his nose. He scrunched it, somehow trying to push them up – his hands were occupied either way: one on Dr Ramsey’s knee, the other held a wine glass. He felt the other’s gaze on him, eyes slowly traced down every feature…

Cheng stared. It felt suddenly so unreal, as if the time has stopped. A smile teased on the corner of Dr Ramsey’s lips, he chuckled quietly and reached out. There was still in his eyes, and the dark circles under, but somehow it felt like his expression lightened. Cheng gulped. A warm fingertip grazed his nose, a mere second, and adjusted his glasses just right. Their eyes met–

“Sorry I–“ Dr Ramsey snatched his hand and cleared his throat. He even shifted to the side so that he would seat further away on the sofa. “Don’t know what came over me."

“Uh-huh.” Cheng glanced around, his eyes lingering on Jenner by his feet. He bent down, mostly to hide his face, and petted Jenner. “N-never mind. Erm. Alright, let’s do this!” Cheng exclaimed and jumped to his feet.

Jenner yelped and sprinted around him.

“Do… what?” Dr Ramsey frowned and placed his glass on the coffee table.

"Well, I assumed you'd have copies in here as well?"

Dr Ramsey raised his eyebrow.

“Dr Banerji files? Test results?” suggested Cheng. “I might not be that brilliant but sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can help. Let me have a go.”

“You would–“

“I want to help you,” interrupted Cheng. “So let me.”

Dr Ramsey didn’t move, he was studying Cheng’s face and very intensely. Cheng could actually feel as his eyes traced his every feature. Dr Ramsey’s resolve waved, and he sighed.

“I’ll help you research,” persisted Cheng and gestured around. “Here’s good, right? Nobody will know, and I will just swing by after my shifts.”

And Dr Ramsey nodded.

“Well,” Cheng added hurriedly. “Unless it’s Friday.” He saw the other flinch, and Cheng blurted out. “That is, I will come still. But at eight I leave for half an hour and call gran. I do it every week.” Cheng looked away, over Dr Ramsey’s shoulder and through the window at the night city lights. “She’s all I got. Worried about how I manage in the big city and all. We lived in a small town.”

“Oh. Sorry, I–“

“Never mind.” Cheng shook his head. “You do wonder about my parents, don’t you?” He bent forward and scratched Jenner behind the ears. “My father died when I was three. Got killed.”

Cheng fell silent and glanced at his empty wine glass. Seemed to follow his gaze, Dr Ramsey stood up and topped both glasses again.

“Thanks.” Cheng pulled on a weak smile. The corners of his lips quivered. It felt so fake Cheng huffed a laugh. “I need that.” He took a large gulp.

“And your mother?”

Cheng laughed again. A deeper, more eerie sound. Glanced at Dr Ramsey, then into his glass and drenched the wine. “She killed him,” Cheng whispered. “They say she was slipping into madness after giving birth to me. Gran grabbed me and ran for the States. That’s it. Ugh.”

Cheng dashed to his right but couldn’t keep on his feet and landed straight onto Dr Ramsey’s lap. The other flinched, caught him in his arms still, as Cheng effortlessly snatched the half-full wine glass from his hand and downed it as well.

“You know,” Cheng whispered. He didn’t move, Dr Ramsey’s arms still secure around him, “the worst part is that gran blames herself for that.” He felt that grip tighten. “Because she insisted father married my mother. Gran thought she would make a perfect wife, and see where it landed us... a mess.” And Cheng leaned into the embrace as well.

His forehead pressed firmly against Dr Ramsey’s shoulder.

— — —-

Dr Ethan Ramsey... had no idea what to do. Honestly, there were a few things that would leave him so utterly lost, and Dr Cheng Lee has recently moved up that list. The very same intern shifted on his lap and lay back. He was now halfway sitting, still right on his lap, back against the arm of the sofa and legs draped over Ethan’s.

Ethan froze. He felt... confused. And yet Cheng looked so comfortable, so peaceful compared to the pained look the memories brought him.

Ethan wouldn’t move. He flexed his fingers midair but couldn’t resist touching, titling Cheng to his chest, his arms wrapped safely around the smaller form. He felt... besotted. Now, that was bad. One hell of bad.

Ethan closed his eyes and breathed out. Jenner raised his head and rolled over to lie next to Ethan’s feet.

“Gran supports me,” Cheng mumbled, and Ethan flinched. He glanced at him, but Cheng didn’t seem to be awake. His chest was rising steadily, and it calmed Ethan at least the intern won’t remember it. Again.

Ethan groaned silently. It was even worse than that time at intense care! Then Cheng snuggled against him but now... Well, now he decided to drape himself all over Ethan’s lap!

“In anything. You know, I saw her... my mother. Father lying at her feet, blood all over the floor.” A muffled chuckle, more of a soft gasp, escaped his lips. “I was afraid of women till primary school. Then just of women of a very particular height and build. It got better from that, gran always had my back.”

Ethan sighed and gave in. His palms slid around the warm body, one settling on the lower of Cheng’s back. The other traced up to the side of Cheng’s face, fingertips barely grazing skin.

Cheng snuggled against Ethan’s chest, and the other held him even tighter.

“And now?” mumbled Cheng. “Well, I just don’t see myself in a relationship with one.”

Ethan had no idea what he was to do with that piece of information.

- -

Taglist: @flower-child-54 @msjpuddleduck @warning-fangirlapproaching @x-kyne-x @lilyofchoices @rookie-ramsey @lapisreviewsstuff @perriewinklenerdie @fuckingelfstolemyliver @givemeoneethan @potbam @commander-rahrah @furiouscloddonutpeanut @archieandrewsbf @huckitcrab @edgiestwinter @pixieinboots @untealyoutellmewhy @tallulahshh @drstrange46ers @andromedasinclaire @raines-ramsey-hunt @melmcgonagall @yayalovesyou @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @beesbeesfearfear @hervench @inlovewithrebels @marshmallow-drake

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Stolen reputation

Summary: Losing your job is more than you can bear…

Pairing: CEO!Dean x Accountant!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradburry, Jo Harvelle, Lisa Braeden

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of cancer/cancer treatment, accusation, mentions of anxiety

Nervously chewing on your lower lip, you wait for Dean Winchester to finally say a word. Usually, you work with his brother Sam or on rare occasions with his father but Dean, well Dean Winchester is the man they send you to if you messed up.

You wreck your brain since Jo told you worriedly that Dean Winchester wants to see you at his office. The last time that man talked to you was when he asked if you could bring him a coffee too as his secretary quit yet again.

“Do you know why you are here?” Dean’s voice low and stern brings you out of your thoughts. “I asked you a question Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Jo told me you want to see me, Sir. I know I was late last week but it was the first time and I swear it will never happen again,” apologizing for the only mistake you made in the five years you work for Winchester Inc. you dare not to meet Dean’s gaze.

“You think I would waste my time for nonsense as coming too late to work? This is serious, Ms. Y/L/N. Stealing money from our clients’ accounts is a crime. You are lucky I did not call the cops,” Dean barks and your head snaps upward to meet his gaze.

“I would never steal, Sir. I swear I do not know what you are talking about. I work hard, never make mistakes, and came too late only this once in over five years. I’m loyal and reliable. I never stole anything,” close to tears, you feel your anxiety rise again. Your lips start to quiver, and you need all your strength to not start to hyperventilate.

“Do you think I am dumb, that Lisa is dumb?” You shake your head, wiping a few rogue tears away.

“Lisa? I don’t understand. She talked to me just yesterday, asked me questions about the accounts I had to close as the clients left us,” you want to open your laptop to show Dean the data but he grasps it, tossing it onto the couch.

“Stop lying, Y/N!” He slams the palm of his hands onto the leans of your chair, making you flinch.

“I do not lie, Sir. Cole signed the papers. He would’ve seen any mistake or if money would have disappeared. I swear, there is nothing wrong with my accounts.” Dean doesn’t believe you, rather gets papers out for you to sign.

“You’re lucky I got the money back from the account you transferred it to. This way, we can keep the cops out of this and not lose our reputation for being safer than any bank,” Dean hands you a pen, glaring at you. “You are fired. Sign this, pack your shit and leave.”

“Sir, please, I need this job. I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me check the accounts, or ask Charlie. I know she can find out if I manipulated any account, Sir. Give me the chance to prove I am innocent,” you try but Dean points toward the papers and you know – he will not give you a chance.

“To think I believed you are different, Y/N,” Dean huffs, grabbing your wrist harshly to lead you out of his office. “I’ll stay next to you and watch you pack your things. You are not allowed to enter this building or have contact with one of the employers ever again.

“Y/N,” Jo gasp watching tears run down your cheeks while you toss the few belongings you brought to your working place into your bag. “What happened?”

“Lisa said I stole money,” you sniffle. “Mr. Winchdester didn’t let me prove I am innocent so she won and will get my position.”

“That’s what she wanted after all,” Jo, grunts. “I can’t believe she lied to get your job,” Dean furrows his brows at Jo, searching her face. “Shame, Y/N. How will you pay for your dad’s…” You shake your head, pressing your index finger to your friend's lips.

“I’ll find a way, always did Jo. Losing a job is not the end of the world…”

Three months later…

“I am back bitches and…” Charlie looks at your working place, wondering why Lisa Braeden sits at your place. “What the fuck happened, Jo?”

“Lisa the bitch Braeden accused Y/N she stole money from two accounts. Dean didn’t give her a chance to prove she’s innocent. Cole tried to talk to Dean but he stayed adamant. I think she works three jobs now to pay for her dad’s treatment.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Charlie yells before she waltzes toward Dean’s office. “Why did no one call me or Sam? I bet we could’ve found the culprit in no time and I am sure, it’s not Y/N.”

“Charlie, what the…,” Dean gasps when Charlie shoves him aside to get access to his computer. “Charlie?”

“Show me the accounts, now. I don’t believe Y/N stole money. If you do not give her a chance, fine, but I will check her story before judging her.”

“Fine, check it. I bet you will not find anything proving she’s innocent…” Dean enters his password, opening the accounts. “There. Money got transferred to this bank account.”

“Did you look at the time stamp Dean?” Charlie looks up at Dean, pointing toward the time stamp. “I mean, Y/N was in Melbourne with Sam, Jo, and Cole at that time. I know as we had a great video chat sleepover that night.”

“What? No, this is impossible,” Dean swallows thickly, nervously rubbing his scruffy cheek. “She could’ve accessed…oh, no…we changed the system back then. You can only access the account from the main server at this building.”

“Exactly, Mr. Winchester. Not only did you accuse the poor girl, but you also fired her. Do you know what it means to get fired by a Winchester?” Nodding Dean looks at the next account and the time stamp. “Same date and time, Dean. If anyone stole the money, it was not Y/N, Jo, or Sam. I was at Paris and I don’t think you stole the money to fire Y/N…”

Whilst Dean tries to find out where you moved to or how to apologize for not giving you a chance to prove you are innocent you work three jobs. You even had to move out of her apartment to spare money as your father’s condition got worse.

“How is he today?” Rubbing your sore eyes you look up at Alex, giving the friendly nurse a sad smile. “You look tired, Y/N.”

“Just came home from my night job, had a shower to spend a few hours here before my day job starts,” you huff, hating you lied to your father. “Dad asked why I am always tired, you know, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I got fired.”

“Whatever that guy said is wrong. I know you for three years now. Never would you steal anything, Y/N,” Alex looks at your father, giving you a soft smile. “He’s doing better, the therapy seems to help.”

“It’s worth working three jobs, I know it,” grasping for your father’s hand you gently press it to your face. “One day he’ll get better.”

“Mom, I know that I shall not mess with a Winchester, but that douche fired Y/N. You know, the girl I told you about. Her father has lung cancer, and she spends all the money she earns with three jobs for an expensive experimental treatment. You know Dean Winchester, tell him he’s an asshole for ruining the girl,” Alex angrily hangs up the phone, shaking her head at Jody’s words.

“Was that your mom?” Claire sighs, watching you sleepily read your father his favorite book. “Does the girl ever sleep?”

“Not with three jobs and her dad’s condition,” Alex explains what happened to you, your job, and Dean Winchester, unbeknownst Claire’s father is a good friend of Dean. “Poor girl will break down sooner or later…”

Dean doesn’t know if he’s allowed to enter your father's hospital room. Only stealing glances he watches you talk to your father, telling him it’s an honor to work for John Winchester’s company.

“You know the company dad. Always work, but it’s worth it, just like you said. The Winchesters are fair men,” you almost choke on your lie but your father would worry about you, and that’s the last thing he needs.

“I’m so proud of you, sugarplum,” you nod, holding back the tears when your father drifts back into sleep.

“I wish you had a reason, daddy. I’m working three lousy jobs,” pressing a soft kiss to your father's cheek you forget about your sorrows for a moment. “Get better dad, that’s all I want.”

Dean hides behind a corner when you leave your father’s room. He can see the bags under your eyes, a sign that you haven’t slept for too long. You lost weight too, just like the smile you used to ‘wear’.

“What can I get you? Whiskey, vodka, or beer?”

Dean nervously looks at you, waiting for you to recognize him at the end of the bar. You are busy explaining a drink to a customer so he must wait before you turn your attention toward him.

“What can I…?” You clench your jaw when you meet familiar green eyes, “get you, Sir?”

“Hi, erm…uh, beer would be fine, Y/N,” he stammers pointing toward the other guest. “Some nuts too?”

“Sure,” turning around you take deep breaths. You hate Dean Winchester, but you can’t lose one of your jobs, so you place a beer and nuts in front of him. “Anything else, Sir?”

“Y/N, when do you get off? I’d like to talk to you,” you wipe your hands at your jeans, not meeting Dean’s gaze.

“Sir, I have to ask you to not use my forename. It’s Ms. Y/L/N or bartender to you. If you excuse me now, I can’t lose another job because of you,” you jerk your head toward two waiting customers. “Other people want to have a drink too. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Y/N, damnit,” grumbling Dean moves to the other end of the bar, looking at you, expectantly. “I want another drink, no, the whole bottle, and your company.” He places his wallet onto the counter, slamming two-hundred bucks onto the counter. “Stay.”

“I got no time, okay. If you want to sue me or call the cops for the lies Lisa told about me, do so,” with two fingers you shove the money toward Dean, glaring at your former boss. “I don’t need or want your dirty money. Go and spend it at someone else.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean tries, “Charlie proved it wasn’t you who manipulated the accounts of our customers. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance.”

“Not giving me a chance?” You toss the dishtowel you use to clean the counter into Dean’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me? I lost my reputation thanks to you. I work at night at a bar, clean toilets during the day, and in the morning, I work at a diner barely making any money. Sorry doesn’t fix shit, you son of a bitch!” Emptying the bottle of Whiskey over Dean’s face you nod at your boss who mouths ‘you are fired’. “Fuck you, Winchester…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you a stalker? Do I need to call the cops to get you off my back? Is making my life even more miserable your new hobby?” Brushing past Dean who waited for you at your father’s house you ignore he tries to talk to you.

“Y/N, please wait. I made a dumb mistake. I never wanted you to lose your job or reputation. Lisa came to me, showing me, the accounts and I did not check the date, okay. I should’ve looked closer at the data, but I was so mad. I wanted you to be the new head of the financial department. I felt betrayed, sweetheart.” Dean grasps for your hand, not wanting you to believe he fired you on purpose.

“I’m not your sweetheart, Winchester. My name is Y/N, not sweetheart, baby girl, or the other shit you call your secretaries. I might not own money, a house, or fancy shit but I got dignity, which means I do not have to listen to your stupid pet names for me.”

“I apologize for the pet names, sw…Y/N. Please, let’s go inside and talk about the data, Lisa’s lies, and the stolen money. Dad, he told me to get you back.”

“Your father?” Not believing John Winchester even knows you exist you blink a few times. “Why should he want me to come back? I don’t think he remembers we ever talked.”

“You’re wrong. My father, he remembers your work, the data you handed him just in time for a big deal. John Winchester only remembers people impressing him. You are one of them.”

“John Winchester remembers me…” Mumbling the words you smile. “I’ll tell my dad John Winchester remembered me.”

“Can we talk now? I’d like to have my best worker back. I will do anything to make it up to you,” Dean offers, holding out his hand. “Let me prove I can be fair.”

“I need to sleep for my job in the morning. Maybe I find some spare time between my job at the diner and my cleaning job,” you turn on your heels, looking for your keys. “If you excuse me now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Jesus, sweetheart you are hard to crack. Shall I fall to my knees?” Angrily turning around, you glare at Dean.

“You don’t get it.” You slap his cheek harshly. “It’s not about losing about a job, it’s so much more. I invested five years into your fathers’ company. I spend more time at my desk than with friends or dating. My father was proud of me. I could pay his bills from the hospital.”

“We can find a way to help you, Y/N. Let me…”

“I am not done!” Your angry eyes meet Dean’s, and he gulps, not knowing if he shall be turned on by or scared of you. Suddenly my job was gone, my home too, just like the reputation I build for years. I lost everything as you used your downstairs brain.”

“What the…oh-I get it,” Dean huffs, hanging his head in shame. “You know about me and Lisa. It was after a Christmas party. I got drunk and you know the rest.”

“Only as you banged her doesn’t mean you had to believe her lies. You could’ve handled the situation like a Winchester. Sam or your father would’ve checked the data and not believe that woman.”

Dean nods, taking your hand to squeeze it tightly. “I’m honestly sorry, Y/N. I should’ve treated you with respect and checked the data. I promise to do better if you give me a chance and come back. Work for us again and you’ll get the respect and position you deserve,” you consider Dean’s proposal, glancing at your watch.

“No pet names,” Dean nods, laughing at your angry expression. “I mean it. Not all girls like to get called sweetheart at work.”

“Okay, noted, Y/N. No pet names at work,” he grins now, looking at your hand in his. “Maybe one day I can call you sweetheart outside of work…”

“You can dream, Winchester…you can dream…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog

#Stolen reputation #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #angst #ceo!dean Winchester #ceo!dean #dean x reader #AU Fanfic #spn au fanfiction

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nightingiall · 6 years ago

Text

little do you know, chapter 22; give me love

Fact: “Lack of sleep leads to sugar cravings.”

previous chapters + drabbles

Niall’s hand was cold.

It was a bit odd, considering he was always so warm. He was her sunshine boy. His entire being was made up of this all-encompassing warmth that always seeped into her skin and made her feel warm too.

But his fingers were cold now, as she held one of his hands in both of hers. He was fast asleep when she walked into his room, lips parted slightly as he snoozed the afternoon away. She knew he was probably feeling drowsy from whatever it was that they were currently pumping into his arm so she let him be, instead settling for holding his hand and trailing her fingers through his hair. His scruff was growing out a bit since he probably hadn’t had the opportunity to shave. She made a mental note to bring him his shaving kit the next time she came.

Zayn and Harry were sitting in the waiting room, allowing Liam and Harlow to head back home to freshen up and take a nap. Mona was grateful that they left her alone with Niall. She didn’t want to seem like a creep for staring at him while he slept. She couldn’t help it, though; she missed him. She couldn’t help but take in the little bruise on his forehead or the cast on his leg and not feel a sharp ache in her chest.

She didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep until she felt someone’s fingers brushing a strand of her hair out of her face and flinched slightly. When she opened her eyes, Niall was watching her, a small smile on his beautiful face. “Hi,” he murmured, voice groggy. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I wondered who was squeezing my hand so tightly.”

It was only then that Mona realized her position. She was still sitting on the chair next to his bed, but she ended up leaning against her forearm which rested on the guardrail of his bed, her other hand still holding one of his. She loosened her grip, sitting up only to realize that the angle with which she fell asleep was not good for her neck, which felt stiff as she straightened up now. “Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing her neck. “Was that what woke you? You should get some more rest.”

She attempted to shift away, but Niall held on to her hand firmly, his other hand coming up to trail lightly over her cheekbones and down her jawline, up her nose bridge and across her eyebrow. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he said softly, bright blue eyes following the movements of his finger. Mona found herself holding her breath, warmth blooming to the tops of her skin, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing as hard as she felt like she was. “And you’ve been crying.”

Mona huffed out what she hoped sounded like a laugh as his eyes met hers. She couldn’t help the way she felt like she was melting in his gaze, completely enamored by her sunshine boy, even when he was watching her so sadly. “Nothing new there,” she tried to joke, but it only caused Niall to frown, and she found herself tapping the corners of his lips so they’d curl back upwards again, the gesture so achingly familiar that she almost started to cry again.

“Am I dreaming?” His voice sounded heavy and muffled, like he was starting to fall asleep again, but she could tell that he was trying very hard to keep his eyes open. “I’m not dreaming this time, right?”

She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she reached out to flick his nose, chuckling softly at his soft grunt. “No,” she murmured into his hand, her lips brushing over his knuckles. Those were bruised too. “You’re not dreaming.”

He sighed in what sounded like relief, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. She started to wonder whether he had fallen asleep again when he opened them to look at her, a sort of desperation in the baby blue. He looked a bit like he was in pain, which made her lean closer to him, eager to give him whatever he needed, to protect him. “I’m sorry, Mo,” he whispered, voice cracking a bit, and he held onto her hand as if he were afraid that she would run away. “I’m—” he took a deep breath, “when you said that you were done I was so afraid that you meant it. And then you weren’t here with the others—I thought—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted, smoothing his hair from his forehead. His forehead was warm. Niall blinked a few times, moisture collecting beneath his lashes, and Mona thought that if he cried she would actually lose her mind. “It’s not important, okay?” She tried to keep her voice even and calm and quiet as she continued to stroke his forehead. Their noses were almost touching and she hadn’t even realized when she had leaned so close to him. “Get some rest, alright?”

“’M sorry,” he mumbled. Sleep was beginning to overtake him but he was still trying to fight it.

Mona pressed a kiss to his hand before releasing it, resting it on his tummy as she pulled the blanket up to his chin. Because she couldn’t resist, she trailed the back of her finger over his cheek, his overgrown stubble rough against her skin. “Go to sleep,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. There was still product in it from the night before, so she worked her fingers through the strands to loosen them up.

Niall closed his eyes in response, shifting a bit so his pillow was comfortable. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. His lips quirked upwards a bit when she pressed her lips to his forehead.

It wasn’t long until he fell asleep.

~ Mona tried not to visit him too much. She knew that it would be best for them to keep their distance for a while. Well, that it was best for her. She was still trying to wrap her head around her feelings for Niall and what the future could hold for the two of them. She knew they needed to have a conversation about everything, but she didn’t want that conversation to be in a hospital.

Still, she noted items that he would need or want while he was recovering in his hospital room and brought them for him, usually while he was sleeping. She brought his razor, shaving cream, and toothbrush on one day because she knew he was a hygiene freak and would have wanted to brush his teeth and shave. Then, she brought over his laptop and glasses because she knew he must have been bored whenever he couldn’t sleep. He was never much of a TV person, usually choosing to read a book or get some sort of work done.

She also tried not to think too much of how she intuitively recognized these things about him.

One time she ran into a family walking into Niall’s room just as she was walking out of it. The boy, who looked to be about thirteen or so, introduced himself to Mona as the one Niall saved from getting hit by that car. His name was Jorge. “Are you his girlfriend?” he asked Mona. “He mentioned someone named Mona being mad at him when we were in the ambulance over here.”

“Erm…” Mona had no idea what to say to that. “Well, I am Mona.”

Thankfully, before she had to think of something else to say, Jorge’s mother spoke. She was holding a bouquet of flowers with a card. “Niall is such an angel. You’re so lucky to have him.”

Mona couldn’t remember how the rest of that conversation went. She was too focused on how she was going to get out of there before Niall got back from therapy.

It was only about two days until he was almost ready to be discharged. Harry told her that they’d been doing some physical therapy exercises with him and going over how to clean the wound and change the bandages. She figured that maybe she’d get some of his favorite ice cream, knowing that it would lift his spirits a bit.

After finishing up some paperwork with Jingle at Connemara’s, she headed out to get his favorite Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, chocolate chip cookie dough, before making her way to the hospital. Because Harry and Liam spoke extensively about Niall’s therapy schedule to coordinate visitation times, she knew that he most likely wouldn’t be in his room right now, but in the rehab center instead. She figured that she would just leave the ice cream with a note on the top and call it a day.

Apparently, though, either Harry and Liam were wrong, or Niall had a schedule change, because there was none other than her sunshine boy sitting on the bed when she walked in.

He smiled at her when she paused at the door, her presence a distraction from whatever he was doing on his laptop. “Hey, Mo,” he greeted, his voice soft. His demeanor was a bit cautious, but his eyes glittered hopefully.

“Hey,” she breathed out, a bit caught off guard. She had sort of planned out how this visit was supposed to go and it was already being thrown off course. There was a brief pause where she tried not to look so much like a deer caught in headlights when she noticed that his smile was beginning to waver a bit. So she gathered herself together and held up the bag, managing a smile of her own. “Want some ice cream?”

Niall grinned at her, closing his laptop and setting it aside before patting an open space on his bed for her to take a seat. And…okay—this wasn’t exactly where she expected this to go. But she was here and this was happening and she figured she should just go for it.

So she sat down, careful not to jostle his leg, and handed him his pint of ice cream. She got one for herself too, so it was a bit quiet for a while as they dug in and figured out how to deal with this uncomfortable tension between them. The silence, while not unbearable, was a bit awkward, and she couldn’t think of anything to say beyond cringy small talk, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Thank you,” Niall started, and she was thankful that he was the one to break the silence, “for the ice cream and…the laptop and glasses and everything else.”

“Oh,” was what came out of her mouth, mostly because she didn’t expect him to know it was her who brought his things. When she met his eyes, his were slightly guarded and nervous. “Yeah, uh. No problem.” She shifted a bit and ended up accidentally tugging the sheet under his leg, bringing her attention to the cast. It didn’t look as bandaged up and scary as the first time she saw him, but it still caused a lump to grow in her throat. “Are you,” she breathed before clearing her throat slightly, “are you feeling better?”

Niall shrugged, spooning a bit more ice cream into his mouth. She had a sudden flashback to them eating fancy ice cream in Vegas, her heart skipping a beat for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. Can’t wait to get back home though. I miss my bed so much.” Mona chuckled at that, which made him smile. It softened a bit, and she knew that he was about to bring up the elephant in the room. “I’m glad you came.” He looked down at his ice cream for a moment before meeting her eyes again, and this time, he let down his walls and allowed her to see all of the emotions swirling in that bright baby blue. “Or that I caught you this time.”

Mona gulped, averting her eyes in favor of fiddling around with the spoon in her ice cream. She knew it was now or never. She was so tired of beating around the bush with him. After everything that had happened, all she wanted was for things to be normal again. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to avoid you or anything. It’s just…”

When she trailed off and looked up at him again, his lips had curled downwards the slightest bit. “Complicated,” he murmured, completing her train of thought.

She nodded, huffing out a laugh and shaking her head. “Yeah.” She looked towards the window saw that the sun was starting to set. “Complicated.” She remembered when she once thought that he was the sun and she was the moon; he cast his light on her and made her better. They made each other better people. But they didn’t know if they could co-exist.

She had been so lost in thought that when Niall reached out for her, she startled a bit. He paused before entangling their fingers together, those ever-expressive eyes reflecting something that looked like sadness. “I’m,” he started, voice wavering a bit like he was unsure of himself, something she didn’t see in him often. “I know that you don’t want to believe me and everything but,” he shifted closer, “I do care about you, Mo. So much, and—for so long, and—” He worried his lip between his teeth for a bit, thinking over what he wanted to say, and Mona was so entranced by him, hanging on to his every word, to his every movement. When he spoke again his voice was hushed and quiet. “I am so terrified of losing you.”

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she exhaled at his words. Because she felt the same. She was so terrified of losing him too. She was absolutely devastated when he left for Ireland without an explanation, that feeling keeping her up on some nights as she tried to imagine her world without him. She couldn’t.

“And,” he took a deep breath, squeezing her hand a bit. “I want to be with you. You’re the only one I want to be with.” He held her hand with both of his now, eyes never leaving hers. “I know I was upset before but I swear, I will wait for you, however long that takes.” He gulped, wetting his lips a bit. “But,” now, his tone changed, sounding more cautious. “If that’s not what you want—if you tell me right now that you feel absolutely nothing for me—” The air around them stilled. She felt like she was holding on to his every word for dear life. “Then I promise you, I will leave you alone.”

This time, she was the one squeezing his hand. There was so much to unpack in his words that she was reeling, unsure of where to start, what to say. Suddenly, Nick’s words were coming back to her: “You need to stop overthinking every goddamn thing you do.”

He was right. It was a tendency that clearly usually ended up being her downfall. And the facts were that she was in love with him, and she wanted to be with him. So what on earth was stopping her all the time?

She knew the answer to that too: Cleo.

Niall seemed to sense her thoughts because his next words were, “You’re the only one for me, Mo. You were always the only one.”

She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. “I—” She took a deep breath. There was nothing that made her anxious now. There was just one feeling: hesitance. “I think I need…time.” Niall was watching her like she had the power to destroy him, and she racked her brain for something, anything, that she could say to make him feel a bit better. “But,” she started, and Niall leaned forward the slightest bit, “I don’t feel absolutely nothing for you.”

Niall’s eyes widened a bit before he took a deep breath and huffed out a laugh. He gave her a relieved smile, shifting even closer to her to hold her face in his hands. “Think about it,” he breathed, brushing a few of her unruly strands behind her ear. “Please.”

She nodded and he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, and she did the same. And they remained like that for a while, just holding one another, taking each other in, and taking in the possibility that the future held.

And, in that moment, that was enough.

Mona felt infinitely lighter than she had in the past few days.

She couldn’t help the easy smile she had on her face as she left Niall’s room.

They were taking things slow, knowing that there was more they needed to talk about. But at least they were on the same page about where they stood with each other. And that was all that she could ask for given the circumstances.

But, her good mood didn’t seem destined to last. Because just as she was walking out of the building, she ran into none other than Cleo.

“Mona, hi,” she greeted as they paused in front of each other in the lobby. She smiled brightly at her, and Mona managed to send her a smile of her own. Cleo seemed to sense Mona’s apprehension towards her because she faltered slightly, her demeanor becoming more nervous as she walked closer. “Listen,” she started, eyes kind and understanding. “I know there’s a lot happening between you and Niall. And some of it is because of me.”

“Cleo, it’s—”

But Cleo didn’t seem to want to let Mona go without explaining, and Mona knew all too well what that felt like. So she let her finish. “Mona, I promise you, there’s nothing going on between Niall and I. We’re just good friends, I swear.” She placed a hand on Mona’s arm. “He’s in love with you.”

Mona held in a breath, chewing nervously on her lips. “And you…you don’t have feelings for him?” She felt stupid for asking, but she just had to know. It was something that plagued her forever, and she just wanted closure.

Cleo smiled, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely nothing.”

Mona gulped. Her mind flitted back to that moment at Connemara’s. The first time, when she was standing behind the bar and she watched Niall kiss her. The memory still made her heart race. “So, that kiss—”

“It was just,” she tossed her hands up, looking a bit exasperated and embarrassed, “a drunken mistake. It was all a mistake. We both agreed that it shouldn’t have happened.” There was an honesty about her that Mona had always felt. Cleo was always honest and kind. It was probably why Mona always felt insecure about her, because she always appeared to be perfect, while Mona was anything but. “I think,” her voice was soft and slightly timid now, and she looked down at her shoes, “we were both just…lonely. And drunk. Really, really drunk.” She shrugged, looking up at Mona again, smiling. But Mona could tell there was something more behind that smile. A story. “I was having some relationship trouble and Niall…well he was pretty hung up on you. And it just…happened.”

Mona nodded. She couldn’t help but believe her. There was no reason not to. All this time, it was all just in Mona’s head. She had just projected all of her insecurities onto Cleo. And, really, it wasn’t fair to her. “Okay,” she breathed out, nodding. “Thank you.”

Cleo nodded in return. They had never really been close, but this felt like the start of a friendship. “Everyone is rooting for you two,” she said kindly, and Mona could tell that she was genuine. “Including me.”

Mona smiled. This was something that she needed to hear.

This felt like closure, and also a beginning.

#little do you know #ldyk #writings

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soveryanon · 6 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG136!

- In a very interesting way for an episode dealing with The Web (both as an active force outside of the Institute and… very close to it: Annabelle sending Alison there, Jon being unable to focus on his lighter), this episode dealt, in a lot of small ways, with the idea that members of the Archives team are… regaining control of themselves and their lives?

Melanie is attempting therapy! She’s cautious about it but she’s taking measures to try and get better, she’s putting efforts into it, she wants to feel better!

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: If you don’t mind me asking, [STATIC:] where are you off to…? MELANIE: Therapy. [STATIC ENDS] … Wait. ARCHIVIST: Oh…! Oh, God, Melanie, I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh… MELANIE: [EXASPERATED SIGH] It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually, anyway. ARCHIVIST: Even so, I shouldn’t have– MELANIE: Just… forget it. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s good, though. I–I’m glad you’re getting help. MELANIE: Yes, well. We’ll see. There’s a… a lot of crap therapists out there. ARCHIVIST: I guess. Still, it–it is a good step.

Jon is right on this and… there was already something hopeful in the way that Melanie didn’t explode at Jon for accidentally compelling her; she wasn’t pleased by it but… she could have shut the conversation down. Instead, she tried to minimise a little what Jon had done and asserted her boundaries, which she did again with the therapist, but without cutting either of them out. She’s clearly not in the bestest of places, was uncomfortable with the topic… but I’m so glad and proud of her for taking this “step”, for deciding that she had to deal with her demons – possibly from way before she even came to the Institute for the first time?

Meanwhile: it wasn’t so much about Jon’s actions but about what he finally admitted – that he’s aware that he made a choice, that he’s actually had… a very twisted and casually self-destructive way of facing the coffin and of considering his own life since he’s woken up:

It has been a process for Jon, too; the theme of “choice” has been sneakily prevalent in season 4 so far, following up on season 3:

(MAG087) Georgie: [SIGH] Look I’ve, I’ve got work to do. You listen, or don’t listen, or cross-record, or whatever you want, just… just think about it first, okay? You can choose to leave it alone. [DOOR CLOSES] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [TAPE PLAYER IS LOADED] [CLICK]

(MAG092) ARCHIVIST: I never chose this! ELIAS: You never wanted this, no. But I’m afraid you absolutely did choose it. In a hundred ways, at a hundred thresholds, you pressed on. You sought knowledge relentlessly, and you always chose to see. Our world is made of choices, Jon, and very rarely do we truly know what any of them mean, but we make them nonetheless.

(MAG111) GERRY: Thing is, it’s harder than it looks. What’s out there doesn’t care about blood. […] But they care about your choices, your fears.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] You– you know what, no. I’m… I’m done with that. No more paranoia. It’s almost got me killed more than once, and… Georgie was right. If I am… slipping, then I need people I can trust. And I… I don’t think that can happen naturally for me an–anymore, so… I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E– except Elias, obviously, that’s not– I mean…

(MAG121) OLIVER: The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice. You’ve put it off for a long time; but it’s trapping you here. You’re not quite human enough to die, but – still too human to survive. You’re… balanced on an edge where The End can’t touch you – but you can’t escape him. I made a choice. We all made choices; now you have to– […] Make your choice, Jon.

(MAG132) DAISY: I don’t want t–to be a s–sadistic predator again… I–I don’t want to… hobble around, like some pathetic, wounded prey either… I don’t know which would be worse. And I’m sc–scared, now, that I’ll never get the choice… ARCHIVIST: One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

(MAG134) PETER: … Look. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. It won’t even work unless you’re willing to commit.

(MAG136) DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming?

So, although his memories are still missing and he might not remember Oliver either (Jon has never mentioned him so far, and given how Jude had been able to kick Jon out of her dreams, he might have done the same thing despite giving a live-statement), Jon is aware that he made a decision – maybe without knowing in the details what was at stake (there could be a few things we could still scream at Elias in MAG092 re: informed consent :w), but he was faced with two options and elected one over the other. It has its own shades of tragic undertones and heartbreak, but it’s also… his own choice, this time around, and still more controlled than “sign papers to become Head Archivist of an eccentric Institute (sells your soul to a Fear god that you’ll now have to feed through other people’s terrors or your own)”. By pushing and questioning Jon, Daisy had been able to make him say what he chose to do (and as seen above, why), and his handling of the coffin was one of such things. Even if, indeed, the Web sent him in that direction (leaving MAG131’s tape for him, maybe manipulating him to some extent through the lighter), Jon, like Martin, is still appropriating what they did as being his own decision:

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection [CHUCKLE] between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself. [SILENCE] DAISY: Jon… when you went into the coffin. Was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me, or was… that something telling you to do it? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: It was me. I was… drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision.

Jon agreeing to Daisy’s proposition to go get drinks may also be going in his own right direction – back in season 1, Jon would have probably shrugged off the offer? But as Helen told him, “people change” and right there, Jon had a micro-choice; he could have refused and, still, after a small hesitation, decided to go along with it instead.

Of course, when it comes to reclaiming their life back in this episode, the most striking was Daisy; Daisy, who had already explained who she wanted to be (MAG132: “I d–, I don’t… I don’t know who I am without, without the chase… I just know… that I… I don’t like who I was back outside. I don’t want to be her again. I want… to be… better…”) and who, so far, has managed to stick to that; Daisy, who handles herself as best as she can even (especially!) though it requires other people because she wants to avoid being alone for PTSD reasons:

(MAG133) [CLICK–] DAISY: You sure? ARCHIVIST: No, uh, it’s, hum. It’s fine. DAISY: It’s just… Basira’s busy.

(MAG136) MELANIE: Well… uhm. Daisy’s been, erm… I’ve been keeping her company. Er, while… while Basira’s busy. She’s, er… ARCHIVIST: Oh, no, I, uh… I–I know. […] DAISY: [QUICKLY] You’re not babysitting me, alright?! I know that’s what the others think, sometimes, but… that’s not it. I just… don’t like… being on my own if I can help it. You know. Flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST: I know, Daisy, I–I do. It’s hard. DAISY: Yeah, well. Don’t let me get in your way.

There is currently something so strong in what we’re seeing of Daisy? In the way she’s aware of her limitations and manages to prevent the conditions leading to potential breakdowns? I feel like she’s following the same logic as when we knew her as a Hunter: when she was seeing a problem, she would just… neutralise it. Hence beating up Mike, hence immediately going for Jon’s voicebox; hence her Cold Factual Violence overall against spooks/vampires/“monsters” of various kinds. Basira had said that she liked Daisy because she was “solid”, because of her certainty, and this is still the same Daisy – though not hurting others anymore! And she pulled an incredible power move:

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: It, uh… Hm. Is, uh… Weird question, but… I… [EXHALE] I haven’t seen you in my dreams? The last couple of weeks? DAISY: … Oh, uh, no. I… I work here, now. I figured it seems to protect the others, so… ARCHIVIST: Oh. Right, so… Wait, did you talk to Lukas, or…? DAISY: [CHUCKLE] Broke into Elias’s old office. Found an employment contract; filled it in, and signed it. ARCHIVIST: And that worked. DAISY: Seems so. ARCHIVIST: And you’re not… worried about… DAISY: Basira’s trapped here. So are you. Not gonna be going anywhere anyway. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose not. So… no more dreams. DAISY: Not of you and your weird eyes. Just the coffin. ARCHIVIST: Is that better…? DAISY: ’T’s mine. ARCHIVIST: … right.

She weaponised what they have gathered, through experiences and guesses, to get free of the dreams she hated! It’s not absolutely clear whether she signed to become an Archival assistant or a regular staff member; on the one hand, Jon’s concern hints towards archival assistant, since as far as we know, the Archives seemed to be their own business, including trapping their staff (though damn, I remembered MAG102 being more explicit on the matter but: actually, no, since Martin saying that regular crew are able to quit was immediately followed by “Hannah just left to have her baby, though.”: was that “though” a “by the way” or a way to tamper what he had just said, and this is the most they can do, but still not quite quit…?); on the other hand, Daisy hasn’t specified what it was.

Anyway: it’s such a POWERFUL MOVE to… 1°) break into Elias’s office, 2°) just sign herself up like that?, 3°) ESPECIALLY given how Elias had initially coerced Basira into signing herself up to avoid turning the scene into a bloodbath, even before being told of the repercussions (that she couldn’t quit, that Elias dying meant that they would die too). What Daisy did sound like a direct answer to MAG092, and I’m loving it, loving that Daisy… just used what they had learnt of the dreams’ mechanism to protect herself and chose to bind herself to the Institute while exactly knowing what it meant, without anything blackmailing her into it. Elias hadn’t bothered to tie her down for who she was? Watch as she’ll decide that for herself.

This is also the first person of Extended Team Archive to… have given herself to The Eye fully knowing what she was doing. You better be grateful for the gesture, Big Eyeball!!! The others had to be misled or coerced into serving you, and Daisy, of all people, chose to give herself to you!!!

(- If Daisy became an Archive Assistant: I hope that she’ll get to read a statement at some point? Well, technically, best thing would be for nobody to read a statement but. Martin did it a few times (and read one in MAG134!), Tim ALMOST did it, Melanie did it twice, Basira did it once… it’s a bit of a Tradition. (And who wouldn’t want to hear Fay Roberts for almost an entire episode outside of Daisy’s own live-statements?! I’m a simple woman, okay.))

- I’m really curious about how Elias and Daisy would interact, now. Would it be biting/tense/mutual snarling, or taunting about Daisy still being a “rabid dog” at heart…? Or precisely not anymore: because Daisy acknowledged in front of Jon that Elias had not been that off about her (MAG132: “Did you ever hear the, the story Elias told me? About what I did. How I am… He, he didn’t get a detail wrong. The Hunt… Hunger was in me all my life.”)…? I also… get the feeling that maybe, the current Daisy might be perceiving her encounter with the Institute as a chance, since it ultimately led to her snapping out of the Hunt (though she would have reasons to want to break Elias’s arm for the fact that Basira got trapped because of him).

- I wonder if Martin saw Daisy’s name pop up amongst the new staff members? Or if Peter just told him right away what she had done? Is Daisy now actually getting a salary from the Institute? (I’m not sure that Elias “We really don’t have the budget for that” (MAG067) had even bothered to pay her when he was using her ~services~ so… drain Peter’s money, Daisy, gogogo!! And Use Your Powers to give everyone in Team Archive a raise, Martin :w)

- The fact that Daisy said that she had broken into “Elias’s old office”… Well, Elias’s office had been characterised by the clock in the background; since we could hear one in MAG126, I was assuming that Martin and Peter were in there (especially since Martin was doing Peter’s directorial work) but had noticed that there was no such sound in MAG134. Were they outside of the Institute? Or has Martin stopped working in Elias’s office since Daisy had forcefully gone inside of it, deeming it unsafe?

- Anyway: Jon-Melanie-Daisy seem to be creating an awkward support network, right now, and it’s ADORABLE and good (+ extra cookies to Melanie for seeking therapy!). They still have trouble talking: there were sooo many pauses and silences when Melanie was in front of Jon; Daisy is still not… super at ease speaking about how she feels (while she’s way chiller when it comes to describing how she broke into Elias’s office. Daisy, ilu.); Jon searched for his words a bit to describe how he was perceiving himself at the moment… But they’re trying and still getting those words out and explaining themselves to each other a bit. And it’s PRECIOUS, godsdamnit.

- ALRIGHT, NOW TO DIVE RIGHT INTO THE SILK-STICHED MEAT OF THIS EPISODE:

(MAG111) GERRY: Nice lighter. You a spider freak, then? ARCHIVIST: What? Oh! Er, no. I-I never really, uh… I never really thought of it. I–I’m Jon. I’m with the Magnus Institute.

(MAG136) DAISY: [SCOFF] She’s… Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. [PAUSE] Like that lighter you’re always using. Where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST: Mm. [STATIC] Good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

………………. It was impossible to tell whether or not there was static back in MAG111 (at least for me: there was a constant static-y background due to Gerry being there), but here, yep, there was some. So something is DEFINITELY preventing Jon from lingering too much on the lighter (like an oily surface his attention keeps slipping on?) and what it means. … And apparently, he still has it with him – I had wondered if he hadn’t lent it to Martin for MAG118’s plan, burning statements? I mean, maybe he did and the lighter found its way back to Jon anyway, or it was still with Jon during the Wax Museum explosion, but Jon still has it with him at the moment.

How many silken strings have tied around Jon’s body and head without him noticing, I wonder… the episode was about a “Puppeteer”, after all (or… maybe a bit more about the puppets.)

……………….. Sounds like Jon is back to smoking again, too, given Daisy’s comment? And Jon’s smoking habits have been Smelling Like Web Spirit: he had apparently stopped around the time he began to work at the Institute (since he told Leitner he had “been quit for five years now” in MAG080, in February 2017); Elias had ranted about Jon smoking in MAG039 (“He’s not smoking again, is he?”: was it because he knew of Jon’s smoker history? Or because Jon had gone back to… smoking a lot since he discovered that the lighter had been delivered to him in MAG036?); Tim implied that he might have noticed that Jon had been smoking again recently at the end of season 2 (MAG079: “he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like ‘sneaking a cigarette’ bad. Like properly bad.”); Jon ~conveniently~ felt the urge to smoke a cigarette and left Leitner alone to face his death (Elias.) in MAG080 (Jon minimised it at the time, but… it means that he had cigarettes on him.); and after that, we only got the mention from Daisy digging through his stuff in MAG091, and him offering Gerry a cigarette in MAG111.

One thing that makes me Hysterical every time:

(MAG091) DAISY: One wallet, brown leather, no cash. One packet cigarettes, Silk Cut. One lighter, gold, spiderweb design.

OF ALL THINGS, JON SMOKES “SILK CUT”

“SILK

CUT”

COME ON, SPIDER, COULD YOU TRY TO BE A BIT SUBTLE WITH THAT BOY?!

- Actual footage of Jon forgetting about his lighter (ft. Daisy):

- I find it very interesting that Daisy was able to notice the lighter and Jon’s lack of oversight about it since… when Daisy was introduced through Basira’s words, Basira explained that Daisy had first been sectioned over a Spider-related case:

(MAG043) BASIRA: […] Daisy was sectioned years before I was even on the force. She’s never been that forthcoming about any of her own experiences. Takes Section 31 very seriously. The most I could get out of her was that she was originally sectioned for something she referred to as “spider husks”. The way she described it, it sounded like she’d found a bunch of shells. The sort crabs leave behind when they grow, but… I could never figure out if it was meant to be the husks of people-sized spiders, or the spider-like husks of people? And Daisy never seemed like she wanted to clarify. I’m sure she mentioned vampires once as well, but… I think she was joking. … Probably. … Maybe…

We have learned, since then, that it wasn’t exactly true: Daisy’s first section’d case had to do with the coffin, but Daisy also told Jon that only her superior had known about it prior to Jon's pulling the story out of her (MAG061). So Basira couldn’t have known that Daisy had lied or dodged to tell the truth, but still… one of Daisy’s first cases had to do with Spiders.

(And Daisy has been ~taking care~ of the vampires, too, which are known for their mind-controlling powers. When Trevor had met a Spider-Woman, he had mentioned that his experience with vampires had probably helped him to identify that the compulsion to get out and get high wasn’t his own… So it seems like Hunters might have a little immunity or at least resistance to manipulation. I’m EVEN MORE RELIEVED that Jon got Daisy back.)

(… And afraid, oh so afraid for Daisy’s life-expectancy, since she’s already so important when it comes to potentially dealing with threats, and being a presence which allows the Archive team to re-form a bit.)

- MAG110 and MAG136 are quite good to listen to one after another, besides Neil Lagorio’s existence – they dealt with the same movie-making world, of Web apparently, and there were some tiny things which were quite interesting? Both statements were given by women isolated from their peers and put into a situation they probably wouldn’t have picked if they’d been allowed to retain more options and Choices:

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “I’d held some ambitions about directing myself one day, but it soon became obvious that that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe if I’d got a feature under my belt before I was outed as trans, it might have been different, but… as it was, this revelation burned too many bridges, and when the dust had settled, it was made abundantly clear to me that I was never going to get a movie of my own. And it was either cinematography, or nothing. So I stayed.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “He even kept in contact when I left to have my baby. It wasn’t planned […]. Anyway, even once I’d sorted out childcare arrangements, I found myself… more and more unwelcome in the industry. It wasn’t that people weren’t willing to hire me – by this point I had a hell of a special effects resumé – but the hours you were expected to be working, the way shoots were set up, the culture of drinking, networking… none of it was really possible alongside parenting.”

There was, also, the obvious theme of… the fictions reshaping reality, or becoming a reality: Dexter was obsessed with a Spider that seemed to only exist in his dream of a story, and he recreated it on the set in the end. Neil managed to finally recreate his last story with himself:

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “he would twist his fingers into all sort of bizarre, intricate shapes, until I could see the strings flowing over them… ‘We made them dance,’ he would say, wonder and nostalgia in his voice. ‘Oh… how we made them dance.’ […] He told me later his… greatest regret was not being able to finish his final film. An arthouse piece simply titled Dancer. He never explained what it was about, nor do I think it actually… came out in the end. […] And as I walked away from Neil, the last time I saw him alive… he was dancing. The cables shifting, and moving him in a graceful, sweeping ballet. And he was crying with joy.”

On the theme of “smoking” as related to the Web, it’s ~curious~ to note that it was also present in MAG110 and MAG136’s statements, and not in moderation either:

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “[Brandon Alma] took to the role immediately, with a gravity and a weariness that I don’t think could have been entirely feigned. He was the only one who didn’t seem excited by the movie, and spent his off-hours smoking and reading quietly in one of the trailers.” (MAG136, Alison Killala) “I had to fight every instinct inside me, everything that wanted to burst out in admiration for his work and his… profound effect on my life. But instead I chain-smoked and laughed, trying my best to come across as my hero’s peer…!”

So, hum. Smoking hadn’t been exclusively a Web-thing before (there was of course the Anglerfish’s baiting, and its shells smoking to disguise the odour of death), but I still find that noticeable.

- There is an OBVIOUS problem with the timeline of Neil’s death, from MAG110 and MAG136’s given mentions:

(MAG110) MARTIN: Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, recording statement number 0121403. Statement of Alexia Crawley, given March 14th, 2012. (MAG110, Alexia Crawley) It seems like a sick cosmic joke that that was the day the press broke the news of Neil Lagorio’s death. Half an hour after the cast walked into that building, one of the grips stumbled across the news story whilst idly checking his phone. Lagorio had been privately suffering from Parkinson’s for almost a decade, and had been bedridden in his Connecticut home for the last year.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: Statement of Alison Killala, regarding her time as friend and carer to special effects artist Neil Lagorio. Original statement given 1st December, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. (MAG136, Alison Killala) “It was almost six months ago when the woman came to our door. […] I don’t know how long I was watching those films. They don’t… It was hard to keep track of time. According to my daughter, I was missing for five months. When Annabelle let me out, Neil was dead. […] She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I’d… very much like to go home.”

If Annabelle visited Neil’s house six months before Alison gave her statement, it should have been in June; while Alexia’s statement put Neil’s death before March (presumably February, since Martin added as part of the follow-up that “Apparently, over the last five years, every February, a corpse is found washed up on Redondo Beach.”). It’s not clear either if Alison lived in the UK but she did mention the “UK press” at some point; while according to the official version given by Alexia, Neil had lived and died in the US.

So what happened…? Has someone in the Archives been purposely messing up with the dates regarding The Web…? Were there two “Neil Lagorio”s towards the end…? Did The Web messed up the files a bit through someone? (Noticeable, too: Jon who ~listens to all the tapes~ didn’t mention the echoes with MAG110’s statement, which was read by Martin. Did he listen to this one, or had the tape… disappeared when he went back?)

(I know that the popular theory regarding MAG114’s statement and what was happening in Hill Top Road is “parallel worlds”, but it always sounded textbook Spiral to me – we also have been demonstrations of entities rewriting reality to erase people or twist people’s memories, see the Not!Them and what happened to the statement-giver’s husband in MAG038. But I’m a bit short on explanations regarding the obvious problem of timeline in MAG110 and MAG136……………..)

- Relistening to MAG110, I just realized that someone had completely flown under my radar: Brandon (Brendon?) Alma, the main actor, who… was the one controlling the story and the set, actually?!

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “Most impressive to me though, was a guy named [Brandon Alma]. He was playing the closest thing the film had to a protagonist, a… homeless ex-Methodist minister who’d found himself on the island by chance and served as a connecting thread, wandering between the scenes and the vignettes of the inhabitants, after each ended with their march to the Spider. Brandon took to the role immediately, with a gravity and a weariness that I don’t think could have been entirely feigned. He was the only one who didn’t seem excited by the movie, and spent his off-hours smoking and reading quietly in one of the trailers. It was a shame because, for whatever reason, he also seemed to be the only one that Dexter would listen to. I only saw them talking once or twice but every time, Dexter would be wrapped, nodding at… whatever Brandon might have to say. […] [Dexter] then gathered up the cast and, with Brandon leading them, took them through a small door in the side of the workshop. And they disappeared inside.”

He was playing a character who was the “CONNECTING THREAD” between people getting eaten by the spider, Dexter “would be WRAPPED” and agreeing to everything Brandon told him, and Brandon was the one to lead the actors into the workshop where they were all killed/consumed/drunk hollow, UHUHUHUH. Maybe the book that Dexter had found wasn’t actually the (only?) thing that messed up everything? Or did Brandon come from the book? Was he actually the spider himself, or just there to ensure that the spider would emerge and be fed…?

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “I don’t know when he first mentioned his spider film. It didn’t… bubble out into a full obsession until two years ago, but I know he talked about it plenty before that. […] [蜘蛛が食べている] (Kumo ga tabeteiru). I think that was the name, anyway, something like that; he was normally slurring quite badly when he said it. He thought it translated to “The Spiders That Devour” but a Japanese friend once told me it was actually closer to just “Spiders Are Eating”. According to Dexter, Kumo was an old tokusatsu movie which, he believed, had come out sometime in the mid-to-late sixties. It was about a Spider – just the one, despite the title – that grew to a colossal size and terrorized a small unnamed island off the coast of Kagoshima. What struck him about it, though, was the utter absence of anything resembling a hero or a protagonist. No one fought against the monster, and although there were vignettes in the lives of those under the Spider’s shadow, they all ended the exact same way – with the character in question marching slowly, and calmly, into its waiting jaws.”

(And it would sound EXTREMELY Web to have all the attention focused on Dexter… while the true puppeteer would be somewhere else, hidden.)

- Something striking in many Web mentions is that: it likes Order (… and apparently drinking people hollow – requiring the fluids to sustain itself? To be able to moult and grow in size?)

(MAG127, Breekon) “We had some luggage once. A thrumming, silk-wrapped thing of The Spider, hiding away in an old steamer trunk. We stepped heavy through the dining car and found an old woman near the caboose. 'Something strange in the luggage car,' he said, and I finished as was our way. 'You should come and see it.' She stood and walked with us readily enough, though tears flowed silent down her cheeks and pattered onto the faded carpet. The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure. We knew she wouldn’t scream as she was hollowed out and drunk.”

(MAG110) MARTIN: Apparently, over the last five years, every February, a corpse is found washed up on Redondo Beach. It will be a shrivelled husk, with all moisture and internal organs apparently removed.

(+ Daisy’s early Section 31 case with the “husks” of people/spiders/etc.)

On the matter of order: the victims in Kumo (MAG110) also weren’t making a fuss when they marched off to get eaten, it was the same behaviour as what Breekon described. Regarding Alison’s story, it seems like although she was officially the puppeteer of Neil’s body… SHE was the one who had been puppeteered around:

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “I became his carer a few months later. It just seemed to make sense. A frugal life, lucrative career and… prickly personality had left him with lots of money but no real support; while my life had left me in a position where I cared… deeply about his well-being and was in… desperate need of money. Everything just… lined up so neatly. […] he threw himself into a new project, one I would never have expected, but that suited my engineering background perfectly. […] I protested, of course! This man was my hero, I–I loved him, and there was no way I could subject him to this… awful indignity. But my objections were ignored, as always, and Neil insisted that this was what he wanted. So I built that… strange contraption. Using the skills I had developed across my whole life, to fill every corner of Neil Lagorio’s house with wood, and steel, and cable. […] I barely even noticed when the harnesses were no longer necessary; when the loops for those hooks were now embedded directly into his body. I must have asked him about it. But at the time, it just seemed like… such a natural progression.

Neil had exactly the Right Person available for what he needed when his body started to shut down; Alison wanted to refuse and ended up accepting. Even before Annabelle came in, it… doesn’t really sound like Alison had been the one in control in that whole situation.

And on the matter of people being at the right place at the right time for The Web’s purposes: SQUINTS at the fact that 2012 was when Jon started working at the Institute. We witnessed Melanie, Basira and Daisy’s first steps there, we know that Tim went to get a job there because he was looking into his brother’s death, Sasha might or might not have been interested in the supernatural for years (it could have been the Not!Them rewriting that bit; we at least know that Sasha wasn’t particularly well-off so… maybe she just plainly needed the money); we know that Martin just happened to be hired after submitting his CV everywhere he could (the question of why ELIAS, who PERSONALLY INTERVIEWED HIM, hired him is… another Big Question), but… why did Jon start working at the Institute? He didn’t particularly expect to Georgie to identify what the Institute was, so it wasn’t a life-long dream of his that he would have mentioned many times as a student…

(Re: the Web and Order, SQUINTSSQUINTSSQUINTS again towards the one particular person who has mostly been associated with that: “loves scheduling”, has specific days on which he eats lunch with the Institute’s librarians, insisted on Tim doing the paperwork for his absences, That One Thing About Keeping Receipts If You Want To Claim Your Expenses (Unless You Die)… that guy.)

- I still wonder how the Web works on people exactly, though… especially given all the talks about making choices and decisions, it would seem a bit odd to end up concluding that “anyway, the Web will make you want and do whatever IT pleases, you can’t do anything about it”…? (Though yeah, THAT is frightening.)

Given that Alison compared herself to Frankenstein, I wonder, in her case, if despite her ~adamant refusal~ to puppet her friend and idol…

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “Even pyrotechnics, while… impressive and visually spectacular, they just didn’t give me the same sharp joy as making something that could move, that came alive, directed and controlled by my hand… I always felt Frankenstein should have been an engineer, not a medical student, as reading that book I couldn’t help but see myself in that obsession. But I suppose everyone’s already done the-monster-as-the-robot, haven’t they?”

… some parts of her didn’t actually want it? And this is how The Web might operate overall? Humans are complex, we’re always mixing up emotions and different desires at the same time; maybe The Web mostly just brings to the surfaces the ones it needs to push people in the direction it wants…? (In that case, re: Trevor and the Spider Woman… it wouldn’t be surprising, as an ex-heroin addict, that some part of him would still feel the tinge of the craving…)

- What was Neil, in the end? Was he a Web avatar who found a way to feed his god mostly through fictions? Was his ex-partner “Gabe” Gabriel, the Spiral’s Worker-In-Clay…? Was he a plain person, able to use some powers here and there? The thing is:

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “his satisfaction with his latest and… as it turned out, last… foray into horror, with The Harvestman. He’d always had a fondness for spiders, he told me. And I of course reminded him that harvestmen… weren’t technically spiders.”

She is right! Though this could be a case of misleading us to focus on the symbols rather than their effects; Neil’s work was… indeed clearly linked to the idea of hidden control:

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “he claimed to be working with Neil Lagorio to make the Spider. Now you might never have heard his name before, but I guarantee you you’ll have seen his work. From the mid-seventies right into CGI, Lagorio was THE name in Practical Creature Effects: suit work, stop-motion, animatronics, whatever the method, he was the master. […] I’d had the pleasure of working with him way back in 1989 on Orbit – a medium-budget sci-fi vehicle for some… aging action star. Neil was working on a twelve-foot tall animatronic robot that featured heavily in the climax. The picture was, unsurprisingly, a flop; but I still remember his work. How he brought a… lump of wood and steel to life. Th–the huge, intricate mechanisms that allowed his crew to puppet it into motion that was so natural you could forget that the back of it was completely hollow…!”

On the one hand, he sounded pretty harmless. On the other hand, there were these “original cuts” (and the cruel broken SMILE you could hear on Jon’s face when he mentioned them while reading the statement was… gosh.). Was Dexter Banks invited to one of those screenings, and is that why he was haunted by the memories of a movie he couldn’t find again…?

-… So, what does it mean for ANNABELLE to send these original cuts to the Institute?

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “There were two sorts of people in the world as far as Neil saw it: those who were worth his time, and those who were not. And if you were in the latter group, he honestly couldn’t care if you lived or died. Not that most people could tell which side of the line they fell on; there were even days that… I wasn’t sure myself! Sometimes, I remember, he would invite people over to his studio that I was sure he hated, for screenings of his “original cuts”. I was quite… jealous of this at the time, as I’d never got such an invitation. But it was probably for the best. I didn’t… realise it back then, but… [SIGH] those guests… they never quite looked the same afterwards. […] She told me to take the films. His… “original cuts”. She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you.”

[…] ARCHIVIST: [INHALES] Statement ends. Hm. Neil Lagorio… You ever see any of his work? DAISY: No. Not really into films. ARCHIVIST: Oh, they were… Well, let’s just say that it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though; let alone original cuts. [CHUCKLE] Records indicate they [PAPERS RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

(…………. You could HEAR that Jon was dangerously close to going to check them out if Daisy hadn’t reminded him that Jon, No.)

At the time, Gertrude was still running the Archives… but, again, it’s also around that time when Jon integrated the Institute as a researcher. (He said he had been working there for “four years” in MAG001, which was set sometime in the second half of 2015 – though I wouldn’t past it s1!Jon to round up, like, 3 years and 20 days to “four years” to sound… more impressive. However, we know for sure that Jon was working at the Institute in 2012 (MAG051: “One of my first cases as a researcher for the Institute in 2012”).) So why did Annabelle send the “original cuts” to the Institute, and who were they for…? Was it to send a message to Gertrude? Was it because the Web was veeeeeeeeeeeerrrry aware that the boy who had ~gotten away~ (el-o-el) was now working there (and was apparently a bit versed in Neil Lagorio’s work)? Was it a way to sneak into the Institute? Was it for Elias? Was it to avoid the “original cuts” affecting innocent bystanders? Was it a proclamation from Annabelle – demonstrating that the older generation was fading out and now she was taking over?

That last point is something that I really felt with Annabelle’s visit and Neil finally dying (… or moulting like a spider). It’s interesting that in both MAG110 and MAG136, there was something about the character the story was about… not having a keen relationship with modern technology:

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “And so it was for the first few weeks. Dexter… clearly wasn’t sleeping. He had insisted on using old equipment and avoiding digital almost entirely, to the point where several of the crew were using pieces of kit they’d never even seen before. This meant that workprint had to be made manually for the dailies, something he refused to let anyone else do.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “We stayed in touch over the next few years, even worked together on the Wire-Runner, his one, underwhelming foray into CGI.”

We saw in MAG123 that Annabelle had started working using Internet, though using someone else to achieve it. I don’t have many theories or speculation about that one – I only find it curious that, given how MAG065 had introduced the idea that tape recorders… are digital, too, we’re still not sure about what it is that prevents Spooks from recording on Jon’s computer. Gertrude had commented that the tape recorders were a bit ~old-fashioned like her~ to defend her use of them to Lucia (MAG130), so… I don’t know! But potentially, I wonder if there might be something about the younger generation of avatars being more fit to use modern technologies, because some elements are their own idiosyncrasies while older techs were their predecessors’.

- Hi, do you sometimes get just PUNCHED IN THE GUTS by Jon.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. DAISY: Did you know the coffin wouldn’t kill you? ARCHIVIST: I– guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t… wouldn’t be as bad as it was. DAISY: [SHAKY SIGH] ARCHIVIST: And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually… endure the result. You might have noticed when I was in there with you, I… I had regrets. DAISY: Yeah. I remember. ARCHIVIST: Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: I was a possibility. DAISY: Guess so. […] ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira– ARCHIVIST: Traumatised; traumatised; and paranoid, because of me.

;; I’m worried about these missing memories and what it means / what happened… Jon had told Basira that he could remember most of The Unknowing:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: My turn. What… what happened to me? BASIRA: How much do you remember? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… Music. Everything was wrong. Gertrude was there, and then… dancing. I think? Then… pain. And I was somewhere else. Dreaming. BASIRA: Dreaming. ARCHIVIST: Yes. …

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Two years ago. … That doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t feel like… … There’s just this… great… gap of time, where I wasn’t.

Back in MAG122, I had feared that he would have gotten something cauterised in the process, probably guilt, hence Tim’s death being erased… But no, it’s FAR from being the case: Jon has been a guilt-ridden ball of softness and caring and heartbreak since the beginning of season 4. So why are these memories still absent…? What happened in his dreams, for him to not remember exactly how he got to choose…?

(EXTRA-WORRIED since Elias had told Basira that Jon was “at a very delicate stage right now” in MAG127; and as much as I think that Elias probably doesn’t want to risk Jon managing to successfully compel him or extract a statement out of him right now… I’m Really Worried about the fact that he described Jon as being in transition. Choosing should have been the end result, right? So… so what is the next step……………)

Sobbing a lot about the fact that Jon isn’t sure that coming back was worth it, and that he’s been very casually self-destructive about the coffin. He kind of finished his sentence from MAG132 here:

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: I’m… I’m scared. [SHORT CHUCKLE] When does the fear go away…? A–anyway, I–I’m sorry. You too, Basira, if you’re hearing this. I know you’d… stop me. You’d be right to, but… But if this goes wrong, all you lose is– … I’m not risking anyone else.

“If this goes wrong, all you lose is” / “worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster”. A o u c h. He’s been the most outrightly emotional we’ve ever seen him in season 3 and 4, he was so afraid of becoming inhuman starting MAG092, he finally chose (and is aware of it) the avatar option because he was afraid to die (that’s one of the most human things he could possibly admit…?), and, since he’s woken up, he has dealt with rejections one after another: Georgie was thrown-off by him badly enough to leave (clearly dissatisfied with… the fact that Jon kept saying he was “fine”, when a normal human being shouldn’t have been), Basira was extremely cautious and still refuses to trust him, slaughter-infused Melanie BLAMED HIM FOR TIM&DAISY’S DEATHS, Martin avoided him time and time again:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Honestly, I… I, I think I’m alright? I mean, that’s… good, right? I… GEORGIE: After a six months coma? No. It’s not. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, Jon. ARCHIVIST: I… What? Y–you, you’d prefer I was… brain-damaged? Dead? Or– […] Georgie, I– GEORGIE: Jon. If this really is a second chance… please, try to take it. But I don’t think that it is. ARCHIVIST: Georgie, I don’t und– GEORGIE: Take care of yourself. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES] [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … What about you? Disappointed to see me alive? … Basira? BASIRA: We can deal with that later.

(MAG123) MELANIE: Tim is dead. Daisy is dead. And you, what? You’re just fine? ARCHIVIST: No, I’ve been in hospital for six months! MELANIE: Something has been in hospital. Something that’s got your face like– I warned Basira, I said not to let you back in here, but she just doesn’t listen! [STOMPING? AND FURIOUS STRANGLED NOISES] ARCHIVIST: Melanie, Melanie: it’s… it’s me. MELANIE: Oh! Okay, so what, “Hi Jon, how are you, get anyone killed lately?” ARCHIVIST: … I… MELANIE: Wipe that look off your face. Like you’re not the reason all of this is happening. Like you’re any better than– ARCHIVIST: [MESSY STUTTERING] MELANIE: –than him! ARCHIVIST: Basira said Elias was gone!

(MAG124) MARTIN: … Look, Jon, I, I’ve really got to go, so… ARCHIVIST: Oh, er, okay… MARTIN: I’m, I’m sorry that you– ARCHIVIST: Wowowow, it was… good t–, it was good to see you. MARTIN: … Yeah. [STEPS LEAVING] ARCHIVIST: … yeah… [CLICK.]

(MAG129) MARTIN: Please, stop finding me. ARCHIVIST: … What happened, Martin? [SILENCE] MARTIN: You died. ARCHIVIST: I came back. MARTIN: Yeah. [OPENS DOOR] I’m not gonna let it happen again. ARCHIVIST: … wait… Wait! W– [DOOR CLOSES] [SIGH] [CLICK.]

(YES, GRATUITOUS QUOTE-COMPILATION, BECAUSE THAT’S A LOT.)

It’s been a rough two months since he woke up, alright. I’m so glad that he managed to get Daisy back: not only it was a victory that actually felt like one (the removal of Melanie’s bullet meant that things got… strained), but Daisy has been asking the right questions and they’re so… like-minded? kindred spirits? lately, two Survivors able to understand each other, that it feels good and… a bit more hopeful.

(- I still want Jon to get the chance to have a discussion with Georgie, to explain himself and what happened, to explain that even though he decided something she’s disapproving of… he still wants to do some good, as much as he can? é_è To thank her for having watched over him and having given him so much valuable advice? For Georgie to accept that Jon did the best he could do in the situation he was in? Basira used to listen to Georgie’s podcast while in the car with Daisy so maybe Daisy heard some bits of it. Let Georgie and Daisy meeeeeet too!!)

- So much for Jon getting a stronger hold on his power, he still accidentally slipped and compelled:

Still too curious and not the best at self-restrain, though… he had been doing way better lately. I think the last time he had accidentally compelled was in MAG114, with Tim? On the other hand: it looks like his Insights are a bit more controlled since, unless he reveals that he has Known for a while, he… doesn’t seem to know about Basira’s activities. So maybe sternly forbidding him from peeking worked with that one, given that he had motivation to not screw things up (even more) between them…? He was a bit more relaxed with Melanie this time around! (Well. And Melanie was way more relaxed around him too, which… says something considering their previous exchanges.)

- What is wrong with Jon’s body. This makes the second mention of casual weirdness, after Jared commenting about Jon’s rib:

(MAG131) JARED: Huh. That’s a weird one. Not sure I like it. Still. Mine now.

(MAG136) DAISY: Not of you and your weird eyes.

Too many eyes, or something else…?

- I’m so emotional over the fact that Daisy is… currently giving back to Jon? Telling him that his way of thinking or his overall situation is “messed up”; reminding him that he’s not responsible for everything that’s happened to Melanie, Basira and herself; pushing him to snap out of it and have a nice time…? The fact that she included herself in the (short) list of people around Jon, and that:

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: And you’re not… worried about… DAISY: Basira’s trapped here. So are you.

She listed him alongside Basira when justifying why her decision to tie herself to the Institute was worth it – they’re in this together and it’s not only just “with Basira” in her mind. It includes Jon.

- … and not Melanie there, BUT!! PROGRESS:

(MAG112) DAISY: Yeah. Couldn’t find Tim, but he’s gone with Martin and… the other one. BASIRA: Melanie. DAISY: Sure.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira–

She marked a verrrry slight pause before saying Melanie’s name but still: Melanie is now her own person in Daisy’s mind!

- And I’m SO EMOTIONAL OVER MELANIE OVERALL but also so proud that… apparently, she took it upon herself to take care of Daisy, and went as far as to go ask Jon to replace her when she couldn’t do it?

(MAG136) MELANIE: Well… uhm. Daisy’s been, erm… I’ve been keeping her company. Er, while… while Basira’s busy. She’s, er… ARCHIVIST: Oh, no, I, uh… I–I know. MELANIE: W–well, I’ve kind of got to… uhm. I’ve got somewhere to be. Do you mind if, if… she hangs around, with… […] [IN THE DISTANCE] Hum, yeah, he’s, he’s fine with it. So… […] DAISY: I didn’t ask her. To do that. ARCHIVIST: I–it–it’s fine.

I’m glad that Melanie makes sure that Daisy doesn’t end up alone, and that… she went to Jon for this ;__; Melanie knew better than everyone how it felt to be not emotionally supported by someone, namely Basira (MAG131: “Basira is… um. Basira deals in ‘intel’ these days, in usable data, assets. Not feelings. Not people.”), so I find this super-sweet that she… is apparently making extra efforts to not replicate the situation with Daisy? Some feeling of community/teamwork has been recreated lately, all around Daisy, and aaaaah… I’m so glad ;; Really sad that Martin isn’t there and that Basira is still closing herself off, but so glad about the faint Melanie-Daisy-Jon dynamic… (And so worried. Because now, I wonder how Jonny is planning to rip it away from us.)

(Though: Melanie didn’t try to set-up for Helen and Daisy to stay together. Is Helen mostly absent/can’t get out of her door much…? Or was it because Melanie didn’t absolutely trust Daisy’s Hunter instincts to not kick back in, if she was too close to a Spook-she-doesn’t-know-yet for long…?)

(I wonder if it’s Helen who suggested therapy to Melanie, or if they talked about it? In any case, having Helen around seemed to have helped Melanie a bit, overall ;__;)

- Though logistically: it’s hilarious that Melanie&Basira probably still live in the Archives, that Daisy is probably doing the same (unclear whether or not Jon Still Has A Home outside)… and that Daisy didn’t even mention that hi, she had signed some paperwork and was now an Official Member of the Institute. It took Jon two weeks to learn about it, and only because he asked about his dreams. (Daisy must have done that quite fast after getting out of the coffin? For someone who “missed dreaming”, she reacted immediately x”))

………………… I’m not sure that Basira will take that the news that Daisy is now tied to the Institute kindly, though, given the current state of things.

- Elephant in the room, Melanie’s ~therapist~ is ringing SO MANY warning bells:

(MAG136) THERAPIST: Right, have a seat. Do you mind if I record our sessions? MELANIE: I do mind. Yes. THERAPIST: Ah? I mean, it’s just for my own notes. MELANIE: I categorically and completely do *not* give consent for you to make any recording of me, ever. Turn it off. Please. [SILENCE] THERAPIST: I… I see. Yes. Of–of course. [CLICK.]

…………………. See, even besides the use of a tape recorder (who would use that in 2018 for very professional, serious and health-related purposes, if they’re not spooky?!), it’s how the therapist handled the act of recording in itself which makes me shiver. During a first session, a first encounter, when you’re supposed to not make the patient uncomfortable, turning it on before asking Melanie if she would be fine with it. Trying to argue with Melanie’s refusal when Melanie explicitly said she would be bothered by it. That small silence before complying – while Melanie was just stating her rights… (Though on that last one, Melanie’s background as a podcaster is showing; she was very efficiently able to state her will without leaving room for any loophole!)

There are many options for What The Deal Is With That Therapist:

1°) A totally normal person who just happens to use tape recorders in 2018 and was startled by Melanie’s professional-sounding declaration.

2°) Someone tied to the Lonely…? It would be a terrifying job for a Lukas, totally twisting the purpose of a therapy by… cutting you off from others? ;; (Peter had mentioned the possibility of therapy to Martin back in MAG120: “Oh! And if you want to talk to a counsellor, the Institute will of course cover any cost.”)

3°) Someone tied to Beholding: Gertrude had the contact information for one (MAG130: “If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like […]. Hang on, let me see if I can find you the number for that counselling service. They’re actually quite good.”), and that last “I see” was quite striking, Avatars tend to make small references to their patrons all the time – though this one could have also been a nod to Melanie’s…

4°) … since the therapist seemed so taken aback by Melanie offering a resistance: … W e b…? Annabelle was even created during, specifically, a psychological experiment (though we don’t know if she was a psychology postgrad herself, or just a random test subject with a different background; the voice sounded maybe a bit too old for someone who still looked like a “student” in 2012, but then Elias is supposed to be middle-aged so, eh). It wouldn’t be the most subtle thing ever but then: given that Jon didn’t give any reason, why did he pick this specific statement this time around? Outside of the statement, who is a “puppeteer” in this episode? Which would raise, once again, the question of What Is Behind tape recorders; and, if Web, what allowed Melanie to not obey: was it because she used to be Slaughter-infused…? (I had wondered, especially after MAG125, about the relationship between the Slaughter and the Spider: the way Elias had specifically mentioned that Melanie had a “visceral hatred of being trapped” in MAG102, was run by “the self-determination you prize so highly” in MAG106, and the fact that Melanie had described him as “pulling all the strings” in return, had left me with the lingering of impression that… potentially, there was more something about Web than Beholding at work here, and that obviously, The Slaughter, being uncontrollable violence and chaos, wouldn’t be the best of pals with the Eight-Legged-Mrs.-Order Fear entity…)

The way Melanie described therapists at the beginning of the episode (“We’ll see. There’s a… a lot of crap therapists out there.” and it’s true, and she’s still trying!!! Good!!) already introduced cautiousness about the whole process; if this one turns out to be Bad, it wouldn’t be representative of every one of them. Still, kinda hoping (for Melanie) that unless this one manages to prove that her first few seconds were absolutely not representative of what she can offer, Melanie will try to find another one elsewhere ;; I’m impressed that she didn’t just go “Nop ahaha bye” when the tape recorder began to get used… without her consent. It wasn’t good when Jon was doing it, but from a therapist, there is something very, verrrry chilling, and this new character absolutely managed to sound as untrustworthy as Peter in just a few seconds ;;

- On the list of worrying things: URKKKKK that… Basira apparently still hasn’t told the others about her visits to Elias. She’s likely doing her own researches, as Elias had suggested, to check if there were some truths amongst what he told her about The Dark’s activities… but URRRKKK that she hasn’t said a word about it yet. Not good, Basira ;; Elias is spilling his poison and she’s drinking it raw – it will most likely mess her up… and mess up the others, too, if they’re not aware that Elias still has, in all likehood, Plans.

… On the other hand, I got the impression that her relationship with Daisy had improved a bit? Daisy sounded less… heartbroken, this time, giving me the impression that, yes, things aren’t perfect, but not excruciating either?

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: I haven’t seen her much since… Well, she seemed a bit… tense, the last few times we spoke. How are you guys– DAISY: [CLEARS THROAT] ARCHIVIST: –doing? DAISY: N–no, Basira, she’s… She’s been good. We’re… together so it’s good. [SIGH] Wish she wouldn’t keep treating me like a china doll. But it’s alright. ARCHIVIST: That’s understandable, I suppose. DAISY: [BREATHING HARDER, FASTER] Yeah, well… What do you think?

See, I can’t really decide whether Daisy’s awkwardness was because it was a touchy subject and she was aware that no, things aren’t fine… Or if it was a matter of “oh lord, no, I can’t tell Awkward Nerd Guy that YES, things have been super-steamy in the tunnels lately, he would probably faint if he knew we were doing it in his Institute.”

(… reminder that in this episode, Jon had to read “He even kept in contact when I left to have my baby. It wasn’t planned, but while I may not have had much time for make-up and monster suits, the bodies inside of them were, er, a different matter.” with his own tongue.) (That’s not topping Timothy Hodge’s statement and Jon’s annotations from its patreon Deluxe transcript, but eh, it was still a beautiful line <3)

And the parallels between Daisy&Basira and Jon&Martin keep piling up! First Basira and Martin both were “busy”; now, it’s the single-minded longing for the other when they’re separated – Daisy having thought that she would never see Basira again when she was in the coffin, and now… Jon’s first reaction when Daisy taunts him about acting like he’s alone being to say that YES HE IS… because Martin isn’t there.

Holy Arceus on top of Giratina, Jon, what would your season-1 self would say about the Current You. (“Things change. People change.” Helen told him a few episodes ago, AND YEP. Y E P.)

- I’m… a bit worried about how Daisy handled Martin, however. It fits her and the… individualistic? bits of her that we had seen: if she sees a problem, she’ll try to deal with it through her own actions – Jon is sad because Martin isn’t there? Then no, she’s not going to drag Martin kicking and screaming back to Jon if she wants to cheer Jon up; she’ll push him to stand back up on his own.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: I’m, I’m not “swanning around”– DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira–

1°) She’s partially not wrong? Though I still feel like, without knowing what Martin is doing behind the scenes together with Peter, there would be causes for concern and that Martin… is not in a good place nor there on his own: his lines in MAG124 and MAG129 sounded, more than anything, like he was straightforwardly blackmailed into not talking with the others (we know that, from Martin’s point of view, it’s a bit more complicated and not the end-goal; but still, his insistence to Jon about how he couldn’t hear what he had to say, had to leave, etc…. weren’t reassuring at all). Daisy might be projecting a bit on that one since she has deepened her network since she came back, probably because Basira was astray: she now remembers Melanie’s name, she listed Jon together with Basira as people trapped within the Institute (implying that she would not leave them behind). She might see Jon as hyperfixating on something that can’t be resolved right away, like her situation with Basira…? Unless it’s plainly because “Blackwood” hadn’t impressed her much in season 3 (she doesn’t know him! Even if Jon cares for him, maybe she doesn’t see him as all that valuable), or because… spooks are happening and the Lonely is managing to cut the ties that Martin die have with people, who are now just not finding him relevant anymore…?

2°) So nowadays, people are aware that Martin is doing “paperwork” – are they aware that he’s basically doing Peter’s work as an ~assistant~? Or are they plainly assuming that “Peter Lukas” is his alias…?

3°) ;; I’m super happy about Daisy inviting Jon for drinks, and Basira possibly joining them… but also worried about how Peter might just rub that into Martin’s face? Jon used to not be… social with the assistants. It would be so easy to tell Martin that it’s finally happening because Martin is not there… (And yes, Martin made his choice to protect the others, presumably Melanie&Basira, because Jon was away! And nowadays, it still stands, the fact that it would also protect Jon was only added to the pile! And he was told by Peter in MAG126 that he might “not want” to share what had happened with Jon at the end of it, implying that he would change; Martin knows these aspects of the deal! But Martin is not absolutely selfless either, and there could easily be some envious outbursts at the idea that Jon seems to be… happier, nowadays…?)

(… Martin had been so snappy to Basira in MAG088, and there was the whole talk between Basira&Melanie about how Martin seemed to think they would “steal his precious Archivist” in MAG106; who would have thought that Daisy and Jon would ultimately be the ones to go out for drinks together.)

- ANYWAY, Jon & Daisy & potentially Basira are going out for drinks and I don’t know if it will be an awkward mess or a nice time for all but. The potential for silly Tipsy Activities is strong – trying to make Jon guess ridiculous trivia facts through his Insights? Basira noting that Jon is behaving exactly like Martin presumably did at the end of MAG098 (talking a lot about a certain someone who isn’t really there at the moment)? Daisy sharing cop stories?

(… I also can’t help but think about the whole assistants-and-assimilated gang going for drinks during Jon’s kidnapping between MAG099–MAG102. Worst moment ever until they’re too inebriated to Coherently Think about why their lives suck and… see, that episode from Brooklyn 99? Going out of their way to find the most ridiculous kinda-harmless ways to exact revenge on what’s pissing them off at the moment, ie Elias? … Going to his office to wrap his whole desk in cellophane. While he’s standing there, just unable to do anything (they’re too many and too far gone for his power to work). While Tim is throwing serpentine streamers everywhere, Martin is crying because Elias’s paperweight suddenly reminds him of Jon, Daisy is seductively slurring the worst pick-up lines to Basira, and Melanie had stolen a spoon in the bar and tries to recreate “The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon” on Elias, again and again and AGAIN AND AGAIN– (maybe Basira told the truth in MAG106 and Melanie had indeed managed to make Elias cry, she just can’t remember about it). Basira was absolutely sober through it all, but when Elias tries to get explanations from her passiveness, it’s a mix of Her Iconic “I don’t know.” and the fact that she’s trying to get better at this new job of watching without doing anything. Elias would almost begin to regret Gertrude.)

Title for MAG137 is out and W O W is that an interesting one?! I have no idea if it will deal with one of the current threads or give information about other ones; it’s… a broad title which works for a lot of things. Tied to a very small mention we got in MAG105, so could be dealing with Gertrude’s studies on The Slaughter (and possibly her dealing with that one’s ritual)? If dealing with The Dark again, there are many angles which could work: attack on the Institute (get to meet The Creature, Jon.), Julia in present-time, Robert Montauk in the past, orrrr even something about the Elias-Rayner relationship that we now know was a Thing? (Though I feel that, if we get some information about that last one, it’s likely to be given in Ny-Ålesund.) Could also work for Hill Top Road, specifically Agnes and Ray? Could work for The Corruption (since The Hive had… personal feelings about The Institute) and maybe shed some light on whatever it was trying to achieve in the tunnels with the ring of worms (ritual attempt, or had Gertrude taken care of that one already?), or even something about John Amherst (Melanie… ;;)? Could work with Gertrude’s activities overall – with Elias, with Peter, with Jude… (Would be hilarious if it was about Elias and Peter, what the heck are you to each other, you terrible beings.) Could also work for Annabelle if it’s about balance? Aaaah, so many possibilities!! And it’s probably not even one that I thought of! =D

… and we’ll be getting a mid-season break, after all. Given how the break had been narratively inserted in season 3 (matching Jon’s kidnapping), will it be the case again and, if it is: what could possibly go wrong that we wouldn’t get a recording in-universe for three weeks? Four episodes left, a rushed trip to Ny-Ålesund could still happen before that and… leave them (/the surviving ones) in tatters afterwards, uuuuh…

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