#what was the reason. this and like the cigarette lighting earlier in this episode

[luthiery]

[zoeysdamn]

Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.5

Summary: Pillowtalk after sex comes with its lot of confession and unexpected tenderness. You tell Tyler a little more about your childhood, and you both come to the conclusion that you need to collaborate to get through the school year. A surprise night visit could lead to more problems. 

Warnings: angst, smut (characters are between 17 and 18), swearing, referred trauma, mention of arson, mention of blood 

A/N: There’s not a lot of action in this chapter, it’s a bit like a filler episode to get to the “second part” of the fic, in a matter of the plot. I hope you’ll like it anyway!

[Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4]

It had been some time since you had found yourself with someone staying in your bed. And for some reason, this wasn’t completely unpleasant. Maybe because Tyler was surprisingly respectful of your boundaries, even with the mind-blowing sex you two just had. No idea how he sensed you required some time alone, but at the same time were scared enough to be on your own to ask him to stay. 

Rolling on your side you opened one of your bed table drawers, retrieving your cigarette packs and your lighter. The previous blissful warmth that had been envelopping you was gradually fading, the naked skin of your upper body now exposed to the air. Lighting a cigarette you slumped lazily against the bed head, Tyler carefully observing you from where he laid on his side. Maybe it was on purpose, but you took your time to take the first drag, deeply inhaling the smoke instead of speaking up. You could almost hear the dozen of questions in Tyler's head. He was the first to talk.

“What happened on the lake ?'' Exhaling the smoke for a long second, you tried to ignore the flashes of the previous events echoing in your head, ''Yoko and Bianca decided to take the matter in their own hands,” you mumbled flatly. “Some teams on the lake saw them, they panicked and ran away, nothing much to say.” 

Tyler’s eyes traveled on the side of your throat, noticing the scratch marks behind your ears and down your neck; he had been rough with you, but those marks weren’t his doing. It looked like someone had gripped on your neck with all their might, and not in a kinky way. Pieces of the puzzle slowly assembled in his mind: the marks, the mud and water on your clothes, the rasp in your voice when he had arrived in your room…the most dreadful scenario sketches itself in his mind. 

Sensing horrified anxiety emanating from him, you turned your head to him and offered a weak but sincere smile. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “It’s not the first nor the last time it’ll happen.”

A hand reached for your forearm, caressing the skin gently, “Doesn’t make it any more right,” he whispered, and you didn’t push away his soothing touch. It was his way of being concerned after all.

“I brought that on myself,” you admitted in a hushed tone, “they want to get revenge and they won’t stop until they get it.”

“For what happened with Jeremiah and the Nightshades?” guessed Tyler. If you were surprised, it only lasted a second. Ajax must have spilled the beans about this whole affair, so you nodded in confirmation. 

“Attacking him shook the hierarchy of their order,” you explained, “Jeremiah’s family had funded them for decades, they almost disappeared when he left the school.”

Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why does it matter? Isn’t this just a kind of student club?” You exhaled another string of smoke, almost finishing the cigarette, “It’s more than that for them. It’s an elite club, being part of it means building your adult social life. Being a former Nightshade has a certain weight among outcasts’ nobility, one of their most influential members’ sons being assaulted had consequences for everyone.”. Licking your lips, you tried to not think about what happened earlier too much; somehow it felt more traumatizing than what you did to Jeremiah. In fact, you hadn’t expected them to be this cruel.”The Nightshades had fallen in disgrace because of me,” you trailed on slowly, “if they make me disappear, they’ll get their honor and glory back, that’s why they’re so persistent at trying to harm me.” 

At the admittance, Tyler felt his heart squeeze in sorrow. This wasn’t fair. Yes you had assaulted one of their members, but keeping attacking you, trying to kill you for a lost glory was downright cruel. But with your closed face and lingering sadness in your eyes, he knew trying to convince you otherwise was useless. You were resigned to accept this, no word could make you change your mind – and it broke his heart a little. 

When you rolled on your side again to crush the cigarette on the ashtray on your bed table, his eyes found themselves attracted to your upper back. The red, turning purplish bruise in the middle of your back seemed fresh – it was where Yoko had crushed her knee to pin you on the ground. But more specifically, the dark pink scar in a kind of star shape at the center of your scapula, almost half the size of his hand, caught his eyes. Before he could stop himself, his fingers slowly reached for it, and a soft gasp escaped you when they grazed upon the irregular surface. The way you stiffened under his touch reminded him how you had hissed at it earlier, like it had triggered something. But his touch was much softer now, so you didn’t snap it away and much to his surprise, seemed to relax a little. Taking it as a sign it was okay, Tyler slowly traced the outlines of the scar, fingers gently dancing over the damaged skin. The contact on this sensitive patch of your skin, that you usually hide to everyone, sent a chill down your spine and you let out a faint ragged breath. 

“It’s an old scar,” you whispered, Tyler’s thumb caressing the area where the scarred skin met the soft one on the outlines of your ribs. 

The mattress beside you dipped slightly, and you felt his lips press a soft kiss on the top of the scar, light as a feather. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he reassured in a whisper. He was right of course; but deep down you felt like you owed that to him. Not because you had just fucked, but because he was willing to listen. It was definitely a first which made some of your repressed feelings crack up your shell a little. 

“I was seven,” you said in a hushed tone, “I was living with my grandparents at that time, in a small country town. I didn’t really know what being a Van Helsing meant yet, for me everyone was the same and I didn’t understand my grandparent’s hate for what they called monsters.”

The memory made you shiver; crawling closer to you, Tyler slid his arm around your hip and pressed another reassuring kiss between your neck and shoulder. The soothing gesture helped calm your nerves a little. 

“There were outcasts in the town, even if I didn’t know that at the time,” you continued in a rasping voice, a lump forming in your throat. “I went to bed one night like I always did, and fell asleep. My grandparents left the house during the night, I don’t know why but they did that often and nothing bad ever happened.”. Releasing a shaky breath, you tried to keep your composure despite the sting of tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Good thing you weren’t facing Tyler, or else you wouldn’t have been able to open up like this. 

“It wasn’t the smell that woke me up first, the taste of ashes in my mouth did. Apparently I was a sound sleeper as a child,” you chuckled bitterly. “When I woke up in the middle of the night, my room was filled with smoke and flames. Someone had broken in to set the curtains on fire. I couldn’t escape.“

The muscles under your scars twitched, like a distant echo of the memory. 

“I tried to scream, you know,” you whispered faintly, afraid that talking any louder would make the sob in your voice audible, “but there was so much smoke, it burned my eyes and lungs. I- I don’t even know how long it took me to get out of my room. When I finally reached the ground floor, the flames were already everywhere. And when I finally managed to get to a window…the cellar it…”

“Shhh,” whispered Tyler against your trembling skin, trying to soothe you, “it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re okay.” 

Out of reflex, one of your hands came to grip on the one of his own that was caressing your belly, grounding you as your mind was spiraling down under the traumatizing memory.

You swallowed hard, “The ceiling collapsed,” you muttered, throat tight with emotion. “The beams broke under the flames’ pressure and…and I didn’t see them crumbling down until it was too late.”. Despite your better judgment, a broken sob left your lips, “I think I passed out a little after the blow. Because when I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t standing anymore, I was trapped under the beams and I couldn’t feel anything from my left shoulder.”

A treacherous tear made its way on your cheek and you whipped it immediately. 

“I don’t know how I get out of the house,” you sobbed, “I think somehow I managed to free myself because of my narrow child body. Then I crawled outside by going through the kitchen backdoor. A neighbor found me at the border of the nearby wood, passed out, covered in ashes and a splinter of wood pierced through my shoulder.” 

Heavy silence filled the room; opening up about this took a lot from you, and as horrified he was by your story, Tyler didn’t dare to speak. Instead, he hugged you tighter from behind, offering his silent support. 

“The neighbor got me to the hospital, and my grandparents got me out the moment they showed up. Saying no one in this town was to be trusted and that we needed to go to another state because someone had recognized them.”. A bitter snort let your mouth at your grandparents’ mention, “They hunted the wrong werewolf in the nearby town, and once the pack found our house they were rooting for revenge. They found them trying to get rid of their arson material,” you sniffled loudly, “slayed them while I was trapped in that house.”

You reached for your scar, meeting Tyler’s fingers here and softly bumping into them as you massaged the top of your damaged skin. 

“I owe them that scar as much as I do to those werewolves,” you muttered bitterly, “I got it just because my last name’s Van Helsing. The wolves wanted to get rid of me, and the grandparents deemed that their mission was more important than helping me. I get the reminder everyday in the mirror.” 

You wanted to keep yourself composed, you truly did. But the weight of all this bitterness and sadness you had pushed down for years crashed into you, and you broke down into tears. 

“I was a kid,” you whimpered, “I was just a fucking kid, it was too soon to learn anything about family burdens!”

Unable to find the words to comfort you, Tyler could only tighten his hug, and held you close as you sobbed in his arms. And that was all you needed, really, so you cried quietly and let all the pain you had ignored flow in you. After a few minutes you calmed down, sniffing loudly and back still against Tyler’s chest. 

“If I could I’d disappear and leave the Van Helsing name behind me in the blink of an eye, truly I would,” you rasped weakly, “I’m so tired of all of this shit, with Nevermore, with my family and everything. But…I can’t let that happen again, not to anyone. That’s why I’m a hunter. I saw what outcasts and humans can do to each other…I can’t stay here and do nothing while some assholes are scarring and hurting generations of kids because of what they are and not thinking of the consequences of their actions. Does that…does that make sense?” you asked with a small voice, realizing how much you had opened up and suddenly feeling somewhat shy about it. 

But Tyler nodded quietly against your skin, pressing another kiss on your shoulder, “Yeah, it does. I get it, you’re realistic. About your family, about outcasts, about yourself.”

His words made you turn your head to him, eyes wide in surprise. Your blurry gaze met his brown orbs, who held more care than you could have ever imagined. Somehow he had managed to voice exactly how you felt; because he could relate so much about it. 

His face close enough with yours for your breaths to mix, Tyler carried on in a soft voice. “The only thing you want is to do your own thing while freeing yourself of your past, right? Even if you know you can’t change it.”

A heavy lump formed in your throat under the weight of emotions, but you still managed to give him a weak sincere smile, “You’re almost a better therapist than Dr.Fern,” you joked slightly. 

It put it a little more at ease and Tyler cracked a smile, “Or maybe I can just understand you, sweetheart.”

“You can?” you asked in a small voice, tainted with surprise. 

He nodded, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “I feel that; somehow I can relate to what you feel. I don’t really want to change who I am, I can’t anyway. But I want to start over, and I know you do too.” 

Emotions started to build up in your throat again, and you pressed your lips against Tyler’s. As a way to say thank you, or maybe just because you craved to take every slightest form of affection right now. God knows when you’ll push it away in stubbornness again. You turned slightly to face Tyler, only breaking your kiss for a brief instant before diving on his lips again in a mix of passion and softness. Letting go of his lips you cradled his face, caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs, sinking in the gentle moment. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but the words were stuck in your throat; you weren’t even sure what to say, you weren’t really good at that kind of thing.

So instead you crawled a little higher on the bed, and sneaked your arms around Tyler’s neck, pulling him close to you. In this new position, Tyler’s head rested against your chest as you softly ran your fingers on his neck and his danced on the small of your back, caressing your skin. Both of you needed that physical contact. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up. “Did you mean what you said at the last therapy session?”, you whispered softly. “About not caring about redeeming yourself, and only getting away from here and finding a place to be your own person?”

He nodded above your breasts, his breath tickling your skin. 

You pondered whether or not you should ask this, but the question burned in your mind, “Do you mean that? Not redeeming, I mean.”

Tyler angled his face up to look at you with furrowed brows, “Why?” 

Softly pushing away some curls on his forehead, you looked at him intensely, “I don’t know…I feel there’s more than that. There’s more than the cocky and sexy witty boy in you, tiger.”

This brought a grin on his face, “So you think I’m sexy, uh?” 

You laughed lightly and leaned to almost brush your lips against his teasingly, “I don’t have mind-blowing sex with everyone, pretty boy.”

His grin only grew wider at that, but it soon faltered as he thought about your question. 

Laying his head back against your chest, he sighed faintly, “It might sound silly but…a part of me wants to make up for what I did, that’s why I need to make this year at Nevermore work. I…I want to make at least this right, for my mom. She- I don’t think she’d like to see me as a blood-thirsted murderer for the rest of my life.”

Unable to stop yourself you let out a small snort, “Mommy’s boy much? Should’ve seen that one coming.”

The snarky comment obviously stung him, because he immediately shot up his head to glare at you, pushing you away and making you wince at the loss of his warm skin against yours, “And what about it? Can’t I just miss my mom or want to do things right for once without you being such a sarcastic bitch about it? What the fuck is your problem?”

Your face darkened in shame, and you averted your eyes; it was a low blow coming from you, and you knew you shouldn’t have said that. Tyler calmed down a little at your backing off instead of the witty comeback he expected. He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that either and started to feel guilty about it. 

“Hey,” he whispered in a softer tone while getting up slightly to crawl back to your height and laying on his back, “c’me here”. His arm opened in an invitation, and after a brief moment of hesitation you silently laid next to him, your head against his biceps. For a solid minute none of you uttered a word. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Tyler finally said, to which you only shrugged. 

“Don’t be. I had no right to be such a bitch about your family just because I don’t give two shits about mine.” You let out a long sigh. “I guess it’s just…weird to me to hear someone being willing to change who they are for someone else, you know?”

Tyler gave a pensive hum, “Would you stop hunting if someone asked you to?” 

Thinking about it for a moment before answering, you then said, “No. Definitely not, even if that someone is a creature I could never harm. Don’t get me wrong,” you then added to his raised eyebrows, “I love hunting, it gives me power.”

“How so?”

Rubbing the scar on your back mind-absently, you muttered, “It’s the only way I have the feeling that I can actually do something. And do what people expect me to do.” 

Tyler’s eyes widened at your words. He had always pictured you as the opposite of a people-pleaser, more prone to do your own thing no matter what. Guess there was more to that too. 

“My family has always been saying things like, not ‘you can do it’, but ‘you must do it’. And…I was just a random little girl with no special powers, what else was I supposed to do to exist in their eyes?”. You let out a tired sigh, “Even if I’m old enough to choose my own actions now, I don’t know if I ever want to stop being a hunter, even if I don’t slay any creature in blind rage like it had always been done. It’s how I am, how I exist…I’m not even sure if I’d know what to do instead.” 

“Would you,” Tyler started before clearing his throat awkwardly like he was hesitant, “would you be willing to try if…if someone was willing to help you figure it out?”

Turning your head to the side you met his gaze already set on you, burning with his question. None of you dared to address the one hidden behind it though. Would you run with me if I asked you to? It was here, just on the tip of his tongue; but it didn’t come out. Looking at him intensely, you tried to not get lost into his deep brown eyes or getting distracted by his lips. Because your walls of defense had been already lowered for too long, a sarcastic answer took over. 

“Asking me to marry you already, lover boy?” you grinned softly. “Didn’t know you had enjoyed the sex so much.”

He let out a dry chuckle, both flustered and amused by the suggestion, “I mean, we both want to go through this year and then leave all of this behind to start over. If we stick together, we could help each other with that, right?”

You thought about it for a second; he wasn’t wrong. Having each other’s back and making sure you both graduated was the key to both of your freedoms. And given what just happened – great sex and heart-to-heart pillow talk alike – well, it couldn’t go too bad, could it? 

“Okay,” you breathed softly, “yeah, sounds like a plan. Guess you’re really stuck with me now, partner.”

Tyler grinned, one of his hands brushing teasingly under your belly button, “Bet someone was really convincing earlier to make you agree, uh doll?”

You grinned and pressed yourself against him, almost laying on top of him, “Mmmh, that glorious ass of yours is definitely a nice added bonus, not gonna lie.” 

“Good to know you appreciate nice things,” he chuckled, “does that plan of yours include more of this ‘mind-blowing sex’? Asking for a friend.” 

The feeling of his digit slowly dipping between your folds made you shiver and you pressed a grining kiss against his lips, muffling a moan, “If you play your cards correctly, maybe it will, pretty boy.” 

Turned out that Tyler definitely knew how to play his cards correctly. 

It didn’t take much time before the two of you jumped on each other again, mouths hungrily kissing and biting, hands groping, nails scratching on every inch of your skins every time the very thin barrier of self-control broke. You’d be surprised if you two had actually managed to stay discreet about it; the endless flirting wasn't different than before, except for the not so subtle eye-sex added to the bunch every now and then. One could have thought that all the tension would have died down after Tyler and you finally fucked, boy they couldn’t been more wrong. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to disappear after dinner or between classes, and you found yourself more than once on your knees on a bathroom’s floor, bobbing your head up and down and swirling your tongue around Tyler’s cock as he gripped the back of your head and grunted in ragged breaths under the sweet ministrations of your mouth; or for him have you pressed flush against your mattress again, thrusting deep into your dripping pussy, relishing on the feeling of your walls squeezing him and the wanton moans like music in his ears. He’d pull one of your legs over his shoulder and you’d let out the most delicious cry as he’d reach the spot that made you see stars, not caring the slightest if anyone heard you. 

None of you had yet spoken up about where your relationship stood. Two weeks had already passed since the disastrous Poe cup, and the marks Yoko’s grip had left on your neck were gone, long replaced with more pleasurably-earned bite marks and scratches thanks to Tyler. Perhaps the aftermath of the Poe cup events didn’t leave much room to talk about it, or perhaps none of you decided to address the subject, seemingly always forgetting to mention it every time the question popped in your minds. 

The most accurate term was that you were…friends, probably. Sure, friends didn’t fuck each other’s brains out like you did, and weren’t supposed to throw that much snarky comments, but you weren’t exactly together either. You guessed maybe you were lovers? There wasn’t love with a big L, at least not really – you wouldn’t have opened up that much to Tyler if there wasn’t a little more than affection for him. So, more than friends, but not yet lovers?

Although right now you couldn’t care less about whatever label you could put on your relationship, not when Tyler was mercilessly pounding into you and groaning against your shoulder. Chest pressed against his room’s door, you stifled a heated whimper in hope no one passing by in the corridor would hear you. That only seemed to amuse Tyler even more and he nibbed the spot behind your ear playfully, teeth sinking in the soft skin like he knew would make your head turn. 

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Not much cocky now are we?” 

Gasping loudly at a sharper roll of his hips, your left hand blindly reached behind to grip the back of his thigh. The way your body was pinned between his and the door didn’t allow you to get much grounding, but Tyler’s violent thrusts were enough to keep you standing despite your wobbling knees. But no matter how delicious he felt pounding into you, you didn’t want to admit your defeat just yet. 

Letting go of his thigh, your hand went to reach his head and you tugged harshly on his roots, making him groan on your neck. 

“I think I’m just so full of your cock now, lover boy, isn’t that right?” 

The way your hips rolled back against him took Tyler by surprise, and he let out a long moan this time. The grin that pushed on your face between ragged breaths was pure ecstasy and delight to his reaction. As an immediate answer to your teasing Tyler gripped on your hips, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later, and slammed harder through your dripping pussy. Clenching your walls around his length you couldn't help but throw a punched fist against the door. 

“A-ah fuck! Just right here right fuckin’ he– fUCK!”

The high-pitched cry that left your lips only made him more feral, thrusts becoming even harder until his balls slapped against your skin. You whimpered loudly and a sudden urge made you grab one of Tyler’s hands to press it against your throbbing clit. He chuckled hotly in your ear but didn’t complain about it when he started to finger you at an unforgiving pace. 

“Eager, doll? Want to cum all over my cock with that sweet pussy of yours?” 

A wanton moan escaped from your throat once again, and you drooled a little against the door. “Don’t stop, don’t– ahn! Tyler!” 

“That’s it,” he  growled, curling his fingers against just the right spot, “say my name sweetheart, go on.” 

So caught on in your animalistic and erotic atmosphere, none of you heard the muffled sound of footsteps in the corridor and coming closer to the room. And when the door opened unexpectedly – despite your body pressed flush against it – time froze for a second. Through the small gap of the door your glossy lusted gaze met the frozen – no, horrified – eyes of Tyler’s roommate. Speaking of him, Tyler hadn’t slowed down his pace and kept up with his savage thrusting and groans – and before you could stop yourself you moaned as he hit deep inside you. The sound made Ajax’s mind snap back into reality and his face turned into the brightest shade of red before he shut the door violently in ashamed mortification. You could almost feel sorry for the poor Gorgon if you weren't so busy having your pussy being absolutely ravaged by Tyler's cock. A rough slam threw all your concerns out of the window and you felt a familiar knot building up in your stomach.

"Ha—! Yes there, please Tyler harder, han—" 

The shameless beg wasn't anything like you but damn Tyler just felt so deep and so good. On wobbly knees you tried so hard to grasp on some more pressure to relieve yourself, your hips wildly bucking against his fingers or trying to push back closer to his groin. 

Entangled in your growing pleasure you didn't notice his other hand crawling under your shirt until his fingers pushed up your bra and pinched your nipple. A squeak escaped you, quickly turning into a moan as you pressed yourself even harder to the door, pushing closer into his large hand. 

Both of you were close now, and you couldn't form a single coherent thought in your mind. Tyler was everywhere, rubbing on your clit, circling your nipples, pounding into your cunt, and biting on your neck, his presence was overwhelming. His hungry grunts gradually turned into moans as he felt his balls tighten, so ready to release himself in you, filling you with his cum. The mere thought of it and the erotic vision of you trapped between him and the door, moaning shamelessly and wetting his cock and fingers made Tyler moan loudly and he came hard inside you. The feeling of him releasing his seed made you cry even more loudly and he slammed his cumming dick ruthlessly into you through his orgasm, determined to make you cum too. The mad pace he set on his fingers combined with the force of his girth hitting your right spot did the trick, and only a few seconds later you were rolling your head back on his shoulder, your mouth wide open in a silent moan caught in your throat. 

Tyler's thrusts became gradually sloppier, his fingers massaging your inner walls gently as you both rode through your orgasm. Chest rising up in ragged breathing you tried to regain composure, Tyler's arm securely sneaked around your middle to support you with your shaky legs. Angling your face up, you peppered his jaw with lazy open-mouthed kisses. 

“Where did that come from, lover boy?” you breathed out with a weak grin.

Breathing heavily, Tyler chuckled against your neck, “You didn’t see how fucking hot you look after fencing practice, doll. Plus I didn’t hear you complaining about that, uh?”

His hand lazily grabbed your throat to turn your face correctly to kiss you, and you hummed into the kiss. Oh no, you didn’t complain about it the slightest.

"I think we scared Ajax for the rest of his life," you chuckled, parting your lips from his. 

“Mmmmh, guess your moans gave him the impression we were making a porn in there.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully, but the needy whimper that escaped you when Tyler pulled himself out of you proved him right. Turning you around to face him with a surprising gentleness, he brought you close again into another kiss. 

“Don’t think Ajax will be back anytime soon,” he whispered between two bruising kisses,  “shower?” 

The stickiness of his cum mixed with your own dripping between your legs made you nod. “Lead the way, tiger.” 

The dark circles under Ajax’s eyes the next day were almost as funny as the mortified blush that crept on his face every time he looked at you. Maybe he should have tried to stone himself to forget what he had seen. 

A few days later, you were just finishing brushing your teeth to go to bed when someone knocked on your door. Checking the hour you realized it was way past curfew and wondered who it could be. Opening your door you couldn’t help but feel a pang of deception when it didn’t show a familiar curly-haired scared boy, but instead the short silhouette of Wednesday. 

“Van Helsing,” she greeted flatly. 

“Addams. What are you doing here?” 

“I require your expertise about something.” 

Your eyebrow rose high, “At this hour?”

“I’m a nocturnal animal,” deadpanned Wednesday. She pushed past you, inviting herself in without asking, “I hope I won’t find any gross evidence of your coital activities in this room,” she noted while looking around your room, “I sadly lack acid to burn my own eyes. Tragic.”

You raised an eyebrow, quickly deducing what she was referring to and how she heard of that, “So Ajax was actually traumatized enough to confide in you? Strange.”

“He didn’t. He has a loud mouth and so does Enid, unfortunately,” she sneered, a chill of disgust coursing down her spine. 

Chuckling, you shut your door and went to lean against your desk, arm crossed. 

“Isn’t that strange that you came to me specifically,” you mused with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m more inclined to seek advice from people who are actually skilled at killing,” she said casually, “I find them more enlightened than most humans on practical matters.”

That made you snort lightly. 

“Okay so,” you inquired, “what did you need my help for?”

“I require your expertise,” corrected the Addams sharply, “I do not need help.”

Shrugging at her comment you rolled your eyes, “Whatever you call it. Shoot.” 

“I came to understand you were quite versed in alchemy skills, is that true?” 

You raised a curious eyebrow at her. The training to become a monster hunter had a large part about how to make potions, elixirs, bombs and decoction to help for the hunts; so yeah, you aced the basic level classes at Nevermore, but you weren’t exactly the potion master either. 

“Sure,” you chimed carefully, “depends on how advanced we talk about alchemy. Why?”

“I assume you happen to know about the so-called truth serum?” 

You nodded. Although even the most talented of witches haven’t managed to turn their truth-telling spells into a potion, there was indeed a concoction that could do the trick at a smaller scale. A bunch of psychoactive drugs to make a subject more willing to provide the truth, really. Ethanol, scopolamine and some other substances mixed together couldn’t exactly guarantee a predictable enhancement of truth-telling, but it could at least work on weaker minds. 

“What of it?” you asked curiously. 

Looking closely at your old books collection – mostly volumes about monster hunting and bestiaries – Wednesday seemed completely unfazed by your current discussion, “As an expert, what do you think about adding some more substances into it?”

“Depends, what kind of substances?” you frowned.

Turning sharply in your direction, Wednesday explained, “From wolfsbane to silver dust, I’m yet to decide on which monster I’m gonna use it.” 

You scoffed, “So you want to make someone sing for you, what about throwing more substances to that shit? Making sure you’d outplay them?”

Giving you a deadpanning look, Wednesday didn’t seem amused by your joke, “I’m merely compensating for an unpleasantly weaker physique compared to literal monsters. I thought a hunter such as yourself would understand the strategy.”

“I am,” you confirmed, “actually it’s pretty clever. You have to make up for your short height after all. But to answer your question,” you continued, not taking much of the death glare she sent you, “I think it cannot hurt too bad if you’re dosing the substance wisely. If you’re adding something that can be deadly for a monster, be sure to not put too much or else you won’t have so much monster to interrogate left.”

Wednesday nodded and crossed the room to get to the door without another word. 

“Glad to be of help!” you called out as she closed the door. She didn’t even say why she had needed the information but after all, you guessed that she knew what she was doing. 

You got your answer a little less than a week later, when a teacher stormed into the library and asked you sharply to follow them to Weems’ office. They didn’t even answer you when you asked what it was about, surprised by the apparent rush that tore you away from your studying time. Tyler exchanged a surprised look with you, lifting up his nose from his homework. 

“D’you think I should come too?” he muttered when you gathered your notebooks in your bag under the teacher’s irritated gaze. 

Shaking your head you tried to reassure yourself, “Nah, it mustn’t be that important. I’ll text you okay?”

The quick walking pace of the teacher leading you to Weems’ office seemed to say otherwise. The fact that they accompanied you made you frown in the first place, because you definitely knew how to get to the Principal’s office by yourself. Something felt off. When you arrived and swung the door open, you were welcomed by the death glare of Principal Weems and Wednesday’s usual bored expression. Funny how none of you seemed to want to be here. 

“You wanted to see me, principal Weems?” you asked carefully. 

“Enough with the pleasantries, Miss Van Helsing,” she snapped harshly, her usual politeness completely gone, “I assume you know perfectly why you are here.” 

It wasn’t often you found yourself being completely clueless about a situation, but it was definitely the case here. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you glanced back and forth between the bored looking student and the fuming principal. 

“No but for real, what am I doing here?” you repeated, slightly frustrated by the whole situation. 

Weems glared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line, “Yoko Tanaka was admitted at the hospital last night for an intoxication due to contact with vampire-toxic substances. Does that ring any bell to you?” 

Glancing at Wednesday, you only met a roll of her eyes. What the fuck did she do? No matter how surprised you were, you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Ah! So Yoko finally got what she deserves, fucking good news. Have to thank karma for this one.” 

Weems slammed her hand on her desk, not amused at all by your behavior, “This is a very serious matter, Miss Van Helsing! I’m fed up with your attitude, you’ve gotten too far by attacking another student!”

The sudden accusation made you growl and your face darken. “Wait, wait wait, hold the fuck up, I did not attack this bitch,” you snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at the Principal, “Yoko got what she fucking deserved but I have nothing to do with it, I’m not bloody stupid!” 

“Then why does your signature lie all over this?” roared Weems, her patience running short. She had spent all of her night at the hospital, alternating between the rushing reports of the doctors and the frantic calls from Yoko’s coven and the school board demanding answers. 

“What the fuck are you talking about,” you spat venomously, “why are you accusing me, uh? Because it would be so easy if you'd have me expelled again?” 

Flaring her nostrils, Weems tried to keep her composure. 

“Miss Tanaka was poisoned with extracts of refined silver dust,” she articulated, “strange how its composition is awfully similar to the bomb you used against Mr Kelswizck a few years ago.” 

“I don’t like your insinuations,” you growled, your hands gripped into tights fists. “You don’t have the slightest proof I did that to Yoko. And beside,” you added angrily nodding to the silent other student in the room, “why Wednesday’s here?” 

Weems sent a glare in the Addams’ direction. 

“Miss Addams seems to have a knack to find herself in the most ambiguous situations when it comes to crime scenes. She was the one found beside Miss Tanaka’s body.” 

“I had her tied up on the chair to avoid unwanted reactions during interrogation,” said Wednesday flatly, and you felt your jaw hit the floor. Not at Wednesday and her methods – you might actually hug her for that – but at Weems for the raging fury burning within you. 

“You mean you have someone who was found with her and who admits doing this and you’re accusing me? What the actual FUCK is wrong with you!” you screamed at the principal. 

This didn’t calm the Principal who roared even louder, “You had your every reason to hate Yoko Tanaka and we both know it! Who else could have found refined silver dust?”

“Every fucking student in the alchemy class!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, “god, do you even know what’s been teached in your own school?” 

This made Weems stop dead in the tracks of her next shouting, staring at you with a frown. It looked like you had made a point. As on cue, Wednesday spoke up. 

“I did in fact steal the silver dust in the alchemy lab. Now, if you two are done with your childish bickering, can we move on to the actual matter?”

The laid-back impertinence of her tone almost made you scoff and Weems’ face tainted in angry purple, until Wednesday got a filler and a recorder out of her backpack. 

“Yoko was a stalker and a bully,” she explained as Weems somehow reluctantly looked through the pieces of evidence – some print of texts, anonymous messages etc. “I started to receive those threatening messages at the end of last year and pursued my investigation here.” 

Weems’ lips were pressed into a thin line, “Those are serious allegations Miss Addams,” she said pointedly, “even if there’s some serious threats in there, I can’t caution such action on mere evidence.” 

“I got her to confess,” counter-attacked Wednesday with her usual bored tone. “Everything got recorded here.”

All your three pairs of eyes landed on the recorder on the desk. Weems didn’t seem able to say anything as her mind collected everything; you, on the other hand, made the connection with Wednesday’s strange visit in your room a few days earlier. But you sure kept that to yourself, there was no need to give more reason to suspect you. 

“I would very much prefer if this prowess could not be assigned to someone else’s credit,” noted Wednesday pointedly, “even if that failed murder is a disgrace to the Addams’ name. Shame I didn’t surdose it more.” 

Okay, if Enid and her broke up one day, you’d definitely try your chance with Wednesday Addams, that was a promise to yourself. 

For now you had more urgent matters and you turned back to Weems with a hard glare, despite the thrill of her upcoming apology. 

“I believe you have something to tell me then, Principal Weems?” you sneered, bitter irony dripping of your words. 

Licking her lips, Weems seemed hesitant to speak up. 

But then the door sprung open suddenly and all three of your heads snapped in that direction, only to see Tyler strolling unannounced in the office. 

“Mr Galpin what–”

“Y/N has nothing to do with all of this Principal Weems, you have to believe her,” he interrupted her, crossing the room in a few strides. Eyes wide, you looked at him in disbelief. You didn’t even hear the apologetic teacher on the other side of the door – surely he had tried to stop Tyler after he insisted on knowing what was going on. 

“Yoko had been found last night, right?” he carried on passionately, unaware of the bewildered looks around him. 

“Mister Galpin,” tried Weems patiently, “there’s no–”

“Y/N was with me the whole time,” he interrupted her again,  “we went to diner together, ask Ajax he’ll confirm it, and–”

“Tyler!” you called him gently but firmly, putting your hand on his arm to get his attention. He whipped his head around and met your more relaxed gaze. “It’s okay, she knows I don’t have anything to do with this. Right?” you added with a glare to the principal. 

Weems nodded slowly, very reluctantly, and cleared her throat. 

“I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Van Helsing. There may have been some misconceptions in the previous accusations.”

“No shit,” you spat. “I hope that you’ll take some serious sanctions at the bullies at Nevermore now; you’re already fucking late about it.” 

Weems sent a deadly glare in your direction, “Get out of my office, both of you.” 

It didn’t take you more to turn back and leave the room, Tyler on your side. On the way out, you gave a faint nod to Wednesday; both for not having mentioned to Weems that you somehow helped in that, and for what she had done to Yoko. Even if it was only to serve her personal interests, it sure did feel good. 

Once you were far enough from Weems’ office, you let out a long breath you had been holding up, nerves finally relaxing. The whole scene had just seemed unreal. And there was this awkward, concerned-filled silence between Tyler and you. After some time, you cleared your throat. 

“Thank you. Y’know, for coming to my defense. You didn’t have to do that.”

Of course what he had said was true; and it would have been revealed later anyway, when you would have insisted on proving your innocence (for once), and called in witnesses. But Tyler had shown up willingly, on his own, because you needed him. Not because you called, or because it was a last resort, but because you needed him. And honestly, it felt nice. 

Gently grabbing your shoulder, Tyler tugged you closer on his side so you could snuggle against him. You had never shown such a public display of affection before, but you didn’t object to it the slightest. 

“Anytime sweetheart,” he said while pressing a kiss on your forehead, “anytime.” 

[Part.6] 

A/N: okay but the truth serum thing was an idea from a tv show I saw a long time ago and a 2 minutes wikipedia research, DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME, PEOPLE (yes even if your loved one/parent/sibling/cat ate the last cookie but denies it. Take their wallet and go buy another whole cookie pack. Especially if that’s the cat’s fault, take the feline’s wallet.)

Also on a more serious note, I decided to follow the fan theory that places Yoko as Wednesday’s stalker, because it fit well for plot reasons

Next part’s teaser? The Rave’n!

Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part ♥ Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist: 

@igotanidea​ @officerrrfriendly​ @beggingforxavierthorpe​ @aliciahlewis​ @stresseyzesty​ @katiemrty​ @leightonsteele​ @black-swan-blog27​ @mooniesthings​ @nightfurya​ @steadypoetrydinosaur​

Usernames unfound by Tumblr: 

@spiceyhotsherbet

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

[shycolorstudent]

Uramichi Oniisan oneshot

Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan. They/them pronouns sorry for any slip-ups. Age gap. Also, this is all for fun and credits go to the respective creator of the show and anime. If you want a part two let me know by leaving a comment.

Y/n works on the show ( "Together with Maman”) as a psychologist hired to find a way to make it educational while getting more ratings. You also made life a bit easier for the show writer, having a year's worth of segments ready at any moment. Somehow you and Uramichi become a couple.

An important thing to know is that I’m not trying to romanticize mental illness. It’s part of Uramich's character, and I’m sorry if it comes off that way. If it does, let me know nicely, and I’ll make an edit, or I’ll take it down. Thank you.

-” Yup, they definitely settled.” Uramichi said he put his light cigarette into his mouth. You curled up into a ball asleep on his bed. He doesn’t like smoking near you, so he smokes outside on the balcony. The night sky reflected how he felt. It was dark, with no stars or moon in sight. It wasn’t something you said or didn’t say.

-He thinks you settled for him because you are in your late 20s while he’s a 31 depressed man who’s working on a kid's show. He has nihilistic ideas and outbursts exercise a lot. And he feels like a burden. The truth is dealing with depression while in a relationship is complicated. He’s blunt, sees the negative, and at first thought you had a savior complex that you thought could save him or fix him. But you didn’t, and you understood what depression was and knew there would be good days and bad days. Uramichi appreciated that you didn’t pry him to open up if he had an episode where he was lost in his mind; you were there for him.

-Uramichi never overthought the age gap at first. The reason why he did now and why he’s questioning things that happened earlier that day. Uramichi was in his dressing room getting ready for the show. As you flipped through your notes, trying to find what colors children were attracted to the most. “Hey, did you still want to sleep at my house?” Uramichi asked in his regular tone of voice, “Yeah, why? If you changed your mind thats fine.” Uramichi shook his head and explained himself, “No, my mind hasn’t changed. You look stressed, so I thought our home pizza date and sleepover would set you back on work.” You smiled at the sweet thought and walked over to him, fright back the urge to play with his hair, so you just cupped his cheeks. “Thank you for thinking of me, but my work should be done before lunch.”

You then kissed the top of his forehead, “Quick question, how do you feel about wearing a dress? While being blindfolded and changed to a wall?” You said, awaiting your doting boyfriend's response holding your breath and closing your eyes, but then Tobikichi was standing at the door with the pink rabbit head in his hands. He went pale as if he had just met god. “You two keep your kinks or whatever out of the workplace. Uramichi, blink if you need help!” *Bonk* Mitsuo hit Tonikichi. “You opened the door. It’s your fault. We shouldn't shame them.” Tonikichi rubbed his head in pain. “B-but Y/n, you're going to end up killing him or hurting him. He does old to-” You rolled your eyes and started to get your notes together. “It’s for a segment in the show Tonikichi. Before I pitched the idea, I wanted to know if he was ok with doing that. We want to do a segment on breaking gender roles. So Uramichi would wear a dress as the kids would save him from a dragon who chined him.” “Ohhhh,” Tonikichi said. “Now excuse me, I have a pitch meeting to go to.” You grabbed your papers and kissed your boyfriend once more on his cheek as he held your hand, not wanting to let go. “See you after work.” You said, and you gave the two boys their scripts as you walked out.

After Uramichi scolded Tonikichi for coming in unannounced and making things seem wrong, he confessed and showed Mitsuo a ring. “Wow, thats a big step. Are you ready?” Mitsuo said, admiring it, “yes, we’ve known each other for four years and been dating for three, so I feel ready, and we talked about it before.” Uramichi said with a smile on his face, “Wait, and this relationship is serious? I mean, Uramichi, you look young right now, but soon you’ll look like a grandpa.” Tonikichi said in a burst, then ran away once he saw Uramichi's face filled with violent intent. “Don’t listen to him, Uramichi. I know your guy's relationship. I know how it started.” What Tonikichi said was on his mind all day. “I’m I too old for them?”

-The second thing was after work. When Uramichi said goodbye to the children, he smiled and waved goodbye. You two thought it was good, so Uramichi pulled you by your waist and went to place his head on the crook of your neck.

“What! But he’s so old!” A little boy said, forcing you two to separate. The boy just pointed in shock and confusion as his twin sister spoke up, “No, he’s not!” This was beyond bad that their single Oniisan had been destroyed. They asked him if he was single just last week, and he had to say yes. Before you could help fix this, Amon came running in, “Y/N help me! I have nothing for next week's segment help!” And he dragged you away. A woman who looked the same age as Uramich smiled and told her kids to walk ahead. Urmichi changed his voice to become upbeat and happy. “Sorry, miss-” She took a breath, and that made him go quiet, “I was in your shoes before. I was in love with a man younger than me. Don’t do what I did and leave him.” Then she walked away

-After Y/n was done helping, Amon and Uramich borrowed a movie from Mitsuo. You two decided to buy some snacks and alcohol from the convenience store. As you two scanned the shelves, someone shouted your name, “Y/n! It’s been so long!” It was two men about your age who went to school with you. After some chit-chat, Uramich was quite letting you guys catch up for a bit until someone mentioned to him, “Sorry, but we have to ask. Is this old guy bothering you? We thought you would need help.” You looked around confused, then realized, “This is my boyfriend, Uramich.” The two boys looked shocked. “Wow! Sorry man, we just wanted to make sure they were ok. Congrats, man I mean, no man, woman, or anyone in between could win a date with them. Their standards were high.” You blinked a few times in confusion, then Uramich spoke up, “Thats a bit objective isn’t it. They're not an object thats why they didn’t go out with anyone of you. They're not a prize to be won.” He was very pissed that they saw you as a prize. His death stare sent chills down their spine. If Uramich could, then those boys would be getting the Tonikichi treatment right about now. “Alos, my standers never lowered.” You said, then going up to pay for your stuff. “Love, I’m going to pay. I want to get home as soon as possible.”

Uramich still wanted to look for a bottle of his favorite alcoholic drink. It’s an experience. However, it will be a nice touch for another time. One of the boys was talking rather loud “Nah, no way, they settled. I know him. My kid watched that dumb show all the time.” The other chimed in, “I mean, they could do so much better. And the man is looking kinda fat too.” Uramich, heartbroken, didn’t want to say anything.

-Now Uramich is thought about all these things that happened today. He put out his cigarette. And sighed. A set of hands warped around his waist. You said tried. “I’m too old for you… I think we-” You cut him off and pulled away. “Well, I don’t. It’s not like your old enough to be my dad. Those guys at the store are low lives, got their girlfriends pregnant in high school, and works at a car wash. There's nothing wrong with working at a car wash, but It’s unfair to judge a person before getting to know them. Uramich, I knew from the start that there would be some backlash about this relationship, but I was ready. My standers never lowered. I love you with my whole being.”

Uramich smiled at you as if we waited to hear that from you. This was the first time he heard about how weird and old he was. Usually, it would be you coming home upset about the dumb things someone told you about being too young for him. Uramich wrapped his hands around you and brought you in close, and buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry, got insecure for a moment. I was in my head thinking that you settled.” The vibrations from his vice tickled your neck a little and gave you butterflies. “If I were with anyone else, then I would have settled. Uramich, you are the man that I waited for my whole life. Can we go back to bed now, or do you want more reassurance that I’m not going anywhere?” You felt his lips go into a smile. “The bed sounds nice. One more thing, do you still want to get married one day?” He asked, holding the box in his pant pocket. “Only to you.” You said with a massive smile on your face. Thats when Uramich knew it was a good time. He wasn't the type for grand gestures, so this was perfect.

He went down one knee in his pajamas. “Y/n L/n, will you spend the rest of your life and marry me?” You couldn’t contain the happiness that you jumped into his arms, knocking down but cradling his head. “Yes!” Then you kissed him.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

/

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

/

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile.  “Thank you.”

/

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.”  You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

/

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.”  For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

/

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

/

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

/

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.”  You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

/

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

 You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

/

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

/

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

[cuddles-and-kisses]

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

[littlemisspascal]

Pedro Pascal Characters as Element Benders

This has probably been done before, but I watched an episode of ATLA earlier and thought wow, I wonder what Pedro’s characters would be and thus this was written in about 15 minutes. It’s probably not very good cuz it’s so rushed, but read on if you want to see my headcanons for the boys.

Also if anyone out there wants to come up with their own versions, I’d love to see what you imagine ❤

Javier - firebender, definitely. I mean, the guy smokes more than any other character I’ve seen on tv and I love the mental image of him lighting a cigarette using his own hands. His anger, too, at the corruption of the government I imagine as a fire constantly burning away inside of him, making his skin warm to the touch and his snappy retorts scorch the ears of anyone who gets on his bad side.

Max -- waterbender only because he’d totally master bloodbending through it. He’s a vampire so of course blood has to factor in somewhere. His bending skills in combination with his hypnotism ability means he’d essentially be the most dangerous predator in the whole office building, inflating his arrogance beyond measure in the process.

Whiskey - waterbender because if Katara can use a water whip then Whiskey would definitely make use of one too. Enemies would think he carries a flask full of alcohol, but it’s really full of H2O ready to unleash upon them as a powerful wave. 

Pero - I really feel like he’d be an earthbender. I just picture him grumpily stomping the ground whenever William pisses him off (which is often) and sending a wall of rock directly at the Irish man’s face. Or if he gets really stubborn then he’ll just build himself a little rock fortress to block out the rest of the world and give him a minute of solace so he can pretend aliens don’t exist.

Oberyn - firebender, no questions asked. I mean, I don’t know much about GOT but I know Oberyn constantly wears a yellow robe with suns on it, plus I’ve seen a lot of interviews where Pedro talks about the prince’s passionate personality makes him impulsive. All those characteristics to me scream firebender and wouldn’t it have been awesome if during his final fight he actually breathed fire?!

Marcus P - this sweetheart is totally an airbender. He just seems like such a tenderhearted man and wants to help anyone in need whether that be sending them a cool breeze in the middle of a hot summer day or helping get a child’s kite down from a tree with one well-aimed current. Aesthetically I imagine his hair always looking fluffy and windblown, making his lover want to run their hands through his hair all hours of the day and he’d love every second of it.

Maxwell - earthbender. It’s canon he has a passion for gemology and an interest in oil and I mean, he literally becomes the dreamstone (sorry, spoilers) so in my mind it stands to reason he’d be a pretty good earthbender. Another spoiler (sorry) from the movie is that scene where the giant wall rises out of nowhere and blocks off the city? Imagine Maxwell doing it because that rich oil man pissed him off with his condescending personality. Everyone would know to never make a joke out of Maxwell Lord ever again.

Marcus M - airbender. I mean, the movie doesn’t really show what Marcus’ powers are precisely other than apparently he’s got a pair of katanas, so I think it’d be cool if instead of just having a really strong bond with a pair of weapons, he bends air to send them flying into his hands. Also that scene where he leaps at the alien and gets captured? It was a super high jump so I could totally see him using his airbending to help give him a boost. (I got nothing in this headcanon to explain why he uses the little droid to fly around though, so let’s just pretend that doesn’t exist).

Ezra - of course he’s an earthbender. Just like Maxwell, it’s canon this guy has a passion for digging stuff out of the ground and becoming rich off of it. I imagine it’d be a little hard for him to relearn how to bend with only one arm after the events of the movie, but maybe he could use his feet like Toph does and master a form of bending unlike any other seen before. He would also use his massive vocabulary and honey-sweet tongue to confuse/charm competing prospectors right before he makes the ground disappear beneath them. 

Din - I thought long and hard about this one and I kept coming back to earthbending only because the Mandalorians would teach him to learn metalbending through it. He would use it to get dents out of his armor as well as fix his beloved Razor Crest, but without a doubt the most important thing he’d use his bending for would be to play catch with Grogu and the little metal ball. The cuteness would kill all of us. 

Frankie - I see him as an airbender. He’s a pilot at heart, loves to soar above the earth through the clouds. When he was a kid, he definitely had one of those gliders like Aang does in the show and showed off to Santi just how high he could fly (I totally believe him and Santi were childhood friends, you can’t change my mind). There is nothing he loves more than the breeze ruffling his hair and occasionally using his airbending against the boys when they’re misbehaving by sending their hats flying off their heads. 

Dave - this murder-loving suburban dad is a firebender. He’s the type to burn at a low simmer, deceiving those around him by thinking he’s calm and collected, but he’ll burn you to ash the second you tick him off or get in the way of his plans. It also would explain why he lost so badly at the end of the movie because the torrential rain would weaken even the strongest of firebenders. 

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[nerdypanda3126]

Damn, You Look Happy Now

It's angst week for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge!

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up with four sprints and added around 1,000 words on this one because... I mean, feels are really hard.

The prompt I used this time around was: "It's okay, I'm used to it." And that combined in my head with Heart Shut by Alex Hall feat. Tenille Townes which I heard the day after watching the episode and I couldn't help but think of these two. 

Summary: Luka's looking forward to a quiet performance in a small local bar until Marinette walks in leading Adrien by the hand. And she looks so happy. Luka just needs to pretend it's not absolutely killing him.

Warnings: S4/E1: Truth Spoilers, non-consensual kissing, drinking

Read on Ao3 

Luka glanced out over the crowd, idly picking at his guitar. After years of touring with Jagged, it was nice to play the background music for a quiet place like this. Although he had to admit the crowd was probably larger than normal for the small local bar.

He frowned unconsciously as his fingers started to find all-too-familiar notes, and his crowd-searching became more focused, intent on finding her. And find her he did. Worming her way to the tables in front of the stage, leading a bewildered, laughing Adrien by the hand. Her melody bubbled up to him over the hum of the crowd. It had changed. When they were teenagers it had been dragged down by confusion, longing, and responsibility. His fingers tripped over the strings lightly, every playful note confirming the happiness she’d found.

Adrien took Marinette’s coat and draped it across the back of her chair before helping her into it. She rolled her eyes when he pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles and he smirked back before disappearing, presumably to order their drinks. The ease between them was obvious. He could only assume—well, admittedly he’d never asked. But in the limited contact they kept up, she’d never mentioned the new development, either.

She waved shyly at him up on the stage and he set his face in a smile and nodded back. She’d cut her hair. It was cropped close to her neck now, but she’d kept the bangs he remembered. As their eyes were linked, she reached up to worry at a pigtail that wasn’t there, asking him with her eyes if he liked it. Despite himself, his smile warmed as he nodded again. He really did. She looked so happy now, especially when Adrien returned to sit next to her and draped his arm across the back of her seat casually.

He tried—he really did—to focus on his performance, but it was honestly the worst of his life. His eyes kept drifting over to her, often catching her leaning her head close to Adrien’s to talk. Adrien subtly kept her drink full all night, until she was hiding giggles behind her hands and leaning amiably against his shoulder. Every once in a while she’d catch Luka watching her and sober instantly, straightening up to twist her fingers on the table instead, biting her lips and shooting furtive glances his way.

But Adrien would say something in her ear and make her smile again.

The end of his set was an immense relief. He planned on disappearing out back until they left. Not that he didn’t want to talk to her, he just… couldn’t. So he slipped his guitar off and set it aside before he slid quietly out the door marked ‘Employees Only.’

Instantly, he wrapped his arms around himself, regretting not grabbing his leather jacket. It was snowing, and already a thin layer was frosting the cobblestones of the alley he was standing in. There was one other person out there, on a smoke break, but they took one look at Luka and took a last puff before crushing it out and going back inside. The stale cigarette smoke hung around him and mixed with the smell of the dumpster and the crisp winter air. It didn’t help calm his twisting stomach. But he took deep breaths anyways, focusing more on the snowflakes landing on his hot skin, melting away to nothing like he desperately wished he could right now.

He heard the door beside him open and he didn’t even need to look to know she’d followed him. That haunting melody was already in his head and he took one more steadying breath, preparing to tell her he was happy for her as he turned to face her.

She was clutching her coat around her tightly, peeking up at him from behind snow-laden eyelashes. For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the silence of the snow falling around them stretch to the point of breaking. He shook off the chill that was beginning to seep into his chest and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You look good,” he started, “happy, I mean.”

“I am,” she murmured back, but there was a strange twinge to her tone. “Um, I wanted to tell you—”

“Marinette, you don’t have to.” He cut her off before the words he didn’t want to hear passed her lips. He wasn’t expecting the childish pout that scrunched her face.

“I do, though,” she insisted, “It’s why we came here tonight, to watch you play, and so I could see you again and tell you—” She took a sharp breath in and held it, biting her lip again. It was only then that Luka noticed the glassy sheen of her eyes and her reddened cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. He counted in his head how many drinks she must’ve had over the course of the evening. Not enough to not remember, but definitely enough to not be in control.

“You’ve been drinking, Marinette,” he said gently. “You should go back inside. I’m sure Adrien’s looking for you.”

“He’ll wait.” She hiccuped and giggled. “But first I have to tell you something.”

“You can call me tomorrow when you’re sober.” He didn’t mean to be so short with her, but the image of her going home with Adrien hit him harder than he thought it would. He started to reach around her to open the door she was still standing in front of and usher her back through, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged him down to her.

As she pressed her lips against his, his body reacted first out of habit. Too many years of crazed fans forgetting he was a person and not a sex symbol. His hands peeled hers off him gently and he took a step back. Except this was Marinette and it tore at something inside him to tear himself away from her.

When he blinked back to the cold reality standing in front of him, he licked his lips unconsciously before daring to look at her again. She was mostly stunned, her eyes blown wide and her lips still slightly parted.

“Oh my God, Luka, I’m so sorry. I just—”

“It’s okay,” he managed to choke out. Not that it was, but it was what came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat to try to speak past the lump that had formed. “I’m… used to it.”

Just not from you, his mind supplied helpfully. He was still holding her wrists and for some reason his thumb moved on its own, rubbing against her delicate skin, but he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself.

“That... was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. God, I’m so embarrassed.” She tried to hide her face in her hands, but ended up pressing her forehead against his chest instead, muttering about being a disaster.

He only resisted the urge to fold her into his arms because he could smell Adrien’s cologne lingering in her hair. Instead he cleared his throat again.

“Marinette, does Adrien know you’re out here with me?”

She looked up at him and scrunched up her face again, in confusion this time instead of defiance. “Of course he does. He’s the reason I’m out here with you. Mangy cat practically shoved me out the door.”

...What? He blinked at her, uncomprehending, and she sighed as she snuggled into him which was not helping his ability to process anything. He dropped her wrists and grabbed her by the shoulders instead, stabilizing her as he pulled her off him.

“You’re gonna have to help me out, here. You’re here with Adrien, right?”

“Well, yeah, I’m here with Adrien.” She rolled her eyes at him, but then when she caught sight of his serious expression, she seemed to realize something. “Oh, you think—No! No, I’m not—I’m here with Adrien, but I’m not here with Adrien, he’s—we’re—oh, it’s a long story, and that’s why I wanted to tell you, but it’s all wrong and now you think—and I—Luka, I didn’t mean to kiss you like that, I’m so sorry, you must think I’m awful and—”

He took a deep breath and sorted through her ramblings. With Adrien, but not with Adrien. His head was spinning. Adrien was the reason she was out here. She wanted to tell him something. None of it was really adding up, and yet at the same time it was.

“What were you going to tell me earlier?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice even.

“Under the moon, deep within the woods…” she muttered under her breath, then hiccuped again. The faded memory of a failed date rushed back to him and whatever breath he had left him. She was twisting her fingers into the front of his shirt, seeming very interested in her shoes until she let out a short huff of breath and finally met his eyes again. “I wanted to tell you my secret, Luka, now that it’s all over. And I wanted to tell you…” She blinked up at him with those wide eyes and bit her lip again. This time, he waited for the end of her thought. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath in and let it out slowly. When she opened them again, they were clear, as blue as he remembered, and starting to brim with tears.

“I never stopped loving you,” she murmured. “It—the timing, was just—” Another short huff of breath and she wiped at her cheeks. Impatient with herself, it seemed, for not knowing which words to use. But then she drew herself up and the look in her eye became steely.

Every Parisian knew that look. Luka blinked just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but it was definitely still Marinette in front of him and not Ladybug. But. She’d said it was all over. Hawkmoth’s defeat—he’d been in America at the time, but the news had done a small segment on it. Her secret. The realization crashed into him at about the same time the words left her mouth.

Without being aware of it, his hand drifted to his wallet in his back pocket and he easily withdrew the signed guitar pick necklace she’d given him. It felt like a lifetime ago. For a moment he let it hang between them, then let the cord slip through his fingers and into her cupped hands.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” she said softly.

She picked it up to look at it, no doubt noticing the wear on it. When he was writing songs on the road, or nervous before a show, or just thinking of her and wishing things had gone differently, he’d take it out and rub his thumb over the smooth plastic. The design on one side was nearly worn off from it.

“My lucky charm,” he murmured. Her eyes bounced back up to his as a genuine blush rose on her cheeks.

A shiver wracked through him as the new information and the cold caught up to him. Marinette’s expression instantly shifted to concern. “You must be freezing! We’ll go back inside and—”

As she turned away to open the door he spun her back to him and leaned down to press his lips against hers this time. She let out a muffled gasp of surprise, then wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him to her, angling her head to kiss him better.

When he pulled away—entirely too soon in his opinion, but it was hard to kiss her the way he wanted with chattering teeth—he pressed his forehead against hers fondly. She giggled and ran a hand through his hair, brushing out stray snowflakes that hadn’t melted away yet.

“You know, it was actually Adrien who told me you were here tonight,” she admitted shyly.

“Remind me to buy Chat Noir a drink,” he muttered, and she laughed again and took his hand, lacing their fingers together as she did to lead him back inside.

[purplesurveys]

1386

What is in the back seat of your car right now? There are letter-shaped pillows. Used to be in my parents’ room but they donated it so that my car can have pillows if anyone needs to take a nap in it. I think one of my bucket hats may also be in there.

What was the last thing you threw up? A bunch...my dinner, soju, the snacks I had while drinking. Last night was a mess, lol.

Menthol or regular cigarettes? I don’t use cigarettes but I do vape. I always get the watermelon variant.

What is your favorite episode of Friends? Okay, so even though I have access to it since all the seasons are on Crave, I haven’t actually watched the entire series in chronological order from start to finish. *Shock gasp horror* I may finally do it at some point, but so far I’ve only seen a handful of episodes. I laughed really fucking hard at the one where Ross goes on a date and gets stuck in those leather pants, though. < This is LITERALLY my favorite episode - The One With All the Resolutions. It has Phoebe trying to steal a plane, Rachel trying not to gossip, Ross trying something new every day which somehow leads to him struggling with leather fucking pants, Joey learning the guitar, Chandler trying to not make fun of the name Hornswoggle, and Monica taking photos of everyone. Everything was just so well-put together and made for a really funny episode.

Does anyone have any blackmail on you? Probably.

If you could marry any celebrity today who would it be? Delulu-wise, I’d go for Yoongi in a heartbeat hahaha.

Have you been to a strip club? I have never been inside one but I’ve driven past some and the doors are for some reason always open wide, and so I always take a second or two to look at the poles inside and the pink lights and stuff like that haha.

Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? Yeah - my keyboard cover is literally pink.

Are you wearing socks right now? Nah. I could wear socks rn since I’m holed up in our room in Zambales and feeling cozy and all, but I’m too lazy to put them on.

What was the last thing you had to drink? I had cookies and cream milk tea from this local tea place.

What are you wearing right now? Yellow tank top and denim shorts.

Last food you ate? Quattro formaggi pizza and chicken tenders.

Have you bought any clothing items in the last week? Nah, I only occasionally buy new clothes.

When is the last time you ran? I’m not too sure. I don’t run a lot since I spend much of my time at home; and when I do find myself outdoors there’s usually barely any reason for me to start running.

What’s the last sporting event you watched? Does it have to be live? I watched the first hour of Wrestlemania 30 a couple of weeks ago. As for real life, probably a UAAP game back in 2019.

Last person’s house you were in? I didn’t go inside anymore since it had been like 11 PM, but I last drove by Angela’s place to drop her off.

Last movie you saw? I rewatched Steve Jobs last weekend and the screenplay was every bit as spectacular as I last recalled it to be.

Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? Angela. I was just telling her how socially exhausted I am from this trip and that I plan to spend my remaining time here holed up in our room. Extrovert Robyn is OUT, hahaha.

Ever go to camp? No.

Were you an honor roll student in school? My first school doesn’t have one l since they don’t want to encourage competition and all, which honestly makes more sense to me and I’ll always be grateful for that. But in college, yeah I made it all throughout. 

Do you like sushi? Fucking love it. It’s probably my top favorite food.

Do you have a tan? My co-workers remarked earlier that I’ve already started to look darker, so yeah it’s safe to say that I do have a tan now.

How old do you want to be when you have kids? 27 is an ideal age but the possibility seems bleak at this point.

Have you ever drank your soda from a straw? I don’t think I have. I barely drink soda in the first place anyway, so.

What is your age? 23, but I’m turning 24 in April.

Are you someone’s best friend? Yes.

What are your siblings’ middle names? Beatrice, Edgardo.

Where is your dad right now? In a cruise ship somewhere in France. He’s coming home next week though! :) What was the last thing you said? “Thanks Gela!” I just asked the owner of the hostel we’re currently staying at for the wifi password and I thanked her after she typed it for me on my laptop.

What color is your watch? I don’t wear watches.

What do you think of when you think of Australia? My aunt and her family who live there.

Ever ridden on a roller coaster? Yeah, once.

Favorite gemstone? Diamond.

Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Drive-thru or just delivery altogether.

Do you have a roommate? Nope. Do you have any bad habits? Yeah, being a hardass perfectionist and overworking are two of them.

What is your favorite number? These days it’s 7.

Do you know anyone named Lori? Nah but this name reminds me of Lori Grimes from The Walking Dead, who I rooted for just because the actress who plays her is really pretty HAHA. Lori is objectively a shitty character, though.

What color is your mom’s hair? Black.

Do you have a dog? Yes and I miss them both so much.

What happened to you in 1993? Like, I was probably a sperm cell back then.

Does your first memory involve your dad? It doesn’t. My mom is in it, though.

Do you remember singing any songs as kids? Yes. I have a couple of videos of younger me singing, too.

When was the last time you went swimming? November. I’ve gone to the beach a couple of times during this trip but I haven’t actually swum. I’m not planning to either; I don’t feel like getting wet and all this weekend. Looking at the sea will suffice for now.

Has your luggage ever gotten lost? No.

Biggest annoyance in your life right this minute? Welp, the power in the hostel came out five minutes ago so we’ve lost the internet connection. There’s also like, zero signal here so I can’t connect to 5G either. Hopefully it comes back soon so I can actually post this survey and look for other ones to take.

Have you ever thought it would be cool to smash a guitar? No. Unless it’s a rock concert and it would be cool to see a guitar getting smashed, this just sounds like a big waste of money overall.

Do you like watching a bonfire? Sure, they’re fun.

Are you allergic to anything? Grass and certain fabrics, yep.

What is one thing you miss about your past? I miss being an associate, hahaha. Being a manager gets really hard sometimes.

Do you ever get flu shots? No.

Favorite shoes that you wear all the time? My Ivy Park sneakers.

What is one thing you’ve learned about life recently? I really need to separate my emotions from work. I take the smallest of mistakes incredibly seriously and personally so it affects the way I approach work more than I would want it to.

Are you jealous of anyone? No.

Is anyone jealous of you? I doubt it.

[swcloud]

Autumn night...

♡ Sunwoo x f reader ♥

♡ genre : fluff, so much fluff, happy ending

♡ warnings : smoking

summary : first date but not really a date, you have a huge crush on Sunwoo and he returns your feelings~

________________________________________

You did not know Sunwoo personally, all you have exchanged with him are hellos and greetings whenever you ended up hanging out in the same group of friends.

Actually during those days, you would be so out of it all day, stealing glances at him from afar whenever you could, while the sound of your friends talking echoed in the background. You couldn't focus on what they say, all you could do is be fascinated with him, with his personality.

The way his eyes naturally sparkled under the cinema lights when he was talking, the way the corners of his lips went up slightly whenever he found something amusing, the way he licked his lips whenever he was trying to focus on something. You jumped a little in your place when you noticed Sunwoo's eyes turned to look at you catching yours admiring him, you quickly looked away and you felt your cheeks getting warm.. "he wouldn't think anything of this right ? he wouldn't know i liked him just from this, no, it's completely normal to look at him once just like everyone looks at everyone, right..?" you told yourself trying to find some kind of reassurance. At this point you knew you liked him since forever but you couldn't go for it for two reasons, first there was no way Sunwoo wouldn't already have a girlfriend, second you were too shy to even speak to him, let alone try anything.

9 PM hit the clock, it was finally the time for the movie that you picked to start. All of the group including you, headed to enter the small venue, the lights were still on inside, you chose a seat next to your friend and you freezed when you noticed Sunwoo and two of his friends sat behind you.

"Shit", you cursed under your breath, knowing you will be a shy mess, not knowing how to function since every move you would do now, he will be able to see.. if he cared enough that is.

The lights were now off, the movie started and you were trying your best to focus on the big screen across from you. After maybe thirty minutes in, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, you freezed knowing it could be Sunwoo. You turned around gathering all the courage in you and looked the person in the eyes, it was not sunwoo but one of your mutual friends. "want some popcorn ?" handing it to you, "uhm yeah thanks" you accepted and smiled at him. Sunwoo was sitting back on his seat, watching you during the interaction with your friend. Before turning, you made eye contact and it was just a second but you swore it had the effect of lightning hitting your skin. From this moment on, your mind couldn't take it, you knew it was stupid of you to be reacting like this to.. Nothing. Everything was overwhelming and you couldn't imagine sitting there until the end knowing Sunwoo was behind you even though you knew he probably wasn't even paying attention to you at all.. You decided to go out, excusing yourself with your friend, you stood up and made your way to the exit of the venue.

Fresh air brushing against your skin, you felt like you could finally breathe. Without overthinking every inhale and exhale, without overthinking how you looked while doing it. The light autumn breeze was making your long hair fly messily in all directions, you loved chilly autumn nights, clouds and just enough wind made you feel relaxed in a way.

"Are you okay there ?" you jumped startled by the familiar voice you thought would never speak to you. Sunwoo stood next to you, hands in his pockets, looking at you in the eyes. Like it's nothing.. Yes it was nothing.. For him. "Y-yeah, I'm okay", you managed to say. Sunwoo nodded and you saw him take a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket, he brought one between his lips. He smokes, you said in the back your head, yeah you knew he did but you didn't care. You saw him pressing the lighter on while circling his hand around the cigarette, trying to avoid the wind turning the flame off.

He didn't talk to you after that, you thought maybe he wanted to be alone so you turned around trying to give him space, but he stopped you saying "You can stay, i will blow the smoke the other way so it won't get to you." Your heart felt tingles at every word he blurted out and you decided to stay. You nodded as a response and sat on some brick made seat that was near by. You could now, see Sunwoo's back facing you, his broad shoulders drove you crazy, the way his jeans belt was hugging his waist line, you wished your hands were instead. "Why did you leave the venue ? Didn't you like the movie ?" he said, turning around, making eye contact once again.

"No, I just--i just don't like endings", he smiled lightly at your words while you were still amazed all of this was happening.

"So yeah.. I never really watch movies, i prefer series actually.. ", you continued. Sunwoo finished his cigarette and turned it off by pressing on it before throwing it on the designated place for smokers. He then approached and sat next to you, his hands laid back holding the weight of his body. "but series end too", he said looking at the space across from him, his eyes staring into nothing. You smiled a little knowing what you will say will be a little weird but you didn't care at this moment, you just felt like you would never get an alone moment with him ever again. "That's why i always only watch up to the episode before the last", this earned you a little laugh from sunwoo. His voice was raw and rough but to you, it sounded like honey dripping next to your ears. He turned around to look at you and said "let's go back inside", he stood up and you followed him. After you entered the venue again, you were returning to your initial seat but Sunwoo slightly tapped on your wrist to get your attention without breaking the silence in the room, he leaned in and whispered close to your ear "Come sit with me," you heart skipped a beat, and you autuomatically followed him, as if this is how it is all supposed to go. You couldnt say no to him, you just liked him too much that sometimes it hurt.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen when you felt Sunwoo leaning in towards you, he brushed your hair behind your ear so you could hear him better and whispered to you, "so you were a really attractive kid all this time..", you chuckled in your seat, "you're really cute", he continued, "can I ask you out ?" and with this final remark, your heart was beating in your chest, so loud, that it could break the silence in the cinema room. Sunwoo didn't just stop there, while waiting for you to react to what he said, he brought his hand to your flower earring that was hanging on your ear and started playing with it, turning it around and looking at it with awaiting eyes, almost teasing you. All your thoughts were tangled in you mind as you wondered, "don't you already have a girlfriend.." you manage to blurt out. Sunwoo stopped playing with your earring and leaned back on his seat, you thought he was going to answer but he didn't. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and kept watching the movie as if you didn't say anything. Sunwoo was the kind of boy that can be hot and cold at the same time, you knew this but you still let your heart go to him, not from today but from way before. "ah so this was it.." you thought silently in your head, "his quiet side..". You liked it all.. You just didn't know how to deal with the situations that come with it. You decided you were going to take this chance no matter what, you were not going to let go of him not when he slightly gave you a chance. You typed a quick message to your friend, and asked her if she knew about Sunwoo's girlfriend. After a few seconds, your phone lit up with the reply notification. "Haven't you heard earlier ? They broke up"

There. You had it. What you never thought you could have, a chance with the boy you liked to the moon. You decided to provoke him a little bit and you leaned into him, just the way he did minutes ago, "i accept", you whispered, Sunwoo immediately turned around and locked his brown eyes with yours, you swore you could see a little smile forming on his lips. You blushed, thanking god, he couldn't really see your red cheeks in the dark room. After the movie finished, the lights were back on and you started to panic inside your head as all the courage you had during the movie seemed to have left your body. You were a shy mess when Sunwoo stood up from his seat, your seat was on the side of the exit, so you would have to go out and Sunwoo will have to follow behind you. You made sure to avoid looking at him, as you started making your way in between two rows of seats, Sunwoo reached for both your hands while walking behind you. The new feeling of his skin on your skin felt warm and sent electric shivers to your body.

You walked until the parking lot and Sunwoo broke the silence, "y/n wait", he turned you around and his lips went straight to capture yours in a small peck, he slightly pulled back just the right amount of distance to be able to look you in the eyes, "i-..", he pecked your lips again, "what are y-", he leaned in again not letting you to speak, you smiled against his lips and. He got closer to you and kissed you deeply, you could feel the warmth of his chest and lips against yours, this moment was one of those... those moments where if you woke up in your bed at this right instant you wouldn't be surprised, you wouldn't be surprised if this all happened to be a dream. Moving his rosy lips against yours, you could taste his lip balm, he tasted so good just like you knew he would. your heart was fluttering, as sunwoo broke the kiss and said "you're so cute but you make me go crazy, i shouldn't have waited ".

"waited for what ?" you replied,

"to ask you out", he said while smiling at you. "i knew you liked me" he finished. You were so surprised, your eyes got bigger and said "how did you know ? I mean, IF i really liked you, I'm not saying that I really did, im just-". Sunwoo thought you were adorable and he just put his hands on your waist and pulled you in for a hug and you could hear him mumbling "Mmmmm whatever you say" next to your ear, you stood there for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, you slowly brought your hands behind his neck and pulled him more into you.

"i like you y/n" sunwoo said,

"i like you more", you smiled burying your head in his neck.

[kay-kaylen]

Comparison of OPs

So... I don’t know if anyone noticed, I’m sure a fair few have, but Fugou Keiji’s Opening has changed. The visuals are different with episode 1, and the other episodes.

So I took it upon myself to screenshot and compare every single difference between the OPs.

I had to pause it scene by scene and I literally wanna die now.

Here y’all go.

For the sake of simplicity, I’ll be calling the scenes in the OP of episode one the ‘old’ OP, and the scenes for the rest of the episodes the ‘new’ OP. Cool? Cool.

Alright so first difference right off the bat is the brief flash where Daisuke is taking off his tie. Hot I know, but the old scene is way more clear and yellow (probably to signify gold and money and stuff I dunno) While the new one is much darker and almost appears foggy, which is interesting.

This is the same for this shot of Daisuke, Haru and Suzue all standing in a room together. Older OP is way more yellow while the newer one has its colour more washed out (Could be symbolic of how the show slowly gets darker and darker as it goes on)

Next is the first shots we have of both Daisuke tilting his head up towards the camera, and Haru looking down towards the camera. In the old OP, the scene was waaaay more blue, while the new one has the colours all washed out and is darker and more silvery, and the shadow fighting (or dancing I guess) in the background is switched from black to white.

Next is Suzue, and this was probably the most obvious change to me. When I saw the new OP, she was the thing that tipped me off that something was different.

In the old OP, She’s fully coloured in with skin and everything and you can’t tell me that this ISN’T Suzue. Pink collar, gold bands, black silky long hair, this. Girl. Is. Suzue. Whereas you might’ve been able to squeeze in an excuse with the new OP, where her skin has turned black and her hair is white. She’s also wearing a more hot pink lingerie rather than the purple one from before.

The background has also changed. Previously, she had the gold and black tinted background like coins were raining down on her, but in the new OP, it’s changed to a plain pink background with an orange circle around her that almost appears like a spotlight (Maybe this means we’re supposed to pay more attention to her as she’s in the spotlight, or that she’s being watched somehow and someone else is watching her) and she’s moved more to the left in the newer version when we see her holding the wrench.

We have ANOTHER scene that’s almost the same except it’s been washed out and Daisuke is slightly more purple and has a yellow tie or something underneath. Again, the dancing figure is switched from black to white.

A thing that I’m noticing besides the washed out colours is how there’s an emphasis on that spotlight on the person dancing in the background. I think this is Daisuke, and if I had to guess, this spotlight represents that he’s being watched. But I’ll get more into analyzing this kind of thing in another post.

The next difference is again, another huge one that sent off my alarm bells that something was different in the OP. In the old version, the background was shaded magenta and every character was just black. However, in the new OP, the background is white and there’s a much stronger contrast with it and the black silhouettes and we can clearly see that Daisuke’s shadow is red instead of a very dark purple-almost black colour.

This scene probably has the MOST symbolism in the entire OP, but I’m going to hold my tongue and save it for another day.

When you pause and compare everything frame by frame, there is a LOT of difference. Just take these three shots that flash by in seconds. The gold on the watch is less detailed in the new version and the background is lighter, but we see the shadow more clearly. The silhouette in the glass is red instead of being a normal grey/black and the whole shot appears duller. Daisuke’s tie and suit also changed to suit the OP it comes from and the shadow casted on the bathtub is green instead of black.

Next is the scene with that lady and Daisuke. In the old OP, she’s been coloured in and more clearly defined and we can clearly see the lasers around Daisuke, who is watching her. In the new one, she’s been tinted to show more black and gold, like how Suzue was earlier and the lasers around Daisuke are not as clearly defined, but we can still SEE them if we look closely. He also has a shadow and the scene just overall looks far more grim and less bling.

Small detail in this one but it’s still a change so I have to put it in. In the old OP, right before Daisuke lights his cigarette, he’s already coloured yellow. However, in the new OP, he’s a dark blue and only goes yellow after he lights his cigarette.

I think it’s pretty neat even though it’s a small change because it gives more of the effect of the room being lighted up with the flame of the cigarette as compared to the old OP.

There’s a change that comes much later in the OP as compared to everything before now, and it’s very subtle but brings about a lot of symbolism. 

In the old OP when we see Daisuke’s feet walking ahead, Haru’s isn’t there and only shows up in front of Daisuke when the whole division is shown walking together. But in the new OP, he DOES show up walking and keeping pace with Daisuke, and it looks more like he’d overtaken him as we zoom out rather than already being in front of Daisuke as with the old OP. I also find it kind of funny how Teppei and Shinnosuke’s feet are behind Daisuke for some reason. Maybe they’ll play a bigger role later? Who knows.

We get a brief shot of a woman right after this, and in the old OP, she was shown with a lot of gold and bling with a shadow, but in the new OP, she’s completely pastel and doesn’t even have the lipstick. To be completely honest, I can’t tell who this is. She has dark hair in both versions of the OP and it could be Suzue, but it could also just as likely be the woman from before or someone else entirely. I can’t tell. Her face makes it so I can’t tell how old she is, and she’s wearing different jewelry to what we’ve seen with Suzue and the woman from before have.

Next is another big shot (heh) that made me think that ‘okay the OP’s different’, and it’s the second round of Daisuke and Haru both tilting their heads to look at the camera. In the old OP, the background is black with golden moving specks that look like coins raining down. However, in the new OP, the background is completely white and they both seem to fade away or smudge.

Next we get the same bright to dull shot of the room (without Haru this time) Old OP is brighter and more yellow, new OP is more washed out.

The final difference is the shot of Suzue again with the knife, but this time, the only change is the background and her position. She’s been shaded in black, even in the old OP, and her lingerie changed to pink to match the new OP. It’s almost completely the same except for the background and how she’s been shifted to the left in the new version.

Aaaaand that’s a wrap. WHEW this actually took me way longer than I thought it would. There are a LOT of differences I hadn’t noticed until I examined everything frame by frame. It’s WILD.

So yeah, let me know what y’all think and whether I missed anything. 

Bye!

[mo12mo29]

Queen of Dreams  Chapter 3: First Words

Carla is babysitting Emma while the boys are out doing their own thing.

Notes: I honestly am a little salty with Carla after that one specific episode (not gonna say which one) so I am gonna do a little bashing on her. I'm also gonna add in a bit of Emma's point of view since she is a little older to the point where she can decipher whether she likes someone or not.

A year has gone by and Emma was already getting so big. She was only one and she already knew how to walk, thanks to Stanford teaching her. Stanley never thought he's see the day when his own twin squealing like a girl and jumping up and down in excitement when Emma first started taking her first steps. Stanley was excited too, but not as excited as Stanford was. He guessed that being accomplished in teaching a one year old how to walk brings out that kind of reaction. Today, Caryn and Filbrick were out of town, leaving Stanford and Stanley to take care of Emma. The boys still needed some help since their parents were gonna be gone for two weeks so they called their older brother Shermie, who came into town a month ago, and he said that he would come over to help out. He still had a few hour drive and the boys had to leave for their after school activities. Stanley had to go to boxing practice and Stanford had to go to his science club. Luckily, Stan's girlfriend, Carla said that she would babysit Emma for a while.

Which brings them to the present. Emma was playing on the floor with her toys while Carla was on the phone with one of her friends. If Emma was being honest with herself, she didn't really like Carla at all. Whenever she was around, she would take all of Stanley's attention, give her disgusted looks when she looks at Emma's hair, and say nasty things about her under her breath when no one is listening. Plus, Carla was no fun! She wouldn't even play with Emma whenever she came over! She would just brush her off and either flirt with Stan, or be on the phone all day. Tonight was gonna be even worse, while Emma was playing with a block, she heard Carla talking on the phone with someone, but the sound of the voice didn't sound feminine at all, it sounded like a male's voice.

"Yeah...Yeah, he's gone and they won't be back in an hour. Don't worry about the baby, she's only one, she's a dumb baby." 'Dumb baby'!?  Emma wanted to bite Carla's fingers off. She knew enough words to know that those words were insulted. Just because she was a baby it does not mean she was dumb.

"Be here in ten minutes, don't forget to bring the cigarettes okay? Love you." Woah, wait! A stranger is coming over!? Carla just invited a complete stranger over! Emma did not like the sound of a stranger coming in the house.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Carla picked Emma up from the floor, ignore Emma's struggle to get out of her hold, and went to open the door. There was a man with blond hair and looked close to Carla's age

"Tim, you're here!" Carla reached up and kissed him on the lips. Emma was confused. Why was Carla kissing another guy? Didn't she love Stan? When they parted, Tim looked at Emma and said,

"Carla, I don't feel comfortable smoking in front of a baby. Can't you put her in a crib in another room or something?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's about time for her to go to bed anyway." Carla said as she went upstairs, but it was difficult with Emma squirming and whining in her arms. Finally having enough, Carla just went into the room beside her and opened a closest door.

"Now listen here you little brat." She snarled as she placed Emma down into the closet, "You are gonna sit right here like a good little girl and stay quiet." After that, Carla slammed the closet door on Emma, leaving her in a tight dark space. Emma couldn't see a thing and it was frightening being in a dark place all alone. She stood up the best she could and placed her little hands on the door and started banging her hands on them as she cried out. But it did not seem like anyone was gonna hear her so the only thing she could do was sit and wait. She sat back down and sobbed quietly.

"I want my big brothers." She thought to herself.

After waiting in the dark for almost an hour, Emma was about to doze off when she suddenly heard a voice.

"Where's my sister!?" The voice sounded angry, angry and....familiar, wait...wasn't that?

"Stanny!"  Emma stood up and started banging on the closet door again. She stopped after her hands got sore. After a few minutes of silence she heard footsteps coming towards the closet. The door opened and once Emma adjusted to the light, she saw a face, a face she thought she would never see again.

"Emma! Are you okay!?" Stanley asked as he picked her up from the closet. Emma just clung to Stanley as she cried. Stanley started to inspect her for injuries, and saw that she has minor bruises on her tiny body that were possibly from all the objects pushing against her body. He also saw that her hands were a little red from banging on the door so much. Stan wanted to be pissed, but right now he had a sister to comfort. No doubt that being in the dark for so long in a tight space was not comforting to a one year old. With that, Stanley hugged her tightly and patter her back.

"I know, I know. What did she do to you? It will never happen again." Emma believed every word. She knew that she was safe

As it turns out, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie all came home earlier and when Stanley saw Carla in the hands of another man, he was pissed at first, but then he realized that someone was missing. After he realizing that Emma was not present, everything about Carla was thrown out the window. He became angry for another reason Which lead them to the present, the guy that Carla was with left the house, which leaves Carla, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie. Emma was in Stanley's arms, Shermie was lecturing Carla, and Stanford was off to the side, glaring at Carla.

"Carla, we are gonna call your parents and have them know what happened and we will be pressing charges." Carla looked at Shermie in disbelief.

"You can't do that! They'll never let me leave the house again, they might even force me to spend the night in jail!"

"Should have thought about that before shutting our sister in a closet for hours." Carla stared at Shermie for a second before turning to Stanley.

"Stan! You're just gonna let him do that to me!? Look, if this is about that guy, he's nothing." Stanley just gave Carla a cold look, then he scoffed.

"Carla, I am not your dad. I can't tell you who you can and can't be with and honestly, I don't care. What you did was crossing the line. As soon as you're gone, you better stay gone. I don't know what gave you the idea of stuffing a one year old in a closet. Emma's just a baby."

"So you're gonna just choose your sister over me?!" Carla shouted.

"Choose? Carla, I never had to choose because my sister was always gonna be important to me, she is always gonna be my number one gal because unlike you, she's loyal! Another thing, who smokes around a baby!? You could have gotten Emma sick! I want you out of our house, and out of my life because she-" Stanley pointed to Emma, who was hiding her face in his neck, "Is the only girl I need in my life." Tears were streaming down Carla's face as her eyes were wide with shock, then she turned and walked towards the door. When she opened it, she slightly turned.

"You're gonna end up a lonely man if you keep choosing your sister over everything." Stanley's scowl only deepened as he answered.

"Then I rather be a lonely man than be with someone who hurts my family." Seeing that he was done talking, Carla went out the door, her sniffling getting louder as she disappeared from view. It was silent in the house for a few minutes until Emma started crying again. Stanley patter her back as he tried to console her.

"Its okay Emma, big brother Stanny is here now." Suddenly, Stanley heard a small voice near his ear.

" 'tanny." Stanley's eyes went wide as he looked at Emma. He then looked at his brothers who both had the same look of shock on their faces. He looked back at Emma was was looking back at him.

"Emma, say that again." Emma tilted her head to the side in confusion for a second, "Come on Emma." Stanley then had a thought

"Wait, that's right, she'll probably want me to be specific."

"Emma, who am I?" Emma eyes brightened at Stanley's question and smiled.

" 'tanny." It almost sounded like Stanley's nickname, but without the 'S'.

"Stan, I think she's trying to say your name!" Stanford exclaimed. Stanley was silent, slightly shaking as tears of joy started to run down his face. He felt as if Emma was the only thing that mattered. As if she was the reason why his life is suddenly perfect. He was suddenly taken out of his thoughts when he saw that Shermie and Stanford were staring at him. He quickly wiped his eyes with his free arm and cleared his throat.

"Don't look at me like that! I wasn't crying, I just had dust in my eyes!" Shermie just smiled at him with a smug expression.

"Stan, Ford told me that you cried when you first saw her." Stanford only shrugged.

"I had to tell him, it was the first time you ever cried about something so small."

"Shut up!" Stanley exclaimed. Emma only giggled at the interaction, Stanley turned to face her.

"That didn't give you permission to laugh little missy." But that only made Emma giggle some more.

"Alright boys, that's enough. It's late, it's been a long day, and a certain little sister needs to get some sleep." Shermie said. But when he tried to reach out to take Emma out of Stanley's arms, she whimpered and clung tighter to Stan. It seemed like she didn't want to let her Stanny go.

"It's alright Shermie, I'll take her." Shermie nodded as Stanley took Emma upstairs to bed.

It took a while for Emma to stay in her crib, she kept fussing every time Stanley tried to put her down, but as soon as she fell asleep, Stan went into his shared room where he saw his twin take a five dollar bill out of his pocket. He then turned to Stan and gave it to him.

"A deal's a deal. You win." Stanley looked at the five dollar bill for a second, then he gave it back to Stanford.

"Keep it, I don't want it anymore." Stanford looked at his brother, confused.

"But Stan, the deal was-"

"The deal, doesn't matter anymore. I'm just glad our sister is safe.'"

"Even if it means losing your girlfriend?" Stanley scoffed.

"Oh please, after what she did. I don't even consider her my friend anymore. Honestly, my sister only showed Carla's true colors. No one hurts my sister and get's away with it. Karma will kick her in the butt later, and I will be laughing when that happens." Stanford looked at his twin in surprise. This was the first time he had heard Stanley say something so...mature. Having Emma around really changed him. She made him more compassionate on the outside then he was on the inside. Stanford smiled as he climbed up to his bed.

"Whatever you say, 'Stanny'." Stanley groaned as he sat on his bed.

"You are never gonna let me live that down are you?" Stanford only laughed

"When you get such a cute nickname from a cute baby, how can I?"

"Well knock it off, only Emma can call me that." And he meant it too.

[eldritchteaparty]

Chapters: 8/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter Summary: Following their misadventure at Hill Top Road, Jon finally takes some time off; Martin remembers something disturbing about the archives’ collection of books.

Chapter 8 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read at AO3 above or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

“Jon, take the pills.”

Jon, wrapped in a blanket and staring out over the railing of the flat’s small balcony, stayed silent.

“Fine, I’ll just wait.” Martin set the vitamin bottles and the glass of water on the sturdiest-looking part of the railing, and shifted the second chair enough so he could sit down.

“You’re going to get cold,” Jon said.

“Yeah, probably.” Martin was dressed in a light jumper with only a t-shirt beneath it. It had been warm enough earlier in the day—the weather was getting nicer—but as the sun started to go down it was cooling off.

“Your choice.” Jon picked up his lighter from the small table between them and lit another cigarette, and they sat together as the sun continued its journey below the horizon. It really was beautiful, Martin thought. He hadn’t taken the opportunity to observe any part of nature in a long time. It hadn’t ever been much of a priority to him, but there was something nice about taking in the colors that spilled across the sky—deep yellows and oranges that gave way to pinks and purples, and eventually a dark glowing blue that was only barely distinguishable from black.

Martin wrapped his arms around himself.

“At least get a coat,” Jon said.

“At least take those pills.”

“God, you’re stubborn.” Jon readjusted in his seat to pull his legs up under the blanket a little more.

“Pot and kettle, Jon.”

“Why should I take them? You heard the doctors, there isn’t anything actually wrong with me. They’re just grasping at straws.”

After an hour or so on the porch at Hill Top Road, Martin had calmed enough to make the decision to go to A&E. Although Jon had protested, the fact was that he had been too weak to do anything about it, and Martin only felt a little bad taking advantage of that. As he’d said then, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t insisted on doing it before; he’d become so used to not being able to get help, that he hadn’t really considered it until then. He wasn’t going to mess around anymore, though, especially now that he realized he might not always be able to help on his own.

After hearing about Jon’s recent fatigue and his fainting episode, the healthcare staff had run a lot of tests. They’d hooked him up to monitors, measured things, done blood draws. Martin had to admit Jon’s description of their conclusions wasn’t far off—they didn’t find anything explicitly wrong with him. There was no diagnosis they felt comfortable giving, although they had pointed out a few possibilities that they should monitor. And they’d recommended the vitamins, of course.

“They did say you have nutritional deficiency—”

“—minor nutritional deficiency—”

“—and your vitamin D levels were actually quite low.” Martin shivered involuntarily in the cool night air.

“God damn it, Martin.” Jon fidgeted with the lighter on the table, but didn’t actually reach for another cigarette. “Will you take the blanket, anyway?”

“Will you take those pills?”

“They won’t help with anything,” Jon protested. “We both know that. This is ridiculous.”

“Speak for yourself,” Martin countered. “I’m not assuming anything about what will help. Beyond that, given how you’ve been eating, they can’t hurt. And finally, yes, I am being ridiculous, and I don’t care.”

“I didn’t say you were being ridiculous.”

“No, I said it. I’ll own it. I am being ridiculous, because I don’t want to lose you, and I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you now any more than I did when we were walking through an apocalypse together, or when you were being kidnapped by actual monsters every week, or when you were taking unannounced holidays in coffins or whatever.” Martin shivered again. “Look, it’s just not that hard to take them, Jon.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I’m behaving like an ass,” Jon sighed.

“Now I didn’t say that,” Martin replied. “I’m not trying to ignore what you’re feeling Jon, and I know there’s not a quick fix for any of it. It’s just that it’s—it’s such a small thing, and if it helps, at least it’s something.”

Jon grumbled.

“And not to bring this up again, but—I mean, it might help if you would just talk to me?”

Jon shook his head. “I can’t. When I try to put it into words, I—it never comes out right. I sound like a—well, a monster.” Jon seemed to shrink back into the blanket even more. “Or maybe I am one, and I can’t face you knowing it.”

“Jon…” Martin hesitated, but decided to finish the thought. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve asked myself if—if you are.”

Jon turned to him. “And?”

“And I don’t think so,” Martin said simply.

“Why not?”

“To be completely clear, it’s not the most rational reason. I just don’t think I could love you like this if you were. You’re just not bad. You’ve only ever wanted to do the right thing. You’ve only ever wanted to protect people, to protect me, even if—” Martin cleared his throat. “Even if we haven’t always agreed on what that looks like.”

“I see,” Jon said softly, turning to look over the railing again.

“So, if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.” Martin leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, blowing warm air into his hands. “But in that case, it’s vitamins and freezing myself.”

“May I ask a favor first?” Jon said, eyeing the glass of water warily.

“Depends on the favor.”

“Will you make me some tea?”

“Of course.” Martin was relieved; that was one thing he imagined he’d always be happy to do. “But you’ll take those pills if I do?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “You’ve made your case.”

He reached down to kiss Jon’s head before he walked back into the kitchen, and noted with comfort that Jon leaned into him as he did.

***

That was Sunday evening. Since they’d returned from A&E, Jon had spent most of the time before that afternoon sleeping. He’d been restless, and Martin had slept on the couch for a few nights to try to let Jon get as much sleep as he could. Of course, he had woken anxiously every few hours needing to check on Jon, so he was more than ready to go to bed after their discussion on the balcony. He ended up turning in before Jon, so he was a little surprised to find him already awake and sitting back against his pillows when he opened his eyes on Monday.

“Hey,” Martin said, moving closer to rest his face against Jon’s hip, throwing an arm over his legs.

“Hey.”

“Did I keep you up?” Martin asked.

“No.”

“What time did you get in bed?”

“I don’t know exactly. Not that long after you. I’m just not that tired. Maybe I finally slept enough.”

“That makes one of us.” One night of sleep hadn’t done Martin as much good as he had hoped.

“I’m sorry.” With his eyes still closed, Martin felt Jon’s hand come to rest on his head, gently rubbing his scalp just above his ear.

“I’m going to have to cut my hair soon.”

“I like it,” Jon said, gently tugging at a few strands. “I mean, I like it shorter, too. I guess I just like your hair.”

“Flatterer.” Martin yawned, then pressed his face into Jon even harder for a moment before rolling back to his side of the bed. “Just so long as you know it’s not getting you out of those pills. Do you want to shower first?”

“Actually, I was thinking I might not go in today.”

“Really?” Martin sat up to look at Jon. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He picked at an invisible spot on the quilt. “It’s more that I’d just—I’d like some time to think. If you’re ok with it.”

“Yes, of course I’m ok with it. I’ve been trying to get you to take it easy ever since we got here. We can—” He stopped when he saw the look on Jon’s face and realized what he was actually asking. “Oh, you meant—just you. Yeah, no, of course that’s fine. That’s great.”

“Are you sure? I mean—if you want to stay too—”

“No,” Martin interrupted. “No, it’s really fine. It’s not a problem. I mean, I know I’ve been really irritating with the—”

“That’s not it,” Jon said reassuringly. “It’s really not. I’m—I’m glad you’ve been here for me. It’s just my mind’s been so cluttered, and it finally—I feel like I can gather my thoughts.”

Martin nodded. “I get it. I do.” He did, mostly. “Would it be ok if I called to check on you?”

Jon smiled. “I’m sure I’d worry if you didn’t.”

So Martin went in by himself. He told Tim and Sasha the truth, mostly; Jon had blacked out after therapy, of course, not in an abandoned house in Oxford where there existed a possible gap between dimensions and realities, but the part about going to A&E and Jon staying home to recover was straightforward enough.

“Glad something slowed him down,” Tim said, and Sasha gave him a look. “Well, something was bound to happen, and at least Martin was there. It could have been worse. He was pushing himself too hard.”

“You’re not wrong,” Martin agreed, and Sasha patted him soothingly on the shoulder.

He went in by himself the next day, too. Jon seemed to be doing well enough. They didn’t talk much; Martin was tired and Jon seemed lost in his thoughts. Martin wasn’t sure what Jon was doing most of the day, though it didn’t seem to be much of anything. He was eating—well, drinking the nutrition shakes Martin had picked up for him—and Martin suspected he was sleeping a little, based on how the bed looked when he came home. Jon managed to eat solid food at supper again that second night, and reached protectively for his half-empty plate when Martin assumed he was done.

“Sorry,” Martin said with his hands up in apology, leaning back into the couch. “Does that mean—maybe you’re feeling better?”

“I think so. Starting to.” Jon stretched out his feet to rest them on the bottom ledge of the coffee table. For an instant, Martin already missed the feeling of Jon falling asleep against him—but this was better, he knew. He pushed the mournfulness away.

He went in by himself again on Wednesday. A little after noon, Sasha joined him and Tim in the assistants’ office.

“Want to come to lunch?”

Martin assumed she was asking Tim, but when he didn’t hear an answer, he glanced up to find both of them looking at him.

“Oh—me?” Martin asked.

“Yes,” Tim replied, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Might be nice to take up some old habits again.”

Martin didn’t have to think for too long to figure out what Tim was referring to; memories from this world came easy now. Not long after his mother had died, they’d started going out for lunch together once a week. It had almost certainly been for his benefit, but no one had ever admitted that to him; instead, they’d all acted like it was a spontaneous idea that for some reason had never occurred to any of them before. Martin had been so grateful for the company that he’d simply accepted it without thinking about it too hard.

“We’ll miss Jon, of course,” Sasha added, “but he can come with us next week.”

“Oh, whatever,” Tim said, elbowing Martin good-naturedly as they left the office together. “This just makes up for those times Jon couldn’t wait and stole Martin out from under us.”

Martin remembered that, too; there had been a few times when, despite their best intentions, he’d been overwhelmed by the thought of lunch with the whole group. Jon had somehow understood and anticipated those days, and had come up with some reason he had to go early, asking Martin if he’d wanted to join. They hadn’t said much when it had been just the two of them, nothing important, but that had sort of been the point, hadn’t it? It was a nice memory, anyway, and Martin was glad he had it now. He wondered if Jon had remembered it yet.

***

Lunch was pleasant enough, if a little bit awkward. Martin hadn’t spent much time with Sasha, at least not compared to how much time he’d spent with Tim, and he could tell she was being careful with him. She was polite, keeping the conversation easy, deliberately avoiding topics that held anything other than surface interest. After he finished eating, he decided to ask her some things he’d been wondering about, and hoped she’d chalk up anything strange about it to him being a little thrown off from last week.

“Sasha,” he asked, setting his fork down, “do you—like being the head archivist?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning toward him slightly over their table.

“Do you like it? Is it a good job? Is it—is it how you thought it would be?”

Sasha crossed her arms in thought. “Well, I’m not really sure how to answer that. I mean, the Magnus Institute has its issues, I suppose. It’s an academic joke, of course, but it’s not like the respect of my peers was ever that important to me.” She laughed at herself. “And some of our benefactors are… well, a bit full of themselves? But I suppose that’s true anywhere. I am quite happy with the job security, and it pays well enough for what it is. Plus I’m actually using my degree, which is more than I can say for most of my classmates.”

“Have you ever—wanted to leave?”

Sasha frowned slightly. “No—no, not really. Why?”

“No reason,” Martin said as casually as he could. He couldn’t exactly say just wondering if you’re trapped here. “Just been doing some thinking, I guess.”

“Well,” Sasha said, “I’ll admit the job’s felt a little bit different lately. Hard to say exactly how… I guess I’ve been struggling a bit with—well, I’m still not sure how to handle the—incidents, I suppose? It doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like I’m responsible for the people who come here to talk to us. Like I should be keeping track of their stories, somehow. I just don’t know what to do with them. Honestly, I’ve just started asking them to write everything down. I feel bad, but I just can’t listen to some of them. I’ll have nightmares.”

“Oh. They’re still coming in, then?”

“Sometimes. Not every day, but enough.”

“I—I didn’t know. Does Jon know?”

“He’s been there for a few, yes.”

Martin took a few sips of water. Jon hadn’t mentioned that specifically, but it probably wasn’t anything.

“What about—what about Elias? He doesn’t seem too fond of the Institute. Why does he stay?”

“You’ll have to ask Tim,” Sasha said, poking at what was left of her salad with her fork again. “They’re best friends.”

Tim laughed. “We are not best friends. However, I do think you should spend a little more time with him outside of work. You’re missing out.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on.” Tim poked her arm playfully with the tines of his fork, and she batted him away. “He and Allan are a trip.”

“Exactly,” she replied.

“What I meant was, they’re funny. Especially Elias.” He turned to Martin. “Now the key to understanding him is to recognize that he has money—and also that he hates money, even though he has no idea how to function without it. And people with money, he especially hates. But at some point, I suppose, his father wore him down, and he has now accepted his position in life with as little grace and composure as he can.”

Martin thought back to what little he knew about Elias Bouchard, the actual Elias Bouchard, from his own world. “That… makes sense, actually.”

“And it makes him a pain in the ass when I need something,” Sasha added. “But on the positive side—he does leave me alone to do my job, for the most part.”

Martin remembered Allan’s name too; Martin remembered he had died after finding an old book. “So Allan is—his roommate?”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “That, Martin, is none of our business.”

“What?” Martin was genuinely confused before he realized what Tim was getting at.  “Oh—oh god, no, I didn’t—”

“However,” Tim interrupted him, “if you find out let me know, because I believe Sasha will owe me 10 quid on that day.”

“Doubtful,” Sasha said, grinning over the phone she was now scrolling through. “Very doubtful.”

Martin could feel his face turning red, so he was grateful for the distraction when Sasha leaned forward with her phone.

“Speaking of working at the Magnus Institute—look at this,” she said, attempting to angle the phone so both Martin and Tim could see at once. “I cannot get over how much she’s enjoying her retirement. I never thought she’d leave, but then it was like she was just up and done one day, and she never looked back.”

It took Martin a moment to understand what she was showing them, but it was a picture of Gertrude Robinson—a Facebook picture. He might not have known it was her, if it wasn’t for the name posted above it. The biggest difference was that in every picture he’d ever seen of her, she’d been wearing her hair in the same tightly-pulled grey bun; here, she was wearing her hair down, and it flowed softly past her shoulders. The next most obvious difference was he didn’t think he’d ever seen her smiling in a picture before, and she looked quite happy in this one, drink in hand, next to an equally-cheerful looking older man who had been holding up the phone to snap the photo. The caption read catching up with an old friend.

Sasha pointed at Martin to emphasize his surprised reaction. “See, that’s what I’m saying. I guess you just never know.”

“Who—who’s in the picture with her?” Martin asked.

“Oh right, I forget you never met him in person. That’s Jurgen Leitner.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think she was that fond of him, really. Must be another retirement thing.”

Jurgen Leitner—what was his connection to the Institute here? It’s not like he would have been living in the tunnels, there was just no—

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The Leitner Room. In this world, the Magnus Institute was home to every book Jurgen Leitner had ever collected. He had collected them, of course, only his library had never been destroyed because there was nothing to make that happen. When he’d decided to downsize in his later life—when he didn’t feel quite the same sense of pride in them—the archives had been the perfect home for his books. Of course, up until now, it meant nothing except a new collection and a nice endowment for the Institute.

What did it mean now?

“Are you ok?” Sasha asked. “You look—”

“You look like you just got run over,” Tim finished.

“Sorry.” Martin pulled his hand away from his mouth; he hadn’t even realized he had put it there. “I just—I just remembered something. It’s, um…”

“Do you need to get back?” Sasha asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” Martin answered, apologizing with his voice. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. You can stay, if you want—”

“No, I’m done.” Tim took one more drink to empty his glass. “Sasha?”

She shrugged. “I’m ready.”

“Thanks,” Martin said. “I—there’s something I need to take care of for Jon.”

***

After they got back, Martin tried to look busy at his desk, hoping they’d think that he was taking care of whatever it was online. He took the opportunity to review the records in the system, and was comforted to note that nothing in the Leitner group currently had any special notations connected to it. All of the books were, at least in principle, on the shelves, and no one had requested access to any of them. He’d been hoping that was why his attention hadn’t been drawn to any of them previously, and it seemed like he’d lucked out. It was an obscure collection, and there were a lot of restrictions on them at Jurgen Leitner’s request; not just anyone could come in and browse them, and only a very specific set of research purposes qualified for special permission to remove them from the library.

He relaxed a little, and then waited for an opportunity to leave the office without attracting attention. He had to wait a while, but eventually Rosie came in with something for Sasha to review. A moment later Sasha called Tim in to her office, and Martin took the opportunity to leave. He just didn’t see a reason to risk drawing anyone else’s attention to the Leitners, especially since it seemed they were all but forgotten as they were.

He walked out past Rosie’s desk and back into the stacks; the room really was quite out of the way, buried deep in a corner of the shelving units. It wasn’t a large room, and if you weren’t looking for it, it would have been easy to miss. Even the sign above the door, emblazoned with the word Leitner, was barely distinguishable from the metal door frame behind it. The room was kept locked, but as an archival assistant Martin had a copy of the key. He held his breath and turned it.

Walking into the room was anticlimactic; it didn’t feel like much. There was no threatening aura; there was no sense of danger. It felt like nothing more than a small room full of musty old books, like many other small rooms of musty old books Martin had been in before.

He took a quick look at some of the titles on the shelves. At first glance, he didn’t see any he had heard of before, but of course he hadn’t heard of most Leitners. He continued to look, straining his eyes at words written on faded spines, occasionally pulling one gingerly off the shelves to check the front cover; he just needed something to prove to himself he wasn’t overreacting. Finally he found one he knew: a thick, black paperback labeled The Boneturner’s Tale. Martin felt a shiver run down his back as he involuntarily jerked his hand away from it.

He closed the door to the room, locking it behind him, and pulled out his phone. Thankfully, he had service, and he immediately dialed Jon’s number.

“I ate,” Jon said when he picked up.

“No,” Martin said. “Well, yes, I’m glad, but—”

“Martin, are you—what’s going on?”

“I—I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m…” Getting Jon to remember for himself was going to be much easier than explaining it.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I—well, all right. At lunch, Sasha showed us a picture of Gertrude Robinson. On Facebook.”

“Oh,” Jon sounded puzzled. “I knew she had retired, but I hadn’t thought to—”

“Well, that’s not it. She was with someone in the picture.”

“Who?”

Martin took a deep breath. “Jurgen Leitner.”

There was a prolonged silence before Jon spoke again. “Oh. God.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re there, aren’t you? Right now.”

“Yes. I’m—I’m not sure what I should do.”

“First, don’t touch anything.”

Martin didn’t respond.

“Ok—don’t touch anything else, then.”

“All right,” Martin said.

“Damn it. I should be there. I should be there with you.”

“No—no, it’s fine. I just—what should I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I—ok, can I destroy them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like—” Martin swallowed. “Ok, I’m sure this isn’t the best idea, but—what if a fire were to start in here? Or—something?”

“Do not,” Jon commanded. “Martin Blackwood, I have never been more serious in my life, do not do anything of the sort.”

“Ok, ok,” Martin said. “I said it probably wasn’t a great idea—"

“Some of those books would—let’s just say burning them would not have the desired effect. Or wetting them down, or chopping them up, or—”

“All right, all right. I get it. I mean—that’s not surprising, I guess. So what do I do?”

“Did you check the system? Are any checked out, or reserved, or—?”

“No,” Martin answered. “I mean, yes, I checked the system, and they’re all—they’re all here, in theory. No one’s asked for any of them.”

“Ok.” Martin heard the relief he’d felt earlier echoed in Jon’s voice. “That—that’s good.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Jon spoke again.

“You’re—you’re not going to like this, but—I think you should go. For now.”

“And just leave them all here?”

“Yes. Believe me, I’m just as frustrated as you, but I don’t think there’s another option just yet. They’re relatively protected there, and hopefully they’ll continue to not draw attention.” He paused, and then added softly, “Right now, I just want you out of there.”

Martin sighed. “Right. Ok. Um… I guess… I can at least set up an alert so I get notified if anyone puts in a request?”

“That’s a good idea. And I’ll—I’ll keep thinking. Are you leaving yet?”

“Right after we get off the phone. Just in case. I don’t want to attract attention if someone else is down here.”

“All right. Message me when you’re back at your desk.”

“Sure.” Martin hung up, disappointed there wasn’t more to be done, but Jon was almost certainly right—it would be much too easy to do damage instead of prevent it, if he acted rashly.

Before he left though, he had one more thing he wanted to do.

***

That night, when Martin got home, he found Jon on the small balcony in back again; that was what he’d been hoping for. He grabbed the small metal trash bin out of the toilet in the hallway and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“Martin,” Jon said, stamping out a cigarette in the ash tray on the small table as he stood up. “You startled me. You’re a bit early—we can go in.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to—I should have said something. Actually, I wanted to catch you out here. I brought you something.” He set the bin he’d brought out with him on the balcony, between the two of them.

“It’s a trash bin,” Jon observed.

“Well, that’s only part of it.” He picked up the lighter Jon had left on the table and handed it to him.

“If this is commentary on my smoking habit, I think the ash tray is big enough. Besides, I don’t plan to keep—”

“No—no, that’s not it. I don’t care about the smoking. Well, I don’t love it, but that’s really not it.” Martin sighed. “Look, I know you said not to touch anything in the Leitner Room, but—well, here.”

From behind his back, he brought out a small, square book; he could see Jon didn’t need to read the title to recognize it in the dim evening light.

“Martin,” he whispered. “I—”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t think, don’t open it. Just—take it. Burn it. This one should be fine. I can do it if you don’t want to.”

Jon reached a hand toward the book, running his fingers hesitantly over the scribbled black spider webs illustrating the otherwise plain white cover. He spoke as if he were in a dream. “Yes. I imagine this one would be ok.”

“Light it,” Martin encouraged him, reaching for the hand that held the lighter to pull it closer. “Now.”

It seemed too easy; he was afraid it wouldn’t catch, or that Jon would change his mind, or any number of other things would go wrong—but nothing did. The cardboard cover caught beautifully, the yellow-orange flame spreading elegantly out from the corner in less than a minute, swallowing the book front and back.

“Now let go,” Martin said, as the flame began to spread, and Jon nodded. They dropped it together into the trash bin, and Martin watched as the title words A Guest for Mr. Spider were consumed, slowly, letter by letter. They watched together, transfixed, until the fire burned itself out and all that was left was a smoking pile of ash.

“You shouldn’t have done that for me,” Jon said quietly. “Going through the shelves—taking it out—it could have been dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, you said the web was probably still weak, and—” Martin reached for Jon’s arm. “Anyway, it’s done now.”

“Thank you,” Jon stepped carefully around the trash bin, and then his arms were around Martin’s waist and his face was in his chest. “Thank you.”

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Haven DVD Commentaries - 5.20: Just Passing Through

Commentary with Colin Ferguson, director for the episode (and also plays William), and Sam Ernst and Jim Dunn, co-creators of the show and writers for the episode.

The sound quality isn’t great on this one, so there’s no guarantee how accurate most of this is. Also I’m not sure I can tell Sam and Jim’s voices apart :/ But this is what I got from it: 

Hilariously, they started the commentary and got five minutes in before they realised they were on mute and had to start again.

This was shot in six days. Most of the season was two episodes per director, but this was just the one. Some discussion about how this was a lot of stuff to get done in only six days.

Colin says being a director after having already acted in the show makes the directing easier because you are more familiar with the show and the process and how everyone works. Sam asks about how different it is because as an actor you don’t really get asked for your opinion on what everyone else is doing, but as director you have to have an opinion on everything.

Colin talks about how Emily had injured her knee the week before - she could barely walk  on her own, which is why she is clinging on to all the actors she’s in scenes with. And so not only was this a short timescale to film the episode in, but Emily had to take time out to go get an MRI or physio.

They talk about how you can’t really lose Emily because then you’ve got no show, and Sam talks about the first season how she was straight into it and she’s in every scene. He’s impressed with how Emily knew all her lines (and Lucas his as well), even though she had so many of them to learn and they don’t always make a lot of sense when you’re shooting out of order and stuff.

Colin talks about this as the big episode with the ‘unveiling of the Colorado Kid sequence, and what happened and how it went down’. Jim says the very first thing they shot for the show was the Colorado Kid newspaper photo, and it was difficult because it was a freezing cold day but it was supposed to be taken in April so they had to try and get shots in between the sleet and warm up in between. Colin talks about how then six seasons later they basically have to re-create that photo with everything exactly the same, because it’s such a key part of the show. Jim talks about how at some point in season one they realised “it’s a photograph, but there’s a photographer IN the photograph” and how does that work; “I suppose the photographer should not have actually been in the shot”. But then they used that guy in an episode, and Colin says they have someone behind the photographer to keep the photographer in the shot.

Colin talks about the police station set and how the last episode was the zombie episode with stuff getting smashed up and now at the beginning of this episode they need to establish that it’s 2015 (“or whatever year it is, I know they’re a little off”) and there’s no one there to do that with because there aren’t any uniformed police around any more. Jim says that’s likely to be more of an issue when you come back to the present again.

They all laugh at Vince’s “this is what I wore back then” and Sam describes Richard Donat as a hippy in real life.

Jim says the nice thing about filming a time travel episode in Nova Scotia is that large chunks of it don’t feel like they have changed much in decades - and the police station set has that look too, that most of it would have been the same. Colin says the Nova Scotia maritime style is so established now it will never change.

The outside shot of Duke’s motel is stock footage. They had Eric on set for one day to film all of the stuff in the motel room.

Some of the scenes with Lucas and Emily on the beach were shot later with another director. Colin had time to do everything else except the most interesting emotional parts with those two so he had to leave that to someone else. So he’s going to be watching those scenes for the first time here.

They joke about the lights and effects to imply the helicopter landing outside, how they had to fight to include that because an actual helicopter was out; “It’s just wind; can we afford wind?”

Colin says for casting the motel scenes they went local, so all of the others apart from Eric are local Halifax actors. Sam jokes he can’t believe there are any left that they haven’t used on Haven already.

Colin talks about re-creating the Colorado Kid photo, how all of the actors are obviously five years older, so they had to re-cast the kid. He says that when they asked one of the guys in the background if he could come in he said; “Not only can I come in, I still have those jeans!”

With Vince and Nathan appearing in 1983 and the kid taking their photo, Colin talks about how every time he took a photo, none of them came out - all the film was out of date or whatever - except for one shot that he took. “And it was perfect, and it’s the one we used. It was perfect - it was amazing. We got so lucky. And then we signed it and gave it to him at the end.”

They talk about how great the police station set is, how one of the first notes they got back from the network in season one was how great the lighting was, how moody it is and how counter that is to what you see in a lot of TV police stations where everything is clean white lines, loads of technology and bright lighting.

They talk about how good the actor playing the younger Garland is, and how it’s great casting in that he looks just like him. Colin says all of the Toronto actors they brought in for this episode were great.

Colin says it must seem like so long ago for Sam and Jim since they wrote this, and Sam (I think?) talks about how stuff always changes between the script and the final product and that’s fine, but how they’re used to seeing it through to the end but here “we had to leave because we were working on something else.” So he can see the little differences that are new “either for production reasons or because someone had a good idea”. So he’s trying to enjoy those changes while also remembering the earlier versions.

Colin talks about how one of the problems pre-production was finding cars for the outside shots that would fit with the time period. It was really difficult to find any locally and they only managed it at the last minute. They wanted to use one of the classic cars they used in an earlier season, but it wasn’t practical to get it for one episode.

Sam comments on the younger Garland with his cigarette; “I like that he’s smoking, that’s great.”

Colin talks about the old Mac computer that’s on the other desk in Garland’s office, and how he got into a disagreement about whether they were available at this point in 1983. He didn’t think it was out at this point, but he lost the argument. The release date is maybe six months before this was set so it’s a pretty fine line. Sam; “There are exactly no people who would know that. And the thing is, when people do catch us out if we get things like that wrong; they’re happy. It makes them happy to catch us out, so it’s fine.”

Sam says he was so happy they could get Steve Lund back to play James Cogan and he really enjoyed writing him. Colin talks about how they only had Steve for one day, and they were pushed for time because there was a storm on the way. They talk about how quickly things can go wrong with production because there’s so many moving pieces. And Steve is the only actor who can play that role because we’ve seen him before. “And he was great to us, he fly in on the red eye to get there, he committed to it.” Sam says they checked with him while they were writing it to make sure Steve was both available and interested “and he was extremely interested” and he’s so great they were really happy to get him back.

They all agree the casting for the younger Dave is great. And all appreciate the idea that Dave would recognise an older Vince.

Colin says that Emily had a bit of difficulty with Lucy because she said that “Lucy has only ever been who she needed to be” and she didn’t have a clear idea of her as a person. Jim says they talked a lot when they were writing it about who they wanted Lucy to be, and about how she is an unusual incarnation of Audrey in that she picked up on what was happening sooner than the others did, so she had more time to be the person who is struggling to work out what to do. Colin says Emily would have loved to have spoken to them (Sam and Jim) about Lucy before filming this. But sadly they weren’t available. Sam says he loves to talk to the actors about the characters and what’s going on with them, but that 90% of the time actors will make the right interpretation just from the script. They talk about the actors and writers being able to lean on each other and help each other, and how well that works especially when you’re a few seasons in and everyone “knows the world”. Sam remembers back to the end of season one when Emily read the script with another Audrey Parker and phoned him up upset wondering if she even had a job for season two. He says they “had never told her that the memories in her head belonged to someone else, and we did that as a conscious decision because we didn’t want her to play it as if they were someone else’s memories”.

They talk about how there was a lot of discussion about what the thinnies would look like and what the rules for them would be - e.g. how quickly do they close up again - particularly for the ones made with the Colton Trouble, as opposed to the permanent ones that Mara was looking for a while ago. Sam says that what he loves about writing scifi, you can sit around with grown adults have the most surreal conversations - and get paid for it. And that then he goes home to his wife who is a teacher and how different her work days are.

Colin talks about shooting the scenes with Nathan and Garland in the Colton house; shooting everything in one day and how they were pushed for time, and they had to do all of this conversation in only two hours. There’s a stunned response from Sam that they did all of this emotional stuff in so little time. Colin says they set up the cameras to cross shoot and would do two takes through on one angle, then repeat for the other, and the actors did maybe 1 hour 45 minutes straight performance. More impressed surprise from Sam. Colin says the Lucas and the guy playing Garland were bug eyed by the end, but happy to get it all done; “their focus was amazing. We did all eight pages of script twice, then pushed in for a closer shot and did 16 pages worth again, then pushed in closer and did 16 pages again.” He says they did a similar thing with Vince and the younger Dave with their scenes in the house; “and you actually get to work with the actors then, you get to work with the dialogue” when they’re doing the whole scene through in one go and repeating it wholesale.

Sam says that one of his favourite things about Haven is having Vince and Dave in the show, because they are these quirky old guys but also they have all this history, they’re important to the plot, they’re emotionally important - “it feels so authentic, compared to some TV shows where no one’s over the age of 34 except for one guy”. But he says he thinks that changing now, partly because Netflix only needs a million or so people to love a show, and it doesn’t matter what age those customers are.

They talk about how Nova Scotia has some great houses to film in, and how picking the location for the Colton house, Colin had to agree it with Suds Sutherland who directed the next episodes because it’s in them as well. They talk about the specifics of where people are in a scene can change with the location (e.g. Lucy was originally written as overhearing Garland and Nathan from outside the window), because you can’t always write the specifics for a location you haven’t seen yet - even thought Sam and Jim find themselves arguing over those details sometimes then anyway.

Sam talks about how it’s so exciting when there’s something they’ve written that they liked on the page and then when they see the footage it works really well and it’s so cool to see. The high of that is higher than the low of something not coming out right. Jim remembers in season one when Vince bumps into Max Hansen on the street “and you suddenly saw Vince become a bad ass”  as one of those moments. Jim agrees and talks about rushing up to Nova Scotia to be there on time to see that scene filmed, because he really wanted to be there for it and how he got there just in time. Colin talks about how that kind of enthusiasm from the writers can feed through into the cast. Because the days are long and the seasons are long and if you have writers that don’t really care, you feel it and it makes it harder to care yourself about the role as an actor. Jim talks about how it can be hard, as a writer, to care, because it hurts “because you don’t want to let go of things but you have to let go of things because if you don’t nothing will get done.” Colin agrees that caring in this context is not necessarily a pleasurable thing because “writing hurts every step of the way.” Colin talks about how it can be difficult as an actor because you each first read the script at home on your own, and inevitable form pre-conceptions about it, and everyone forms different pre-conceptions, and then when you get everyone together to read through it together - that can be a challenge because some of those pre-conceptions need to go.

Sam and Jim talk about how their least favourite production challenge is simply not having time to do something, but if the challenge is that a scene needs to be re-worked that is interesting because it’s a writing puzzle to solve, and it forces you to really look at what are the absolute essential lines and what can be cut or changed. And sometimes when you’re forced to compress or reduce something, you end up with a better scene.

Colin talks about how it’s difficult for the actors playing younger versions of established characters, because they have to be like the older versions, but not so much that it becomes a caricature, and there isn’t usually much time for discussion between them arriving on set and starting filming. You can have conversations before hand, but you can’t necessarily cover everything in the same way as when you’re not actually doing it. But they did really well.

They talk about how lucky they were to get a sunny day for filming the beach scene with the Colorado Kid, because there was a storm on the way. And how a stormy day might have looked great, but would have taken three times as long to shoot.

Sam talks about how him and Jim knew from the very beginning that the woman in the Colorado Kid was not Audrey’s mother (as Audrey assumed) but effectively Audrey herself. Colin is impressed that them keeping that secret for a whole season. Sam talks about how they expected the fans to figure it out, how they were keeping an eye on the discussion boards waiting for someone to suggest it and they were pleasantly surprised when no one did.

Sam comments that the ratio between how goofy Lucas Bryant is as a person and how serious his is a Nathan Wuornos is “so incredibly high”. Colin agrees Lucas is the furthest from his character, and that he really liked the alternative universe version of Nathan as a doctor because that version of him was closer to Lucas Bryant.

Colin talks about how he had to get them to buy a longer lens to film the beach scenes, to get the long perspective shots to show the distance that you need for that shot. He says it was fun to reverse engineer James Cogan’s death scene so that he ends up in the right place to match the original photo. And how they wanted to have a wider shot when Croatoan (in Dave) is affecting everyone’s memories, but they couldn’t show too much of the area because there were modern cars there and they didn’t have the budget available to buy up the whole street and clear everyone out.

Colin comments that he thought it was cool that with Nathan going back in time and telling the kid where Duke hid the stuff he stole, the kid was able to get his better camera back, and take the Colorado Kid photo. So Nathan is a part of that photo too.

Colin talks about how they spoke to the actor playing the younger Dave, specifically in relation to when he’s possessed by Croatoan, to tell him who Croatoan is and what’s going on with that whole plot line so that he could reflect that in his performance. Sam and Jim figure that is the kind of thing fans pay attention to. Colin comments how frustrating it is to be an actor in that position of not having the full story of why your character is doing what they’re doing.

They talk about how you have to try not to get attached to character names when you’re writing new characters, because the names don’t always make it through the process of getting cleared by everyone they need to get cleared by. But that Audrey Parker is named after Sam’s daughter, and his other daughter is Lucy. And Duke Crocker is a good friend of Sam and Jim’s who performed Sam’s wedding ceremony together with Jim. So some character names matter to them more than others.

[enkelimagnus]

History

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2375 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 4 The Whole World is Watching

Bucky and Zemo find themselves talking about Sokovia, about family, and about where they come from.

TW: antisemitism mention

Read on AO3

Part 29 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

"Were there Jews in Sokovia?"

Zemo came back to himself an hour or two ago. He’s resting now, a damp towel on what must be a pounding headache. If Walker had been a supersoldier, Zemo would be dead. The shield, sent flying like that by someone on the serum would have broken his neck with the force of its slamming into his temple.

He wouldn’t be laying there, drinking glass after glass of something probably not recommended for someone with a concussion. He’s dosed himself on painkillers as well. Hopefully, he won’t die before the Dora Milaje arrive. If he died under Bucky’s watch, he doesn’t think he would ever be forgiven.

Bucky’s been staring at the windows for a while now, just… waiting for Zemo to start talking again. He grew bored of it. Even if the windows are beautiful and make him lose time in memories of his childhood shul and on the necklaces they all wore.

"It was an Eastern European country. Of course there were,” Zemo answers in that almost amused matter-of-fact tone of his. The same kind he used when he talked about Marvin Gaye. Now Bucky gets Sam’s “He’s out of line, but he’s right.” His voice is hoarse though, a clear sign of what he’s just gone through. Bucky finds himself slightly satisfied by that crack.

"Where was your family from?" Zemo asks. Perhaps it’s the same sort of question that led to that conversation in the plane. Bucky didn’t need to tell him he was Jewish after that.

"Romania."

Zemo nods quietly. "Ah. Not far, actually. Is that why you found a hiding place there before I flushed you out?"

That’s an interesting question, and Bucky shouldn’t be surprised he’s asking it.

"Not really." He didn’t know his family was Romanian until a couple of months in, until a mother’s lullaby triggered an avalanche of memories. “Followed some memories there.”

“What did they do? Your parents?”

Bucky huffs and turns towards him. “Why do you want to know?” He asks, jutting out his chin. He doesn’t know if he wants to talk to Zemo about that. But Zemo’s the only one who has ever asked. Steve didn’t need to. And no one else has spent long enough with Bucky to wonder.

“I am curious,” Zemo shrugged. “This is not a trick. I have nothing to gain by having this information. Your parents are dead. They cannot be used as leverage.”

“You sure know a lot about leverage, huh Zemo?” His answer is sarcastic, poking. The ghost of the tension from earlier in the day, the one that made Bucky let go of his tight leash of control to break one of Zemo’s expensive cups, hovers between them for a moment.

“I am a criminal,” Zemo hums. “A killer. And a Baron. Of course, I know a lot about leverage, James.”

At least he doesn’t hide from the truth. Bucky guesses that those eight years in solitary gave him time to self-reflect.

They both fall silent for a moment again. Zemo sips his whiskey. Bucky wishes he could get drunk. The minutes tick by. The Dora Milaje could come any time now. It’s hanging in the air with the tension, with the silence.

“You didn’t answer my question, James,” the man’s voice comes from the couch where he’s lounging. “What did they do?”

“My da worked in a journal in Romania. A Yiddishe one,” Bucky explains. “Worked in a printing factory in America. My ma helped sell the papers on the market. When she moved here and had us, she didn’t start working again until everything crashed and da died. I was working, but it wasn’t enough. We were four kids, and there was Steve, and his ma too, until she passed.”

He stops talking. He’s saying too much. Way too much. Zemo doesn’t need to know those things, he shouldn’t be talking about those things. It’s too personal, too intimate. Even Hydra didn’t know. Why is he telling Zemo?

Because Zemo’s going to the Raft. He’s going to be buried there and never come out, and he won’t be able to tell anyone. You could tell him what Steve tasted like, he wouldn’t be able to talk.

“What did your parents do?” Bucky asks, turning the question back on Zemo. It’s not the same, of course not. Bucky’s pretty sure he could find all the information about Heinrich Zemo readily available online.

“My father was a Baron and a businessman,” Zemo replies anyway, evenly. “He was also a sitting member of Hydra’s European branch.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to Zemo. He can’t see him, only the back of his head. Is he smug? Is he happy he got to push one of Bucky’s buttons this way?

“You didn’t meet him, I believe,” Zemo continues. “At least as far as I am aware.”

Bucky doesn’t reply. What is there to say, thanks?

“My mother was a housewife. She was a Baroness. She did charity events, talked to people, was beautiful at my father’s side. That was what they did. As for myself, I was, as you know, in the army. Before my service, however, I studied in Oxford, Philosophy, Politics and Economics, before interning in Berlin for two years. Only then, after much partying and drinking, did I settle and join the ranks.”

Bucky leans against the counter, huffing. “You wanna talk about yourself a bunch today, don’t you?”

“I was going to follow that with a question on your own Curriculum Vitae, James.”

“Why? Wanna hire me?”

Zemo chuckles, a puffy sound immediately followed by a sharp intake of breath. Pain, perhaps. That’ll teach him.

“Humor me?” he asks and for some reason, Bucky shrugs and decides to do so.

“Top student in Washington High School until ‘33, graduated early, started working. Making girls’ dresses. Working on the docs in the evening too,” Bucky recounts, sighing softly. “Got drafted. Deployed in ‘43. The rest you know.”

“No college despite being a so-called top student?” Zemo asks. Bucky can feel the airquotes in his voice.

Bucky huffs loudly. “We didn’t have that kind of money. We could have, without the crash. Could have gotten a scholarship, but it wasn’t… Da passed, and I had to make sure there was food on the table.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sure you’d be able to afford some sort of degree now.”

“Not an option.”

He’s not going to start explaining all the way Hydra fucked him up, how his attention span is shorter than it’s ever been except when a mission is involved, how his brain flips through languages constantly. How he would have issues handling the workload, the students around him. Crowded lecture halls would be terrible for his brain.

He doesn’t know what he wants to do after this.

Maybe just read books and go on runs and eat kugel and drink vodka. Those sound like good things to do.

"I saw Sokovia fall," Bucky says after a moment. "I was in Austria."

Zemo’s curious loose attitude shifts as Bucky says that.

“It made a big cloud,” Bucky keeps going. He doesn’t know why. “I barely had my mind, but I knew what I was seeing was world-ending. Catastrophic. Horrifying.”

“I was in Novi Grad for a chunk of the battle, before the city rose. And then I ordered my unit to run. To save their families if they could.” Zemo’s voice is quiet, tight with horrible grief. It’s been nine years and it’s still intense. Bucky guesses he hasn’t had anyone to talk about it with. It’s strange that it’s with him. “I was on the road to my father’s property when the city fell. Chunks of it fell around me, like terrible lethal snow.”

Bucky understands that. He remembers days on the front line in France, where the bombs falling from the sky almost looked like rain until they hit the ground and exploded and killed. Sometimes, at night, the lights in the sky were painfully beautiful.

“I have German citizenship, because of my mother’s own German citizenship. My father insisted I claim it, so I interned at the Bundestag for a couple of years in my twenties. Perhaps he was a visionary, perhaps he knew that one day Sokovia would come to fall and I wouldn’t be able to be Sokovian anymore. It’s strange.” He hums. “To know I do not have a home anymore.” There’s a pause. “Do you know what that feels like?” Zemo adds after a moment.

Bucky hums. “Borders change, political regimes fall. By all accounts, I’m American, but I spent more time in my life speaking Russian than I did speaking English. And yet, the Soviet Union has been gone for over thirty years. And I only learned that ten years ago. The America I grew up in is gone, too. So… I’m nothing. I’m nowhere.”

“Do you know what the strangest part of all of this is, James?” Zemo asks. “Sokovia is gone. In dust. There are no places I can go that still look the same as they once did. There are no buildings still standing. Their stones will one day be in museums, without context. It’s like it never existed, really. Memories are good, but they only last one lifetime, if that long.”

“In a hundred years, those memories will be gone,” Bucky finishes for him.

Zemo finishes his glass. “I’m the King of Sokovia,” he says then, and Bucky immediately wonders if they shouldn’t try to seek some sort of medical assistance.

“I’m royalty. The last living royal of Sokovia. I’m the King,” he explains. “King of ash, King of a memorial. King of the dead.”

“Yeah, I doubt Wanda Maximoff would accept you as King,” Bucky quips, and Zemo chuckles.

“Ah, the Maximoff girl,” he mutters. “Do you know just how many times her head was in the visor of my rifle?” He asks, and Bucky can hear the smirk, the predator’s grin in his voice. “When I was with EKO Scorpion, watching her and her anarchist friends… Do you know how many times I could have killed her?”

“Why didn’t you? Bucky asks with genuine curiosity.

“She wasn’t dangerous then. She was just a girl, an idealistic teenager. She hadn’t met Hydra yet. I had no reason to end her life.”

He shifts on the couch, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from God knows where on his person. He tosses it over to him. Bucky catches them, and the following lighter. He doesn’t ask why Zemo doesn’t take one. They’re cheap, from a Slavic brand. The tobacco blend is familiar to Bucky. His handlers used to smoke it.

The lighter is familiar too, a Zippo. It clicks and sounds like the hundreds of thousands Bucky has heard in his life.

“The Maximoffs were Sokovian Jews,” Zemo says after Bucky pulls the preliminary drag of his cigarette. White plumes wave over his face for a moment. “Wanda and Pietro wore the marks of their heritage for years on the front lines of their revolution.”

Bucky frowns a little. “I don’t remember it from the images, afterwards.”

“I can only guess they took it off when they joined Hydra,” Zemo points out. Bucky takes a hard long drag and the taste is like a ghost of Soviet pride. “Von Strucker was an antisemite.”

Bucky chuckles at that. Of course he was. “What a surprise,” he mutters sarcastically.

“He was not one of the hidden ones either,” Zemo points out. “He was quite loud about his opinions when he believed himself in the right circles.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about von Strucker’s views, Zemo,” Bucky says quietly.

“He was a Baron of Sokovia too. I saw him several times a year, for official occasions of the royalty, and informal meetings at my family’s estate for most of my life. He and I were not that far apart in age, I must admit we shared toys once upon a time, in palaces like the one Karli and her friends now occupy.”

The world is small, especially the kind of world Hydra, the Soldier and the Avengers lived in. Bucky doesn’t exactly believe that he never met Zemo’s father. He doesn’t know if he would remember it if he had. Unless he was given the man’s name in some way, he probably was nothing but another higher up, another possible handler, another persona had to obey.

“So your government knew Hydra was in Sokovia?” Bucky asks, pulling more on his cigarette, trying to parse out a timeline of events.

“The government was Hydra,” Zemo replies, his voice heavy. “It had been for decades. Truth is, I never knew Sokovia without Hydra encroaching on it like a tumor.”

Bucky shifts, humming quietly. Zemo’s hatred of Hydra is surprising now that he knows his father was. “Why aren’t you Hydra, then? If your family was?”

Zemo shrugs. He has that sharp intake of breath again, probably accompanied by a wince.

“When the main Hydra branch fell, in 2014, I was only 35,” he mutters. “I was getting invited to the parties, of course, as the heir of the Baron, but… I guess I was too green for these people. Contrary to Wolfgang, I didn’t share a lot of their ideals. Perhaps I did, as a youth, believe some of their lies… It is impossible not to take in some of your parents’ philosophy.”

Bucky huffs, shaking his head. “So what? You met a poor Jew once and it changed you?” He asks sarcastically.

Zemo shakes his head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. I don’t believe it was a singular event.”

He wouldn’t be the first rich kid to find some cause to care about as a rebellion from the parental authority. Bucky doesn’t say anything more about that. It’s not good to dwell on these things. What is going to come from confronting it anyway?

“Either way, let’s both be thankful I am not Hydra, yes?” Zemo shifts, standing back up slightly, to rest in a better direction.

Yeah. Let’s be thankful.

Sam comes in then with his computer and Bucky takes the opportunity to see himself in the bathroom, thinking everything over.

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 54 - Still Life

My job is just to discuss their compliances and policies to prevent money laundering and examine their transactions to confirm that they’re not too suspect. I find it fascinating but I am keenly aware that the majority of the people I inspect do not share my opinion. - Statement of Alexander Scaplehorn

I continue to snigger at just about every example of humorous understatement in this show.

The stuffed tiger in the window was so faded by the sun that I had to do a double-take to check it wasn’t a lion, so faint were the stripes.

I have absolutely no reason to believe this is the case, obviously more than one Stranger tiger can exist at any one time, but do you think this might be the same tiger as in the circus episode? The one that wasn't done yet and is, perhaps, now a bit overdone? Idk, would be fun!

I asked him if he was the owner, and he said he was, introducing himself as Daniel Rawlings.

Daniel Rawlings is the name of one of the victims of the Anglerfish and no, I absolutely did not catch this until Jon explicitly mentions it at the end of this episode, but my partner SOMEHOW noticed earlier.

The smell hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold. It was so thick you could almost taste it, like something had murdered a lily and it was rotting under the floorboards.

Oh, this is a gorgeously vivid description! Johnny is very good at sense descriptions, isn't he?

I turned to see Daniel lighting a cigarette as if in acknowledgment of the odor.

Heh, all the skinsuit-wearing Stranger creatures (at least the ones whose skin came via Anglerfish) seem to take up a smoking habit to hide the smell of the badly-preserved skins. Sarah Baldwin had the same thing going on! ... For what it's worth, "Sarah Baldwin" and "Daniel Rawlings" could well be the same being in different outfits, that actually makes somewhat more sense than the Anglerfish just distributing its catch among all its friends.

He asked all the right questions and was always ready with a good example for any of the more abstract aspects of the discussion. All in all he was a real pleasure to discuss money laundering with.

I love how he says this with genuine enthusiasm!

I heard the men say something about unloading a van and then the bell rang again, taking Daniel with it. I was alone.

What is it Breekon and Hope are actually delivering? I don't remember.

A face. I couldn’t make out any details but it was pale and swayed ever so slightly from side to side. The body below it was shadowed and hidden but it seemed to stare up at me as it moved.

My partner immediately caught that this was the Anglerfish again. I didn't until my partner told me and then I went "Oh. Oooh, no, that makes total sense actually!"

It was so flat, almost mechanical. It felt about as much like genuine speech as the wind flowing through a cracked rock sounds like a flute being played.

Again with the stunningly evocative comparisons!

He asked if I was alright with a smile that made my stomach drop, and at last he looked me in the eyes. I recognized the glassy stare. The same eyes that gazed at me from a hundred sawdust filled sockets around the room.

Oh god, this scene gave me the shivers! The suddenness of the realisation and then everything comes crashing down all at once. I love it so much!

I had the foresight to gather all my notes before I opened the basement door. It meant I didn’t have to return, I could simply write them up a glowing report and never think about it again. Save for giving you my statement of course. And that’s exactly what I did. After all, whatever all that other stuff was, they weren’t laundering money.

Pffff - a very sensible man. "I did my job. There was no money laundering, everything else is none of my business."

Eventually Sasha volunteered. I warned her it might be dangerous but she did seem very keen.

I'm sure she was! "Hey, I get to meet up with my buddies and scheme!"

He allowed Sasha to take a photograph of him and I’ve been comparing the pictures available for the Daniel Rawlings who disappeared. It’s the strangest thing. They’re different heights, different builds, different shapes to the face, but their hair is identical.

Oh god, it's not even a Daniel skinsuit, is it? It's a Daniel-and-a-bunch-of-other-people skinsuit! They only took his hair and his name!

They [Gertrude's books] were very well taken care of, with the exception that anytime a person’s face was featured on the cover, their eyes had been cut out and very carefully removed. - Jon

Oh god, I never realised that hints to the concept of "the Eye can look through any eye" are mentioned at this early point in the story!

My impression of this episode

Oh, this one was lovely. Didn't fuck with me personally as much as some other episodes and didn't stick around in the back of my mind for as long but it gave me some delightful shivers (similarly to the first Anglerfish episode, actually) and I also enjoyed the statement giver's tone very much!

[writer-rochelle]

In the Still of the Night: Javier Peña x reader

(a/n originally this was a steve randle fic I cooked up once upon a sleepless night. but after re-reading it I decided to turn it into a javi one shot because pedro pascal owns my ass. this takes during season 2, specifically episode 6. Also for plot’s sake pretend you are a nurse who used to work with Connie) 

Javier trudged up the small flight of stairs that led to the front door of the apartment building. It had been another late night stuck behind a desk. Another late night with a plethora of leads that inevitably led nowhere. It had taken the pot of coffee he and Murphy had been drinking to gradually turn into hot burnt bean flavored water for the two exhausted Agents to finally throw in the towel. Maybe Javier could convince (y/n) to let him steal some of the gourmet coffee she had stashed at his place. 

Recently, he had taken to staying longer and later, trying desperately to weasel in the information he received from Los Pepes without causing suspicion. Javier knew he was on thin ice with Steve after that incident at the checkpoint when they were close to catching Blackie. It was a wonder his friend hadn’t let anything slip, but then again he knew Murphy was more inclined to let Javier deal with his shit on his own. Besides, he had told Steve he could handle it. Couldn’t he? 

Javier signed, leaning his forehead against the cool wooden door to his apartment. How had he never noticed how truly exhausted he was? He felt heavy, weighed down by all that had been happening in Columbia lately. His feet felt like cinder blocks as he took a step back to unlock the door. The seasoned agent wanted nothing more than to eat, sip an ice-cold beer, take a shower, and collapse into bed. Maybe he would be lucky enough to sleep soundly with little to no nightmares. Undisturbed till his alarm would sound off early the next morning. 

"Damn it", he groaned, searching blindly for his apartment key. He had forgotten to put it back on his key ring after he had made a copy for (y/n). He exhaled in relief, having found the piece of metal nestled in the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket.  

‘I told you to put it back on there! One day you’re gonna lose that damn thing for sure, and I promise I’m not giving you my copy to get in!’, Javier smirked imagining his girlfriend scolding him. Her voice would be tinted with laughter, her threat empty. The pair had each other wrapped around their respective fingers. There wasn’t anything (within reason) that the young nurse wouldn’t do for Javier. And when the used to be bachelor was told he was whipped he simply shrugged and said, “Listen, when you really care for someone you’ll do whatever it takes to show them that. (y/n) says jump? I say how high.”

Much to the surprise of his colleagues (Steve included),  Javier had moved past the honeypot method to get what he wanted from certain informants. And to add more to the surprise, (y/n) was very much aware of the man Javier Pena used to be. It never ceased to amaze him how open-minded she was. Most women would have run-away after being told of the things he’d seen and done in the field. “At the end of the day, you come home in one piece to me. But don’t think about trying that crap again while you’re with me.” she had said one night during one of their few late-night conversations. 

"(y/n),cariño? You still here?", Javier called into the seemingly empty apartment. He stepped in, closing and locking the front door before moving towards the living room area where he threw his leather jacket over the arm of the cream-colored couch. All the lights were off, except the one in the kitchen. He turned on a lamp, the white envelopes sitting on the coffee table littered with some paperwork caught his eye. He’d deal with it tomorrow. 

"Babe?" he called again, climbing the steps that led up into the kitchen. He glanced at the clock built into the stove, the neon green glowing numbers reading 12:30. He spotted a plate of food resting on the small circle table, and a pink sticky note stuck to the top. He smiled softly, wondering how she managed to take care of herself, her busy workday, and still make time to cook for him. 

Javi,

I hope you came home at a decent hour. I’m still here, had a long day. You missed the dust bunnies I excavated from under your couch. 

Love, (y/n)

It read, her neat handwriting taking up little space on the small piece of paper. Javier paused a moment. Dust bunnies? Had she cleaned his apartment? He took a quick look around the area laid out in front of him. Gone were the empty bottles and cups he usually left lying around. The thin film of dust that usually graced his small television screen was gone, and it actually smelled nice in the room. The musty male and cigarette odor had been replaced with the smell of cleaning products and a candle she had left burning on the stove. Placing the note down, he turned to blow it out; the time now read 12:40. Javier turned to the fridge, grabbed a beer and took his lukewarm dinner in front of the TV in the adjoined living room. Maybe he could take a crack at some of those papers still sitting out there. 

[One hour later]

Javier woke with a start, the black and white static on the tv illuminating the room. He blinked blearily, standing up to stretch.  How long had he been asleep? He meandered over to the kitchen, disposing of his empty plate and bottle. The stove time now reading 3:00. 

‘May as well just head to bed, no point in showering now.’ Javier thought, making his way into his bedroom, turning off the few remaining lights as he went. 

He stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Not necessarily enthralled with the tired, grumpy looking man staring back at him. The past few months had taken their toll on him, the bags under his eyes adding on a year or two. It didn’t help that  his vision hadn’t been up to par as of late either. He refused, however, to get glasses until absolutely necessary. He could already hear the jokes that would be made at his expense. “Having trouble in any other departments Pena?”

Rolling his eyes, he shut off the bathroom light and shivered as the cool ac hit his bare legs and chest. Clad in only his boxers, he moved out into the hallway, trudging zombie-like into his bedroom, his dark brown eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkroom as he quietly shut the door behind him. Javier picked up on (y/n)’s soft breathing as she slept, everything but her head swallowed up by the thin white blanket on their bed. It was a wonder she had slept through the noise he had been making since he had gotten home hours earlier. She really must have had a long day. Ever since Connie and Olivia had left back to the States, the (y/h/c) nurse had taken more hours, helping to fill in the spot her blonde friend had left. And in some ways, maybe Steve had taken to staying longer to avoid an empty apartment. Something Javier had once been used to, but now the thought of having to start sleeping alone in his queen-sized bed made him cringe. 

An orange street light filtered in through his blinds, casting a soft spotlight onto the bed, drawing him closer. The "spotlight" shone on (y/n), illuminating the soft unique features of her face. Her mouth slightly open as quiet snores slipped through. Javier yearned to freeze time. To simply lay in this lumpy bed, with the most beautiful kind-hearted woman he’d ever met. His mother had only been the one other woman who cared this much about him, and it hurt that couldn’t she meet her. Javi was sure she’d love the passionate young woman as much as he did. He crept closer slipping under the covers, curling his arm around her waist to draw her closer to his bare chest. He lay a soft kiss to the back of her head, the sweet scent of her shampoo clouding his senses. He was content. 

“Javier? Is everything okay? What time is it?" the young woman mumbled her voice heavy with sleep, raising her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:30 am.

"It's me, baby, everything is fine. Go back to sleep."

 "Okay. I love you."

"Love you too," the tired man said, kissing the back of her head as she fell back asleep. Javier lay awake for only a few moments more, finally succumbing to the slumber that was now his master.

Javier Pena knew that when the morning came he would have to return to that godforsaken office, and shift through the same pile of papers, and deal with the weight of his actions resting on his shoulders. But for the time being as he lay next to the love of his life in the fleetingly late hours of the night/early morning, he could pretend that he was just another man off the street, far away from Escobar, far from cocaine, and far from Columbia. 

A reality that only existed within the still if the night.

(i hope you all enjoyed my first Javi fic....and I hope i didn’t write him too OOC. Let me know what yall think, and my requests are open! more work to come soon. <3 roach) 

taglist: @sunshinepascal (dm to be added!)