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listerbirdloml · 10 months

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Double Vison in Rose Blush

Summary: Jimmy is confused. His opinions on mullets have changed, and he has a new favourite Brooklyn Nine Nine episode.

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Alister 'Lister' Bird, Rowan Omondi, Angel Rahimi (very briefly), A random man I made up

Warnings: strong language (surprise surprise), slight self deprecation, VERY brief mentions to past alcoholism, someone who knows NOTHING about dance trying to write about dance

Ship: Bicci

Word Count: 3.3k

just me being silly and goofy once again

Since turning fourteen, and then fifteen, then sixteen and seventeen, eighteen, and now nineteen, Jimmy Kaga-Ricci has learned a few things.

Number one. One day, Granddad was going to die. And he had to accept that.

Number two. Being famous is not as fun as he thought it would be.

Number three. Skinny jeans maybe are a bit millennial now.

And number four. Lister Bird was hot.

Lister Bird, who fell into the filthy Rochester river when they were fifteen. Lister Bird, who once licked a lamppost on Oxford Street because Rowan dared him. Lister Bird who watched the note book at sixteen and wept for hours. Lister Bird, who refuses to wear trousers unless absolutely crucial, and Lister Bird, who sometimes bites his toenails (The worst crime out of all of these, Jimmy thought.)

He was hot. worldly renowned for it, in fact.

It was entirely unfair. No one could be that effortlessly attractive. If given a YouTube video and twenty minutes, Lister could learn any skill known to man. Be it guitar, dance, or even knitting for a week (Jimmy still had the scarf he’d been gifted), Lister was brilliant. But he was also real. He wasn’t perfect all the time, and he didn’t even try to pretend that he was. He was a recovering alcoholic with repressed mummy issues. He just so happened to have the face of Adonis and the body to match it.

It just didn’t seem to make sense to Jimmy, but after coming across his Calvin Kelvin photoshoot the other week, and this week watching the video Lister was featured in from Centurion Dance Complex (the studio in London he often attended. The fans took months to recover from those videos, and now, it would seem, Jimmy did too), it did. It made perfect sense to him.

In the video, Lister was wearing a crop top with a stupid slogan about riding cowboys that he had kept repeating as of recent, and some joggers. Nothing that significant. His hair wasn’t particularly note-worthy; it was just slightly messier than normal due to the exertion. There was a group of people involved in this dance, but Lister and another guy around their age seemed to be the main pair. The song sounded like a Eurovision judges wet dream, and Lister and the other dancer performed it just as well as Jimmy expected from the multi-talented drummer and the professional.

There was only one thing that bothered Jimmy.

It was hot. Really hot.

The song itself was suggestive, and the lyrics were definitely not ones Jimmy would show to his Grandad. But the dance was worse in a way. The other guy (Finn? Flynn? Jimmy couldn’t quite remember), was shorter than Lister, reaching his shoulder in a way similar to Jimmy. His hair was a dark brown, and his skin tone a light olive. The way that he and Lister managed to move together made Jimmy wonder if perhaps they’d been together at some point.

But then, memories of his conversation with Lister from Week-From-Hell-We-Can-No-Longer-In-Good-Conscience-Discuss put a stop to that thought process. It was true; Rowan and Jimmy had truly misjudged their best friend. That wasn’t even to mention the heavy undertones of biphobia in their assumptions. They knew Lister Bird was bisexual, and they knew he enjoyed partying. And therefore, they had begun to assume that was all he was. Some slutty bisexual who slept with anyone who caught their eye. Jimmy had truly been a terrible friend.

Something in his gut felt fuzzy as he watched Lister so gracefully follow the rhythm of the song and coordinate with those around him. Finn (or Flynn) maintained eye contact with the drummer as they both backed up, some of the backup dancers performing their own choreography. Once they were done, Lister was front and centre once again. While Jimmy couldn’t exactly comprehend what the blonde was doing as he danced, he knew he liked it. A lot. If there were accidents or missteps, Jimmy wasn’t informed enough about the art of dance to register them.

At one point, with a hand on Flynn's (Finns?) chest, Lister stood behind him, guiding their hips to sway to the music as their chests rose and fell. Flynn/Finn wraps an arm around Listers neck, and the blonde uses it to twirl them into the next part of the dance, a hand on the small of his back that splays the entire width. Staring at them like that though, standing still for the microsecond they were, Jimmy couldn’t help but imagine it was him there. Dancing in a downright dirty way with Lister, hands never leaving one another for longer than a few moments. The other dancer did look a little bit like him, stature-wise. But Jimmy had to admit that he was definitely more attractive than himself. He was all bright skin and happy eyes, while Jimmy was eye bags and moody frowns.

In the final part of the song, Lister has the other dancer lifted in the air with arms around his thighs, the camera operator coming in closer and managing to capture the slight bulge of Lister's arms from the exertion, the slight sweat clinging to his skin, and the way his chest moved up and down in his heavy breaths. His face was serious, but as the music cuts out and the audio of the music fades into the raw studio audio, he breaks into a grin as claps erupt around him. The video ends with Lister setting the guy down carefully and accepting a bottle of water.

Oh god. If the photo shoot was bad, this was terrible. Downright evil behaviour from the drummer.

"Jim?"

With a startled shout, Jimmy slammed down his laptop, pulling his headphones down and looking up.

"I was watching porn!"

Oh. god.

There was silence from Lister, who had unknowingly interrupted an awakening caused by himself. He seemed unable to piece the right words together, licking his lips a few times. Okay, well, uh, the foods here." With that, Lister headed out of the living room and back to the hallway, likely going to his room.

"That was..." It was Rowan this time, who stood in the adjoining kitchen, face mere moments away from cracking. "Well, you definitely seem innocent now." Bastard. He was enjoying this.

Jimmy groaned, sliding further into the couch and covering his face. Rowan laughed at this, his phone in his hand as he texted someone. Likely bliss to tell her of his mortifying attempt at being caught watching Lister dance.

Lister was back now, phone in hand and a quarter zip covering his upper body. He happily dug around in the bag of food until he found his order of chicken chow mien and joined Jimmy on the couch, holding another container.

"Sweet and sour, for a sour guy." Lister grinned, setting down the takeaway container on the table in front of Jimmy and turning on Netflix. Brooklyn Nine Nine, obviously. Jimmy's face was still crimson as he picked up the food, and the cutlery Lister offered him. Sitting this close to Lister before wouldn’t have bothered him before. Maybe if he was biting his toe nails. But now, sitting next to the drummer made Jimmy want to throw up. Their legs were so close; Listers pale but thick thigh was only centimetres away from Jimmys tanned and slimmer ones, and every time the blonde laughed at the TV or Rowans commentary, Jimmy felt the heat grow closer and closer.

Okay. He was definitely fucked.

"For the love of God, cut it."

"No, it’s in style."

"Is it really, Alister? Really?"

"Don’t patronise me, Rowathon." No matter how fit Jimmy had come to understand Lister was, he was still annoying.

"Im not. Im just saying, Mullets haven’t been in style since, like, my dad had one."

"You don’t get it. Im bisexual."

"What the fuck? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"JimJam, for the love of God, help me out here."

Sighing as he was forcefully pulled into this argument between his two band members, he put his phone in his pocket. "It's like his uniform, Rowan."

"Thank you!" Lister sighed appreciatively, looking at Jimmy in the mirror. They were all in the main bathroom of the flat, Jimmy sitting on a small stool they kept in there for ‘boy time’ which Lister had dubbed Jimmy's T injections. Meanwhile, Lister stood over Rowan, applying bleach to his hair. How they got cecily to agree to that Jimmy had no idea. They were planning on dying it pink, as Rowan wanted to match his older sister's new braids. But somehow they had began to argue about the mullet Lister had begun to grow. Rowan hated it, repeatedly calling it the lowest point white boys have ever reached. Lister loved it. He constantly cited drummers like Roger Taylor from Queen because he was, quote, "trying to harness their energy through hair."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Rowan sounded about at his limit.

"It means that he has a mullet, he has patchwork tattoos, he likes flares, and he dresses like a cowboy. It’s a thing."

"At least one of you hoes get me." Lister winked at Jimmy, and the nineteen-year-old couldn’t help the feelings of butterflies not only fluttering in his stomach but also attempting to break free. If this was how their fans felt about them, then honestly, Jimmy felt like he understood their mania. Well, a little, at least.

"God, I hate gay people." Jimmy and Lister laughed at that, with Lister poking his tongue out at Rowan through the mirror.

“Okay, fine, do your own hair." Lister put down the applicator and held his hands up.

"Oh, fuck off. Finish it."

"That doesn’t sound like a please or thank you, Ro-Ro." The glare that Rowan levelled Lister with through the mirror was enough for him to pick the brush back up.

As he worked away again, Jimmy disconnected from their conversation. He opened his phone again and opened his messages with Angel. He hadn’t told the others that he still spoke to her, in fear of how Rowan would react. He wasn’t exactly her biggest fan.

JimJam

Okay so here’s a hypothetical question

Angel

oh goodie

my favourite

JimJam

Ikr

So if a white boy is growing a mullet and it doesn’t immediately repulse you

What does that mean??

Angel

it means your heart has been colonised

JimJam

Hilarious for that one

No but like is that the true sign of love??

I’m looking at this like dammm and not boo tomato tomato

Angel

tomato tomato?? stop hanging around lister istg

also yeah youre like in love with lister we get it old news

did it seriously take a mullet for you to realise this??

JimJam

Blocked.

"Who you texting, Jimothy?" It was lister, and he was once again looking at him in the mirror.

"Your mum." Jimmy replied, watching as Listers face fell into mock hurt.

"Rude."

"I bet he has a boyfriend." Rowan teased, holding the towel around his shoulders tighter.

Lister looked up at that, and Jimmy was sure he could see Lister swallow, mouth no longer a relaxed smile, and now a more tense straight line. Before, Jimmy would ignore things like this. After the bathroom incident, he would’ve seen it for the obvious signs Lister at some point liked him. Now, he thought it was hot. Really fucking hot.

"Just Grandad. He was telling me we were the answer to his crossword earlier." Jimmy lied smoothly, now scrolling through his secret Twitter. It had zero links to him or the band, and he’d even blocked all mentions of himself or Rowan on it. Lister, however, well he followed several different accounts about Lister.

@/lister-bird-as-cats

@/listerbirdhourly

@/listerbirdupdates

@/birdedits

Was it weird? Absolutely. Was it the very thing he critiqued their own fans for? Yes. Was he ashamed, guilty, even? of course. Did he want to stop?

No.

The lights in the living room were set to the lowest setting, the large-screened TV creating more lights than anything else. Lister was sitting on the couch, mindlessly nibbling the tip of his thumb as he watched the Brooklyn 99 episode play in front of him. Every so often, he would pick up his phone next to him and answer a text, like a tweet, taking a picture of the screen and posting it to his story. Just mindlessly enjoying his spare time.

Jimmy only knew this because he’d been standing in the doorway for the last twenty minutes, hemming and hawing at the idea of making his presence known. In one option, he could announce himself. Join Lister on the couch. Perhaps they could share the blanket Lister had wrapped around his shoulders. Jimmy could squeeze in close to the drummer, lie his head on his chest, and listen to the heart he loved the most in the world create beautiful patterns that sounded like hymns. They could hold each other close, skin melting together in a way that wasn’t proper for two people who only called one another friends.

But in some way, he felt he didn’t deserve it. It might not have been his fault that he wasn’t aware of his feelings for Lister until recently, but he didn’t feel any less guilty over it. The blonde had spent so many years harbouring this secret from the rest of the world, only to have it drunkenly spilled in a bathroom with a kiss to an unreciprocated friend. He didn’t want to even imagine the shame Lister must have felt after that. The need to open another bottle and attempt to erase it from memory to be able to sanely move on with day-to-day life. Jimmy felt it was insensitive to then go, 'haha, oops! Turns out I actually do like you!’

"JimJam."

It would seem Lister had made the decision for him. The drummer had turned his body around, his arm leaning on the back of the couch, so that he could get a better view of the singer wordlessly occupying the doorway. His hair was a mess, and if Jimmy focused on it, he could see the darkness of a five o’clock shadow ghosting the drummer's cheeks and chin. Jimmy couldn’t help but think this was Lister at his most beautiful. Unguarded and at rest.

"You sitting down or what?"

Nowadays, saying no to Lister is incredibly difficult for Jimmy.

Shuffling farther into the room, hands wringing one another, Jimmy sat down on the far end of the couch, lister staring at him with what seemed to be fond confusion over the wide gap. Jimmy tried not to turn his head to lister fully in fear of the foolish things his impulse control might let slip. If he looked at golden hair and sapphire eyes while feeling as weak as he did in that very moment, he very well may have pounced on the unsuspecting drummer.

They sat in silence for an episode, watching as another loaded on the screen.

HalloVeen. Listers favourite.

The drummer sat up in his chair slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest and his head on his fists. He sighs through his nose, and Jimmy can’t help but stare at his lips. They’re slightly cracked, the drummer not drinking enough water. The episode plays on, with Lister huffing laughs from his nose at his favourite parts.

"I need a Jake and Amy kind of love." The drummer says mindlessly. He pulls a face for a moment before turning to Jimmy. "Uhh, I mean, you know… someday... with someone... who definitely isn’t you." It was obvious the drummer was scared about the possibility of Jimmy thinking he was coming onto him. Worried that there would be more rejection and more uncomfortableness. Nethertheless it still hurt.

Jimmy glances at him, at the worry of his thumb scratching his hands and the way he pulls the blanket tighter around himself.

No one speaks for a moment or so. And then,

"Lister, I-"

"Look Jim-"

Jake's hand is handcuffed to a filing cabinet. There’s quiet for another moment, and when Jimmy finds himself breaking it, he is most surprised.

“you go."

Lister laughed a little bit, glancing around nervously and coughing into his elbow in a manner more likely attributed to nerves than anything in his throat. He turns to face Jimmy properly.

"I uh, I promise I don’t like you anymore."

Huh?

Jimmy shook his head, trying to conjure up the right words. Words that aren’t screaming. Screams of his missed chance. Of the admiration he took for granted and used as a personal ego boost. He took too long to come to terms with his feelings. his undecided heart taking longer than he had been given time for, and now he was too late. He’d missed his opening and his chance of happiness at Listers side. Lister was speaking again.

"Yeah, yeah I promise. It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable between us anymore. We can just go back to being friends."

"Lister."

"I mean, I can’t promise that feelings are, like, absolutely gone. I'm only human, and i’ve liked- I liked you since we were like thirteen, and that's a long time for feelings to-"

Jimmy didn’t even really register the fact that his body was moving. But now that he could feel the hair in his hands and lips on his own, he realised that his muscles likely had something to do with that. His eyes are tightly shut, terrified that this would become a dream should he open them.

There’s a handmaid circling the precinct on TV. Jimmy is kissing Lister, and Lister is kissing back.

The drummer is the first to pull back, looking at Jimmy in a way that makes the singer's breath stutter in time with his heart. His eyes are wide, and his pupils are slightly blown. Blue eyes are jumping between dark brown eyes and light brown lips, seemingly unsure of which he wanted to pay attention to at the moment.

"I don’t want you to be over me." Jimmy finally manages to say, closing his eyes again and resting his forehead against Listers. The drummer's large hands are still resting on Jimmy's bicep, where they have landed in his shock at being kissed. Jimmy's own were still settled amongst long, mousey waves.

Lister doesn’t seem to be able to form words, but he leans back in and kisses the singer for another time. Everything is different from their first time, and yet it’s entirely the same. They’re at home instead of a bathroom for a concert they don’t want to play. They’re in their comfortable pyjamas rather than performative stage clothes. Jimmy isn’t worried about makeup smudging on his or Listers chin. Jimmy isn’t hanging on by a thread, and Lister isn’t drunk.

This time, when the two separate, Jimmy moves his hand to instead cradle the soft skin of Lister's cheek.

 Lister won’t speak just yet; maybe shock. Maybe distress. Maybe disgust. Or perhaps anger. justified anger towards Jimmy for unknowingly leading him on for five years, then brushing off the confession of love he received, and then changing his mind and deciding he too had feelings.

Jake and Amy are standing in an evidence room, and Lister and Jimmy are sitting on a couch.

"I know it’s selfish. I’m sorry. I really am, Lis. I know it took me some time, but I’m here now." Lister still looks like he can’t believe his luck, and they both extend him the curtosey of pretending not to see tears wetting his lash line. "I like you, Lister."

Lister lets out a chuckle that sounds like it was stuck in his throat. “Well, that's good. I was absolutely lying about being over you."

Jake is down on one knee, and Lister is kissing Jimmy.

#i was born for this #iwbft #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #the ark #bicci #jake and amy kind of love FR #i haven’t seen b99 in so long writing this was nostalgic #lister bird ur so pretty king #osemanverse #title from Gold Rush by Taylor Swift

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mrs-daddyissues · 3 years

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considerably

~ C H A P T E R 2 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1426

Author’s Note:

This part should be much more interesting but be warned, this story is kind of a slow burn *evil laughter*. It is a bit slow but the pay off will be worth it. I promise.

Sarabi awoke to find herself wrapped in the warm embrace of her bed. The black and gold covers engulfed her body as soft morning light poured through the sheer window curtains. Sarabi was still dressed in her clothes from the night before. Sarabi couldn’t remember how she got here, the only thing she could think of was the massive headache she had.

She arose from her slumber and planned to go find some Advil when something on her bedside table caught her eye. It was a bottle of Advil, a glass of water and a note written in elegant handwriting.

For that headache, Miss Nichols.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Sarabi grumbled as she gulped down the tablets quickly. She smiled softly at the note knowing from how she was addressed and the handwriting that the British gentleman left it for her. That was Alfred’s best quality, his gentlemanly persona that he carried for anybody he met. ‘How sweet of him’ Sarabi thought to herself before rising from the comfort of her bed.

She dragged her feet towards the walk-in wardrobe to look for an outfit. While she was gone, Bruce had bought even more clothes for her as it seemed. She picked up a new baby pink sports bra, matching shorts and didn’t even bother with shoes.

After taming her hair as well, she trudged down the large Wayne Manor stairs and into the kitchen. As she neared the kitchen, her nose picked up the most delectable smell. She turned the corner, chasing the smell and ran straight into Alfred’s chest. She let out a surprised yelp as she felt her feet slipping. With effortless grace, Alfred wrapped his arms around her and stopped her fall. He pulled her back up against his chest as Sarabi’s heart raced. Her heart wasn’t pounding just because of the near fall but because of how his light brown eyes stared into her’s behind his glasses.

Though it was only a few seconds it felt like an eternity. Sarabi could feel her body relax but also tense simultaneously. She felt good. She felt at peace but her heart still fluttered. Her stomach did a small somersault that she barely picked up on. The things she was feeling confused her. Was she just jittery because of the near fall? Or was it something more? Sarabi shook the thoughts from her head and hoped that Alfred couldn’t sense the change in her demeanour.

“Miss Nichols, are you alright?” Alfred asked concerned as he slowly let go of her body. Sarabi felt a sort of melancholic cloud drift over her as his arms slipped from hers. This feeling scared Sarabi most of all.

“Yes, Alfred, thank you. I could smell your cooking and came running,” Sarabi hoped her joke would ease the tension and it worked. Alfred let out a small chuckle before moving to the side so she could walk to the bench.

“So, should I take it as a compliment that you ran right into me?” Alfred queried as he pulled out one of the bench stools for her.

“Most definitely,” Sarabi sat down as Alfred started dishing up her bacon and eggs.

“Ah, Master Wayne, how did you sleep?” Alfred delicately placed Sarabi’s plate on the bench before dishing up another for Bruce who had just walked in.

“Like shit, I mean crap,” Bruce corrected himself as Alfred stared him down. Bruce took a seat next to Sarabi and devoured his food.

“Where is Claudia?” Sarabi inquired, looking around for her bestie and partner in crime.

“Miss Flynn awoke very early and went back to her apartment for work as it is a Monday,” Alfred answered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Oh okay. Wait, how in the hell did I end up in my bed?” Sarabi asked Bruce but from his bugged-out eyes, she knew he had no idea. Bruce had never been a good liar, well, at least to her.

“I have no clue, Sarbi,” Bruce stole a quick glance at Alfred that Sarabi noticed. She looked over at Alfred and his face remained stoic. Sarabi saw a glint in his eyes as his orbs locked with hers.

“Alfred? Did you?” Sarabi questioned as Alfred cleaned up the dishes. Sarabi wondered how Alfred could manage but she guessed it was possible. He was skinny but still well built from his years as an SAS soldier. He was strong but lean.

“Yes, Miss Nichols, I did. I hope you don’t mind. If you do then I apologise,” Alfred sincerely stated and Sarabi smiled.

“No that’s completely fine, thank you. I’m surprised you managed to carry my ass up those stairs,” Sarabi snickered as she stood up with Bruce.

“I am full of surprises, Miss Nichols,” Alfred quipped as he continued washing up.

Sarabi’s voice caught in her throat so she slowly staggered out of the kitchen. She gulped in air as confusion filled her veins. Sarabi had no idea why these things were happening to her body. She had no idea why Alfred, of all people, was having an effect on her.

Sure, he was handsome in a classic sort of way and definitely would’ve been hot in his prime time. He also had a hypnotic voice. If Alfred talked about Wall Street statistics she’d be invested. Sarabi would not deny that Alfred had a lot going for him. He was attractive, charming, gentlemanly and kind but he was also about 45 years her senior. That in itself is wrong on so many levels but still, her body and heart felt something. Sarabi couldn’t put a finger on what it was but decided it was a mixture of fatigue and the headache that still lightly pounding through her head.

“Sarbi, you alright?” Bruce placed a strong hand on her small shoulder, noticing her thoughtful but confused face.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Sarabi shook the puzzled look on her face and smiled. Sarabi couldn’t speak to Bruce about this and felt that even Claudia wouldn’t understand. Claudia made jokes about Alfred being grandad hot and so forth but never had a thing for him. Plus, she was much more interested in Bruce and Diana Prince. Claudia was a classic bisexual, having no idea whom she found more attractive. ‘Bruce’s got the abs and money but Diana’s got the face and body of an angel’ she would always rant to Sarabi. One day she preferred Bruce then the next day it was Diana. Claudia had no idea of Bruce’s or Diana’s secret identities as Batman or Wonder Woman but she knew their maskless personas well. So well that she had battles over which one she could sleep with first. Sarabi had tried to tell Claudia that neither would be interested but she still tried.

“Ready to get back to work?” Bruce suggested and Sarabi patted him on the back.

“I’m actually excited to see what shit you got yourself while I was gone,” Sarabi slapped Bruce on the arm as the two made their way to the infamous Bat Cave.

“What am I working on today?” Sarabi curiously asked as she walked towards her working desk still kept in prime condition. Alfred was a clean freak and clearly kept her desk scrubbed and spotless.

“Gauntlets that absorb and dissipate energy, my own idea,” Bruce smugly showed off.

“Actually, Miss Prince’s idea. She’s had those gauntlets of her’s before she was born,” Alfred answered as he stepped out of the lift.

“And Wonder Woman’s gauntlets are there to minimise and weaken her powers. Talk about a real superhero with real superpowers,” Sarabi teased as she sat down at her desk.

“Watch your mouth, Sarabi before you lose your job,” Bruce warned with a wag of his finger.

“You know you love me,” Sarabi blew a kiss in Bruce’s direction as he stalked off to train or do paperwork, it was either of the two.

“Good one, Miss Nichols. I do remember Diana reminding me of how her gauntlets lessen her powers,” Alfred sat down beside her and pulled off the cloth covering the gauntlet idea.

“Here it is or at least the idea,” Alfred corrected himself as they both stared at the drawings.

“Shall we get to work?” Sarabi turned her head to Alfred and instantly regretted it. His stunning brown eyes caught her attention and sucked out all her sensibility. There was another stomach backflip before she snapped out of it.

“Most definitely, Miss Nichols,” Alfred shuffled closer to her and the two worked tirelessly on the idea Bruce swears he came up with.

<<CHAPTER 1<< ~ ~ ~ >>CHAPTER 3>>

#dc #dc universe #dceu #jeremy irons #jeremy irons x reader #smut #wonder woman #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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i-just-like-commenting · 6 years

Text

Timeless rewatch (part 8/?)

Getting close to the end of season 1 here. As always, spoilers through season 2...

Episode 13: Karma Chameleon

I tried taking notes for this episode but they mostly degenerated into variations of me writing “FUCK YOU WYATT” in all caps. I remember that I was upset with him after this episode the first time I was watching it, to the point that I had to kind of take a break from the series, during which it got cancelled, then uncancelled. I was not anticipating how much it would still piss me off a year later.

I’ve been saying that Wyatt and Flynn are very similar personalities, but this is the episode where Wyatt goes full Flynn. Just...the episode isn’t even subtle with comparing Wyatt and Rufus to Flynn and Anthony. The latter are both the sensible, practical scientists who agree with what their ex-military friend is doing but question whether their reckless, constantly failing plans are actually the way to go about doing it. And both of them get ignored in favor of escalating levels of violence.

Wyatt storms into a hotel room waving a gun at two innocent people ffs!!! And then he gets one of them killed! How is this any different from any of the shit Flynn has done all season?

Well, I’ll tell you one way: Flynn isn’t under any delusions that he can just go back and be with his wife after pulling all the shit he’s pulled, whereas Wyatt, after admitting that Jessica would “be horrified” (his words!) by the shit he just pulled, seems to think it’ll all be okay and he’ll get to be with her.

No, that is not how this works. Flynn may be an arrogant jerkass who is incapable of noticing his basic logic error about teaming up with Lucy in the future, but he’s way more self-aware than Wyatt. That may be more due to being a decade older than him than anything personality-wise.

But even his motivation...I watch the opening scene where he tells Lucy what he’s doing and it is so obvious that he is as motivated by a fear of letting Jessica go and falling for Lucy as he is by any desire to save his wife. He literally makes her cry, and what is Lucy’s reaction? “What do you need me to do?” i.e. she caves instantly to his emotional needs rather than sticking by her - correct! - idea that his whole plan is stupid and is going to fall apart immediately and he GETS AN INNOCENT MAN KILLED.

Hell, this episode goes out of its way to show how nice and good that barkeeper was, and then Wyatt gets him killed! I know, doesn’t kill him directly, but as I’ve said with Flynn, reckless endangerment and depraved indifference are a thing. Wyatt shows them in abundance this episode, and I am so mad at him for it.

Episode 14: The Lost Generation

...of course he does get better. He’s rightfully penitent by the next episode, ready to reevaluate his choices, focus on the now, and move towards the future, and for the next six episodes, 1.14-2.3, I was very Team Wyatt, he was showing so much progress. Knowing how much he backslides, though, makes it hard to completely disengage from my rage at him in 1.13.

Anyway, this episode. One Timeless blogger I’ve taken to following for her spot-on takes on what went wrong with Wyatt last season argues that Lucy is bisexual and yeeeaaaah I can definitely see this especially after this episode. Why don’t you gawk at Josephine Baker a little more there, hon? And the camera cuts between her and Rufus’ unabashed attraction and there isn’t much difference.

One question I had by the end of this episode is how aware Rittenhouse is of Flynn’s journal. They know, via Emma, that he has one, but she doesn’t seem to know whose it is. Then Carol gives Lucy’s hers shortly after this...did Emma guess what “LP” stood for and passed in on to Carol, completing a loop? Or was she completely incommunicado, meaning that Carol gave the journal to Lucy because she wanted her to do it, not for time travel reasons? I could see the latter still being nefarious, as it would make for easy spying on Lucy’s personal thoughts. If I remember correctly, she never writes in it this season, and it didn’t appear in season 2. I would think she still has it, and I’d like to see her start writing in it randomly, just to get her thoughts down like her mother says, then retrieve Flynn’s copy and realize they’re the exact same, letter by letter, dun dun DUN.

Fwiw, Limburgh’s refusal to oppose Rittenhouse, along with Carol’s lack of a deathbed repentance in 2x10, are what make me skeptical of Jessica ever fully breaking away from Rittenhouse. She may decide she doesn’t like Emma, what with Emma shooting their guru in the head, but that Rittenhouse upbringing is hard to fight. I also want to know more about what Lucy was supposed to do and why they waited until she was in her 30s to tell her. I have a feeling that the complacency of her personality might have been completely intentional - the Rittenhouse heir has to do what she’s told.

#timeless #rewatch #spoilers #mostly me raging at wyatt

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