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stevemossington · 6 years ago

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seasons pass and we’re not the same

(reposting because the first chapter of the sequel drops soon!!)

Summary: Holidays can be tough. But neither Wheelers nor the Byers were prepared for this Thanksgiving, when a long-hidden secret finally came to light. Nothing would ever be the same. (also on AO3)

November 1998

“The blue striped polo? No, no, the grey button-down.” Mike muttered to himself under his breath as he threw clothes into his duffel bag. He’d left packing until the last minute, which was not a surprise. But he would be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t because he was feeling unsettled about the trip. He hadn’t been to Hawkins since Holly’s high school graduation the past June. And that was nothing new: he only returned for major holidays now.

He heard the front door open and a voice called out. “Hey hon, you almost ready to go?”

“Yep, just finishing packing. I’ll be out in a sec.”

He tossed in some extra socks and zipped up the weathered blue bag before heading out to the living room, doubling back to grab his toothbrush. His girlfriend stood by the entry, arms crossed and head cocked in mock exasperation. But she quickly broke into a smile and he leaned down to peck her cheek.

“Okay, okay, now I’m ready.”

“Perfect, I’ve got the car out front.”

Mike stood up straight and saluted her. “Lead the way, Sophie.”

Sophie smirked and reached out to tickle under his arm. “You’re such a dork.”

They headed down to the car.

Mike was looking forward to his mom’s delicious home cooking, but he knew there would be the usual jabs about how he never visited. Even Nancy, who lived in New York, came home more often than he did. Luckily, now that she and Jonathan were married, Thanksgiving included the Byers so he’d have Will there with him. However, this was the first time Mike was bringing his girlfriend home. The first girl he’d ever introduced to his family. Yeah, there was definitely going to be some teasing.

Sophie was sweet and smart. Wispy blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes which were slightly magnified under her large wire-frame glasses. She had a wry humor and they got along well. And, most importantly, she was completely separate from his childhood. They’d met in the same graduate program at Northwestern and quickly became friends, each being a little awkward and nerdy. They both ended up in Chicago after finishing their degrees, and after a few years their friendship turned into a relationship. Mike was happy.

Sophie fiddled with the radio as he drove them out of the city, finally setting on a classic rock station.

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting your family. It’s been what, like a year and a half?”

“That’s not that long.”

“Yeah but we’ve known each other for years and you’ve met my family like ten times so…”

“Well that’s not fair, they live right outside the city. Hawkins isn’t exactly next door.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that hard to get to.” She softly added, “We could go more often, you know.”

“I know. I just… I like my life here. Our life here.” He reached for her hand over the center console and interlaced their fingers. He was happy she was coming with him, he really was.

Going back to Hawkins was never easy, but it didn’t help that this year was the 15th anniversary of Will’s disappearance. Of her.

He shook his head, as if that would clear away his unwanted thoughts. It would be fine.

November 1984

It had been five days. Five days since the gate had been closed, five days since Will had been saved. Five days since El had walked back into Mike’s life.

It was Friday afternoon and Mike had been given special permission to keep El company while Hopper was at work. The chief was in the process of planning the next steps for her, and in the meantime she was still on house arrest. But, as a special compromise, he’d given Mike the directions to the cabin, along with a stern lecture about the importance of being stealthy.

For El, it was far beyond halfway-happy.

They were splayed across the couch, some soap opera softly playing in the background, Mike’s fingers working their way through El’s curls. This was their first time truly alone, with no impending doom or pesky, well-meaning friends.

For Mike, it was the turning point, the beginning of the rest of their lives. He told her about all the things they would do once she could leave: the games at the arcade and the movies at the local theater and the lake in the summer. But there was something in the near future that he was especially interested in.

“So...I dunno if Hopper will let you, but I was thinking maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we could go to the Snow Ball this year.” He blushed as she stared at him, her wide doe eyes shining.

“Promise?” She asked in a soft voice, and Mike felt bright inside, so much lighter than the last time they’d discussed the stupid school dance. Everything was going to be okay.

“Promise.”

He sat up and was tempted to kiss her, but was interrupted by sudden, heavy footsteps on the porch. The door burst open, one of the hinges breaking off, and armored men holding machine guns stormed in. El was up in a flash, hand held in front of her chest and her chin pulled down, but nothing seemed to be happening. Her eyes grew large as she panicked. Time slowed for Mike, like he was stuck in a dream. He could tell that her powers weren’t working. What was happening?

The men parted and a small boy stepped forward. He didn’t look much younger than them, wearing a navy sweatsuit and a fresh buzz cut. A droplet of blood was just beginning to form under his nose. A tall man stood beside him in a crisp suit, his hand gently, but territorially, on the boy’s shoulder. His smile reminded her of Papa.

“Eleven, it’s good to finally meet you. I’m Dr. Randolph. And this is Twelve.”

Mike was struck by the cold and hard look in the boy’s eyes. He was almost like a robot. El kept trying to overcome the block and began to shake, blood leaking from both nostrils.

“Don’t exhaust yourself. This is Twelve’s special ability.”

“What do you want?” Mike asked, attempting to sound braver than he felt. Randolph didn’t even spare a glance his way.

“We’ve come to take you to your new home, my dear. We have work to do, Eleven. We aren’t even close to being finished.”

“No.” She was trying to keep her voice level, but a tremor broke through.

“No?” Randolph flicked his eyes over to one of the soldiers and briskly nodded. The man grabbed Mike, holding him close and pressing an arm against his throat. Mike struggled to breathe.

“Mike!” El gasped, taking a step forward before she felt a barrier in the air, pushing her back. Another drop of blood leaked from Twelve’s nose.

“What is your plan here, Eleven? To go to school? To play with your friends? To be a normal child? Oh, you have never been anything but extraordinary. You are meant for so much more.”

“I don’t want it.” El whispered. “This is my home.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are property of the United States government. You have no birth certificate, no legal identity. You don’t exist. The chief? He has nowhere to go to make you official. You aren’t a real person. But you are so much more than that.”

She said nothing, but a few tears escaped down her cheeks and Mike’s heart ached. He struggled against the soldier’s arms but the hold on his throat tightened.

“Of course, if you refuse to cooperate, we’ll be forced to come after your friends. After all, they would be stealing, stealing from the US government. Let’s see…” He pulled out a paper from his inner pocket and studied it. “Nancy Wheeler. Lucas Sinclair. Dustin Henderson. Joyce Byers. James Hopper. And, of course, Michael here.”

Randolph looked over at Mike and gave another nod. It happened so quick, an instant blinding pain in his hand. Mike couldn’t contain his scream; the man had broken his finger.

“Stop!” El cried, choking on her tears. She turned to Randolph and tried not to look at Twelve’s dead eyes. “Okay...okay. I’ll go.”

“El, no-” Mike shouted, but his mouth was quickly covered. He shouted against the glove and struggled to remove it with his good hand.

Randolph smiled. “Good, then that’s taken care of. Let’s go.”

He swept out of the cabin, Twelve at his heels and the soldiers following. The guard dropped Mike and nudged El forward. She paused at the door, turning back to see him crumpled on the kitchen floor. She tried to convey everything through her eyes, every thought and feeling, most of which she couldn’t have named if she wanted to. She was about to give herself over to the water and he was her last gasp of air. She could only whisper, “Goodbye, Mike.”

And then she was gone. He was left crying on the floor, the cabin full of an oppressive silence, the overturned chairs the only sign of a disruption. She was gone. She was gone.

Mike would remember everything that happened in the cabin with painful clarity; the aftermath would become fuzzy memories. A hysterical phone call to the police station, frantically biking out of the woods while trying to ignore his throbbing finger. Tearful words over the supercom, Lucas finding him in the ditch by Mirkwood. He must have fallen off his bike, crying too hard to properly see. Ending up at the Byers’ house, still only halfway repaired from the past weekend.

That was the moment Mike would always recall, wedged between Will and Nancy on the couch, Dustin sitting at their feet with his hand on Mike’s knee. Lucas and Max looked on from the other couch, with matching trails of tear stains on their cheeks. Jonathan busied himself in the kitchen, frying up eggs that no one was hungry for. There was still no sign of Hopper, and Joyce had gone to look for him.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” Mike cried over and over, sobbing into his sister’s shirt. “They must have followed me. It’s my fault.”

They never saw her again.

November 1998

“Okay, you can’t make fun of my Star Trek posters anymore,” Sophie laughed as she stood in the middle of Mike’s childhood bedroom.

“Uh, please, it’s called taste,” Mike retorted. She scoffed sarcastically and continued to look around the room.

Things were going well so far. His dad had been polite and even seemed interested in what Sophie was saying. His mom was in her element, a glass of wine in one hand, flitting around the kitchen. Holly, home from her first semester at nearby IU, was totally enamored of Sophie and stayed close to her side.

Sophie gasped. “Oh my god, is this…?” She twirled around, holding up a framed photo. “Little Mike? Oh my goodness, and little Will and Lucas. And this must be...Dustin, right?”

She cooed as she gazed down at the photo from the science fair, all those years ago. He took it from her and squinted down at it.

“Yeah, I think we’re like twelve here.”

They heard a snicker from the doorway and turned to see Holly leaning into the room with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, Sophie, you wanna see some embarrassing Mike photos, then you better come with me.”

Sophie squeezed Mike’s arm before trotting after his sister, their giggles echoing in the hallway. He looked back down at the frame in his hand, using his sleeve to wipe a smudge from the glass. Then he carefully undid the backing, pulling out the second photo that had been hidden inside. An old black-and-white that Jonathan had snuck of Mike and Eleven on the couch the morning after she had closed the gate. A plate of Eggos was balanced on Mike’s lap and El was curled into his side, smiling as she looked down at the waffles. He was looking at her. Dustin, Lucas and Max were piled on the floor below them, still dead asleep. Jonathan had given Mike the photo a few weeks after she’d left.

The only photo he had of her. The only photo of El, their El, that existed. The only proof he had that she had been real.

You don’t exist. You’re not a real person. Those words especially had haunted him since that day, digging into his psyche until he sometimes wondered if he had dreamed her up. He’d never repeated them to anyone. They’d felt too foreign on his tongue, too utterly wrong.

“Mike! Nancy and the Byers are here!” His mom yelled from downstairs. Mike quickly put the photo back into place and closed up the frame before jogging out of the room. He only got halfway down the stairwell before he saw Will standing at the bottom with his arms open.

“Wheeler!”

“Byers!”

“You guys know that doesn’t really work when we’re all Byers and Wheelers here, right?” Nancy said with a wry smile while she watched her brother and brother-in-law embrace.

“Sophie’s not...yet,” Holly chimed in slyly.

“That’s right! Dear brother, please introduce me to the guest of honor.”

Mike rolled his eyes but laughed. After introductions were made, they set the table and feasted, trading old stories and laughter over the plethora of dishes.

Afterwards everyone scattered to digest before dessert. Ted promptly fell asleep in his recliner, while Joyce helped Karen clean up in the kitchen. Holly had the idea to run to the video store to rent something for the family to watch after pie and she recruited Sophie to help.

“Holly really loves Sophie, huh?” Will said teasingly as he and Nancy watched the girls head to the car.

Nancy shrugged. “She never knew El so...I suppose this is all new to her.”

He was surprised - he’d never thought about it. But of course… He, Nancy, Jonathan - they’d all been subconsciously comparing Sophie to El. That’s what seemed so weird about the whole thing. He felt bad - it wasn’t fair to Sophie. Or Mike, either.

The girl he hadn’t seen or heard of since middle school. No, not fair at all.

When Mike walked back into the kitchen, Will grabbed him a beer and suggested going downstairs to look at the old hangout space. They weren’t down there long before Jonathan joined them and they reminisced about their old D&D campaigns.

“Remember the campaign with the Thessalhydra? And those weird flowers in the cave that you didn’t ever explain?”

“Hey, I was twelve, not some professional novelist.”

“I guess we never really did play much after middle school, huh?”

Mike shrugged, eyes on the carpet. “Just wasn’t fun anymore.”

There was a silence here that would have normally gone unacknowledged, but Will found himself speaking anyway. Maybe it was the wine loosening his tongue or maybe it was that Nancy’s words were still fresh in his mind. Either way, he put a hand on Mike’s shoulder and said, “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s okay. I just can’t believe it’s been so long.”

Jonathan fiddled with his bottle on the couch tearing at the label. Will looked at Mike with concern.

“Mike, you gotta stop blaming yourself for that.”

“I can’t.”

“You were just a kid, you were both kids.”

“It was bound to happen anyway,” Jonathan added.

“What?” Will asked.

“I mean, they were never gonna stop looking for her, y’know? They thought of her as their property. She wasn’t a real person to them. She didn’t exist in the real world.”

Mike whipped his head to look at him. “What did you say?”

“She was considered government property. She didn’t officially exist as a real person. She didn’t have paperwork or anything.”

“How…” He paused, swallowing hard. “How did you know that?”

Something in Mike’s eyes changed and Jonathan knew he had made a mistake.

November 1984

It had been four days. Four days since his house was torn apart again, four days since he watched his brother writhe in pain while strapped to a bed. Four days since he’d been allowed to find comfort in Nancy’s arms.

It was Thursday night and Jonathan was finally leaving after his late shift at the diner. He was tired - he’d been taking extra shifts to help pay for fixing up the house and since his mom had been staying home with Will the last few days. He groaned internally as he thought of the history reading he still had to do.

He wasn’t pleased when he saw two figures loitering by his car on the far side of the parking lot. His coworker, Eric, noticed too.

“You need any help?” He asked as they both paused outside the restaurant. One of the men looked up and Jonathan realized he recognized him - Murray Bauman. His heart dropped and he waved off Eric.

“Nah, I know him. Go on home.”

“Night, man.”

Jonathan tried to ignore the pit in his stomach as he walked toward his car. He’d only seen the disgraced journalist four days ago - when he had told them to not contact him again. This couldn’t be good.

“Ah, Jonathan Byers. Long time, no see.”

Again, it had been four days.

“Murray.” Jonathan nodded before hesitantly asking, “What’s going on?”

Murray smiled wide, showing his teeth and Jonathan was reminded of the wolves from those old fairy tales. This man was going to devour him if he wasn’t careful.

“I’d like to introduce you to a…” He turned to the dark-haired man beside him and cocked his head. “Well, would you say we’re friends, Larry?”

“I think that will depend, Mr. Bauman.” The man turned back to Jonathan and extended his hand. “Dr. Randolph. A pleasure to meet you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan kept his hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans. “Can I help you?”

“Right to business. I knew I would like you.”

“Yeah, so uh, Larry here works for another branch of the illustrious Department of Energy.”

Jonathan could tell that Murray was driving Randolph crazy but that the man was trying to keep it together.

“Apparently they intercepted the tapes we sent. All of them. And…”

Randolph cut in. “Look, we’re not stupid. We know you still have the original tape. So I’d like to make a deal. We’ll let you send out the altered tapes, with the information about ‘leaked toxins’ and the government covering up Barbara Holland’s death. And if a publication chooses to expose it - and I’m sure one of them will - we’ll go ahead and close Hawkins Lab. Place is too much of a liability now anyway.”

Jonathan could tell that there was more. “But?”

“Smart boy!” Murray barked and smacked his hand against the hood of the car.

Jonathan kept his eyes on Randolph. “What do you want?”

The doctor had an unsettling smile, too. “I need to know where Eleven is.”

He wasn’t expecting this. Why didn’t he expect this? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Murray gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, cut the shit kid, he knows that you know about her.”

“And we know she’s been back,” Randolph added.

“You want me to turn her in?”

“I do. She belongs to us.”

“She’s a little girl.”

“And a very dangerous one. Look, here’s the deal. She will never have a normal life. Ever. She has no birth certificate; she is in no way a legal citizen. She has no legal identity. She won’t be able to go to school. She won’t be able to get a driver’s license, a job, married. In the eyes of the government, she does not exist. Except as its property.”

“You really think I give a shit what the government thinks?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just telling you what the reality is. She will have to live off the grid, for the rest of her life. And so will anyone that associates with her.” He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket and peered at it. “Nancy and Mike Wheeler? Your brother? Your mother?” He clucked in disapproval. “Harboring a fugitive is a federal crime.”

“How can she be a fugitive if she doesn’t exist?”

“Son, this is the U.S. government. We can make her exist when we need to.”

Murray spoke up. “Look, Jonathan, we still have a chance to do what we wanted. To finish what we started, what Nancy started. Your friends, your family? They have a real shot at a happy life here. A life where your brother is healthy and left alone. Where your mom doesn’t have to worry about him. Where Nancy is happy, where she’s avenged her friend.”

Murray and Randolph stared down at him and he realized how trapped he was. How utterly fucked he was.

“Okay, okay. All right.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed. “The chief is hiding her.”

“Chief Hopper?”

“Yeah. I can give you directions to the place.”

He described it as best he could, remembering the directions that Hopper had given him only days ago. When Randolph finished taking notes, he nodded at Jonathan.

“Pleasure doing business. Keep an eye on the papers. Have a good night.”

Murray clapped him on the shoulder, a sick smile on his face. “I knew you’d be the one to help. Nancy’s too…” He waved his hand from side to side. “Ehhh, idealistic. Noble. You and I know how things really go, don’t we?”

Jonathan just stared back at him, not trusting himself to reply. He watched as the men walked back to their car and tried not to throw up. What had he done? What had he done?

Eleven was powerful. She would be able to fight them off, right?

Twenty-four hours later, as he listened to Mike sob in his living room, Jonathan realized just how wrong he was. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive himself.

November 1998

The story unraveled from Jonathan, as if it had been trying to escape all along. A deadly silence hung in the air.

“What?” Mike asked in a low voice. Will was stock still, arms wrapped around himself. There was a noise on the stairs and the boys turned to see Nancy standing on the bottom step.

“Did you hear all that?” Mike asked his sister.

She bit her lip and nodded; she didn’t look shocked. Why didn’t she look shocked? Mike’s eyes widened and he backed away a few steps.

“You knew. You knew about this.”

“Not at first. Not for the first few months or so.”

“But you knew. So much for we tell each other everything, right?” His raised his voice, pain edging it. “You knew!”

“Jonathan?” Will asked, shaking his head in astonishment. Everything had changed.

“I had to make a decision. Okay? I’m not happy about it. I’m not proud of it.”

Mike started to pace. “I thought it was all my fault. I always blamed myself. You knew that, Nancy. You let me think that!”

“Mike…” She whispered and Jonathan held up a hand.

“Hey, don’t blame her.”

Mike spun around to face him, his finger shaking as he pointed it at him. “You don’t tell me what to do. You don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

Nancy took two steps forward to stand between them, arms outspread.

“Calm down, Mike.”

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” He threw his beer bottle against the far wall, the bottleneck breaking off.

Jonathan frowned, his patience for Mike wearing thin. “What, were we all just gonna become fugitives? I wanted Will to be okay, I wanted Nancy to be okay. My mom, everyone.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Will said from the corner he had backed up into, but no one seemed to hear.

“Yeah, Hopper seems to be doing real well,” Mike snapped.

“We don’t know that,” Nancy said. “No one’s heard from him in years.”

Mike’s eyes grew wild and he let out a short hollow laugh. “Yeah, because your husband fucked him over. Practically pushed him down the bottle.”

“Mike, that’s not fair.”

“I wanted everyone to be able to have their lives back.”

“Not everyone,” Mike growled.

“What?”

“NOT EVERYONE!” He roared, tears leaking down his cheeks.

Will thought he saw the lamp flicker beside him. He wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed.

“She was my future. You took that from me. No, you know what? You took that from her!” Mike slammed his palm against the wall and everyone jumped. “She was a person; she was a human! You took her life away. You basically killed her.” He choked on a sob and whispered, “How could you?”

He sank onto the couch and continued to cry. No one dared to move.

“Mike?”

Sophie stood on the basement stairs, looking confused and concerned, Holly just one step above her. Karen hovered in the doorway. Joyce was beside her, hand covering her mouth.

“I think we need to talk.”

Mike rubbed a hand over his puffy, tearstained face and nodded. Jonathan forced himself to meet his mother’s eyes. Nancy finally let herself cry. Will clasped his hands together in a futile attempt to stop them from trembling.

Nothing was the same.

November 1998

Eleven stood in the void, watching the scene unfold in the basement before her. She’d managed to keep her cool for the most part, only breaking once. It seemed like no one noticed though. Maybe Will. He always was more attuned to those things than the others.

She felt tangled inside, her heart within a vice that was slowly tightening. But even though it had been months since she’d last looked in on Mike, on any of them, her eyes remained dry. She didn’t cry much anymore.

There was a soft splashing in the background and Fifteen came to stand beside her. “Who are they?”

“No one. Just people I used to know.”

Fifteen sighed and ran a hand through her silky black hair. “We should get going. This assignment won’t be easy.”

Eleven gave a short nod and a tight smile. “Let’s go.”

The Wheelers and the Byers faded away into the darkness as the girls moved on to their next mark.

Goodbye Mike.

#stranger things #mike wheeler #mileven #the sequel is coming!!#get hype with me!!#a mutli-chap sequel! who even am i #ugh the formatting is so weird on mobile #mostly reposting because the original one has a broken link #thanks a lot me for deactivating #stranger words #lara writes

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magiclaud · 7 years ago

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I hate this place (USUK)

Pairing: USUK, RUSENG, GERITA.

Summary: The neighbours of the building decide to spend the dinner of Christmas Eve’s together to bond with each other. However, they do it too little… or too much. They say where there’s smoke, there is fire, although on their world of smoke and mirrors Alfred, the building’s porter, doesn’t feel sure about anything anymore.

Translation of my submission to the USUK’s Spanish christmas event. The prompt was: “Introducing your boyfriend in a Christmas dinner.” The fanfiction was inspired on the show “Aquí no hay quién viva” ( “I hate this place”)

a/n: Oh my god what a self-indulging fic, ha ha! All right, all right, soap opera plots are my guilty pleasure, especially if they are accompanied by holiday drama! Merry Christmas everyone!

It was so early when the building’s porter woke up that the sun hadn’t woken up yet. The cars had thin layers of ice, and Alfred couldn’t help to blow hot air into his hands to warm himself up. He wasn’t wearing much apart from his grey uniform and his belt, in which he had the door’s keys. Alfred was cleaning the porter’s floor when he sensed someone walking to his side.

“Good morning,” the man seemed Asian. Even hunched, Alfred noted he was the tallest of the too.

“I haven’t seen you before,” Alfred said. Avenue H was pretty calm, so any person who crossed the sidewalk received the attention of the neighbours. Also, the buildings were small: the one Alfred worked on barely had three floors, as well as the attic where dusty objects were stored as part of the history of the place.

“They’ve contracted me in that restaurant of the corner,” said the man. He must’ve been twenty-something, as well as Alfred. “My name’s Kiku, by the way,” Alfred smiled at him and introduced himself, although their conversation was interrupted when another man entered the building.

“Good morning, Mr. Braginsky,” said Alfred. The man dragged his dirty boots over the part of the portal that had been mopped up by Alfred.

“Always good days to those who do nothing. Just look at how you have the portal…” he complained, gritting his teeth.

“Hey, how about a lil enthusiasm? It’s almost Christmas Eve” the other man didn’t seem to pay attention. His violet eyes focused on Alfred’s, who sensed tension build on his body. After a deathly silence, the man finally smiled lightly, without breaking the eye contact. His expression contrasted abruptly with his smile, which made the situation more eerie.

“I hope we see each other in the president’s reunion, yankee,” Braginsky said his words with latent disdain. As he walked away, Alfred and Kiku exhaled a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. As time went by, Alfred spoke again, although his voice was quieter this time.

“That’s Ivan Braginsky, from 2nd A. He’s the creep of the building, ‘has a lot of money that no one knows where he gets, that sorta thing. He’s supposed to live with his mother, although I believe he’s pulled a psycho, if you know what I mean,” as he saw Kiku’s face, Alfred proceeded to calm him down. “Hey, don’t worry, not everyone’s like that. Also, a porter’s work consists in accepting weirdos with a smile, and I’m the fucking best at it. I could me an actor, you know?”

Afterward, someone seemed to walk down the stairs, and they both went quiet. A young man, with blue eyes and golden hair walked through the porter. He wore an angel-like smile, and his scarf was adorably bigger than his coat.

“Good morning,” his voice was lively, and Alfred and Kiku replied instantly. The man smiled at them again and walked in direction to the subway, as they both looked at him with their minds boggled.

“Who was that ?” Kiku had turned red. Alfred had to laugh at that.

“His name’s Tino, but don’t get excited; he’s married,” he said. “Although his husband is in a business trip.”

“Then is he leaving alone?” Alfred clicked his tongue and tilted his head.

“No, he felt lonely and he began living with my father and Arthur Kirkland.”

“Wait,” Kiku looked confused. “Does your father live here?”

Alfred smiled cheekly. “Yeah, kind of. When my parents broke up my father went to live with Arthur. He wanted me to live with them too, but I wanted to be on my own. More… independent, you know,” Kiku was looking at him understandingly, “so I became a porter. It’s pretty nice; they give me a salary but I can sleep in the porter’s lodge.”

“Yes, and I suppose your father and his lover are grateful for it in the end, aren’t they?” Alfred laughed again, and moved his hands frantically.

“No, no, dude! Arthur’s not my father’s boyfriend! Ugh, Arthur’s like —I don’t know, like your ugly friend that pretends he’s so mighty because he’s not hot, that kind of guy,” as he said it, Alfred felt someone punch his back, and he turned to face Arthur Kirkland staring at him with an unpleasant look. “Eh, yes, Arthur Doyle. Of course, Kiku, I was talking about Arthur Doyle, not— Oh, Arthur, I hope you have a good day!”

“Fuck you!” Arthur pushed him to go through the portal, but Alfred grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Hey, don’t go too far; the president’s reunion is in half an hour.”

“Oh, shit! It was today!” Arthur kicked the floor when, for a second, he seemed to lose his balance and fell into the floor. Alfred and Kiku tried to look at him with a serious expression, although their eyes must’ve let Arthur see their funny looks because he looked even more angry. “Oh, fuck off!”

“Come on, Art, let’s go to the president’s house,” Alfred made a motion to pat his back, and Arthur tensed like a cat.

“I’m not even the owner…” he lamented, although Alfred was ignoring him.

“Kiku, man, come with us, I’m sure you’ll love it!” he circled them with his arms and the three men walked towards the 1st A flat.

The living room of the 1st A was big, although old-fashioned, and the wall was merely dominated by paintings. However, most of the neighbours seemed more interested in taking a seat for the reunion that was about to begin.

“Feli, how are ya?” Alfred sat next to Feliciano, one of the Vargas’ sons. The young man was looking down, and shrugged as he looked at his hands. Feliciano opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert Beilschdmidt sat between them.

“Feliciano, amico! That how you say it? I don’t care, honestly… You’re the man I was looking for…” the man had a special look in his eyes, and Feliciano nodded as if he understood what it meant. He made a motion of apology to Alfred and then both men started to exchange whispers, so Alfred opted to keep talking to Kiku.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt, his brother’s the president of the neighbour association. Feliciano Vargas is from the flat 1st B. Some people say he is having an affair with the president, although there’s nothing confirmed.”

“You know a lot about gossips,” said Kiku. Alfred laughed.

“A good porter has to be a good source of information,” Alfred recited, as if he had learnt it from a manual. Someone banged the table and everyone went quiet so the president could speak. Ludwig Beilschmidt spoke this time, and quickly looked at Roman, the Vargas’ godfather, who got up and looked at the neighbours.

“The truth is that I was the one to call the reunion,” he said. “We’ve thought that, in these dates, it could be a good occasion to the community to solve its differences, so I wanted to invite you all to the Christmas’ dinner in our house.”

“Let me state that I believe this would be a great initiative for this, our community,” said Ludwig.

“Definitely better than the invisible friend from last year,” Antonio, from the 1stA, murmured. Gilbert barked a laughter.

“Hey, mes amis, I actually think it is a beautiful idea,” spoke Francis, Alfred’s father, with the manners that his son seemed to lack of in front of everyone. “I mean, for the rest of you. I have plans…”

“Said the playboy,” Gilbert snickered. Everyone started to talk again, and Ludwig’s face appeared to contort.

“If no one has anything useful to say,” he glared at his brother, “I believe we should close the session. Merry Christmas, everyone, or whatever.”

“Thank god it’s over,” Arthur Kirkland left the room murmuring something about a job. Alfred was about to leave as well, but Ludwig restrained him from doing so.

“Alfred, why haven’t you put the Christmas lights yet? We’re almost in Christmas Eve. And you better help Roman with whatever he needs for the dinner, I don’t want to hear that you’ve been lacking off.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alfred. Then he groaned. They didn’t pay him enough for his job.

Arthur arrived to the building in a sourer mood than how he had left. He was sick of it. Sick of being almost forty years old without no stability. Sick of being exploited by manager’s younger than him, and sick of prostituting his knowledge of languages to phony kids from the upper side of town for a nefarious salary. He only wished to get home and make himself a bath, without caring about anything. He walked through the stairs creeping his feet and he let out a curse as he searched for his keys.

“Bloody hell,” he started to bang the door until he convinced himself his flatmates weren’t home. His body seemed heavier as he went to the portal, finding Alfred putting a plastic Christmas tree while talking in the phone. Arthur crossed his arms, and waited until Alfred hung up and tilted his head to look at him.

“What the fuck is that?”

“The building needs a little more Christmas spirit,” Alfred replied. “And it isn’t the only one, scrooge.”

Arthur inhaled through his nostrils. Arguing with this brat would take too much time, so he simply resigned and asked:

“Were you talking to your father? Did he told you when he’ll come back?”

“No, though I suppose he’ll be here in a couple of hours, as always. Is something the matter?”

Arthur groaned. He remembered the humiliation from the morning, and thought about going to the closest bar to wait until Francis would come home while he explored the special Christmas drink. It wasn’t a bad plan, but judging from the swollen vein in his front, he’d need something more effective to relax.

“I left my key. I need you to open the door.”

Alfred made a face and searched through his belt. “Shit,” he murmured. Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“You forgot the please” Alfred smirked at his reaction.

“Go to hell, bloody yankee. You open my damn door.”

“I’m going, I’m going—” they stood before the door. As soon as it was opened, Alfred smiled again. “Something to say?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “for doing your fucking job late,” however, as soon as he completed the sentence Alfred blocked his way through the door. “What the fuck do you want now?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I understand you’re a bitter man but in no way that is a pass to mistreat others, especially when they are helping you,” Alfred was serious, and had mimicked Arthur by crossing his arms too. Arthur didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not helping me! You do this because it is your duty. If Ludwig would’ve left his keys, you’d open his door too,” after he spoke, he pushed Alfred and managed to enter in his flat, although the porter seemed to follow him.

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” Arthur marched through his refrigerator, and grabbed two beers. After an internal debate, he passed one to Alfred, and they both drank while their breaths were the only things heard in the room.

“What was that about?” Alfred repeated. Arthur regretted letting him in, but figured his day wouldn’t be worse for giving in his thoughts.

“I’m nothing, you’re right. Nothing but a bitter man,” Arthur said. “My God, the person with whom I’ve spoken most today is the building’s porter,” he bit his lip, and cuddled in the couch. Alfred seemed to hesitate, but joined him. Arthur concluded he must’ve enjoyed seeing him angry rather than depressed.

“It’s only been a bad day, Art.”

“At the end of a bad month,” Arthur sighed, and took another sip of his beer. “I work hard and then, once I am given a break, I get sad because I don’t have anyone to spend it with. I can’t even go to my relatives’ house because they always remind me of how alone I am,” when he looked up, he saw Alfred’s expression shift, and figured he must’ve been crying. Alfred seemed to find a certain comfort in his misery, because he began talking about himself too.

“They all think I am worth nothing. They think I’m inferior and they bark orders without even looking me in the face. I… I suppose I’ve taken it on you because I know you won’t tell Ludwig.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “You don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t either,” was Alfred’s reply. They stared at each other. Alfred looked as if he feared to blink and the magic would disappear when, suddenly, Arthur stepped on his lap. And, before any of them could fathom how, they were kissing, so intensely Arthur thought he’d pass out with how fast his heart was beating.

“Fuck,” Alfred sighed as he exited the ecstasy, and the intoxicating warmth Arthur gave him. Arthur didn’t say anything, although his efforts to catch his breath told Alfred everything he needed to know. Alfred was naked, but he didn’t felt the need to cover himself, and instead rolled until Arthur’s side to lick his neck.

“Oh, God, I’m in heaven…” Arthur sighed. Alfred smiled, although he felt a certain frustration of having to wait until they could do it again.

“You have a cigarette?”

“Uh? You’re not going to smoke in my bed,” Arthur said, in a manner that had lost all the sweetness from before.

“Oh, come on. What’s with you, dude? You also smoke.”

“Because my life is awful. You still have hope, darling,” Alfred clicked his tongue, feeling how his state of calmness he’d managed to find with Arthur was slowly disappearing. Freaking Arthur Kirkland couldn’t hold a nice evening, it seemed. Alfred started to dress up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, well. Leave, I don’t care.”

“Then don’t ask,” Alfred was buttoning his uniform as fast as he could while he picked the garments left in the living room. Arthur followed him, covering himself with a bathrobe that unfortunately highlighted his figure. Alfred tried not to look at him.

“Don’t tell your father,” Arthur warned. Alfred felt even worse, and gritted his teeth.

“Don’t worry; I don’t tend to talk to my father about who I fuck,” he said. “Although I’ve heard you’ve been nominated for the award of the Best Friend of the Year, haven’t you?”

“It was a moment of weakness. I’d let anyone fuck me.”

“Me too,” Alfred prepared to leave, although he stopped just before. He looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye, and found the Englishman bluntly staring at him. “Do you —Do you know how you’ll spend Christmas in the end?”

Arthur looked taken aback, but he ended up answering nonetheless.

“I might go to a party with Francis, if I ever leave my flat at all,” then again, the mention of his father made him anxious. Alfred was sure it was the same for Arthur too. Despite how everyone —including Arthur— often chose to speak in how different Alfred was from his father, he figured Arthur couldn’t help to notice their similarities now.

Once Alfred left, Arthur almost fell on his couch. He decided in fixing himself a cup of tea to control his nerves, when he heard a knock at the door. Arthur attended, cautiously, and the image of Ivan Braginsky at the other side of his room didn’t seem to calm him down.

“Hello, Arthur.”

“Ah, Ivan. How are you? Do you —erm, do you need something?”

“I only wanted to talk, Arthur. We talked a lot before. Do you remember when you used to teach me English?” Arthur nodded slightly. “I have to admit I chose you because I loved your voice. I’ve always loved it. But now I sense it husky. Now that —oh, Arthur, my poor friend— how could you stoop so low?” Arthur felt his blood freeze, and he gulped. It couldn’t be. Oh, dear lord, it couldn’t be…

“This building’s walls are very thin, Arthur,” said Ivan. “I admit that I was surprised in the beginning. After all, I took you for something more than a slave of your needs, but I should thank you: this twist of events has made things much more interesting. In the end, I don’t believe you’d like Mr. Bonnefoy to know how you’ve —oh, how I put it? Abused his trust?” the whole scene appeared to amuse his neighbour, which put Arthur at ease. They exchanged glances and, after some minutes, and decided to speak.

“Do you want a date? Is that it?” But Ivan’s hysterical laugh told him that wouldn’t be the answer.

“Oh, Arthur, no no. You don’t understand. If we do that, the game’s over. I don’t want your body, I’m not going to buy your silence. I thrive the power—and, quite frankly, having the control over you makes this so much more stimulant,” Ivan gave him a crooked smile, and Arthur suddenly lamented being alone in the hallway with him.

“What do you want, then?” Ivan went through his pockets, and took a brown collar with a bell. He handed it to Arthur.

“Firstly, I want you to wear this” he said. “It used to be of my dog, but I believe it will fit you just right. You’ll wear it all the time,” his tone turned more strict. “And you’ll come to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner. My mother, poor ill woman, seems to thing I need a girlfriend to accompany me to the party. But I’ll assure her I only need my dear British dog. Do you understand me?” Arthur nodded, fearing to say anything, and Ivan fondled his lip, pressing his nails so much Arthur thought he’d break the flesh. “Good night, Arthur.”

When Arthur entered his room again, he couldn’t stop thinking of how fucked he was. And, when he couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Ivan having a pet, he shuddered thinking of what was about to come.

Alfred couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It was strange, though foreseeable. Despite his looks, Alfred didn’t have much experience in the topics of seduction. After all, his job took most of his time, and he had considered the neighbours as untouchables until this moment. It was strange to think about it, especially when Arthur was involved. Casual sex shouldn’t have been so complicated, but Alfred knew he had already broke up all the rules related to it. You weren’t supposed to leave in the same building, and Alfred was sure it wasn’t supposed to involve one party knowing the other’s parent. Sex was complicated and Alfred felt that, as the night passed, he was going mad. But the worst part, that was, that Alfred didn’t even know if that had been a bad thing after all.

Finally, he got up and began cleaning the floors. Kiku came over and sighed tiredly, declaring he had been going on strike but that it hadn’t been effective at all. Alfred was about to explain him how strikes worked there but, as he saw the oldies from 1st flat A join their conversation he lost the energy. Feliciano Vargas was there, too, and looked as nervous as the day before, although a few whispers by Gilbert’s side appeared to comfort him. Alfred stood there, mopping the floor for his day while half-listening to their rambling, until he saw Arthur walking towards the portal. Alfred frowned, and thought about commenting on the fact that he hadn’t seen him leave, when he stopped and concluded Arthur probably would’ve avoided him. However, as Arthur came closer, Alfred rushed to the portal’s door, opening it before the other. As Arthur walked through the door, he looked at Alfred with his eyebrows raised.

“You’re one hell of a gentleman,” he finally said, after locking eyes for what appeared to be centuries. Alfred laughed, almost hysterically, and rubbed the back of his head while trying to gain his composure. He just wanted to apologise but he knew the others would be listening, and he felt frustration building upon his figure.

“Are you— I mean, after all— Are you coming to the Vargas’ dinner?” Arthur nodded, and turned to look at the others, who replied too. Within seconds, Alfred heard thumps coming from the stairs, and tilted his head to face Ivan Braginsky stepping to the lodge, in a lively pace.

“Arthur,” Ivan came to his side, and pulled Arthur in an embrace. Gilbert arched his eyebrows with an amused smile, while Antonio murmured something and Alfred bluntly stared at the scene before him. “I’m glad you liked the necklace,” his big hands tinkled the jingle bel while Arthur appeared to shudder because of the coldness of the hands. “It was a good gift: now I can always know when you’re close.”

“Arthur, is everything all right?” Alfred wished Arthur would say that no, it wasn’t right for Ivan to touch him so much, and that please, Alfred, be my hero, I love you, oh Alfred, let’s fuck like bunnies because we love each other and I can’t get pregnant, but instead he found Arthur nodding while looking in his direction.

“Don’t worry, Al. It’s fine. We’ll… see each other this night, in —in the dinner, I believe,” he said. He started to walk the stairs with that Russian creep following him. As they were out of sight and the conversation started again, Alfred’s stomach started to sink. The only reason why Braginsky had walked down the stairs in the first place had been to escort Arthur, or whatever the hell he had in mind.

“I want you to sniff my scarf as soon as Alfred walks into the room until I give it to you,” said Ivan, once he invited Arthur into his house. Arthur noticed the room was cold, and Ivan didn’t seem to make any motion to turn on the lights, which made the scene more strange. Ivan seemed to have grown familiar with barking orders, as he had already spent half of the day with his phone buzzing with ridiculous requests his neighbour had given him.

Arthur bit his lip. “Why do you hate him so much? We already agreed that I would help you with—” at that moment, Ivan covered Arthur’s mouth with his hands. Arthur tried to struggle, but it was useless. Ivan’s pupils looked dilated, and Arthur worried his own heart would escape his chest.

“Mother is close. You do not disturb her,” Ivan said, without letting him go. Arthur nodded frantically, and Ivan smiled as if he was flattered. Soon enough he let go, and his arm blocked the entrance of the flat.

Arthur feared if his teeth would begin clenching if he didn’t say something. “I just —ah, I said —I don’t think it’s necessary to involve Alfred in all this.”

“Alfred became involved in all this when he decided to put it in you,” Arthur couldn’t help to blush at Ivan’s words. Ivan gritted his teeth. “You won’t talk to Alfred for the rest of the day. Not the dinner, nor whatever perverted dream you might have. Am I clear?”

“I honestly don’t know why you hate Alfred so much,” Arthur said. By the look of Ivan’s eyes, he knew he shouldn’t have said that, but Ivan replied nonetheless.

“Haven’t you seen this man? It is the filth of the building. He’s nothing, neither is he good at anything other than acting as if he’s entitled to anything. He walks over the lodge as if he owns the place, smiling and chuckling at everyone he crosses his path with. He is like a child; a selfish, spoiled child, and for some reason everyone seems to humour him. I used to watch him every day —mother said I shouldn’t do it, but I couldn’t be a good boy, I couldn’t— couldn’t stop looking at him,” Arthur was staring at him wide eyed, but dared not to move away. Ivan continued. “Then I saw you confronting him and I— oh, Arthur, I was so glad you did it. Me and mother chuckled our heads off that day,” Arthur opened his mouth to correct his expression, but decided to remain quiet in a better judgement. “I knew you’d understand me. But then he— he put his paws on you! Oh, you little lion, he played you and I— I felt like you failed me. But it doesn’t matter now, because I am the one deciding. I’ll make sure you stay out of this evil yankee way, Arthur, yes I will,” he paused again. He looked at Arthur from head to toe, and Arthur could swear he saw his eyes glow. “Wear that green sweater of yours tonight, and the tightest jeans you own,” he said, and silence struck the room. Arthur mumbled a reply, and found Ivan was still staring at him. Arthur couldn’t breath.

“Erm, I— I believe I have to water my plants. May I —May I go, Ivan?” he gestured Ivan’s arm that still blocked the way. Ivan slowly put his arm away.

“You can go,” he said. Before Arthur could leave, however, he heard Ivan say something else. “I believe you should bear in mind I will have a talk with the yankee if I don’t see you there. If you happen to get lost by watering the plants, that is,” Arthur gulped and, once he left the house, let the goosebumps roam through his body. HE didn’t want to stay in the building anymore, so he decided he’d take a walk before preparing himself for the dinner, with the intention of avoiding thinking about the matter for as long as he could, as well as his sudden urge to hold Alfred. What was wrong with him? He was the one been threatened, blackmailed or— Arthur wasn’t sure he even wanted to know— and he was thinking of him, that —that man who had made it clear for him that he thought everything had been a mistake. It was ridiculous, more than that even. It was delusional.

“Oh, my god, oh my god. Tino, my friend, come here!” Francis spoke from the other flat. Tino marched toward him, and Francis let him look through the peephole.

“—That Arthur?”

“Yes!”

“Leaving… Braginsky’s… house?” Tino looked puzzled. “What could he be there for? Does he— are we out of sugar or something?”

Francis stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds, until Tino’s expression changed.

“You don’t think he’s the one Arthur is—?”

“Oh, of course he is!” Francis jumped to the couch in an excited manner. “Those pants we found must’ve been from someone as tall as him, non? Oh and— and the colours, Tino! We knew that russkie was proud of his country, so proud that of course he would have underwear of the colours from his flag! I told you none of my lovers had left them here!” Tino nodded repeatedly, raising his arms so Francis would stop bouncing.

“I know, I know. I apologise, but what could I think? Arthur’s so— I can’t believe it, he and creepy Braginsky…”

“We always knew our cher Arthur had a bizarre taste for lovers,” Francis covered his face as he chuckled loudly. “You know what we are going to do. Don’t you, Tino?”

“Hmm?”

Francis turned to look at him: his eyes lit with both malice and amusement. “We’re going to the Vargas’ Christmas dinner, mon ami.”

Rudolph the red nose reindeer had a very shiny nose and if you ever saw it you would even say it glows…

“Shit, do we really need to listen to Christmas carols all the evening?” Gilbert complained stretching his hair. Antonio clicked his tongue.

“It’s Christmas, this shit’s time. Don’t make drama out of it.”

“Oh, you shut up. You’re so bitter since Lovi dumped you.”

“Hey, I was bitter before too,” he said, when Tino and Francis sat next to them. “Oh, you look at them. The good and the bad boy. Where’s the ugly?”

Francis smirked. “I take he’ll come soon. Oh, look, Tino! The seats are assigned!” he gestured the signs next to every chair, and proceeded to change Arthur’s.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Gilbert said as he saw Francis put the sign next to Ivan’s. Francis gave him a sardonic smile, and exchanged a look with Tino, who nodded briefly. When the couple of the night had arrived, Ivan smiled and pulled Arthur from his sleeve towards their sits. Alfred came in not much later.

“Alfred, cher, how are you?” his father kissed his cheeks, but Alfred’s eyes were focused on Arthur, at the opposite side of the table. Arthur seemed to ignore him awkwardly, which made Alfred stare at him with more intensity. Francis catched it up, although he didn’t seem to pick on Alfred’s real intentions. “Ah, you’ve seen it too. Our dear Arthur, as pure as Virgin Mary, has a boytoy. ‘s strange to think about it, isn’t it?”

“You’re making this up. Poor oldies are senile, you shouldn’t listen to them.”

“Oh, but we saw,” Tino hunched his body towards Alfred. “They entered Ivan’s flat really close, and then we saw Arthur leave more breathless than that time he thought there was a ghost in the house,” the pair snickered. “Oh, yes! And they were whispering —like two lovers, arranging their next “secret” meeting. And Gil says he saw Ivan giving Arthur this necklace that he’s wearing now.”

Alfred didn’t even want to look. He felt sick, and just wanted to take Arthur from Ivan’s sight. Was he being selfish? Alfred knew he was, especially the more he thought about his attitude the day before. Alfred sighed: he’d been wanting to apologise to him and his guilt seemed to burn his insides.

And now they were there, and Alfred couldn’t help to think that Arthur was wearing that sweater that hightlighted his figure so much, exposing it at whatever things Ivan Braginsky was thinking on doing to him.

“Hello, where is Ludwig?” Feli interrupted his thoughts. He sat next to Alfred, carrying what looked like a present with him. “I had— I had a surprise for him.”

“He told me he’d be coming,” said Gilbert, and patted Feli on the back. Roman walked to the table carrying a dish of roasted lamb and potatoes.

“Well,” said Roman, “I believe we should start eating now. I’ll leave the door open if anyone else wants to come,” but, just before anyone could taste the Vargas’ dinner, a certainly disheveled Ludwig Beilschmdt stormed into the room.

“Feliciano, I want to break up with you.”

“What?!” Feli stood up, with his face red and eyes that looked as if he’d been punched.

“What the fuck are you talking about, brother?” said Gilbert. Ludwig looked daggers at him while walking towards them.

“You shut up! This is all your fault! You couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy, could you! You just had to steal my boyfriend!”

“What is he talking about?” murmured Alfred.

“Oh my god! Are you an item?” Francis exclaimed, but Ludwig ignored him and, before anyone could stop him, he threw himself upon his brother. Soon enough, they started wrestling in the living room, while Feli and Antonio tried to separate them. At the same time, the Christmas carols were interrupted by presumably rude German idioms. Francis looked between them, amused to the bone.

“And there was I thinking the cherry on top would be Arthur’s new boyfriend,” immediately, Arthur made a sound as if he’d just choked with his drink, and opened his eyes wide.

“Did you tell them?!” he spit out, glaring at Ivan, and the neighbours whistled by the revelation.

“What did you do to him?!” Alfred yelled. “You’re sick! I don’t know what you’ve done to Arthur to convince him of this, but I’m not going to allow you taking advantage of him.”

“What are you talking about?” Ivan seemed to challenge him. “I think the only one who’s taken advantage of Arthur is you,” with the last statement, Alfred jumped to their side and grabbed Ivan by the collar. He pushed him to the floor, while Ivan kicked his legs as hard as he could. Ludwig and Gilbert were still fighting, silencing the uncontrolled cries of Feli. Alfred punched Ivan as hard as he could, while he was sure Ivan pretended to kill him right there. As soon as he scratched Alfred’s neck, Ivan freed himself from the grip and yelled something that could be heard across the whole building.

“Arthur and Alfred had sex yesterday!”

“What?!” for the first time of the night, the playful smile Francis had been wearing was gone. Tino grabbed him, but Francis tried to escape by kicking the air. “Let me go! Sacre bleu! Arthur Kirkland! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, fils de pute!”

Sitting in one of the dinner’s chairs, godfather Roman cursed between his teeth.

“I just wanted a normal Christmas eve,” he murmured.

“So,” the police officer broke the silence, looking through his notebook, “You wanted to give your boyfriend a paint of you but he thought you were cheating on him?” Feliciano nodded, and Ludwig looked down in shame. “All right, that’s clear. You can go,” he said, and they both left the flat. Ivan left with them after being asked by the other officer, and offered the couple they could clean themselves on his house, as it had more towels.

“But don’t go into the room,” he warned playfully, following them to their path.

Gilbert was on the ambulance, complaining about how his perfect nose would be crooked thanks to his brother’s stubbornness.

“And you…” the officer looked at Arthur, “You screwed your friend’s son, who’s also the building’s porter, and accepted go to the Christmas Eve’s dinner with your neighbour, who hates your friend’s son, if he would keep the secret?” When confronted with the absurdness of his plan, Arthur couldn’t help to nod. “Man, you’re an asshole.”

“I know. I’ll talk to my flatmate about it.”

“Then I’d do it soon; we’ve given him a couple of tranquilizers,” the officer gestured towards Francis, who sung French carols while remained lied down on the Vargas’ couch. “Is there something else? I mean, we’re normally used to some kind of conflict in Christmas Eve, but this is by far the worst,” he said before leaving. Alfred, who was putting himself ice on his left eye, inched closer as Arthur finished his statement.

“You accepted to be with that creep just to protect me?”

“It wasn’t just for you; I also didn’t want Francis to kill me,” Arthur fumed, and saw Alfred looking at him from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Cut the crap, Arthur. We’ve gone through everything that could be wrong in a relationship without having one. Don’t you think it’s a signal?”

“A signal to what?”

“A signal to be together,” Alfred spoke fast. He breathed in, as if to gather strength. “Oh, Arthur, this days have been hectic. I’m —I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t know what to do and then I saw that you were with Ivan and I… I didn’t know what to think. I tried to don’t care but… But I care, and I want to care, Arthur. I think I like you,” Alfred said. Arthur’s face seemed to heat. “Do you think we might try to work it out?”

Arthur stared at him intently, as if he was thinking about his options. After some time, he took the necklace off and, once he was free, smiled at Alfred.

“I don’t know, Alfred, but I do think you’re smart enough to know we’re under mistletoe and I want to kiss you very, very much.”

#usuk #christmas #usuk fanfiction #fluff #crack fic #aph america #aph england #aph russia #aph france #face family #soap opera #human au

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klstheword · 7 years ago

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In the pecking order of Christmas stories, A Christmas Carol is second only to the baby Jesus. Even if you’ve never read it, or had it read to you, you know about that flinty-hearted miser Ebenezer Scrooge and his redemption during one long dark night of the soul.

Bill Murray, Albert Finney, Michael Caine and Alastair Sim have all played Scrooge in one of the endless film remakes and reboots there have been over the years. Now comes the story behind the story, The Man Who Invented Christmas: a heavily fictionalised biopic with Dan Stevens playing Charles Dickens, bashing out A Christmas Carol in six weeks after contracting a nasty dose of writer’s block in 1843. Thanks to the success of Oliver Twist, Dickens is literary-rock-star famous. But at 31, after a handful of flops, he has a gnawing anxiety that his powers are on the wane. And with four kids, another baby on the way and debts piling up, he needs to make some serious cash, fast.

The film is a Quality Street treat for the holidays, with a gooey sweet centre – daft but immensely likable, and performed with pantomime gusto by a top-notch cast. Dickens yomps about London, meeting people who inspire the creation of Scrooge, Tiny Tim and the gang. These characters then literally come to life in his study as he writes, and they’re an unruly bunch, ruthlessly mocking his failure to finish his comeback. (Christopher Plummer is terrific as Scrooge.)

And with his flamboyant star turn as Dickens, there’s Stevens, a man who finally looks to be laying to rest his own ghost of Christmas past. Cast your mind back to 2012, when the shock death in the Downton Abbey Christmas special of his beloved character Matthew Crawley had the faithful crying into their sherry glasses.

Unlike many actors, Stevens is not at all uptight when chatting about the character who made him famous. Nevertheless, in the past five years, he has done everything possible to distance himself from Crawley, the interloping heir to the Downton pile. He has cross-dressed in the cult favourite Vimeo show High Maintenance, murdered with psychopathic charm in The Guest, freaked out on the Marvel TV spin-off Legion and locked up Emma Watson in Beauty and the Beast. He even looks different these days. Gone is the floppy blond hair, and the once boyish face is chiselled into sharp angles. Stevens credits the weight loss to moving to New York where he finds it easier to look after himself, working out at the gym and cutting out dairy.

Different, too, has been the reception granted Stevens’s post-Downton work. A pleasantly surprised tone crept into reviews, a perceptible sound of critics retracting knives and grudgingly acknowledging that, oh hang on, he’s actually a bit good, isn’t he? Stevens throws his head back laughing when asked how he feels about this change in critical fortunes. “It’s interesting. You do one show that goes everywhere, and people associate you with that. Do I think Downtown is my best work? Probably not. But if people enjoy it, or if that’s what they think of when they think of me, so be it. It served me well.” If he is offended by the question, he is too polite to say. Dan Stevens is scrupulously polite, so careful with his words that he often leaves you wondering what he really thinks.

Stevens studied English at Cambridge and was a Booker prize judge in 2012, reading 146 novels in seven months (the Downton costume team stitched secret pockets into his jackets for his Kindle). But he shrugs when I ask about historical accuracy, or the lack of it, in his latest film. (The Man Who Invented Christmas has been criticised by experts for, among other things, the inaccurate size of its newspaper headlines.) “Frankly, whether it’s historically accurate I’m not that concerned about. I was interested in that moment of the creative process, watching a great man struggle – to me, that’s dramatically and comedically interesting. Certainly I was keen not to play Dickens as a bearded old sage.”

He tells me that one of his co-stars, Miriam Margolyes, has a theory that Dickens was bipolar. Does Stevens buy that? “It’s a very interesting interpretation. I think there’s something to be said for it…” he tails off.

Needless to say, the film does not dwell on Dickens’s iffy relationships with women. (A year before publishing A Christmas Carol, he had this to say about his wife in a letter to a friend: “Catherine is as near being a donkey as one of her sex can be.”) “I think he was a good father and a terrible husband,” Stevens says diplomatically. “But yeah, I think it being a Christmas film, we wanted it to be fairly full of laughter. I don’t wish to take anything away from the man, and therefore you have to address the dark side of his nature and his work. There were moments when he was bleak and depressive. But I think there were moments when he was great fun to be around, very silly and playful.” I must say that, having watched the film, I’m still none the wiser about which yuletide customs Dickens has bragging rights on. Pudding, definitely. Turkey? Mistletoe?

Stevens loves Christmas, unironically, in a full-on, festive jumpers and stockings-hanging-on-the-fireplace kind of way. “I always have. Our house is pretty lively at Christmas,” he says. He is married to the singer Susie Hariet and they have three children. Family festivities at their gaff kick off on Christmas Eve, watching The Muppet Christmas Carol. Who does the cooking? “My mum and I usually team up. We’re quite a formidable duo in the kitchen.”

Stevens is well-spoken but not as posh as he seems. Now 35, he was adopted at seven days old, and raised in Wiltshire, Essex and Brecon in Wales. He spent his early teenage years rebelling against anything and everything, but still got the grades to win a scholarship to a prestigious boys’ boarding school in Kent at 13. He wasn’t happy, feeling isolated and as if he didn’t fit in with the other kids. What was going on? “I dunno. I guess I didn’t always toe the line,” he answers a tad testily, and with a definite air of finality.

I mention that going to a top university from a comprehensive, I always felt envious of the privately educated kids who never questioned whether they were talented enough to be in the room. “The entitlement thing is a problem,” Stevens says. “It’s interesting, living in America and seeing a different system. It’s definitely got as many flaws, but there is a sense that your own achievement and drive and curiosity can achieve great things, in a way that I think is stifled in Britain.”

By the time he landed Downton, Stevens had already toured the US opposite Rebecca Hall in a production of As You Like It, and appeared on stage in the West End with Judi Dench. Did he feel any disgruntlement at the time – being a Serious Actor suddenly lumped in with a Sunday night soap opera? He shakes his head: “I never felt that people weren’t taking me seriously. I did appreciate that some people were watching Downton with a kind of ironic appreciation – perhaps the Guardian readership particularly…” he shoots me a grin, adding: “and my friends, too. But no. There was no resentment. I still see a lot of the guys. It changed all of our lives. It had a seismic effect on all our careers.”

It goes without saying that appearing in a show watched by 12 million people opened doors that appearing in off-Broadway Shakespeare never could. But as soon as he left the show he bolted for New York. What was that all about? Did the comparisons to the young Hugh Grant scare him out of the country? “No! I was just very excited about the work I was afforded over there. People there were prepared to see me do something dark and weirder. Or something action-y and mental. Or something big and silly, like Night at the Museum. It couldn’t have turned out better.”

As for Dickens, he got his instant classic. A Christmas Carol sold out its first run of 6,000 copies before Christmas Eve. The tale melted hearts of even the most dyed-in-the-wool cynics – one American businessman gave his staff an extra day’s holiday. Not that Dickens made the killing he’d hoped for. After getting carried away with gilt lettering and fancy paper, he never trousered the £1,000 he had banked on. God bless us, every one.

The Man Who Invented Christmas is out in the US; released in the UK on 1 December

#film #dan stevens #charles dickens #the man who invented christmas #culture #cooking Christmas Dinner with Mum

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sarcasticace · 7 years ago

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SarcasticReview: Rules Newlyweds aka you THOUGHT I was done writing AntiRoE posts.

Warning, this post gets LOOOOOOONNNNNNG.

So, Rules of Engagement book 4 aka Rules: It’s-been-one-year-since-we’ve-been-married-weds.

I mean... Newlyweds. Rules: Newlyweds. Yes, that’s it. Even though they’re not newlywed anymore, but... I guess to us, they are, even though it has been a year. Yearlyweds.

Anyway.

The epilogue no one really wanted... well, most of the tumblr fandom didn’t really want. For a short time, actually, it kinda felt like it was going to be a full book. Persoanlly, I didn't think RoE needed an epilogue. The chapter before the RoE B3 finale felt like a great ending point. Remember? All the siblings released nana’s ashes out to sea like she wanted, but then they had to stretch the book’s ending out with the brother’s proposal to Elena. Really, that should’ve been before the wedding. It killed the pacing. But I’m getting sidetracked. I didn’t think RoE needed an epilogue book. TC&TF didn’t get one. It’s epilogue was stuffed at the end of the final chapter of B3 and it was still really good. Why is RoE so special? I mean, yeah, TFM got an epilogue book, but that’s an ongoing series and it felt more like a summer special than an epilogue anyways.

Regardless, I have to say, Newlyweds did a good job as epilogue for the most part. Though it wasn’t exactly how I would have liked it to go, personally, they tied up the twin’s and the cousin’s storylines pretty well. For the twins, my complaint are more opinion based. I would’ve preferred party!twin go into cooking rather than... being a tour guide for her sister’s virtual vacation company. I kinda wanted her to work with Mira and Blake, maybe be in charge of the front area+the waiters/waitresses.

Aria (Big-Sis!MC), however, I don’t fully understand what her storyline was even suppose to be in this book. Apparently, going by the summary, she tasked herself with bringing her family back together ever since they grew apart or something in the year since B3. The thing is, it doesn’t even seem that way. It just feels like they’re all busy with their lives and/or jobs. You know, jobs, Aria? The thing you haven’t had since the beginning of RoE. I mean, understandable then, you were on summer vacation... idk if it was a vacation from work or... a vacation from... not working? Do we know what she did? There was something about wanting to go back to work in the early chapters of B4. I mean, I guess it’s fine since she’s a millionaire or something now. Anyways, getting back to my point. Other than trying to bring the family back together even though there’s no need, Aria serves to add more pointless drama. Case in point, she invites Aunt Mallory to her family get together with no reasons as to why she’d do such a thing until the finale. At that point, the players choose why she did it. Either we embrace our aunt like we’re happy to see her or tell her we have our eyes on her/we only invited her for free gifts. That... bothers me. First off, no. Players wouldn’t have invited her in the first place. They ain’t that dumb. Don’t put Aria/the book’s dumb ass decisions on us. Second, Aunt Mallory doesn’t even do anything. She’s pretty insignificant to B4, but hey...

It wouldn’t be RoE if we didn’t have nonsense drama that doesn’t lead to anything.

Speaking Aunt Mallory, she gets a redemption arc this book just like we all thought she would and it’s as half assed as we thought. She’s trying really hard guys. You know, after she found our their grandmother left her something in her will. A lake house. She finally decides to NOT be a total ass, putting children and her own family in danger, when she gets something out of the will she always thought she should’ve since the book began.

Moving on.

Violet (Mean!cousin), like the twins, doesn’t have much of a story either, but that’s because instead, like the twins, her overall story since the first book is wrapped up. Like it should be in any epilogue. She’s really embraced mom-hood and it was quite enjoyable to see. I still can’t believe she named her child after nana with all the bullshit she pulled. If it were me, I would’ve said the name would die with me. I mean, I AM in that position, technically. No kid, though, but... I’m getting sidetracked. I guess that just goes to show how far she’s come. Chaz is... still Chaz. Kinda annoyed. I mean, I like him and all. He’s sweet, but his bird thing got real old real fast. Now, Violet’s relationship with her mother this book is also interesting and how it circles back to nana. Violet realizes her relationship with Nana was rocky at best and didn’t want that for Amelia with Aunt Mallory... so she’s trying to mend things with her mother which I found AMAZING. Looking back to B1, I never would’ve thought Violet would become my favorite character from ALL of the Choices book, but here we are. She’s the mean girl done write (like Olivia). Take notes, Becca writers.

Now we move on to Elena and Luke (Big-Bro!MC). I had HOPED they would address how quickly their relationship has progressed, how short a time they were actually dating before Luke proposed. Also, I had HOPED they’d address the fact that Luke didn’t even come up with the idea of proposing. Nana forced him to. B1-3 lasted... let’s say 3 months. A month, let’s say, was spent with them pretending to be dating before developing true feelings for one another and they really started dating. At the max, they were dating for 2 months before Luke proposed.... forced to propose. Remember this. Put a pin in it. I’m making this point for a reason. Now, Luke’s big story this book isn’t NOT addressing the things I mentioned above, but rather Luke’s already been married despite the team SAYING they had been planning RoE out for months and canon material said no one other than Aria had gotten remotely close to being married.

I got this screencap from tumblr. Sorry, I do not recall from who. My apologies.

Elean is pissed that Luke never told her about this ex-wife. Understandable, but... come on. Some members of the fandom theorized it might’ve been a drunken or young love mistake, but that’s the thing: this is never talked about again until the finale. You can’t even say he kept it a secret because Aria literally has a picture from... idk, a family album. Even her husband knows about her.

It wouldn’t be RoE if we didn’t have nonsense drama that doesn’t lead to anything.

From Chapter 2 onwards, Elena is always seen pissy face at Luke who is just awkwardly pretending everything is fine and trying to make it right like a silly sitcom gag. The moment after the cliffhanger chapter is skipped in favor of a Historia (party!twin)-centered chapter (thank GOD tho) so we don’t even get to see what Elena’s immediate reactions or thoughts are. She’s just mad now. In fact, she’s mad for the rest of the book until the chapter before the finale where Elena and Luke seem okay having worked things out, quickly running up to use Aria’s bedroom in a very questionable scene. It’s okay, they were just hiding a puppy... in her bedroom... a young, very noisy and probably troublemaking puppy... alone... in her BEDROOM. I mean, sure, the pet they get is player determinant, but still. So here comes the finale. Flashback to BEFORE that scene. Elena and Luke finally talk in the pet store. Luke tells Elena about his ex-wife that we’ve ALL been dying to hear (if you don’t read that as sarcastic, I petty you) and get the lamest, shortest conclusion to this plot point. It’s not even a story, the ex-wife doesn’t even get a name. The entirety of the story is this: “To be honest, it was so long ago I don’t even think much about her. We eloped and there wasn’t even a real ceremony. We got divorce pretty soon after that. I don’t even count her as an ex-wife.” First off, that’s a sneaky way around the previous point I had made about going against canon facts, but whatever. You do you. Second, this is it!?! You made a big deal, stretched out Elena being made for, idk, 3 or 4 out of 5 chapters for this! Thirdly and most importantly, getting back to the point I told you to put a pin in, Luke ELOPED, maybe in Vegas or something, then got divorced soon after. Don’t you think think this might make Elena think twice about this whole getting married so quickly? Shouldn’t Nana and Luke have back when this was his task? Obviously, the RoE team didn’t think this through and that just... bothers me. I love the characters in this book, I see the AMAZING potential it has and the lessons it COULD be telling about love and marriage and stuff, but it just... doesn’t and instead tells these dramatic and unnecessary stories. Sure, people defend this by saying RoE is like a soap opera drama or whatever, it’s SUPPOSE to have dumb drama, but... idk... excuse me for wanting RoE to be BETTER than your typical soap opera drama.

Now, the ending to RoE’s ending. It ends how it began... kinda. It started on a cruise, but ended on a sail boat. They’re both boats and they have their family together, whatever. It was a weird scene because, right before getting on the boat, there was a strange filter. Like a bad Instagram post. Anyways, I like how it ended similar to how it started. That’s what I liked about TC&TF’s ending. but... unlike RoE players get to choose whether or not Kenna starts a family with their chosen LI or have more adventures while RoE, a book about marriage and love and family, doesn’t give you that choices. Kenna is a main character, MC is a my character. You’d think PB would give the RoE the option of kids since they’re player customizable while Kenna is their own character. And that’s how it ends. Aria says she’s having twins and then cue credits. Come on.

Anyways, conclusion time. B4 wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but hey...

It wouldn’t be RoE if we didn’t have nonsense drama that doesn’t lead to anything.

B4 was pretty good wrapping up some of the character’s stories for the most part so.... yay! It’s over.

#AntiRoE

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corvixa · 5 years ago

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I haven't actually watched these films, my house blew up and my life became chaos and when it settled I was told Tony died and went, welp. Fanfic here I come and fell down a pit of Winteriron. So, I first read this note in a fanfic.

Now. I don't like Steve. It is 100% irrational hatred born from my childhood, being gone for Tony Stark age 5 and not being allowed comics because they're a 'boy thing'. All I had was what my brother left when he moved out (we have big age differences in my fam, so he was married and out when I was 5). Now he, he liked Captain America and virtually nothing else. No range. (Also, I don't really like my brother, and I have soap opera worthy drama there).

So, even when I grew up and held my dad hostage with the computer network he'd had me rig for the pub at 13 to get my own comics (Only just now, writing that, realise that is kind weird.) I'd developed a pretty heavy dislike for Steve.

I went into the Avengers trying to be good. I did. My friend was a bonkers cap fan and he was so excited. I twitched all through the Hellicarrier scene, I managed until that line at Thor. You know the one. My Pagan, Heathen ass just straight up office style glared at my friend who nodded at me, in my favour.

But I legit thought that the letter was a fanfic creation by a person who hated Steve to my level and intentionally wrote it to make him seem like a douche.

Then I saw it again. And again. And by then my partners were watching all the films to make sense of my ramblings and "Philly, it's 4am and you've been talking about vibranium for 2 hours." to "Oh god, she walked past the room when Wanda was on, she'll only rant as long as she can stand. It's OK."

(They each have their own special interests and if I sit through Tolkienesque lectures on the reg, I'm allowed to marvel vomit on them. Our other partner just tolerates our autistic asses and has normal discussions.)

So, I asked them. Was this a part of the film and I was shocked to find yes. Yes it was. I've now seen some scenes, only stuff I wanted to include in my fics, where I watching the clips on YouTube.

This letter is just, all kinds of awful. Also, been on his own since he was 18?!?! So, uh, we just pretend the Howlies didn't exist? Steve has had constant good relationships. A mother who genuinely loved him and used their last penny's to get him medical attention from his dumb ass fights. Bucky had been with him for years and ended up in the Howlies. Which he lead. Despite practically no training.

Waking up 70 years in the future is hard, and, I feel for the dude.

But your problems are never an excuse to dump on other sodding people!

And he had plenty of time to actually learn how the world had changed.

Also. He wasn't sparing Tony. That was a conscious decision he woke up with every day and chose because he was scared of loosing his unlimited resources. In that instance he rated his friendship with Tony as beneath Tony's resources.

Tony isn't perfect. It's why I latched on to him as the strange child who did maths puzzles when handed paper instead of drawing (I was a weird kid, I primarily spoke a language my parents didn't 😂). He was a dick, he had depth. In all the different versions, in different worlds, he was never a flat character. He suffered and persevered like he didn't know how NOT to. Like he didn't know how to stop. Good or bad.

Perfect characters, they suck. They buy into their own narrative. Steve, bought into his narrative in MCU. he bought into himself as an authority. That his opinions were a bit more than anyone else's.

I have read some fanfics where I liked Steve. But those fics, they made him a person rather than a cardboard cut out that MCU came up with, crap like that letter.

So yeah. I legit thought that this letter was written by an author in an anti-cap fic to make him look worse. Which, really is saying something.

When someone apologises to you, they should not spend the majority of that apology talking about themselves, and their feelings, and their intentions.

When someone apologises to you, it should not be ‘because you are hurt’, as though its your feelings that are the problem, rather than what they did. They should be telling you that they wish they hadn’t done it, not that they wished you felt something more convenient about it.

They should give you at least one sentence that simply accepts that they did a bad thing, and you have a right to feel bad about it - without qualifying it with an explanation of what they meant you to think, or why they were still a good guy when they did it.

When someone apologises to you, they shouldn’t put it on you to understand their perspective - this is meant to be an indication that they’ve understood yours.

They should not end by saying that they still think *you’re* a good person, in spite of them having to apologise - that implies that they’re treating this apology as a concession to you, or a kindness on their part, rather than waiting to see if you’ll be kind enough to accept it.

An apology shouldn’t read like a press statement.

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blschaos3000-blog · 6 years ago

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Its 7:15 pm sunny

Welcome to another edition of “8 Questions with…….”

I admire and respect strong women and I always have. From my mother Anna who was a surgical nurse to my Lori Ann,I have always been attracted to women who know what they want in life and are comfortable in their own skins. In doing this interview series I feel for the most part that I have really been so lucky to have met a lot of supremely talented and hard working women. They have come from all over the world and are young and older,learning and wise,multi-ethnic and independent. So you know I was pretty excited to have a chance to meet Mia Scozzafave. Originally from Brazil,she has moved to Los Angeles and is making a name for herself rather quickly. She has a wicked sense of humor,isn’t afraid of new challenges and overcoming barriers to get where she wants to go. And yes,she is drop dead beautiful….but not afraid of sitting in a makeup chair for hours for a role. Mia will be dropping quite a few films in the near future and you’ll get a chance to see just how good this young lady is. And we are hoping for that cheetah sidekick role….. But for now,let’s meet Mia and ask her 8 Questions….

Please introduce yourself and tell about the current project you are working on.

I’m a Brazilian actress living in the USA currently working in 4 different movie projects, and 4 others in post production. In 2018, I felt it was time to get fully committed with my acting career, so I started looking for castings and auditions. Right off the bat, I was booked in two films at the same day of audition (The Benevolent and The Oath) and I felt beyond amazed like no other feeling.

I saw this as a sign that I should keep pursuing this passion. After that I booked “Cyborg: The Rise of the Flesh Eaters”, “The Attack of the Unknown” and “Harlee’s Roses” among others. My latest achievement was booking my first lead role in a American feature film; “Los Angeles Shark Attack”. Beyond excited with this role and the responsibility that comes with, specially being a foreign actress and with an accent.

What was growing up in your house like? How important is family to you?

That’s even hard to put in words. I am so lucky to have the best parents and the family that I have. Even though they are far away back in Brazil, they are one of the most important thing in my life. We are very close. I Facetime my mom and dad almost everyday. Like many Latin cultures, we are very attached to each other even when we all grow up and raise our own families. We together just make the family to get bigger and bigger once we find our loved ones. My childhood was very happy. I was born in a city that wasn’t too big, and I was a tomboy. I used to hang out mainly with my cousins at my own age, all boys. My grandfather had a farm in a small city, close by where we lived, and my weekends were mostly there. Climbing and eating fruits from the trees, playing with the livestock in corral, being active and messy all day and running from my parents barefoot when I didn’t want to have lunch yet. I have great memories from that time. I guess because of that time I am still so in love with animals, action and nature. It’s part of my childhood as well part of who I became today.

When did you decide you wanted to become an actress? What steps did you take to make this happen?

Well, I guess part of me always wanted to be an actress since my teen years. But coming from a family that has no performers on it, it was hard for me even to say out loud. It took many many years for me to acknowledge myself. Also Brazil is not a country that being an artist is easily accepted. They are vey few opportunities to be successful, mainly your chance is being cast in one of the Brazilian soap operas made by the two biggest broadcast channels there. And thats it. Many, many talented artists struggle to have even make their expenses, and so many give up. You don’t have many opportunities like freelance jobs or part-time jobs like you might find it here. It’s either a very demanding job or any job at all.

What was your first audition like? What was going through your head and did you get the role?

Hummmm.. as an actress? To be honest, I don’t remember right now. Before acting I was a TV Host for many years. and I do remember that one because it was out of the ordinary. I was in my 2nd year of college and one of my friends had just started as a reporter on a cable TV. They were looking for more reporters and my friend invited me in.

We drove after class to the TV station, and honestly I wasn’t expecting much. I mean, I expected to be hired, get to know how behind the camera works, do some training and maybe became a reporter, one day. But then, I talked and I talked a lot. lol

Me and the TV station owner clicked right away, and he said after 1 hour interview: “Ok, your hired”. I was super happy, ecstatic.

I asked: “When do I start? “

And he says: At 5pm.

Me: When?

He: TODAY! You will be the new reporter for the 5pm news. Marcella will explain to you.

Me: (No answer, just in shock)

No need to say I was so nervous and I thought it was terrible! I had my audition literally “On Air”, but somehow, it worked. A month after that, I got my first TV Show as a TV Host and stayed on this cable TV for 3 years.

You are currently filming “Attack of the Unknown”,what has the experience been like and did Brandon (director Brandon Slagle) provide a good craft table?

Ahahahaaha. Let me start saying that the craft was incredible, I mean smell incredible. I couldn’t have everything I wanted just because I’m trying to cut my meat intake- that was the base of my nutrition (you know, I’m Brazilian), so not much left. But I’m pretty sure I made my shares only with coffee. Delicious coffee all day long.

The Attack of The Unknown is such an unique project to my heart. When I close my eyes and think of “happiness” that’s my happy place.That “set and that people”. I felt a wave of warmth from every single person there. Everything really smooth. Working with actors like Robert LaSardo gave me a new perspective. I felt so comfortable to create, to play, to have fun. That was the moment I knew that I was doing exactly what I suppose to be doing and that’s what I live for… To feel the way I felt when on set.

You are directing your first short film,”Charlotte’s Tea”,what have you leaned about this experience,pro and con.

Oh man, where do I start. So, I decided to do this short just as an experiment. I wanted to know, even not having any proper training as a director/cinematographer, how it would feel like. And of course, it was a spiral of emotions that I could barely handle, I mean I can’t barely handle still.

I’m a very critical person, specially with myself.

Being the person that is responsible for a vision of a movie takes a lot. Telling a story on the screen that conveys the message in a tone that you have in mind is very hard. Of course, after filming, every single time, you watch it and you think of all the things you should’ve done but you didn’t for some reason. I felt frustrated, impotent even stupid. But then when you start putting together on the editing room, you realize that also can be a blessing. It forces you to think out the box and find different ways to tell the story, that many times can be more interesting or surprising.

Also as an actress, I feel I do get a bigger picture now in how to achieve whatever the director needs from me as a performer. I understand that not everything is how it looks like, and you just have to trust with your guts.

What is more of a challenge for you,a fight/death scene or a romantic one? How do you approach these kind of scenes?

A death scene. I mean, I’m pretty comfortable with fight scenes, and romantic scenes. Is hard to say how do I approach each one of them, just because each scene, each character for me, demands a different process. Is the same as asking if I work with Meisner, Adler, Stanislavsky. I don’t. I mean, I studied all of them and I believe is an essential foundation to your work as an actor. But eventually, you discover yourself as an artist and them you use all of these tools and then none of these tools. To me is just a different process, each and every single time.

Have you attended any fan conventions as of yet and if so,what are your feelings about them?

I love them! And is interesting because I always attract a lot of kids and they are so genuine, so fresh. It’s a re-charging to everything I’ve been doing it. Just the exchange of energy from people that enjoy you and want to know more about you as a person, is a powerful happy feeling.

You’re doing a shark movie called “Los Angeles Shark Attack”…is there any truth to the rumor that your character will have a cheetah as a sidekick in the movie? Will this be your first “creature feature”?

Aahahaha. Are you having “inside information” Sir? Who are your sources? Wouldn’t be amazing if we had the cheetah fighting with the shark on the shore?? I’m down for this scene!!!!… lol (Hell yeah,so are we!! – M & P)

What are your three favorite movies of all time and why?

Oh No! I can’t! I was never able to put in a list my favorite movies. Honestly. They are just so many! And to me they change all the time! It depends on the genre! And the phase I’m living in my life. And the ones I watched last… so many variables and so many amazing great movies out there! I love from Death Proof (Quentin Tarantino)) to Sweeney Todd (Tim Burton) to Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick) to Chihiro Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki) and the new Wonder Woman (Patty Jenkins) . So yeah, no way I could make a list.

What do you do to relax when you’re not on a shoot? What of music,books,hobbies do you listen,read and do?

I love exercise. It’s a very important part of my life just because it makes me feel good. And for that I need music. Loud music. On the beach. I can tell my favorite books though. The Secret by Donna Tartt, it’s a fictional novel of 5 friends studying Ancient Greece and murder. It’s superb! And The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. It really resonated with me in my teenager years and still do.

The cheetah and I are flying in for the screening of “Los Angeles Shark Attack” but of course we’re a day early and you’re stuck playing tour guide,what are we doing?

Los Angeles is such an amazing experience. I love just drive up to “Mulholland Drive” on the weekends (by the way another one of my favorite movies by David Lynch) listening to music and I love and seeing the city up there. I love going to Pacific Palisades beach for a walk or run. Getty Museum is a great option with it’s own beautiful gardens. Hiking at Mandeville Canyon where you can see the ocean. Watch the sunset at Moonshadows or Nobu, if you like sushi. Or have some smoothie at the Beverly Hills Hotel, if the cheetah wants something sweet. Weather is always so nice, and feel amazing to be outside. I just need to make sure to do a special reservation, so the cheetah can hiss and chirp freely for us to have a conversation.

I like to thank Mia for taking the time to chat with me and for being patient. It has been a rollercoaster of a month for me but I’m so glad that Mia understood. Like most working actors,Mia has several ways that new fans can follow her career at and we recommend you do.

You can find Mia on Instagram: @miascozzafave

Facebook @thatbrazilianactress

Website www.miafave.com

IMDB: imdb.me/miascozzafave

Feel free to drop a comment and thank you as always for your support!!

8 Questions with……..actress Mia Scozzafave Its 7:15 pm sunny Welcome to another edition of "8 Questions with......." I admire and respect strong women and I always have.

#8 Questions With #actress #Brandon Slagle #Brazil #creature features #Donna Tartt #family #indie films #reading #Robert LaSardo #science fiction

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ghostofmoriarty · 7 years ago

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Fictional Favorites Tag Game

I was tagged by @yourgoodfriendraichel so here goes I am going to follow in Raichel’s footsteps and put this under a break, because oooh boy did it get long 1. What is your MBTI? It changes every time I take the test, but INTP /INTJ are my most common results

2. What is your Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw. I’m quite the academic these days.

3. Are you a book person or a TV person? I love books on principle, but I love tv so much and it’s so much more CONVENIENT. (this is @yourgoodfriendraichel‘s answer, but it’s so 100% accurate, I’m keeping it)

4. What is your favorite book series? Harry Potter will always have a special place in my heart, as will Percy Jackson and Cirque du Freak. I love Dirk Gently (Douglas Adams was an amazing writer through and through) and Sherlock Holmes because I am garbage for a good detective story. ASOIAF and the entire Tolkienverse (LotR et al) are some of my favorites. Oh! And The Sparrow, there was a sequel so it counts as a series. I haven’t read the sequel yet, but The Sparrow was legitimately one of the greatest books I have ever read and I am super excited to check out the sequel when I have a few days off of work that isn’t dedicated to mowing the lawn (it's been raining sooo much here)

5. What is your favorite TV series? I love so many tv series. Aquabats! Super Show! will always be in my top 10. I am garbage for TURN: Washington’s Spies even though I think it’s kind of terrible, oooh and Dirk Genty’s Holistic Detective Agency, can’t believe I forgot about that one, I was literally just talking about the books. And no matter how angry I get at Doctor Who, I will always return to watch the new season (this last season was really good, thank god) but I think Classic Doctor Who is a thousand times better than the reboot

6. Which fantasy universe would you most like to live in? I don’t know, because in any universe I won’t be the hero (I’m not even the hero/protagonist in THIS universe, so why would it be any different in a fictional one?) so I would need one that I could live happily and not be incinerated by dragons or forced to fight some nobleman’s war. Yeah, I’ve managed to talk myself out of every fantasy universe I could think of. How about Harry Potter? Yeah, sure Hogwarts has a scarily high student fatality rate for a high school and there’s a massive war every couple of decades that wipes out half the generation, but magic would be fun. I think I would take a short life with magic over a long life without it (assuming that I don’t end up a muggle or a squib, of course)

7. Favorite character ever? Finn from Star Wars, Sansa Stark from ASOIAF (note: ASOIAF and NOT GoT), Prince Charles Edward Stewart from Outlander…. That’s a really weird one, but Outlander was one of the most horrible (and uncomfortable) shows I have sat through but I really loved Bonnie Prince Charlie?? He was just an idealistic ray of sunshine in this bland, bleak wasteland of a tv show. He wouldn’t make the list if my hatred for the show was any lessened, but because I hate the show so much, my love for him is exemplified immensely. Anyway, Theodore “TBag” Bagwell from Prison Break, the entire cast of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, Pietro Maximoff (and 99% of all XMen), Sauron, etc. So many.

8. Character you would like to personally slap in the face: Abe Woodhull from TURN: Washington’s Spies. He’s terrible, through and through.

9. Character you would like to personally murder: CHLOE FROM LIFE IS STRANGE. I WOULD HAVE MURDERED HER SO HARD IF MY GAME DIDN’T GLITCH ON THE LAST LEVEL. *she’s a terrible human whose manipulative and abusive. WLW deserve better options in both general representation and romanceable wlw characters in video games

10. Character you would gladly intern under: Any of the Xmen (can I be a plucky assistant who has a really lame super power but still tries to help, please???) OOOOOH and Larten Crepsley from Cirque du Freak (I LOVE HIM, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW also he is in my top 5 favorite characters of all time, so I can’t believe I left him out in the fave character section)

11. Character you would totally have tea with: I don’t drink tea, but I’d probably go on a late-night coffee run with the entire Star Wars cast or Aquaman. Aquaman probably hates coffee though, so The Riddler? Edward Nygma seems like an “up all night anxiously drinking coffee while finishing up some project (probably a criminal scheme)” kinda guy.

12. Character that you feel really needs a hug: The entire freaking cast of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (note: the tv show, not the books)

13. Character you love that you would probably hate irl: Most of them, to be honest. I am drawn to horrible people in fiction. Simcoe, TURN: Washington’s Spies (note: tv show version, not real-life verson); T-Bag, Prison Break; Cesare Borgia, The Borgias;

14. Character you would realistically be friends with irl: Ken, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

5. First character you had a crush on (if any): Jack Sparrow………

16. Favorite ships: ooooOOOh boy where to begin…. DISCLAIMER: when I say I ship things, I just mean I find the dynamic between the 2+ characters interesting and compelling. I don’t necessarily feel that they should be a canonical end-game romance (or even a romance at all), nor do I stan the relationship as healthy for either of the characters, nor do I feel that these relationships (platonic, romantic, or otherwise) should be heralded as a beacon of #goals to aspire to. I literally mean “hey those two have a cool dynamic, I wanna see more of that” -Master/Missy (I’ve been calling it “MASTERbator but I don’t know what the official ship name) (Doctor Who) -Anna Strong/Hewlett (TURN) -Foggy Nelsen /Matt Murdock (Daredevil) -Abe Woodhull/ Robert Townsend (TURN; note: Rob is too good for Abe but Rob’s reactions to Abe are too perfect to not ship) -Sansan (ASOIAF; I ship this 100% platonically) -Jaime and Brienne (ASOIAF; this is 100% not a platonic ship) -Finn/Poe -Han/Lando (we have NEVER heard the details of that card game, is all I’m sayin’) -Edward Nygma/ Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham/ DC; this is legit the ONLY reason I continue to watch Gotham. Everything else is garbage, but these two’s relationship, man. It’s so compelling, they’re so in love and so unwilling to put their differences and murderous tendencies aside to make their relationship work. I have so many feelings about this ship, okay)

-Joker/Batman (LEGO Batman; it was so beautiful, guys)

I have so many more, I don’t even know

17. Series (TV/book) that you feel ended terribly: Harry Potter’s ending is literally a meme now, so I won’t do overboard explaining that one. BUT, The Hunger Games. Okay, so this fucking series has a female character who is constantly talking and thinking about how she doesn’t want any children, and how she doesn’t feel like she should be a mother, which is pretty progressive right??? Also, 2 and a half fucking books are building up to an end all war/ revolution and It’s gonna be the biggest damn thing ever, right??? WELL how does this book series end??? Katniss, the FUCKING NARRATOR, gets hit in her head and blacks out, so she (AS WELL AS THE READER) misses the majority of the final battle, and THEN this series reveals that Gail (the less useless of the two potential love interests) may have caused the death of Katniss’ sister, so he leaves and Katniss chooses Peeta for no other reason than “well, I’m 17 so I should settle down with SOMEONE and you’re within proximity, so I guess you’ll do” and they get banished to District 12 where Katniss mothers a bunch of children because what else are you gonna do but fuck, and basically the entire ending is one piece of bullshit after the other (ALSO THE MOVIES FRAME THE ENDING AS “KATNISS IS NOW A MOTHER THEREFOR SHE’S REACHED HER POTENTIAL AS A WOMAN, ISN’T THIS A HAPPY ENDING” and fuck this entire series)

18. Series (TV/book) that had so much potential but was actually an epic disaster: Literally everything I watch. Dr Who, TURN: Washington’s Spies, Gotham, Sherlock, Game of Thrones; But hey, that’s what fanfiction is for

19. Worst book/movie/TV show you’ve ever read/seen: Ooooh I’ve read and watched some TERRIBLE things in my day. Outlander. Outlander was pitched to me as having 18th Century Scotland and TIME TRAVEL. Some of my favorite things, aaaand it ended up being one of the worst things I have ever seen. 90% of it is just boring, but the other 10% involves, in my opinion, really poorly handled sexual assault. I won’t go into details here, but it was bad.

Also, Borgias was fascinating, but bad. And TURN: Washington’s Spies. Honestly, I watch a lot of period pieces because I think the clothes are pretty or I am interested in the time period and/or historical events in which its set around, but then 99% of them are all really poorly-written soap opera-y dramas with nice sets and costumes. 20. Favorite book from your childhood: Harry Potter

21. 3 Favorite Tropes: Complex Family Dynamics (I think that’s more of a category of tropes than a trope itself, but I love me some fam drama), Happy endings for gays (that’s not really a trope, but it fills me with love and happiness every time it happens –which is rare), oooh I don’t know. I can’t think of any right now, but I do love a lot of tropes, I promise.

22. 3 Most Hated Tropes: Bury your Gays (killing off gay characters for no reason), Rape as empowerment (ie: when the narration treats a sexual assault as a motivator for women that “makes them stronger”); Man Pain (when a woman is assaulted/ threatened by the antagonist, and the main male-protag uses it as “motivation” to fight the antagonist. The story doesn’t allow the female character who experienced the trauma to be the focus of the story/arc, her traumatizing experience is not about her, it is ONLY there to develop the male character she is close to; the story essentially treats the male as the real victim)

23. Scariest thing you’ve ever watched/read: James and the Giant Peach

24. Anything you’d like to recommend? Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (please send me a message if you want to know what it’s about, it’s SO GOOD. It’s fun, quirky, unlike anything else, and it has a diverse cast including characters who are poc (and woc), characters who have disabilities, women who are badass, none of the women are ever sexualized at all, it has corgis, and mysteries, and scifi, and it’s just a big adventure. (I also recommend the books, and the 2011 tv series Dirk Gently)

25. Would you like any recommendations? I’m game for anything. I love period pieces, fantasy, science fiction, TIME TRAVEL, quirky detectives, gory things, child-friendly things, honestly as long as it has interesting characters I am game. I don’t even need a good story, just characters.

Heeey I am terrible at tagging people. If you want to do the thing, please do! And tag me so I can read it :) Also, if you actually read this whole thing, then you deserve all the gold stars, thank you!

#about me #if you want to do this then i tag you you are tagged #thank you for tagging me #yourgoodfriendraichel #:D #also if any of you actually read this #i get pretty heated about fandom things further down #my hatred for hunger games adn chloe from life is strange to name a few

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sp00kworm · 8 years ago

Text

Mr Reyes (Part 7 Final)

Reaper76 in which Gabriel is a hot Kindergarten teacher and Jack is a blushing mess of a dad to a young daughter.

Part 5 Part 6

With the arrival of a broken foot, Gabriel found that life became exceedingly difficulty. For the first couple of weeks he was unable to do a lot of basic activities by himself. Bathing was his only option because showering was impossible due to his lack of ability to stand for too long, and the stairs were a task multiplied by a thousand. That was how he found himself staying at Jack's place for a week or so, after struggling around his own house and screaming Jesse's ear off multiple times when the house was a mess, or the teenager accidentally knocked his foot with the vacuum. Jesse was exhausted after two weeks, and cried down the phone to Jack in order to get him to have Gabe at his own home, where he could be more looked after, at least for a long enough time so that Jesse could recover. Thus, Gabriel ended up dropped off at Jack's home, and huffed, grumbling for the first day about the temperature of the house and the food. Jack's pointed ignorance of him eventually led to a wavering peace, and soon, Gabriel found some enjoyment in being looked after and prodded by a small curious child. The soap operas on TV more than made up for the rapidly talking kid next to him.

Which, as it turned out, was what Hana was doing- talking his ear off. Hana sat down with her make-up bag, full of children's waxy make-up, and dirty brushes, that suspiciously looked like paint brushes. As she talked, she painted a doll's face, and Gabriel easily tuned her out, turning back to his crime drama and listening to the detectives findings about the case. Hopefully there was some gore soon so he could send her out of the room. As much as he loved her in the classroom, spending days with the kid was tiring. He couldn't understand how Jack managed. Hana sat idly for a while after painting the face of her doll, but was quickly becoming restless, and she began to fidget, before Gabriel sighed and turned his head towards her.

“What is it, Hana? Something is on your mind.” Gabirel raised an inquisitive eyebrow and offered a nice smile, “So long as it doesn't involve you painting my face we'll be good.”

Hana face fell a little as Gabriel laid down the law, but she pouted and pushed her fingers together,

“Its about you and Dad...”

“Come on kid, spit it out already, I don't bite, contrary to popular belief.” Gabriel chuckled and sipped his lemonade as he watched Hana's eyes widen.

“Well...Jesse said that you two...” She mumbled the second part and the Latino squinted before scowling.

“You'll have to speak up sweetie, my hearing isn't what it used to be.” He leant down close to Hana and waited for her to speak, being careful not to spill him lemonade.

Hana leant towards his ear and blushed a little, “Jesse said that you and Dad were playing rodeo off in the house and needed some private adult time to yourselves...what does that mean?” Hana looked up inquisitively and Gabriel chocked on his lemonade, spitting lemon juice all over the arm of the sofa as he struggled to breath correctly.

Jack came into the room at the sound of the chocking and quickly smacked Gabriel on the back to help get the lemonade out of his lungs. The blond eyed his daughter and then the red faced Latino before raising an eyebrow in questioning.

“Care to explain why you both look like two failed thieves?”

“Dad! What does 'playing rodeo' mean?” Gabriel failed to cover Hana's mouth before she spouted the words and he cringed as Jack grew red in the cheeks, his harsh glare turning on Gabriel, “Jesse said its what you and Gabe were doing last time you went out!”

Jack clenched his fist and pointed at Gabriel, “I'm gonna tan your son's hide when I see him next.” Gabriel held his hands up in surrender. Jack turned back to Hana and sighed, “Well sweetie its about

adults spending a special time together is all. Ignore what Jesse says in future.”

The young girl nodded and smiled before pointing to Gabriel with a small finger, “So what is Gabe to you then Dad? Are you boyfriends?” She grinned happily and clapped her hands together.

Jack coughed a little and eyed the girl suspiciously, taking a deep breath he nodded, “Yes sweetie, me and Gabe are boyfriends.”

Gabriel grinned at him, his eyes closed and a full smile of pearly white teeth, and ruffled Hana's hair fondly before carefully tugging her into a hug and offering an arm out for Jack. The blond huffed with a smile and leaned forwards before being wrapped in a strong arm and pulled into a hug.

“So Mr Reyes is my new mum then!” Hana giggled and patted Gabriel's facial hair before squirming to get into his lap. But, not before knocking the poor Latino's foot off the stool. Gabriel screamed as his foot smashed into the floor.

When Gabriel's foot finally healed, there was a promised performance he had to attend to. The band had long since been split up, it was after all, a phase that they all went through, and so Gabriel had some trouble tracking all of his old friends. Well, trouble for all except one. Amélie was by far the easiest to get hold of, well, purely by the fact that most people knew who the model was. This meant, however, that actually getting through to her agent and then to her was a nightmare. It took her three days to finally call him back and talk to him.

“Ah, Gabriel, I thought that you had forgotten who I was, mon ami. So, how is your life?” Gabriel could hear her filing her nails in the background of the call.

“Hm, about as good as any. I adopted a kid, and work as a Kindergarten teacher- truly the high life. You can't even say that's interesting considering the shit you get up to now. And to think it all started from a porn movie-” Gabriel chuckled as he painted his nails black, the phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder.

Amélie hissed down the speaker, “Va ta faire foutre, enculé. You dare speak of that to anyone and I will not hesitate to rip your balls off.” The filing stopped as the file was smacked down on a table next to her.

“Hey, calm yourself, I swore on my honour I wouldn't tell anyone when I was eighteen, and if I didn't tell anyone then, I sure as hell haven't got anyone to tell now...well...except my latest 'affair', so to speak.” The Latino placed his hands on top of the cushion he had in his lap.

Amélie grinned, tapping her file against the arm of her chair, “Oh si vous plait, please elaborate Gabriel.” She placed it down and took a sip of the expresso she had made moments before the call.

“Hmm, and why should I? Very inappropriate to talk about when I have something to ask of you.” He heard the French woman curse and sigh before she hummed, “Whatever it is, I will do it in exchange for the, how you say, gossip.”

Gabriel grinned, “Pack your bags Amélie, your coming to a band reunion.”

Jack and Ana rarely got the time to sit over tea anymore, and now that they had the opportunity, Jack found that his old friend was increasingly nosy about his and Gabriel's relationship. Ana poured the tea from her delicate, painted tea pot, into the cups and turned the handle towards the blond with a gentle smile, one that had a hidden intent.

“So, Jack, how is it going with Gabriel then? It seems you two are particularly happy now, hm?” She looked at him over the top of her tea cup and sipped at the hot drink, resting her head on her hand.

Jack rolled his eyes, “There really isn't much to tell, Ana. What about your trip to Egypt? You're finally taking Fareeha to meet her grandparents right?” He took a drink of his own beverage, and cradled the warm cup between his palms.

“Don't change the subject Jack, but yes I am. They struggle to travel now, so it seems fair that we all go to see them.” The brunette shrugged and fixed him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, “Are you and Gabriel going to move in together yet?”

The blond hadn't been expecting the question so suddenly, and flushed a little, hiding his face by taking another drink of his tea.

“Come on Jack! You two have been together for, what? About three or four months now? Isn't it about time you took the initiative for once?” The Egyptian woman snickered and took a spoon of honey before spreading it on a slice of bread she had laid out for snacks.

“Look, I don't know Ana. Wouldn't that seem like I was coming on a bit strong? You know the next thing he'll be expecting is a marriage proposal...” Jack blundered and babbled his way through the sentence.

Ana raised her eyebrows at his state, “Jesus christ habibi, you actually really love this one, don't you?” Her eyes glittered with wonder, knowing the years Jack spent fearing the thought of a relationship, whittling his way through girl and boy after one another. It was all just a quick lay back then, and he'd paid for it, but he finally deserved to be happy, god knows he'd sacrificed enough already trying to raise a little girl by himself.

Jack's flushed face said it all, “Yeah. I actually really love him Ana. And...I don't wanna fuck it up like I did, god, so many other times. Gabriel is better than that ya know?” He fiddled with the handle of his cup, tapping the pot against his nails nervously, unsettled in the situation. Dark eyes scanned him for a moment, and Ana quickly snorted, crossing her arms with a sneer.

“Really Jack? You think you're really going to fuck up? You love him for Christ's sake! Just tell him that! Asking him to move in with you is the next logical step in your relationship, idiot. Now I suggest you go home and think about it. Have a bath and a good long ponder.” And with that, she tossed him from her house, with a pecan muffin for good measure, and bid him to think on what she had said.

As it turned out, there were many competitions, be them band or talent competitions, going on in their area during the next couple of weeks, and according to his plan, Gabriel had invited Jack to go and watch the very one he was set up to be in. The band members had been more than happy to meet Gabriel over a period of four weeks to practice a few of their old songs and covers, all of them, including Amélie, falling back into synchrony easily. It was as though they hadn't been apart, and the music flowed from their fingertips like water along a rock surface. Gabriel had bribed them all into the contest with the dangling prize money, and the promise of gossip and booze afterwards. Amélie was particularly overjoyed at the prospect of gossip, stroking her fingers over her synth-keyboard with renewed vigour, the haunting, ghostly, melodies following her movements. Now he just had to semi stand Jack up. He sent Jack a text, telling the blond he'd meet him in their seats, and hoped Jack would stick around long enough to see their act.

The theatre was packed by the time Jack finally made it away from Hana, and managed to pry the little girl off his leg, and hand her to the babysitter. Dressed in a smart polo and jeans, he grabbed some snacks on his way through as he got his ticket checked. Suprisingly, Gabriel wasn't in his seat, and Jack scowled, but told himself not to panic. Perhaps there was just traffic, or maybe Jesse had blown up the oven again? Chuckling to himself, Jack sat down, and settled in his seat. He was sure Gabriel would show. The show began rather slowly, a few comedians and acting sketches to open, but picked up a little with a few singers- Jack was particularly moved by the young girl who sang a light pop song. Still, Gabriel was a no show, and the blond's mind began to whir.

That was until the theatre hall was sent into pitch blackness. A few teenagers screamed at the sudden power outage, and Jack snorted, rolling his eyes as he looked forwards, watching a band name fade in on the large projector screen. Red lights flickered to life to reveal five figures stood on stage, though the light didn't help Jack make anything out other than height. Thunder crashed over the speakers and the red lights flashed dangerously before bleeding to white spotlights. Centre stage stood a singer, draped in a black cloak, knee high leather military boots laced tight, skin tight under shirt and a pair black leather bottoms wrapping tight around the figure's thighs. Three belts were draped around his waist, one jingling against a spiked thigh wrap with a strange emblem. Clawed hands swooped out towards the microphone and glinted dangerously in the light. The person leant forwards into the light to reveal a white scratched mask, almost resembling a twisted bird of prey.

Jack swallowed thickly as the purple dressed woman at the back, spider eyes covering her head and legs sticking out of her back eerily, ran her hands along the keyboard in a flurry of melodious haunting notes. A guitar soon followed and strummed the tune, followed by the second at a deeper timbre. Jack almost swooned when a dark chocolate voice hummed over the speakers, singing sinfully deep with words of apocalypse. The drummer tapped out a crescendo of hi-hat before crashing into the main song, and the bass player kicked into gear, taking over the rumbling beat of the tune with a flourish. The guitars wailed once before the chorus and the synth player kicked her volume up, providing the lilting melody for the singer to accompany.

The singer rolled his hips, once, twice and Jack felt his mouth go dry as clawed hands reached upwards with the ripples of his body. Eventually, he pulled the hood down, revealing darkened curls, which spilled around his shoulders. Entranced, Jack hoped the mask would come next, but the deep rumbling howl caught him off-guard, and he watched the stage descend into a litany of flashing red and white lights, and a smoke machine poured smoke across the floor as the singer weaved words about the hangman's noose following him through the woods. The chorus screeched into action again and the singer grabbed the microphone stand before whipping his hair down and up in a flourish, almost screaming the words with the amount of passion.

Once more a verse picked up and Jack shifted in his seat as the singer meandered over to the right side of the stage, where Jack was sat in front of. The thighs of the singer contracted powerfully as he smoothed over into the deep rumbling timbre again, and Jack felt himself melting a little. What he did not expect was the singer to lean down in front of him and ease the white mask up over his face gracefully, purposely slow. Gabriel's grinning face met his, and Jack's jaw instantly dropped. He flushed red before repeatedly cursing the Latino in his head. Gabriel reached over with a silver claw and pressed the metal tip under Jack's chin, shutting the blond's mouth. The black and red eyes creased at the edges, and Jack grinned stupidly as Gabriel winked at him, swiftly moving into the next verse, groping at his own hair again with a grin. Jack flushed as girls next to him giggled, but smiled warmly- this was all for him.

After the show, Jack was sure to muscle his way into the back stage and find the band's small make-up area. He made it to the sectioned off area, just as Amélie was leaving.

“Hmm, Gabriel, it seems your little dove has come to play with you. Au revoir, talk to you later!” She smiled and walked away, flicking her purple pony tail over her shoulder as she left. Jack snorted and peered around the divider to see Gabriel pulling out the contacts from his eyes. Once he'd finished, he turned around just in time to catch Jack in his arms. What he didn't expect was a punch to the face.

“AH! FUCK!” Gabriel clutched his cheek in pain with a shriek.

“You asshole! I thought you'd stood me up like some high school teen drama!” Jack fumed for another moment or two, and finally, took a deep breath.

Gabriel looked at him with wet eyes, his hand falling from his cheek, “Did you not like my surprise, cariño?” He tucked some curls behind his ears and Jack sighed, his head falling forwards onto Gabriel's shoulder in defeat.

“No, Gabe, it was amazing. God...” He clutched the Latino's shoulders, “God I love you.” and sniffled, tears streaking his cheeks, “God I love you so much, Gabe. Please, don't do that again.”

Gabriel gently stroked a hand through Jack's hair, his other arm wrapped around the blond's waist, “Shh. I love you too, mi sol, my everything.” Gabriel whispered it reverently, and smiled, nuzzling Jack's neck.

“Move in with me Gabe.” Now Gabriel hadn't been expecting that one. Jack's blue eyes were determined, and he smiled before rubbing the back of his neck, “Too soon?”

“Mmmm, never with you darling. But, I suppose we could give it a go.” Gabriel chuckled into Jack's ear before leaning back around and capturing Jack's lips in a heavy kiss. They stayed that way for several moments, sharing their passion.

“Now let me get this leather off so we can go home.”

“Keep it on babe.” Jack immediately regretted the words, and was subjected to torturous teasing for the next week as a result. He damned Gabriel and his thighs to the ends of the Earth.

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teddy-feathers · 5 years ago

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i grew up allowed to watch any horror movie i wanted EXCEPT that one. it was "too scary" which when we finally watched it, turned out to be just because it was horrifying when it came out - I on the other hand laughed my ass off

the special effects were unintentionally humorous from a more modern prospective and then they just let the guy who played Freddy improv his lines and he was hilarious. he had a cool hat and a knife glove which always semed cool to me

the pedo shit isnt like ever really apparent in the first one - besides i think where they explian the back story - its just a whole build up and then its just highschoolers having nightmares and valently trying to defeat something that cant die.

Most of the movies are campy, at least one movie all of the nightmares are pointlessly cruel and playing off the peoples actual real life issues but while the first is the most "fun" in its ridiculousness because it was terrifying at its time, and some of the sequels are terrible, its interesting to watch all of the old movies and then see freddy vs jason.

like jason and Michael myers were good at the big silent unstoppable killer thing and Kruger managed to be fun and lively and talkative and still be a good slasher series and seeing them play off one another is really cool.

its just mindless in a way i grew up enjoying but when you go back and catch stuff like that and they never let it go exactly?

like one of the movies features his daughter all grown up and i think in it there's implications though thats not the focus of the movie its all "trying not to get murdered and also i dont want to turn into him"

and then theres a game i havent played but you can play old school horror guys and its pvp with their maps and apparently(?) theres an easter egg room that kinda makes it clear yeah what Krueger was into

and its just like...idk. unnecessary. kinda like how i could never watch the hills have eyes because it starts with rape and like an extended scene of these mutated folks just doing that on the screen like...

its ike what... who was it? Christopher Lee? Vincent Price? someone said that movies like Dracula aren't really horror movies because they can't happen in real life and honestly the older and more aware of shit I get the more I cant tell I really don't enjoy any sort of "horror" movie that doesn't subscribe to that fantastic outlook.

Vampires in space, Aliens, Ghost stories, zombie nazis, mystery murders thats just werewolves, evil dolls- all over the top bits of fun

some nightmare demon man with a quick witt and flair for the dramatic really fits in with the 'scary for fun's sake' but like someone somewhere decided that wasnt enough, henhad to be a real life monster too and that just saps the fun right out of it

which. isnt even a 'i should feel bad about this' kinda thing or idk 'dont consume problematic material' reason. its just. not as much of a game anymore.

you go to a haunted house and the actors dont touch you and you dont touch them but youre still scared and its fun?

hell i don't even really like those soap opera zombie moves - like yeah okay they come up with neat concepts or if they have some inspiration porn like "oh maybe life with evolve and itll be chill after the screaming is over" thats fine but hell resident evil if memory serves actually just. gives you what you came for?

doom made the rock evil so like it gets a negitive strike on that but otherwise also ridiculous fun and there are a lot of funny horror movies or movies like van helsing where okay its campy as hell but who cares? it did good.

and paranormal thrillers are always fun - like The Eye.

but its just. i still like most of the same things ive always liked? the only things ive "grown" our of is hating "girly" things for arbitrary reasons and enjoying things that are about pain?

like the above examples or happy tree friends - like it was hilarious when i was a kid but honestly im here for the fantasy aspects of things not the messed up mentality of real life monsters

or, come to think of it, making messed up monsters out of regular people?

idk rambling

growing up and figuring out that freddy Kruger was a pedophile really sapped all the fun out of the character

though kudos to the series for remembering and never straying from the idea that highschool students still count as underage childern

like i really thought he was just a child serial killer who was murdered by the townsfolk and was just too evil to die

but no its really explicitly canon hes a pedo and since learning that I really just feel disappointed

which is probably the only time i can recall "growing out of" a particular interest

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anamelesstraveler · 8 years ago

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| AO3 | FFN | Wattpad | Link for mobile |

A Sterek fanfic, rated G.

4,975 words | Complete

At Lydia Martin’s Nereid Crown they have a code: “Somebody asked for the Sea Witch.”

Valentine’s Day Prompt: “I’m the service worker who saw your datemate break up with you on Valentine’s Day. (Heartless!)”

This story includes a different first meeting AU, pining Stiles, unresolved romantic tension, Stiles Stilinski not knowing about werewolves, and Kate Argent. Which is its own warning. She’s just as creepy and manipulative as she always is. Referenced emotional abuse and manipulation in reference to her as well.

Nothing like being two weeks late for Valentine’s Day! This was meant to be a simple, SHORT fic. Like 1-2k short. Instead it’s almost 5k?

Code Sea Witch

——————–———————

Valentine’s Day is one prolonged, nightmarish fever dream that Stiles Stilinski can’t wake up from.

Don’t get him wrong, he thoroughly enjoys the entire ordeal. From the chocolate fueled chaos of elementary school to the borderline war strategy that he concocted every year in hopes of getting Lydia Martin to notice him, Stiles has always thrown himself full force into the Lovers’ Holiday. Even now that he’s grown past the desperation to have a Valentine for the sake of having one, he still adores it.

Which is why Stiles loves working for the Nereid Crown, Lydia Martin’s crowning gem of a restaurant in New York City. Technically he’s a consultant on the marketing and logistics side of the business. (It gives him a front row seat to Lydia Martin’s genius in action, which is a joy in itself.) But sometimes, when the floor staff is short and it’s the biggest couple’s holiday of the year, Lydia pulls the friendship card.

Which is how Stiles ends up donning the black waistcoat, bow tie, and apron and finds himself in the thick of the Valentine’s Day chaos.

And he loves it.

Because Stiles Stilinski is a special kind of twisted and turned out to be both a cynic and a hopeless romantic all in one, and working on Valentine’s Day is the greatest spectacle of his year. It’s chaos, sure. The Nereid is a nightmare the evening of Valentine’s Day, sure. But it’s the best kind of soap opera. The anticipation. The drama. The botched proposals. The Valentine’s dates that just won’t go right. It’s schadenfreude given form.

And then there’s also potential for joy: the lovestruck smiles and easy companionship. The love that just emanates off of people that makes Stiles, even at his most cynical, consider that there’s someone out there for everyone; that the love he remembers seeing in his parents wasn’t just a once-in-the-universe fluke.

Stiles always puts up a token fight about it, but working the Nereid on Valentine’s Day is its own special kind of entertainment to him. He’ll even withstand the nightmarish customers for it.

This time around, things aren’t going too badly. It’s dipping into evening and Stiles hasn’t been snapped at or had something spilled on him yet. He’s got a few interesting couples on his radar for the night: a guy about his age who looks equally as ready to puke out of nervousness as he is ready to propose to his pretty dinner date; a couple who Stiles is pretty sure are working out how they can engage in foreplay right there in the goddamned restaurant without anyone noticing; and a young lady who’s looking increasingly repulsed with every word that comes out of her date’s mouth.

Stiles’ latest table, though, features a ridiculously attractive power couple. The kind that looks like they’ve just walked off a fashion magazine or a Hollywood movie set. The woman is perhaps in her mid-to-late-thirties, blonde and statuesque. Her features are sharp and her smile hungry. She’s wearing a sparkling blue dress that hugs her lithe (surprisingly muscular) form in all the right places. The shimmering gems around her neck probably cost more than Stiles’ entire higher education did. She’s a woman that radiates power and adventure and probably eats guys like Stiles for breakfast.

Her partner is slightly less intimidating (only slightly), but no less like he’s light years out of Stiles’ league. Even without having spoken to them yet, he can see that the man is a quiet one. A few years younger than his girlfriend, dark-haired, and with a carefully maintained scruff that is… well, something straight out of Stiles’ fantasies, let’s be honest. And the way he fills out his suit is nothing to overlook either. The man looks nervous around the eyes, though.

Maybe this table will be the second wedding proposal of the night.

Stiles thinks better of it, though, when he approaches the table. “Oh, Derek, the Nereid? Really? Should I be flattered that you remembered?” It’s not so much the words, but the tone that has his steps faltering. It’s sweet and sharp, a malicious undertone to it that makes Stiles’ skin crawl. “Should I be expecting an evening carriage ride through the Park next? You always were pathetically romantic type.”

“Kate…” the man sighs, in the fashion of a person who has gone through an argument one too many times.

“No, no, it’s cute. Like an adorable puppy begging for scraps.”

And that’s when Stiles decides it’s time to make presence known. He plasters his most pleasant and customer-service-approved smile on and steps up beside the table. “Good evening. Thank you both for the Nereid your Valentine’s destination tonight! I’m Stiles, and I’ll be your server. Have either of you dined with us before?”

The woman’s - Kate’s - smile is sly and sweet, a very pretty smile, but there’s something about it that makes Stiles think of a spider eyeing up a particularly juicy fly. “Oh, no, we haven’t. I’ve always wanted to come here, though.” Stiles doesn’t have a chance to go into his practiced speech of the evening’s specials, because she tilts her head, blonde waves tumbling over her shoulder. “Stiles? That’s an interesting name - what kind is it?”

“Mine?” He jokes. “It’s a family alias.” He gestures to the shiny name pin on his waistcoat. (Like hell he was going to let Lydia put his birth name on the damned thing.)

“Ooh,” she coos, “mysterious. I bet all the girls are just dying to unravel your secrets. And they just love a man in uniform.”

Is… is she for real? Stiles fights to keep his expression impassive and polite, and not to stare at the woman in disbelief. “I’m a waiter, not a decorated veteran,” he says, and winces because it comes out far less professional than is acceptable. But it only seems to delight Kate, and she lets out a boisterous laugh. He risks a glance at her lover, the stony clench of the man’s jaw only making this even more awkward. He’s heard of couples that consider flirting with other people foreplay, even met a few of them. But that isn’t what’s happening. The man, whose name is apparently Derek, doesn’t seem the least bit amused by his girlfriend’s flirtations.

“Oh, don’t be so jealous, Derek,” Kate purrs, leaning across to shove playfully at his arm. “Being insecure isn’t becoming of you, sweetie.”

“Kate…”

“Kate,” she mimics, and turns to Stiles with a mean little twinkle in her eye. “He can be so touchy.”

“Um.” Stiles falters.

Derek’s eyes are resolutely trained on the table, as if the weave of the tablecloth can somehow transport him a thousand miles away. And yeah, Stiles is feeling a little bit the same right now.

“How about I get you two started on some appetizers?”

--------------------2---------------------

Stiles has a pretty good sense of character when it comes to people. He knows Scott is the best kind of people, the steadfastly loyal kind that are too few and precious, though often too trusting. He’s known Lydia Martin is a world-changing force to be reckoned with since before she let the world know she was a genius. He knows that Allison is genuinely good and kind, but hiding secrets. He’s always known Jackson Whittemore was a raging asshole, but a harmless one.

He gets it wrong, sometimes, sure. He’d thought Isaac Lahey was absolutely bad news. The worst kind of jerk. Isaac, as it turns out, is pretty okay. Still a jerk, but he’s Stiles’ brand of jerk so that’s okay.

(The original dislike might have come because Scott genuinely liked the guy and at the time… well, at the time Stiles had not been prepared for Scott genuinely liking another close male friend. It’s okay. Stiles is an adult now. He can admit that he had been jealous and wrong and Isaac is pretty okay.)

Anyway, the point is, this Kate character is Bad News.

It’s the kind of observation that would get him a reproachful “maybe you should mind your own business, Stiles” if he mentioned it to anyone, and he knows that. He’s only getting a tiny, limited glimpse at two strangers and making judgments. Sure. Stiles can admit to that.

But these glimpses he catches don’t paint a flattering picture of the couple’s relationship. Stiles keeps an eye on them as the pair work their way through the first two courses of their meal. From afar it almost looks normal. Kate has a magnetic energy to her. She laughs and smiles, but the look in her eyes… it’s never kind. Sometimes when the woman speaks, Derek flinches. He never looks anything other than cornered, either.

It reminds Stiles, rather vividly, of the final days of Melissa and Rafael McCall’s relationship. When things had gotten so toxic that arguments didn’t seem to end when the shouting had stopped. When the looming and the purposefully barbed words had reached their peak, and Melissa never stopped being tense in her own house.

Yeah, at best this couple’s relationship has gone toxic and is on its way out. At worst…

At worst, Stiles is starting to wonder how he can slip Derek a hotline number without being noticed.

Stiles is heading back to their table to clear the second course dishes when he manages to catch their conversation. The great (and tiring) thing about a server’s job is that it makes you practically invisible. So no one even notices him standing nearby as Kate leans across the table. “It’s cute, you know, how you think this means anything,” she says lightly. “It’s not going to change anything. I got what I wanted, sweetie.”

Derek freezes. He’s been fiddling with something under the table as Stiles had walked up, and Stiles has this sudden, uncontrollable fear that it’s a ring box. ‘Oh man, don’t do it,’ he desperately wants to tell the man. ‘She’s not worth it. Trouble with a capital T.’

“Don’t do this, Kate,” Derek says softly. His voice comes out measured, but from the firm line of his mouth, it definitely hurts him to say it.

Kate sighs, as if this very conversation is a burden on her. “Really? Come on, Derek, you can’t possibly think that I was in love with you. I don’t do mutts. Remember?”

The flash of hurt in the man’s eyes is so sharp that Stiles’ heart drops into his feet. He’s suddenly torn between beating a hasty retreat and going over there to drag the woman out by her perfectly highlighted and styled hair.

“Oh, don’t make that face. You always make that face. You’re pretty, yeah. And good in the sack, once trained right. But really? Who in their right mind… well,” she sniffs, and tosses a lock of hair over his shoulder. And then her smile goes predatory. “It won’t matter in a few days. Your family will sign the contract, and then you’ll be under our control.”

Derek sits up straighter, his expression going steely. “They won’t sign it once they know what you did. None of them will. And I don’t suppose your brother will like to hear about it either.”

Stiles doesn’t have to look Kate to know her reaction. Her derisive scoff is enough. “You think they’ll believe you? Take your word over mine? Don’t be an idiot, Derek. You’re the predator here. All I have to do is say the right thing and make the right accusations. Then they’ll as good as put you down, dog.”

Despite the background noise of the restaurant, all seems to go quiet in their little corner of the world.

And then Derek slowly brings his hands out from under the table, and places his cellphone between them. “It won’t be my word, Kate. It’ll be yours.”

Stiles could crow with laughter at the look on the woman’s face. The shock, the outrage. But then her face twists in a nasty sneer, and her hand lashes out, nails digging into the back of Derek’s hand as she leans close. To his credit, the man doesn’t flinch, but his eyes seem to unfocus - the only visible evidence of how he’s steeling himself.

“Do you think you’re clever, little boy? Do you think for even a second this will work? Nothing you do matters, Derek. I’ve already won. Why don’t you just be a good boy and delete that, before I get angry and make you regret it--”

Okay, yeah, that’s enough.

Stiles’ heart is in this throat, a fury so hot rushing in his veins that it is actually a little terrifying. “Ma’am?” he interjects sharply. Not even the anger can quell the moment of fear as her stabbing glare turns on him. “I think it’s time that you left. Or else I’m going to consider having you removed from the premises. Got it?”

For a moment, Stiles fears that she’s going to fight him on it. But her instead she just smiles in… what he supposes is meant to be cordial. But the flinty look in her eye only makes it seem like she’s seconds from murdering him. “Alright, sugar.” Kate raises gracefully from her chair as if nothing has happened.

At Stiles’ motion, Derek moves to stand as well. He’s watching Stiles with a new light in his eyes, unreadable, as if Stiles is a puzzle he can’t solve. It makes his spine tingle.

“We’re all going to walk towards the door,” he explains instead of meeting the man’s gaze. “Ma’am, we’ll call you a cab.”

“Don’t bother--”

“No, we’re calling you a cab. Or a car. I don’t care. But someone will be staying with you until we can be sure you’ve left.” Stiles ushers them towards the front as casually as he can, keeping himself between the two. He drops Kate off at the maître d' with explicit instructions to call a car for her and to have someone wait with her. He makes meaningful eye contact with the maître d' until she understands his unspoken message. After that, he doesn’t much care what she does.

“I’ll see you soon, Derek,” Kate calls, all too happily.

Stiles isn’t imagining the subtle hunch of the man’s shoulders, and he gently hovers and arm behind him as he gestures towards the kitchen. “This way, sir,” he says softly. He steers Derek through the hustle of the kitchen, expertly dodging around staff. He pulls Hayden Romero to a stop as she attempts to hurry by. “Hey, Hayden, you got a crowd tonight?”

“My last is about ready to go. Why?”

Oh, thank god. “Could you cover my tables for me? I’ve got three left right now. Somebody asked for the Sea Witch.”

Hayden’s eyes flicker towards Derek, regarding the man quietly, and then she sighs. “Sure, Stiles. But you owe me.”

“Absolutely. Thanks, Hayden. The tips from those my tables are yours.”

Derek only speaks up once she’s gone, and Stiles is leading him towards the back. “Sea Witch?” he asks.

“House code for we’re about to work some magic for a customer. Lydia’s idea. She’s a sucker for all things Little Mermaid.” He pats the man’s arm. And wow, okay, the muscle underneath his suit sleeve is unreal. “Right this way, sir!” he chirps, pretending his voice doesn’t crack.

--------------------3---------------------

“Working some magic” turns out to be setting Derek up at the VIP table in the kitchen that Lydia usually reserves for high end critics and friends. He doesn’t really have authority to make that call, but since Stiles just happens to be one of those friends, he think she’ll let it slide this time. Stiles leaves him there for a moment to go get more comfortable, slipping into the spare office and shucking off his apron and bowtie, and sighing in relief as he unbuttons the top button on his dress shirt and rolls the sleeves up.

He grabs Derek’s meal on the way back, hesitating only briefly before scooping up Kate’s order and a bottle of his favorite house wine as well.

Derek stares at him for a long time when he presents all of this to him. And even harder when he sets Kate’s plate down across from him and then slides unceremoniously into the seat. “What are you doing?” he asks flatly.

“Well, I was going to just throw her dish away,” Stiles hedges. “But that’d be wasting food. And our hake dish is to die for, so here I am. It turns out that I’m free until closing, so here I am. Wine?” He clicks his nails against the bottle inquisitively.

Derek is giving him that confused, somewhat mystified stare that, by this point in his life, Stiles is intimately familiar with. But he offers his wine glass anyway.

(Up close, Derek’s eyes are a breathtaking variation of hazel. Green with flecks of gold, blue, and grey, making it seem like a galactic swirl of color. They’re every expressive, even when he tries to keep his face sour and stoic.)

They tuck into their meal in silence, the relative chaos of the kitchen doing its best to cover it up. That doesn’t make it any less awkward. But Stiles is determined not to let it bother him.

“Why are you doing this?” Derek asks eventually.

Stiles pauses, wine glass halfway to his lips. “What, eating?”

The other man pulls off the absolute bitchiest eye roll Stiles has ever seen in his life. And he counts Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac among his friends. It’s actually kind of amazing. “Eating with me.”

“Weeeell. It’d be lonely without a dinner partner, right?”

He knows it’s a misstep as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Derek’s expression goes shuttered and cold. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he rushes to soothe. “No, see, pity would be if I gave you this meal for free. You still have to pay for yours. I am eating this and I’m getting this for free.” Derek is less than convinced by that, though. Stiles sighs, and sets his glass down. “Look, so… I don’t know why. Honest truth here.” That’s a lie. A total lie; Stiles knows exactly why he’s going the extra mile for a complete stranger. But admitting it would make him look like an asshole. “I could’ve let you eat alone out in the dining room, feeling like everyone was watching you. Or I could’ve left you alone back here and let you… I dunno, wallow or whatever. And you’d have every right to. Because that out there? That was fucked up.

“But, see-- okay, so my dad is a cop right? -- Just follow me on this one. -- He’s seen his fair share of life-altering shit. Stuff that makes your entire world just go crashing to a halt. And it’s important to work through that stuff, sure. But what always helped him was that he’d come home after a bad day, and he’d still have me and my mom there going about our lives. He’d still have to take out the trash and have meals with his family. And that is what helped remind him that the world will go on, even when he felt like it couldn’t.” Stiles glances up from the table, and jolts upon finding Derek gazing intently at him. That vulnerable, searching expression on the man’s face is not something he can handle right now. “So here I am. Reminding you that even though you’ve been hit with all this shit, the world is still going enough for all this--” he gestures at himself, “--to share a meal with you. And if you wanna just sit in silence and eat you can totally do that. I mean, I’ll probably just keep rambling at you, but you can totally do that.”

There he goes again, making a fool of himself in front of attractive people. It’s the story of his life, honestly.

Derek surprises him, though, by hesitantly offering his hand. “I guess there are worse dinner guests. Derek Hale,” he greets.

Stiles grins, and accepts his hand. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek scoffs. “I thought you were joking before. That’s really your name?”

“Like I said, family nickname. My first name is a Polish monstrosity that grates upon delicate American ears.”

The dark-haired man leans forward. “Try me.”

--------------------4---------------------

Stiles Stilinski is in trouble.

So much trouble.

He’s pretty sure he’s fallen in love with Derek Hale before they start dessert.

Goddamnit.

It’s only a slight exaggeration. Derek is incredibly witty in conversation, when he’s not lapsing into almost brooding silences. (Stiles can’t exactly blame him on that one, given the course of the evening.) He can keep up with Stiles in conversation - a feat in itself. Although he kind of cheats, because even when he doesn’t say something, his eyebrows seem to speak a language all of their own, in various flavors of “shut up, Stiles” and “wow, you’re an idiot.”

He’s kind of an asshole, nonverbally brow-beating a practical stranger like that. But it turns out that that really does it for Stiles. So he doesn’t complain. Well, not too much.

Stiles manages to get a handful of personal details out of him over the next hour. He’s thirty-one. He works for his family’s business, as a record keeper and sometimes-interpreter. Most of his family lives upstate, and Derek misses it. He likes the city, but he misses the space. He has a Master’s in linguistics and is fluent in four languages and proficient in a handful of others.

And apparently Polish is one of those, because he pronounces Stiles’ first name correctly on the first go.

(“No!” Stiles exclaims.

Derek stares down at the notepad Stiles had passed to him. “Miecyzslaw? Really?”

“Damnit, it took me the first nine years of my life to pronounce my own name properly! I called myself Mischief until I was seven! Do not sit there and pretend it was easy, you smug bastard.”

Which is far more casual than what he’s thinking, which is: ‘Babcia always said to marry someone who could pronounce my name.’

The other man grins, and passes the notepad back. “Stick with Stiles,” he says, completely ignoring Stiles’ tirade.

What a jerk.)

It’s not bad. And by not bad, Stiles means he’s unfairly attracted to what he’s seen of Derek so far, charmed and more than a little rankled - in the best of ways. He deludes himself for a while, imagining that this is an actual date - that Stiles had asked Derek to dine with him at the Nereid and gave him the VIP treatment to impress this wonderful, beautiful man. He lets himself wonder what it would be like to touch Derek’s hand, or to have those eyes gaze at him lovingly.

But reality isn’t on his side. This isn’t a date. And the interest Stiles imagines he sees is clouded by misery.

He doesn’t ask about Kate, or what happened out in the dining room. He wants to ask a million questions about how and why. But instead he just leaves it open for Derek to discuss with a complete stranger if he wants to. If nothing else, Stiles can at least give him something like a pleasant evening after the bullshit he’d just witnessed.

The fact that Stiles cares so much about whether or not he should stick his nose into Derek’s business reminds him that he’s in trouble. So much trouble. The kind of trouble where he knows that he’s going to let Derek get away, because Stiles is an asshole but tonight he isn’t going to be that kind of asshole that swoops in when someone is at their lowest emotionally.

There’s a quiet scoff and Lydia Martin all but materializes beside their table in all her glory. She fixes them with her appraising eyes, and tucks a wavy lock of, perfectly styled, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “The Sea Witch code is only supposed to be used to save a customer experience, Stiles. Not to get yourself a date.”

Across the table, Derek’s eyes go wide and Stiles’ own rush of panic is reflected there. Shit. “That’s not--” he rushes to explain. “I wouldn’t--”

Lydia’s brows arch in silent, damning disbelief. Derek is watching him again, expression stormy, and it makes Stiles want to crawl into a hole.

“That’s not what this is,” he says firmly.

“Mhm,” Lydia hums. “Well whatever this is or isn’t, we’re getting ready to close up and need you in the dining room soon. So you might want to call Mister Hale a car.” She nods to Derek. “I hope you had a good evening at the Nereid.”

“I… thank you,” Derek mumbles, clearly uncomfortable. Stiles can’t blame him there. He’s not sure anyone would call Derek’s evening a good one. Lydia shoots Stiles a pointed glance as she struts off to direct the closing preparation. And then they’re left in painfully awkward silence.

Stiles fights not to sink lower in his chair. “Right, well,” he says, trying to sound casual. But the words come out too fast. “I’ll pass off our dishes and see about getting you a car then--”

“Was she right?”

Stiles freezes. “Uh?”

“About you bringing me back here for a date.”

He cringes. “No! Well, I mean…” Stiles can’t take this. He can’t take Derek’s eyes on him in this moment, quietly watching, gauging his reaction. Every answer sounds like the wrong one. “You’re like, ridiculously attractive and you seem like an amazing guy and I’m very, very bisexual and also so very weak. And I don’t even know if you like guys, but--” No, no, this isn’t what he wants to say. It sounds like a rejection after a mediocre date. Stiles clenches his jaw, and takes a breath. “No. I would pretty much sell my firstborn if it meant I’d get a chance to go on a date with you. Or to, you know, even have you give me the time of day. But not like this. All I wanted to do was let you finish your meal without feeling like everyone was watching, and to maybe have some company until you could go home and, hey, maybe have a well-deserved breakdown. Or whatever.”

Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a good or bad thing that Derek doesn’t answer him. It’s probably a bad thing. But hey, it’s not like Stiles ever had a chance anyway. He resigns himself to the quiet humiliation of it. Oh, he’ll be anything but quiet tonight when he calls Scott to lament about his luck, or lack thereof, in romance. But for now he can take it with grace - if forced grace.

It all goes to plan until he’s waiting with Derek for his car. Cleaning up their meal had let him focus on something other than Derek watching every move he made. But now the silence yawns open between them, as if it’s slowly filling the five foot space around them, intending to drown them in it. Stiles’ very skin starts to itch. He sneaks chewing on his fingers now and again.

He can’t. He can’t do this.

“So…”

“You know I--”

They stop.

“Sorry,” Stiles hurries to say.

“Oh, what were you going to…” Derek says simultaneously. Their words come to a halt again.

Bemused, Stiles gestures for him to continue.

“You know I can’t,” Derek says at last.

Despite already knowing that to be the case, Stiles’ heart sinks. It’s silly, really. Of course Derek can’t. And yet still it somehow disappoints him to hear it. “Yeah, no, totally. I totally get that. No questions there. Wasn’t even considering it.”

Derek’s gaze is piercing, but he doesn’t seem angry. “You’re lying.”

A lump forms in his throat, momentarily blocking the onslaught of words his brain promptly spews out. “Only a little? On any other day I would kill to be your date. You… You seem like a really awesome dude.” An awesome dude? Really Stiles? “But asking you out right now? It’s not right. You don’t deserve that.”

Derek doesn’t say anything at first. He’s got this look on his face, as if Stiles has somehow said something completely incomprehensible. Which isn’t exactly a foreign concept for Stiles, but not like this. “Thank you,” he says eventually. And he steps closer, close enough that Stiles can breathe in the warm, clean scent of him, and leans in to press the gentlest of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

Stiles’ entire body electrifies at the touch.

“Thank you,” Derek says again as he pulls away.

“You’re, uh. You’re welcome?” he almost squeaks in return.

Derek graces him with a brief smile, small but dazzling. “My car’s here. It was… nice, having dinner with you.”

Stiles can only nod.

“Good night, Stiles.” Derek turns to leave. He’s nearly to the car before Stiles can form words.

“Derek, wait!” He jogs up after him, fingers twitching uncertainly as he lays a hand on his arm. “I-- You have someone, right? Someone you can talk to?” When Derek doesn’t answer right away, he quickly pats down his pockets until he finds his cards, and offers one. “Here. If you need someone. Not-- I’m not making a pass, I promise. I know you-- just take it?”

And he does. Derek carefully takes the card, glancing at it for a tense second, and then slips it into his pocket.

Neither of them seem to know what to say after that. So Stiles just pats his arm and lets him go. Just like he promised himself he would.

And maybe he watches the cab pull away and head off down the street for a few minutes after, hoping that Derek will be okay and won’t need to call him. No matter how much Stiles would like to see him again.

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

END.

#eternalsterek #Sterek #StilesDerek #Teen Wolf #fanfic #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #fic: Sea Witch #Let me weave you a Dream

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