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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

Already dating

Word count: 1618

Genre: Probably fluff, idk really

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: None (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: could you maybe write something with Natasha x male reader (if your comfortable, otherwise you can write it with female or gender neutral) where Natasha blushes when the reader compliments her in front of the team and the team immediately goes crazy and does everything in their power to get them together, only to find out they've been dating all along?

Summary: Steve and Tony (mostly Tony) lock you in an elevator to admit your feelings, not knowing you’re already together.

A/n: Thanks @mochamoff for the request, sorry it took so long to do it! I’m writing this authors note over a week before I’m posting the fic which is unusual because usually I post within twenty four hours of finishing. Anyways it feels nice to be on a break and this fic being posted means I’m officially back which I’m excited for. To be honest this fic isn’t the whole team, just Tony and Steve, but I’m pretty happy with the way it turned out so I hope you all enjoy reading!

“Next time you have to listen to me in the field Stark.” Steve says as soon as everyone is settled into their place on the jet.

“Actually I don’t, you have absolutely no power over me and as much as you want to be the leader of this team you are not so stop acting like it.” Tony snaps back.

“Someone has to step up and lead.” Steve tells him. “It’s not like you could do any better, you would probably mess things up.”

“Maybe I would, but I would do a hell of a lot better than you are doing.” Tony says. “You like to pretend you’re all high and good and above us but who made you leader? Nobody. You crave control so you took it.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

You watch them snap back and forth at one another a few more times, rolling your eyes at Natasha. She gives you a small smile to show that she’s amused and turns her attention back to your two teammates whose argument has only gotten more and more heated.

“Y/n what do you think?” Tony asks, catching you off guard.

“About what?”

“About who would be a better leader for the team.” he explains. You think for a moment and they both stand as tall as possible (in Tony’s case it isn’t tall at all) and puff out their chests. You scoff, the male ego is so big, even in men who are good and try to do the right thing.

“Neither.” you decide.

“Neither- but the team needs a leader, you have to pick someone.” Tony splutters.

“Just because I don’t think the best leader is either of you doesn’t mean I don’t think the team needs a leader.” you tell him. How one of the smartest people in the world can’t figure that out for himself is beyond you.

“So who would you choose then?” Steve asks, confused.

“Natasha obviously.” you say, smiling at her. The corners of her mouth tug up slightly and even that small movement makes you feel proud.

“No offense, but Natasha???” Tony asks, seemingly outraged. “Why?”

“Well first of all she doesn’t have a fragile male ego like you dumbasses.” you tell them. “But it’s more than just that. She’s smart, both book smart and street smart. She can hack into computers and memorize information easily and knows how to blend in, or to get people to like her. She is more rational than the both of you combined but is also good at making decisions on the fly. She is an excellent fighter and can keep track of strategies and she has connections in and out of the government, with backup plans for almost every situation. Not to mention she has an amazing heart and don’t argue like some other people on our team tend to do. And of course she’s absolutely gorgeous but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

You wink at her at the end of your mini speech and are surprised to find her cheeks noticeably pink. She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face when she thinks over your words.

“Abort mission, Romanoff is blushing and smiling, I think I might be about to die.” Tony states obnoxiously.

“Shut up, you’re just annoyed that she likes me better than you.” Natasha tells him, taking a breath to (mostly) collect herself.

“You’re scary when you’re happy. I haven’t seen you like that before.” he says. “Are you in love with Y/n or something?”

“Shut up.”

Tony smirks. “Make me.”

Natasha takes one threatening step towards him and that’s all it takes for him to back away, stuttering out apologies and mumbling under his breath about how Natasha is too scary to be a team leader. Natasha’s scare tactics do seem to work though because he doesn’t speak to anybody but himself for the rest of the ride home.

As soon as the jet touches down you and Natasha exit, heading straight to the room where you are supposed to be debriefed. Steve tries to follow but Tony grabs his arm to let him know to hold back a second.

“I know I joke but I honestly think they’re in love with each other.” Tony tells him. “I didn’t see it before today but there’s no way Y/n’s speech was platonic, who memorizes lists of reasons why they like their friends, not to mention their flirty wink at the end. And then Natasha, she’s scary but she was acting weird and happy around Y/n.”

“I hate to say this but I agree with you and they would make a cute couple.” Steve says. “But we should probably catch up now.”

Tony takes Steve’s words as an opportunity to stop being serious and become obnoxious again. “Onward dear captain, lead the way fearsome leader, how ever could I-”

“Tony I’m trying to be polite but you are making it very hard.”

---

“Tony no.”

“Tony yes.”

“That is a horrible idea.”

Tony opens his mouth in outrage. “I think it’s a pretty good idea actually.”

“I won’t work.” Steve counters.

“Well I think it well and need I’m the only genius here.” he says smugly.

“You can’t force love!” Steve tells Tony, running his hand through his hair in frustration.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony says, “I’m not forcing love, they are already in love. All I’m doing is giving them a little push.”

“By locking them in an elevator?” Steve asks in a deadpan voice.

“Exactly.”

“You can’t just go around locking people-” Steve starts to say but he gets cut off by Tony.

“Shhhhhhh, hi Y/n, hi Natasha.”

“Hi guys, what are you up to?” you ask, obvious to what was going on seconds before you entered the room. Natasha eyes them suspiciously because they are acting weird, holding their bodies stiffly, which means they are hiding something.

“We were just about to head down to the training room, want to come?” Tony lies smoothly while Steve shakes his head in the background.

“That sounds good,” you reply, “you want Tasha?”

“Okay.” she agrees, still eyeing both of them, Tony in particular suspiciously.

“Great!” Tony says and starts to walk towards the elevator and the rest of you follow him, Steve trying to convince himself that going along with Tony’s plan is doing no harm.

“Ladies first.” he says, stepping off to the side and giving a big flourish with his arm. It’s weird but then again Tony is always weird so you don’t think too much of it, stepping into the elevator. As soon as Natasha follows you in he orders Jarvis to close and lock the doors and to prevent the elevator from moving and then pulling up a screen so he can watch you.

“You better run when I get out of here!” Natasha yells. “You too Steve!”

“You’re going to thank me later.” Tony says. “Steve, why don’t you explain why we locked them in.”

“Um,” Steve hesitates, not knowing where to start, “well we think that you two need to talk about, um, feelings.”

“Feelings?” you ask, confused, while realization dawns over Natasha’s face.

“Um, yeah feelings.” Steve responds, feeling very awkward and hoping this works so he didn’t do all that for nothing.

“They don’t know we’re dating and they’re trying to get us together.” Natasha leans over and whispers in your ear before straightening back up and talking to Tony again. “I didn’t take you for such a romantic Stark.”

“What? I’m not- romantic me? Pepper says I’m the least romantic guy she’s ever been with.” he splutters, trying to regain his masculinity.

“And that is not a compliment.” you tell him. “But for some reason even though ‘you aren’t romantic’ you wanted to get us together.”

“Maybe I did,” he says. “but you have to admit that my plan is amazing and it's totally working.”

Natasha snorts “What part of this conversation screams working to you?”

“Well you haven’t killed Y/n yet and neither of you have denied your feelings so it’s obviously working. I expect a thank you speech dedicated to me at your wedding.” He says arrogantly.

“There will be no speech.” Natasha tells him.

“But there will be a wedding?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Steve has to look away because it looks ridiculous.

“Hopefully.” you say, teasing Tony with your vagueness but also making Natasha smile as she thinks about what that might be like.

“Told you my plan would work.” Tony brags to Steve before telling Jarvis to release you from the elevator.

“Your plan sucked.” Natasha tells him. “We were already dating dumbasses.”

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of the room as Steve and Tony stare after you, shocked.

“Did you know about this?” Tony asks, looking at Steve with suspicion.

“Not at all.” Steve answers, his mouth still half open. In hindsight it should have been obvious. Of course Natasha wouldn’t want to be open about her dating life right away, she likes her secrets way too much.

---

“You owe me fifty bucks Y/n.” Natasha tells you once you’re out of earshot.

“Seriously?” you whine.

“You said they already knew but they didn't, so pay up.” She holds her hand outwards expectantly and you both laugh.

“Later.” you tell her. “There are more important things to do now.”

“Hmm, like what?” she teases gently, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches because you still can’t believe you are dating someone this beautiful. You match her halfway and pull her into a deep kiss, only pulling back when you need to breath.

“This.”

---

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel fanfiction

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leda-x · 3 years

Note

Hello! I just finished A Snapping Sound and absolutely loved it, it was so so good! I just had a quick question about how Danny ultimately passed since I'm a bit confused-

Did he get caught somehow during the second escape and then after some time Vlad did the same to him as the others? Or was it accidental death in his escape? I thought his escape plan was quite clever, I'm wondering how he got found and how he died exactly 😭

Thank you!

Hey I wrote this whole thing out... somewhere... lemme find it...

Danny hadn’t seen the sky in aeons. Time was no longer marked by sunrise and sunset. Days were marked by when his tormentor entered the basement and when he left. Danny obsessively picked the routine apart, unraveling it, replaying it over and over for a way to exploit it. He had nothing else to do except log the details of his captivity.

When he’s about to leave he stomps three times to knock the dirt from his shoes.

He takes the steps two at a time when he descends, one at a time when he ascends.

After he leaves, I have approximately seven hours until he comes back. Seven hours to escape, give or take thirty minutes of error, seeing as I counted the seconds, during five different ‘nights’, then averaged them.

Of course, his captor caught onto that pretty quickly. After Danny’s first botched escape attempt the man was careful to randomize his routine in such a way that Danny was left in a constant state of disorientation. He was kept cuffed for what felt like days on end, then, without any reasoning, he was uncuffed. He no longer could tell when one ‘day’ bled into another, as his captor spent different segments of time in the basement, ranging everywhere from four hours, down to ten minutes. He also began to sedate Danny at odd intervals, for no apparent reason other than to create blurry gaps in his memory and keep him from planning. Danny had quieted and his tormentor had taken his complacency as defeat instead of what it really was: endurance. Somewhere along the way, Danny had learned that, in order to survive long enough to escape, he had to be a smart captive. A smart captive meant sacrificing any semblance of pride, playing nice, and waiting. It meant begging when asked to beg, agreeing to anything and everything, and otherwise pretending you didn’t exist, because only bad things happened when you were noticed.

At this point, keeping track of time became pointless. So did the idea of planning an elaborate escape attempt. If he couldn’t predict what his tormentor would do, with any small amount of certainty, he had no constants to plan around. And while he knew he could pick the lock to his room, he also knew that he stood no chance of getting out of the basement anymore. At least, not on his own. The man had sealed that exit thoroughly.

So, Danny waited patiently and remained vigilant for a random stroke of luck.

And then, miraculously, one day an opportunity presented itself in the form of a dead body.

In the dark, Danny squinted and was able to make out a four-sided wooden coffin. The lid was ajar, a dark hand waving out.

Danny pried the lid off and stared down, stunned. Even though he knew before he even opened the lid, it wasn’t any less unnerving to see the dead eyes staring up at him.

Danny swallowed thickly. He reached underneath the corpse’s armpits, hoisting it up. The thing’s head lolled, nuzzling his, giving Danny an intense whiff of rot and an expanse of clammy flesh. Danny turned his head away and gagged. He tried not to think about how this could be him if this prison break didn’t work.

It took forever to drag the body across the basement into his room. It took another forever to wrestle it into his clothing. The body’s arms were rubbery, heavy, and swollen.

Danny panted, dizzy. In his emaciated state this whole endeavor was like a marathon. Adrenaline beat his ears like a war drum and leant him strength he did not possess. With a grunt, he rolled the dead thing onto his bed and covered it with his thin blanket.

He had no idea how long this doppelganger would fool his jailor. If the man entered his room today he would notice, but the man rarely came into his room.

Danny breathed shallowly. He felt more awake now than he had felt in long time. More alive. Clear-headed. Focused. Hope dared to balloon in his chest. This could work.

He tugged on the clone’s clothes. It had been wearing nothing but a white shirt and a pair of overly baggy pants. After yanking the shirt on, Danny searched through the basement and found a surgical knife. He tucked it into the waistline, the cool metal pressing against the small of his back. He found several large bottles of whatever his captor used before he performed surgeries on his other victims— some kind of weird orange-yellow-brown liquid— and he smeared it across his every inch of exposed skin.

Then, with one last glance at the near pitch-black basement, Danny lowered himself into the coffin and readjusted the lid so it was half covering him. He tried to remember how the corpse had been lying. Any missed detail, and he’d fail. His captor wasn’t stupid.

Danny raised his right hand and draped it over the edge of the casket, limp.

He stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time. Hours. Days. He couldn’t tell. His shoulders, the back of his head, his heels, and his tailbone pounded at the hard surface of the box. He lost feeling completely in his upraised arm. His eyes stared blankly ahead, scanning, knowing that three inches from his nose was a wooden lid, although the box was so dark he couldn’t make it out.

His eyes drooped and his adrenaline faded away, yet his body never relaxed. As much as his body screamed for it, he couldn’t allow sleep. Not tonight.

A mechanical door whirred and someone descended into the lab. Heavy, slow, plodding footsteps— Skulker’s.

Danny’s breath caught.

Skulker wasted no time. He lumbered over to the casket where Danny willed himself to steady. The fact that his hand hand gone numb was a blessing. It meant it had no chance of trembling and giving him away.

Danny didn’t dare flinch or breathe. He kept his mouth agape and prayed Skulker wouldn’t look too hard. Skulker wasn’t much for noticing details. Desperate to not think about what was going on right now, Danny tried to remember his mother’s voice, her scent, the feeling of his head tucked underneath her chin as she held him close and safe. Any residual tension flooded out of his limbs.

Skulker grabbed his right hand and flung it back into the box. Danny’s leadened arm flopped lifelessly and hit the wall of the casket with a dull thud that he didn’t feel. Above him, the lid of the coffin was put back in place.

A grating noise, then a series of booms. Danny couldn’t help but flinch as the coffin jolted painfully against his sore body. The back of his skull complained. His eyeballs rattled in their sockets.

Then, he was being moved. How? He wasn’t sure.

Danny dared to open his eyes— seeing nothing but pitch black. Danny couldn’t twist or sit upright. He could barely move his head two inches up before hitting it on the lid. His eyes flitted around the slats to try and see through, but it was impossible.

A slow triumphant smirk spread across his lips. He was maybe the only person ever that was looking forward to being buried alive.

Skulker grunted as he heaved the box somewhere... outside. Freezing cold air whistled through the cracks, easily biting through Danny’s shirt. He fought a shiver and wondered what month it was. The last time he had attempted escape, it had been spring. Surely it hadn’t been more than a few months since then?

Skulker let out a gruff noise and Danny felt weightlessness as the box got tossed. With a jolt of fear, his fingers tried to clamp down to something, but there was nothing to hold onto. The casket hit hard and tumbled. Danny’s head smacked into the side of the box. He blinked blood rapidly out of his left eye. Absently, Danny prayed that Skulker didn’t look back in the box again. The blood would be a dead giveaway. Also, in this light, Danny doubted Skulker would mistake him again.

There was a yip and a rustle. The sound of tinkling chains. Danny only had his imagination to sort out what was going on.

Skulker let out a whistle and at least three dogs answered with howls, before the box jolted and Danny was gliding. He turned his head to the side and ran the back of his hand along the wood grain. Three inches of cedar plank separated him from the sun. Tears welled in his eyes, unbidden. It had felt like ages since he had last seen the sky. And here he was, so close, yet still unable to see it.

Danny forced back the tears. This wasn’t the time to get overly emotional or cocky. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He pricked his ears, trying to dissect each noise in case it would prove important later, should this escape work. He could hear a constant shhhhhhh of whatever contraption he was on. A chain jingled, taut. There were several dogs. He could hear them panting and snuffling nearby. Far ahead he could hear Skulker plodding along. Branches snapped and leaves rustled. Images of the forest behind the mansion came to mind.

If they were in that forest, they had cut over to a deeper, denser, part. Their progress was slower and Skulker cursed more and more underneath his breath. Danny could hear that the man was fatigued. His footsteps grew slower and heavier.

They came to a halt. The dogs scampered away. Danny heard a door close and the sound of a fire crackling.

Danny closed his eyes again and went limp. He was patient. He could wait. But, Skulker never came back and neither did the dogs. Danny got the feeling that he had been forgotten. He didn’t know how long that would last. His feet and palms began to sweat, itch. This could be the last chance he had before Skulker buried the coffin.

Danny shifted, wiggling until he could get his arms free from where they were pinned up against the sides of the box. He used his knees and his palms to push against the lid.

It wouldn’t budge.

Danny’s heart hammered in his throat. He used the top of his head. He strained and let out a soft noise of frustration. Did Skulker already nail the lid on? Danny hadn’t planned on that. His mind raced, trying to come up with another way out, should that be the case. He had a knife, maybe he could… He shook his head, refocused, and tried again.

This time the lid popped and cracked open.

Danny froze and held his breath, listening intently for any sign that Skulker had heard that. When nothing happened, he pushed the lid all the way off and sat up.

Fresh air ruffled his hair, and filled his lungs, making him dizzy and euphoric. Sunlight warmed his cheeks. Snowflakes fell against his nose and nestled atop his head. Danny heaved a few breaths and looked upwards. Giddiness nearly overcame him as he took in the sky.

Blue. Sun. Fluffy clouds lazily rolling along a dazzling crystalline sky. Peace.

Danny stared around at all the snow, bewildered. Panic simmered. He had missed out on a way larger chunk of time than he originally thought. He had been taken in August. His first escape attempt had been in spring. There was at least two feet of snow blanketing the ground, which meant it was December, if not February. That meant… over a year.

Over a year of lost time.

Danny pushed that thought aside and peered down to find the casket which was resting atop a sled— a sled which sat next to a log cabin. Danny looked directly into a window. Inside, a healthy fireplace, several animal heads mounted to the wall, and Skulker crouched above the fire. He had his back to the window, poking a bit at the embers. The hunter straightened and turned.

Danny let his spine go limp and fell backwards into the casket. His eyes darted about at the sky wildly in fear. He realized it didn’t matter if Skulker saw him or not— he had to get out of this coffin.

Keeping his head ducked, Danny crawled out and fell to the ground. Cold seeped through his shirt and pants, soaking them. Blood stained the snow underneath his head. Danny’s fingers curled desperately into the snow, feeling it crunch against his palm.

He backed away from the sled, sliding along his butt, until his back hit the cabin wall. He edged away from the front door. Keeping his gaze fixated on the window, Danny used his hands to feel his way behind him. His palm hit something warm and wet and he flinched.

An English Setter stared at him, butting its head into Danny’s palm. It’s fur was mangy and a speckled brown. It was large and brutish, with thick corded muscle.

Danny froze.

The dog tilted its head and growled.

“Shh,” Danny breathed. He caught sight of a leather collar with a name tag. “Shh, Cujo.”

Its head the other direction, ears perked in recognition.

“That’s your name, right?” Danny soothed, whispering. “Listen, Cujo. Let’s keep this our little secret, ok?” He got onto his feet, slowly. His height frightened the dog, who skittered back a few paces and yipped, loud.

The cabin door flew open.

Danny ran.

His bare feet ached as he tore his way through the snow. With each stride his leg disappeared several inches. The snow was icy and sharp. Danny didn’t care. His gaze was laser-focused on a thick clump of trees. He had no idea where he was, but he figured that he could find some hiding spots in the thicker parts of the forest.

From behind him, as if through a tunnel, Danny heard a yell. He phased it all out of his mind and kept running. All that mattered was running as fast as he could into that treeline. Even when he reached it, he knew he wasn’t safe, he kept running. Skulker was coming up behind him. Danny could hear the man’s panting.

Danny darted through the branches, hopping over a log. He trained all his focus on not tripping.

Skulker stampeded right behind him. Almost on top of him now.

Adrenaline pounded through his head. He urged his legs to run faster, but they had done nothing for over a year. His muscles quivered with disuse. Out of desperation, he yanked at a branch so it would fling backwards. Behind him, Skulker gave a pained grunt then tackled him from behind with the brute force of an avalanche.

The breath got knocked from his lungs. His face pressed into the snow. It filled his mouth and his nose. He choked. Panic stabbed at him. His hands scrambled for purchase and found a branch. Getting a good grip on it, he whipped it behind him.

Skulker grabbed that arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to let go of the bludgeon. Danny’s arm screamed in protest.

“Stop struggling,” Skulker grunted. He pressed his knee into the back of Danny’s head, forcing his face a few more inches into the snow until it completely covered his ears.

Danny screamed, but it was muffled. He twisted and kicked backwards as hard as he could. His bare heel collided with a crunch. Dimly, Danny was aware of pain in his foot.

Skulker howled and tumbled off of him.

Danny crawled a few paces away before getting back on his feet. He swayed.

Skulker got ahold of his neck and slammed him against a tree.

“Hnnr—” Danny choked. Snow rattled off the branches overhead, dumping onto the pair of them. It clung to his hair and eyelashes. He blinked furiously up at Skulker’s leering face.

Skulker’s eyes narrowed. He lifted Danny higher until his bare feet kicked nothing but air and the back of the tree.

Danny gritted his teeth and lashed out, hitting Skulker’s arms, his hands clawing, ripping. His struggles weakened as his vision darkened. Skulker’s tough leather hunting gloves were impossible to scratch through and he was wearing far too many layers. He merely shook Danny by the neck like shaking a rubber chicken.

Danny’s head flopped as the fight got sucked out of him. For a minute he forgot. He allowed himself to give up. “Do it,” he mouthed, lips trembling.

Skulker paused. “What?”

"Do it,” Danny mouthed again.

Skulker’s faced dawned in understanding. He nodded. His grip tightened until Danny felt like his neck would snap in half.

Danny’s eyelashes fluttered. The brilliant blue sky faded into black. His hands fell to his sides, still. He felt an overwhelming calm swoop down over him. It swaddled him in a blanket of peace. Then, something dug into the small of his back. A wiggling thread loosened, a voice screamed that he couldn’t just fall noiselessly into the dark. If he died, Skulker would put him in that box and bury him somewhere no one would ever find him, just like he had done with all the others.

Danny couldn’t swallow that. Couldn’t stomach it. He wouldn’t allow them to get away with it.

Still limp at his sides, his hands suddenly twitched. As if in a dream, he reached behind his back and found the handle of a knife. His fingers could barely grasp it, but he dredged up enough voracity to whip the knife out and bury it deep into Skulker’s shoulder. The knife shifted through muscle and bit into bone.

Skulker dropped him and stumbled backwards with a surprised howl. He no longer looked like he wanted to entertain the idea of putting Danny out of his misery peacefully.

Danny collapsed at the base of the tree, clawing at his throat, gasping for air. Still, Danny refused for this to be the end. He had waited, planned, and been patient. This was the closest he had been to freedom. He couldn’t die and he couldn’t go back. He would not go back into that basement. He was so fucking close, he would fucking murder Skulker if he had to.

Desperation flooded him beyond reason. Danny dug around at the base of the tree, through the snow, for anything he could use. He found a rock.

Skulker grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him backwards, roughly. His back lit with fire. Danny screamed and twisted, smashing the rock as hard as he could into Skulker’s head. The man toppled. Danny struck him again, twice, three times, as hard as he possibly could. Suddenly— silence.

Danny panted. His chest heaved. He dropped the bloodied rock into the snow and stared. With his toe, he poked Skulker’s shoulder. Little crimson bubbles fizzed in the corner of Skulker’s mouth— proof he was still breathing.

Danny tried to stand up and fell. His back screamed. He reached behind and found the handle of the knife protruding from his somewhere to the left of his mid-spine. Without thinking, he ripped it out, shoving his face into the snow to stifle his shout. Pain became nausea. He stared at the knife accusingly, before tucking it back into his waistline.

He tried to stand again. His legs wobbled and his back seized, paralyzing him. The world spun on it’s axis and Danny found himself sprawled on the snow again, puffing little agonized breathes of air.

Walking was out of the question, then.

Danny dragged himself away from Skulker’s unconscious body, away from the cabin. He used the snow as a cushion and pulled his body along. The pace didn’t matter. Any progress was ok.

After what felt like a half hour, Danny peered back and saw the red trail he was leaving behind. He laughed, giddy from blood loss. His feet and hands were completely numb. His teeth chattered and his entire body shivered. Even if he got away from the mansion, it wouldn’t be long before he died from hypothermia or blood loss, or both. His laughing grew hysteric. Over a year in captivity, only to die from snow.

He took a second to lean against a tree and dry heave. Nothing came up. His laughs turned into sobs. He laughed and cried and bled all over the tree until he regained enough steel to find his feet again. Now that he couldn’t really feel most of his body, it was somehow easier.

He wrapped his arms around its trunk to keep upright and pressed his face into its bark. He bit into it. The earthy taste of dirt was beautiful. He inhaled as deeply as he could. Then, he closed his eyes, centered himself, and listened.

Birds chirped merrily overhead.

Trees rustled.

Then, a horn honked.

Danny’s head swiveled towards the noise. With borrowed strength, Danny first walked towards that sound, then ran with an unsteady, limping gait.

A deep bark from a dog echoed from behind him. No doubt one of Skulker’s, which meant it was a purebred hunting dog. Loyal. It had probably seen it’s master and was not happy.

Danny urged his body to go faster, to be stronger— just for a little while.

That bark grew louder. It turned into a prolonged chilling howl.

Danny broke into a huge clearing the size of a football field. He stumbled to a halt, afraid of being exposed while crossing it. He could hear distant highway noise coming from the other side.

The dog barked again, closer.

No choice. Danny bolted across the clearing. The snow was deeper and harder to traverse. Danny ignored his body yelling at him that his organs were in trouble. He tugged at his limbs like they were fighting him and practically threw one foot in front of the other.

Another howl. Too close. It was too close.

Danny looked back and saw Cujo bounding towards him from across the clearing.

Frantically, he fumbled for his knife. His fingers were blue and unresponsive. The knife fell into snow. Danny was forced to take his eyes off the incoming hunting dog to look down. He scrambled, finally getting it in hand, just in time for Cujo to be upon him.

He got the animal directly in the chest, his arm somehow narrowly missing the creature’s fangs.

The dog yipped and retreated, bounding several feet away to evaluate its wound. It whined and licked at its side. Huge brown eyes turned to Danny reproachfully.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered. “I had to.”

The dog growled. Its ears flattened and it crouched, preparing to pounce again.

Danny stumbled back heavily. He clutched the knife close, readying himself. From underneath his feet the earth groaned.

The dog galloped away from Danny towards the treeline, back where it had come from. It’s gait grew unsteady. As it neared the edge of the clearing it lumbered around in circles, before collapsing, dead.

Danny took a step towards the road.

A series of cracking and grinding noises reverberated outwards from underneath his feet. His eyes widened, gaze diving for his feet.

Not a clearing, he thought, right before the ground disappeared and he was submerged in freezing black water.

#Danny Phantom #A Snapping Sound #pure horror here #nothing but horror #TL;DR he drowned #my writing #an excerpt I wrote to understand exactly how Danny died #so I could allude to it the whole time #there are some details here that don't quite match anymore #but yeah

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the-mandalorian-clone-lover · 3 years

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Aces in Spaces Chapter 8

I know its not Monday, But, I literally have written so many cute things and it’ll take forever to get to them so I’m moving to posting twice a week (please don’t feel like y’all have to keep up with that I’m just an over-excited nerd :P

Slightly longer chapter! Erica is finally getting to meet the support group (and Hannah) for herself!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @maybege @princessxkenobi @obaby-wan @agent-450

Masterlist

Erica going to the support group 4 months dating

“You agreed to meet him here. You agreed to meet him here and there’s no reason why you can’t do this. He said there would be cake, I promise, everything will be ok. It’s possible you might not even have to say anything other than your name.”

Erica takes a deep breath after her pep talk, leaning her head against the head rest and counting to even her breathing. Where was Roman?

It’s still 20 minutes before the start she reasons, he probably isn’t as eager to be early as she is. She thought maybe if she showed up early enough she’d have adequate time to prepare herself before going in (as if she hadn’t spent the whole morning and previous evening doing the same thing, her mind traitorously reminds her). She bites the bullet and reaches to call Roman.

“Hello darling” She can tell he’s smiling and she’s about to scold him “Butch is driving the monstrosity, you needn’t worry for my safety.” He tacks on helpfully.

“Roman I don’t know if I can do this.” Maybe she hadn’t intended on being so honest but he already knows her most guarded secret, he probably understands.

“How can I help?”

She drops her head against the seat again, somehow he always knows what to ask and it’s making her feel like crying again at how caring he is. “I, are you on your way?”

“We’ll be there in… three minutes tops dear one.”

She takes a deep breath. She can handle that. “I’m not going in without you.”

“Of course not ace, I can’t have someone steal you away”

The thought makes her heart leap to her throat anew. She hadn’t even considered the prospect of having to deal with that while she was here, wasn’t this supposed to be a support group? Isn’t that like a safe space? Good God is nothing sacred anymore?

A car pulling in next to her breaks her free from her thoughts and she sighs in relief at realizing it is what they have dubbed ‘the monstrosity’ (much to Butcher’s dismay). Roman is out of his door and over to open hers in a flash, holding his arms out in question and she dives in without a second thought.

“We don’t have to if you aren’t ready today.”

She shakes her head against his shoulder, picking her head up slightly to say against his ear. “These are your friends now, they’d miss you.”

“I can send Butch to tell them I’ll be back next week.”

Erica pulls away slightly to look at Butch and Roman turns with her.

“Boss, I wouldn’t want to—”

“Then again” he turns to look at the sky absent mindedly, “if he simply pops in and says we’ve both been called away to the advantage of a certain librarian who needs assistance shelving books, I suppose that can’t be helped now can it?” He finishes looking at Erica again, definitely teasing, and she swallows slightly before nodding.

“I’ll go in then, I want to meet her.” Her eyes go to Butch, “Unless you really would want the afternoon off? I don’t mind doing a movie, or—”

She trails off, eyes searching the ground and Roman tightens his arms around her reassuringly.

“I don’t mind either way Ms. Erica, if you feel up to it today, we’ll give it a go together. My Hannah would understand either way.”

She looks to Butch again. “Do you promise she won’t be mean to me?”

Roman tilts his head, where had that come from? Erica sounds like a young girl going to school for the first time, not anything like the strong and fearless woman he knows her to be.

Butcher on the other hand looks horrified. “No, no, no” He reaches out to her shoulders and she meets his hand half-way with her own, pulling him to embrace both her and Roman. “Hannah would never, y’all two would get along like a house on fire” He’s lowered his voice now, speaking softly and his tone bleeds comfort around their huddled trio, even Roman’s starting to feel safe. “If she was that’d be it Ms. Erica, I can’t let anything happen to you two.” He’s rubbing her back slowly now, “And you know how the boss gets if you’re sad Ms. Erica, gets all weepy” Roman starts to struggle from his side of the huddle, “can’t get anything done” Roman is now avidly struggling, “can’t even get out of bed in the morning—”

“Really? Must you?”

Erica’s laughing, “Alright girls you’re both pretty, now if I can be a member of a crime syndicate, I can handle a support group, I need to meet this lovely woman of yours.” She finishes with a smile and Roman beams, She wasn’t wrong about him viewing the others in the group as his friends and since he made them in the process of helping her, it’s something he feels the need to share.

They head in together, the door doesn’t leave enough room for them to walk arm in arm but Erica walks between them when possible and soon they find themselves coming up to the desk. Where Hannah is currently absent. Erica tilts her head but Butch speaks before she can, whisper shouting in (fond) annoyance.

“Love I told you not to climb that ladder when there’s nobody there to catch ya!!!”

Erica looks to her right at Butchers exclamation and finds that ‘love’ is a small slight woman with darker skin, who is balanced (rather precariously she will admit), at the top step of a ladder. She also turns to look at Butch, smiling affectionately before raising her eyes and making eye contact with Erica. Erica smiles back in an effort to make herself seem less intimidating (being 6 feet tall doesn't always help). Hannah, however, enthusiastically extends her arm above her head to wave, much to butcher’s chagrin, (who is attempting to coax her down from the ladder) and Erica waves back shyly. She certainly seemed nice enough.

Hannah begins to descend the ladder, Butch’s hands finding her waist to guide her as soon as she’s within reach (which only takes about a step on her part) and three steps from the bottom he scoops her up to twirl her around before setting her down again, face nuzzling into her neck from his place behind her.

Erica turns toward Roman to give them privacy and he brushes his fingers against her in question. She takes them, nodding, gazing into his eyes for a last assurance before hearing Butch’s quiet ‘love I want you to meet someone’ and turning to face them both.

Hannah seems to bounce almost, still whispering but exuding joy all the same, “Hello!” She extends her hand gently, “I’m Hannah, I work here and help the group when they need it” she elbows Butch softly with her other arm, “I’m also dating this hunk so there’s that too.” She breaks eye contact to wink at him before turning to Erica again and smiling kindly. “I think it’s brave what you’re doing, I know it isn’t easy to talk about things that are so personal.”

Erica breaths a sigh of relief, taking Hannah’s hand in both of her own. “Thank you.” She blinks before releasing the other woman and looks down at her feet to gather herself before she speaks again. “I’m Erica” She elbows Roman in much the same fashion “I’m dating the other hunk.” She gives Hannah a lopsided smile (the one she makes when emulating something she isn’t quite sure about but hopes she’s doing right, Roman’s seen it before and if he were braver in the library he’d pick her up and spin her like Butch did Hannah because she’s doing so well). They’d had late conversations about how today would go, Erica desperate for every detail he could give, wanting to plan her every move, and even then she’d finally confessed to feeling unsure she would be able to go through with it. To discuss struggles that she’d worked so hard for years to hide would be digging up a lot of old memories and she wasn’t sure she could. Not alone, and certainly not with others around. He’d settled on just telling her that she could tap him twice on the thigh at any point and he’d give Butch ‘the look’ and they’d leave, she didn’t have to do it all in one day. So far, she’s swallowed all her fears and been amazing, part of him wants to tap her thigh now so he can bring her to that ice cream place and shower her with affection for being so strong.

But alas, Hannah is chatting up a storm with her about all sorts of things now, makeup, clothes, where she got the adorable sweater she’s wearing and wondering if Erica ever has trouble with her sleeves being too short. And Erica is smiling fully (her real one, not the lopsided one, and that alone is a huge step) so he doesn’t think she’ll let him pull her away. It might be an even better prospect honestly.

He makes eye contact with Butch and raises his eyebrows, “It seems we’re both in want of a partner, do you suppose things will ever be the same?” He puts on a mournful face as if a breakup had actually occurred. Butch plays along, though he’s fighting a smile.

“No boss, think we ought to just stick with ourselves, it seems we’ve been abandoned.”

A ‘SHHHHHHH’ is whisper shouted from somewhere and both the girls seem to jolt back to their surroundings. “Oh goodness” comes Hannah’s quick whisper, “I don’t mean to keep you! You all run along now” She answers Butch’s protest before it’s even out, “yes I promise to stay off the ladder” She tugs him down by the collar to plant a quick pec on his lips (him bending at the waist and her on the tips of her toes and straining up) before turning back to Roman and Erica.

“Roman, that is a wonderful woman you have found, and I swear if you hurt her I’ll fight you.”

Erica pauses before leaning forward, putting her arms out to offer Hannah a hug. She gets one. “You’re the best.”

Hannah smiles when they pull away, “Girls have to stick together, I got you.” She pats Erica’s elbow and winks at her before shooing them again, walking with them a few steps before moving behind her desk. The slap to Butcher’s butt seems to echo through the library and Erica nearly snorts, turning around to give Hannah a thumbs up around Butcher before walking again (she misses the way the man is completely unphased by it but Roman doesn’t and oh boy is that going to get him teased in the near future).

They walk down the hall together like Butch and Roman have done so many times before, Erica taking Roman’s hand at the last second, whether to comfort herself or to subtly show he’s hers she isn’t sure but it helps both things. She glances through the room as they enter, sticking close to Roman, and smiles when she hears an excited “Butch!!” from the far side.

The blond boy Roman mentioned, Tom, comes bounding over, nearly throwing himself into Butch’s waiting arms and Butch turns into the momentum, swinging the boy’s legs a little. “Hey squirt? How ya doin?”

“Oh I’m swell! I learned that word this week, swell, it means, um, nice. Do you like it?”

Butch smiles, “It’s great. Can I introduce you to somebody I think is swell?”

“Butcher” Tom says confidently, “I already know Roman. And Hannah.”

Butch laughs, “Well you can find more than two people swell!” He turns to gesture at Erica with a sweep of his arm and Tom’s eyes widen. Jenny appears behind him and Roman shares a smile with her, he knows Erica won’t mind the young boy at all, he’d told her how sweet he was and if anyone would understand it was Erica.

“You’re the pretty lady. The ace Roman always talks about!” Ok so maybe he hadn’t expected that exactly. Tom walks forward and presents his hand to shake (much the same way he did to Roman that first day). “I’m Tom, and Jenny is my sister, she’s around here somewhere” This time the boy’s eyes don’t leave Erica as he mentions the other name, staying steadfast on her face. “You have pretty eyes.”

Erica is smiling (and blushing a little Roman notes), looking down at the boy with fondness before glancing up to (who she assumes is) Jenny. She gives her a smile as well before reaching out to shake Tom’s hand. “I’m Erica, and” She looks to Roman, “I am the ace Roman talks about.”

“Can I keep calling you the pretty lady though?”

Jenny chooses this moment to step in, “I’m Jenny, Tom sometimes says what’s on his mind without—”

“No I meant to say that, look at her Jenny she’s beautiful!”

Erica laughs a little awkwardly now and Roman decides to help, “Did Marie bring the cake this time T? I’ve been waiting to have some of hers but I keep forgetting!”

The boy’s eyes widen in wonder again, hurriedly grabbing Roman’s hand and dragging him towards the other end of the room. Jenny takes a step closer to Erica as they both watch the boys walk away fondly.

“He really does talk about you here, and he’s been so eager to learn, he listens like it’s going out of style.”

“That’s my Roman.” It’s quiet but Erica realizes belatedly she did say it out loud, and she blinks quickly to reorganize herself and turns to Jenny, “He just, likes to educate himself, loves to learn.” She looks back to the table, hoping she hasn’t already made a fool of herself in the first five minutes.

“Well, that isn’t the only thing he loves.”

She looks back to Jenny in surprise, mouth going dry before she can say anything. “We haven’t—”

“I didn’t mean to pry its just” Jenny, bites her lips in thought, “he talks about you so fondly, and, it’s a big step to come to a group for something he doesn’t experience, not a lot of people are willing to do that for someone else. I don’t have a lot of men around Tom but, he takes cues from both of them and he’s grown up so much since they started coming, I wanted to thank you.”

Erica looks to Jenny slightly shocked, she hadn’t even thought of that butterfly affect. She reaches to rest a hand on Jenny’s forearm before answering seriously. “Roman is a wonderful person and an even better man, if Tom wants to grow up to be like him, I’m glad to share him anytime.”

Jenny meets her eyes with the understanding of everything that’s going unsaid and covers Erica’s hand with her own. “Do you do hugs?”

Erica smiles, “I don’t mind at all.”

The support group meeting goes much the same way, (a thousand times better than Erica hoped) and Roman drives her back to the penthouse for their dinner date (Butch stuck around the library for “reasons” and Roman is all too thrilled at the prospect of giving Erica all the details.

“Thank you.”

Erica thinks it’s as good a place to start as any, today felt, cathartic almost. To be around people who felt the same way she did, who saw things the same way and were just as uncomfortable in some situations as she was. Roman doesn’t say anything so she continues.

“I, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it but, I liked it. They were all nice and Tom really was a sweetheart like you said and Jenny is a wonderful woman. Hearing them talk about, feeling awkward in ‘meet cute’ scenarios and in the beginning of relationships, or even friendships? That was..” She trails off, shaking her head in amazement, “healing. Like I knew I wasn’t alone, but it’s so much more meaningful hearing someone else describe the exact same feelings, knowing they are actually understanding you because they’re right there saying it. It’s, it’s wonderful Roman. I can’t thank you enough.”

He nods, smiling at the road and reaches a hand across the console to offer it to her, she brings his open palm to her lips to place a kiss on it before wrapping it in both her hands.

“Remember dinner is on me”

“Not a chance Ace.”

“Ok well, tacos? Please?”

Roman laughs before Erica speaks again, “There’s two on the way to your house, one on main and one on 3rd street.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I was just saying its not out of our way!”

Roman keeps chuckling, “I never said I minded”

They pick the closer one to the house in the hopes the food won’t be cold when they get home, Roman pulls into the drive through (something he’s been using a lot more since they started dating) before turning to ask what she wants.

“To be allowed to pay, that’s what I want.”

He sighs, “Fiiiiinnnneeee”

“And two burritos.” She says finally. “Please.” Comes the afterthought.

***************************

#asexuel #ewan mcgregor #aces in spaces #ace character #original characters #original fic #original story #new chapter #i'm actually in love with them

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

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Deception (John Watson x OFC) -- epilogue

It has been a long and wild ride, but this story has come to an end. Thank you guys for reading! And I’m sorry there was such a big hiatus between parts, but thank you for sticking around. All my love xxxx. (I know the gif isn’t from Sherlock but shhhhhhh)

I’m having a baby girl.

Well, eventually. I’m only about four months right now, and the ultrasound technician got a little excited and revealed the sex before I could tell her I’d rather be surprised. No harm done, though, at least now I know for sure.

I finally got a phone a few weeks ago. It’s easier to have one when you’re pregnant, I’m learning. The doctor needs a number to call to remind me of appointments, I need a phone to call them, and after reconnecting to my sister, Crystal, I needed a phone to text her, too.

I haven’t told her about my assignment in London with Sherlock, and I won’t ever if I can help it. It’s been nice to not think or talk about it since I left. I’ve been able to push that part of my life away and move on.

Well, sort of. It’s hard not to be reminded of John when I have his babygirl nestled inside of me.

But she’s mine as much as she is his. Maybe one day she’ll meet him, but I won’t get her hopes up – or mine. I haven’t heard from him since the night Sherlock returned, and I’d like to keep it that way. As if I have much of a choice. He’s probably enjoying his life with Sherlock again, solving cases and saving the world.

Anyway, speaking of my sister, she’s supposed to come over today. Something about yoga is good for pregnancy. She’s had two children, a boy named Colin and a girl named Elizabeth, if you can believe it. I’m an aunt and I had no idea! I’m listening to her as much as I can. I have no clue what I’m doing here, but I trust her to help me.

I’m changing into a sports bra and leggings when the doorbell rings. I don’t bother yelling out because I’m sure that’s her. Normally she rings the doorbell as a courtesy to let me know she’s coming in. It’s an unspoken rule we developed after she came inside (she knocked, but I didn’t hear her) and scared the living daylights out of me. I’m just glad I didn’t pull a gun on her, because that would’ve made things worse.

It rings a second time. I shake my head. Once I’m done dressing myself (and she’s rung the doorbell a third time), I make my way to the front door.

“Did you forget your key—?” My sentence is cut short by the familiar face staring back at me.

It’s not my sister. Not even close.

“John,” I blurt. “What…What are you doing here?”

“I um…” He pauses, looking about as spooked as I feel. “Mycroft told me where you were, I thought I’d come…say hi.”

“You took a plane from England just to say hi?” I say aloud, but inwardly I say, I’m going to kill Mycroft Holmes the second I get the chance.

“Yes,” John says, still staring like a deer caught in the headlights.

He’s making an enormous effort to keep his eyes on my face and not my belly, which I do respect, but I can tell it’s taking everything out of him. Mycroft must’ve told him. Or Sherlock sensed it too, but just never told me. The bastard.

“Uh, come in.” My back is beginning to hurt and I’d like to sit down, and John looks too terrified to be doing anything besides sitting still.

He walks inside and I close the door behind him, my head still spinning. The last thing I expected was for John Watson to show up outside my door. Four months. And now I’m inviting him into my home.

I walk into the living room, glancing over my shoulder to see he’s following me. I take a seat on the couch, gesturing for him to do the same. He does, stiffly. He’s barely moving at all.

We sit in silence for what feels like ages until he says something.

“Is it mine?”

I figured he’d ask that. It took him longer than I thought it would to ask.

“I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. “But there’s no one else I’ve had sex with in the last year, so my bet is yes. She is.”

John turns his head, and I swear I see tears rimming his bottom lashline. “She?”

I nod. “She.” I rest my hand over my stomach, smiling softly. “She’s a baby girl. She’s strong. She’s already moving.”

John lets out a laugh, his shoulders finally relaxing. He hangs his head, his chin resting against his chest as he whispers, “A baby girl.”

“Look, John,” I pause, waiting for him to look at me. “You don’t have to do anything for her. Or for me because of her. I understand. I won’t list you as the father if you’d like to just…put this behind you. I won’t ask you to pay child support or anything like that. I just—” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to seem like I was holding it over your head. Don’t feel obligated to be here or be with me just because of her. I don’t want to do that to you. Or her.”

There’s tears streaming down my cheeks by the time I’m finished and tears shining in John’s eyes as he watches me. I wipe the droplets away hastily, getting myself together. I can’t believe it’s the first time I’m seeing him in months and I’m crying. How pathetic.

John scoots closer to me. I hold a breath in my throat, waiting for his next move, positive he’s going to thank me and agree that he should leave this all behind.

I don’t know what else I expect, but it isn’t what he does.

John gently wipes my tears away, even when more fall because of how soft his touch is and how much I’ve longed for it. It takes no time at all before I’m sobbing into his chest, his arms cradling me protectively.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I never chased after you. It wasn’t your fault you got caught in the middle of things.”

All of the words I’ve longed to hear him say since I left London are spilling from his lips. His hand rests on the back of my head, keeping me close, rocking back and forth to calm me.

“If it makes you feel any better at all, I nearly killed Sherlock when he told me everything.”

I laugh shakily, burying my face into his shoulder. “I wanna kill him, too.”

“Eh, it’s alright,” John murmurs, rubbing circles into my back. “I’m sure we’ll get the chance one day.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, lifting my head. I wipe my face on my hands, rolling my eyes. “I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

John shakes his head. “Never.”

I give him a look. “You’re only saying that because you love me.”

“And because it’s the truth,” he replies. “Jane—Or Nicole?”

“Jane,” I squeeze his hands. “I’m always Jane when I’m with you. I like it much better. I always have, secretly.”

“Okay,” John breathes, smiling. “Jane, if you’ll have me, would you…Would you come home? With me?”

I nod. “Please. If you’ll have me, too.”

“I’ll always have you,” John whispers. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

His lips mold against mine like they were specifically fitted just for me. Inside the safe haven that is my stomach, our daughter lightly moves, as if sensing that her father has come back to her.

John’s hand rests on my belly with a wide smile. He gasps when he feels the lightest kick before she stops, resting once more.

#Deception #john watson #John Watson x OFC #John Watson x original female character #john watson x reader #john watson x you #john watson x original main character #fluff #some tiny angst #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock fanfiction #john watson fanfic #john watson fanfiction #bbc john watson #the ending!!!#ahhhhh #love you guys

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seven-oomen · 4 years

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Okay, so first off, you are amazing, that headcanon response was so much more than I could ever have hoped for, and I loved every bit of it (And that’s whether you do the other two pairings or not.) And yes, I can very much imagine scruffy, stable dad Peter with a lapful of pretty omega (I feel they’re a little too tall to try for both at once, though, amusing though the attempt might be. XD ) In fact that sounds like an excellent way to pass the time at work as a distraction from customer stupidity.

Secondly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope your day is as wonderful as possible, and your cake is plentiful and delicious. I am so, so proud of you for making it this far despite everything, and for working hard to heal and move forward. You deserve all the awesome things. This is not a particularly awesome thing (Google was being deeply frustrating about my searches), but I think I did manage to at least finish it in time for your birthday(maybe? Time zones tend to confuse me despite my best efforts.) I mainly just wanted to do something with all the Fluffy Family Feels I had going on that I hadn’t managed to work into the previous moodboards, and tried to cram everbody in somewhere (including Ben, Rabbit, and some bonus wolf!Peter with his pups.) I also have Feelings about the boys (I know they’re all technically about my age in the story, but they are still my precious boys) and their (almost) matching shirts, so I couldn’t resist throwing that in there, too. I hope you like it!

Well, I don’t know about amazing but I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying all my little headcanons. And I’ll see if I can make up some more for Chris/Noah and Chris/Peter, I might do that later today since right now I’m focusing on responding to comments and interactions. But yeah, def gonna post more if people want to hear them!

(Omg do not get me started on customer stupidity, I thankfully don’t work retail or food service anymore. But have done both in the past. I work Tech Support now, which, is painful too but at least I only speak to people over the phones. but I feel ya, you need distractions!)

How about this image of Peter trying to fit both Noah and Chris in his lap, their legs are completely tangled and Peter’s legs went numb about half an hour ago. But they don’t care, they cuddling. (after a lot of fitting and playing Tetris on how do we both fit into Peter’s lap.)

The answer is both on one leg with their legs all facing one way and with their backs to Peter’s chest and Chris and Noah both have to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders. It’s very difficult to do and not very comfortable, but they manage.

And thank you so much! It is still my birthday, (May 30) and I did get a cake, or well, a vlaai (pie) technically? Dutch cakes are a bit different, mine looks like this:

And you are far too kind my friend, far too kind. But your words are very appreciated and I adore you for it. I hope you too, have a fantastic day and that you’re staying safe in this madness. <3

And shhhhhhh, this is awesome and I love it. I’m not sure what my favorite part is, everything actually.

I love the top four where it’s Noah, Peter, Chris, and Rabbit. Noah’s just looking like; I’m gonna be pretending to work and look busy because I don’t want to deal with this. Chris just looks tired like he’s thinking; dear god, why did I have kids? And Peter is looking like he’s either going to burst out laughing, or there’s an epic bitching or scolding coming.

And then you have Ben both in wolf form and human form and his wolf form is either playing with Cousin Derek or dad. I’m not sure which of those I love more.

The other wolf picture kinda strikes me as either Malia and Derek or maybe even Jackson and Scott? I kinda like that idea too.

And then there’s all these family feels and omg I’m dying XD

It’s just so good! <3 Thank you so much I love this.

Ps. these gifs sum up my feelings surrounding this fictional family.

(That’s either Chris or Noah saying that. Or maybe even Jackson, Ben, or Stiles. Not sure what works better.)

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #petopher #chris/peter/noah #submission

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG150 /X__X/

- … So this is how you guys pronounce “cul-de-sac”, you absolute barbarians. (No, you don’t pronounce that L in French……………..)

- Statement-giver was, this week again, an absolute delight of sarcasm/self-awareness/casual self-deprecation… and so honest about his own faults and wrongs and personal pet-peeves that, even with the cheating, he didn’t seem antipathetic to me at all? Except for:

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “There’s plenty of things I’ve done I couldn’t explain to you. I mean, I’m constantly, constantly looking back on my past self, and thinking: “What an idiot. How the hell could he have down such an obviously stupid thing? How was I surprised it went so badly; what a relief I’m now so much older, and wiser.” … Except that last part never really turns out to be true, does it? The line of when you were your dumb younger self seems to keep moving forwards with you, until each more mature and reasonable version of you… eventually falls foul of it, and becomes… a young idiot.”

YOU’RE RIGHT BUT YOU SHOULDN’T SAY IT………… SHHHHHHH…

- The moose thing. The effing moose thing. I love that in the middle of cheating and probably-depression/middle-age crisis and bad break-up, there was suddenly the mention of the moose:

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “I’d probably have stayed away forever if it… hadn’t been for the moose. There was a… carved wooden moose, you see, something Alberto’s grandfather had carved, apparently, and a real family heirloom. It was an ugly old thing, with this… weird angular face that always made my skin crawl a bit. I’d never let him display it in our house, so it had lived in one of the suitcases under the stairs. The suitcases I’d pulled out and filled in a tearful rage when I was leaving. So… yeah, I’d kind of accidentally stolen the moose?”

How do you “accidentally” steal a carved wooden moose. (But then, was it truly an accident? Herman must have seen it when filling a suitcase – so it may have been… bitterness and anger in the spur of the moment, a mix of wanting to steal something precious to hurt someone he had loved, and keep something precious to a person he still loved, because it reminded him of him?)

- I got the Spiral-vibes of getting lost in the endless suburb, but to me, it was pretty clear from the start that this was a Lonely statement because:

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “You’re all alone, trying to connect with people, trying to find your place in the world – but in the end, the only person you really know is yourself.”

… was textbook what Peter had told poor Brian in his very first ‘on-screen’ appearance:

(MAG100) PETER: Peter Lukas! Lovely to meet you, Brian. Now, am I to understand – you don’t work here? BRIAN: Uh, no; I was just, um… making a s–statement, o–or, or whatever, u–um… PETER: That’s probably for the best. Elias can be quite… “protective” of his people. [CHUCKLING] Never really understood why – I mean, in the end, the only person you really have is yourself! Wouldn’t you agree, Brian? BRIAN: Wh– I–I don’t… What…? PETER: Well. Plenty of time to make your mind up, I’m, I’m sure.

(Hi, This Was Another Incidental Reminder That Even If He’s Not In This Episode And Only Mentioned In Jon’s Post-Statement: Peter Lukas Is Hella Bad News.)

- Gerry had described The Lonely as “feeling that you’re just… alone. Maybe there’s no-one else there at all, maybe you just can’t connect” (MAG111); MAG150 reminded me mostly of MAG048 and MAG108 in that aspect – statement-givers surrounded by almost-people, the idea that things around are becoming empty shells, that people are fading/losing their identity? And in this episode, yeah, the dull repetitive suburb made a lot of sense (combined with impersonal TV shows and the… logic of them going wrong, the disconnect getting more and more pronounced as their actions made no sense and their words turned out to be unintelligible).

Two things strike me about The Lonely statements so far:

* They were either triggered by a Lukas (MAG013, MAG033, MAG057, MAG092, Peter Lukas being there-and-not-there throughout season 4), either… just happened for seemingly unknown reasons, just because the statement-givers had a personal rapport to isolation/loneliness/feeling singled out, initially taking comfort in it until it was twisted all over (MAG048, MAG150). (+ MAG108, but Adonis’s case is not clear to me: when Peter asked Martin “Did [Elias] suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me?”, was it an exaggeration and was Peter talking about The Lonely in general? Or was it literal, and Peter had been in the audience, and the one responsible for messing up Adonis?)

* … People who got out of it through an emotional anchor (Naomi’s dead fiancé in MAG013, Andrea’s mother in MAG048, Herman’s (ex-)husband in MAG150)… got out of it. No “half-finished meals”, as far as we know, amongst the people who escaped it? On the other side, Adonis dragged himself to the Institute before disappearing entirely but he knew it was coming, he hadn’t managed to escape it; same with Barnabas Bennett, who was stuck in The Lonely and only managed to transmit a call for help (that remained unanswered by Jonah). Yetunde Uthman apparently didn’t have any anchor and was a vulnerable target (Gerry had warned us that the Fears tended to pick on the vulnerable and people on the margins). There is still Carter, whose whereabouts are unknown (he was clearly messed up, but Jon didn’t mention if he was still around or not).

(… but then, there is Martin, who seems to have begun using Lonely powers, and it’s… another matter entirely to get out of that, probably.)

- Given how Herman mentioned that Yetunde seemed to have died recently:

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “My eyes found themselves focusing on the ceiling. On a small spot of red, that seemed to have seeped through from above. As I climbed those stairs, I desperately tried to tell myself I didn’t know what was going to be up there. And to be fair I was surprised by some of the details. But as soon as I saw the spot, I just knew that… someone else was up there. And that they were dead. The only questions were “how”, and “who”. I think I’d given up on “why”. I didn’t know them, as it turned out. A young woman, conservatively dressed. Her face was bloody, but… I was sure I didn’t recognise her. She had a bag with her and her ID read “Yetunde Uthman”. Not a name I’d ever encountered before. Just another victim of this place. […] I don’t think she’d been dead that long. But I’m not a doctor, and I didn’t really try to check. Instead I turned and ran, all my tiredness gone in a sudden rush of adrenalin, down the stairs, out the door and into the night and the rows upon rows of bland, empty houses.”

… I wonder if he got stuck in the Lonely place to replace her as a Fear-battery of some sort, because she had ended her own life? We may have got a similar case with Sean Kelly (MAG033): Jon mentioned that his body washed up six months after his disappearance on the boat, but that the coroner had established that “it had only been in the water for five days” – had he been stuck on the boat alone all this time, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and threw himself in the sea to make it stop…?

- This week’s static were (not including Jon when he Knew Melanie was at the door – which… has happened a lot this season. The specific thing of Jon Knowing when someone is close / about to come in):

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “I’ve never seen [STATIC:] people happily living in a place so obviously dead. Two years we lived there. [/STATIC] Two years imprisoned in that beige, comfortable house, with the man I loved, watching our relationship turn to… sniping and snapping and bitter passive-aggression. […] Because the sign said: [STATIC] “Road”. No name. Just: [STATIC] “Road”. […] [STATIC] “Avenue”. “Close”. “Way”. “Lane”. Only ever the suffix; never with the name attached.”

… And I still don’t know what to make out of that first one? Is it about being Swallowed By Banal Life?

(The statement reminded me a looooooooooooooooot of Wajdi Mouawad’s Seuls, actually, and oh. This play is indeed such a sheer complete utter Lonely mood.)

- … it’s rare, but this one was… kind of a sweet ending?

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “It was Alberto. He was… calling me. I don’t know how, but the tears came even faster now as I answered, sobbing with relief to hear him yelling at me for taking so long. Had I forgotten? Was I even planning to bother? I tried to reply, to explain, but all I could manage to say, to get through the shaking sobs… was “I love you”. He went… very quiet. And then he hung up. It didn’t matter though, because when I looked around, the windows of the houses were lit, and a woman was coming down from her front door to ask if I needed help with my car. … We’re working on it, the two of us. We’re not exactly back together yet, but I think it’s going well. He’s reluctant to sell the house, but I’ve made it quite clear that I’m never going back to the suburbs. Even if I can’t… really tell him why. I checked. To see if I could find anything about Yetunde Uthman. And I did find a few old social media profiles. But I wasn’t able to get through to any family or friends. As far as I can tell she disappeared a year ago. And nobody noticed.”

Not perfect but: it helped to push Herman to acknowledge that he still loved Alberto, they reconnected, the fact that they’re working on their relationship is honestly the best possible outcome – things aren’t perfect but… oddly hopeful? Although, at the same time, we had confirmation of what happened to Yetunde, who hadn’t been so lucky.

- … and at the same time, FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF did that statement feel like Specifically Going After Jon.

Main relationship about a duo of romantically involved males who (got) separated, snappy statement-giver who can’t stand monotony, who had the feeling of being “imprisoned” for “two years” and then got trapped alone (… Martin and Jon have been “trapped” for almost three years at this point), bitterness and annoyance covering up remnants of love; statement-giver wanting to see Alberto again, getting stuck in The Lonely, managing to get out of it thanks to his lover calling him… Jon, right after: Have I mentioned Martin recently.

(And I feel, too, that we heard a lot more… background corporeal noises than usual, in this statement? Here and there, we could hear sounds as though Jon was shifting – uncomfortable? Trying to get out of the statement’s trance as an experiment? It was especially jarring there:

(MAG150, Herman Gorgoli) “… Maybe I was hoping for a fight. Or just… to see him again. I don’t know. I was younger then. Foolish. [HUFF]”

That part was followed by some ruffling of clothes and, I think, a faint scraping of his chair? It was… quite noticeable.)

- Which makes me wonder: why did Jon read this statement? Because… it sounded way too targeted to feel like a coincidence? Annabelle made fun of Jon (and us :w) for not being sure of when and where Beholding and The Web were influencing him, if there was any influence at all, but… it’s still an actual question. Or is it that Jon was drawn towards a statement matching his feelings and mood, on his own?

If it’s Beholding-or-Web, why would they push him towards this specific statement, which seems to be basically just talking about Jon’s relationship with Martin and giving him tips on how to get Martin back? Because indeed, Jon seemed to entirely miss the point, if there was any (that to get out of The Lonely’s influence, which is insidious enough to make you feel like you’re embracing isolation on your own, you have to rely on connections – in both ways, to reach and be reached):

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. The Lonely is… possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly it is the one that… most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the Spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. [HUFF] “Time to yourself”, “self-care”, “putting yourself forward”… “not being a burden on those you care about”… [PAUSE] It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies; just waits for the lies you tell yourself. […] And at least none of us is suffering alone. … Martin’s got it the worst, of course. But it still seems to be his choice. And I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.

And yeah, Missing The Point is a typical Jon thing; but here, it felt… even more than that. Pointedly ignoring the statement to talk about another logic. … Is Jon fearing that Beholding-or-The-Web are trying to push him to reach for Martin and/or get him out of Lukas’s influence, and assuming that that’s precisely a reason why he shouldn’t try to pull Martin out…?

The matter of “trusting Martin” had been brought up with Basira first:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Do they? … W–w–who else– Did Martin say something? BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me.

(MAG129) BASIRA: Then everything ended, and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute, and Martin sent me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than one hour. I can trust me, Jon. That’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

So is Jon reacting in opposition to Basira because he saw what happened to her? Is he sticking to his decision to “trust” the assistants that he had stated in MAG117? When it comes to his involvement with Peter, Martin has never actually told Jon to trust him; it’s something that Jon came to on his own and tried to stick to, even though he’s been obviously forcing himself and uneasy about the whole situation:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: No, it’s fine, I know you’ve got… whatever this is, I’m not going to question you. MARTIN: Thank you.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: … [SIGH] I’m just worried about Martin. … Christ… Every other Avatar gets to have their feelings… burned right out of them, but me? I’ve… just got to sit in mine. … I know he said he had everything under control. I need… to trust him; whatever he’s doing with Peter, he’s… he knows what he’s doing. Probably. I just– … [VERY FAST] I need him to be okay. I just do.

It’s still curious how Jon is sticking to this idea…? Is it because Jon knows a bit more about Martin’s whereabouts than he has been telling on tape? (His affirmation that “Martin’s got it the worst, of course.” was… a bit strange – how can Jon be so certain of that?) Is it because Martin was a bit more explicit to Daisy that they had to rely on him? (Since Daisy spotted the recorder at the end of MAG142 while Martin and her were still discussing, and she told him that she had reported their conversation to Jon in MAG144 – we might have missed some information outside of the recording.) Is it because Jon learned from the end of season 3 that Martin knew how to hide his plan, and then Jon might be overestimating him in that regard, thinking that Martin will be able to take down Peter? Is it because it has become a convenient excuse for Jon to not interact with Martin – because he’s afraid that Martin will be too disappointed and disgusted with what Jon has done and become…?

(Jon felt especially self-deprecative with the “not being a burden on those you care about”, followed by a pause…)

- Hey! We now have canon footage of Jon saying “I love you”, cheers!

- Surprise!awareness with Jon pointing out the danger Peter represents:

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: We’re… all well aware that with Peter Lukas in charge of the Institute, it’s a very real danger to all of us. We are trying. Daisy, Basira and I, we don’t leave the Institute much anymore – so we do spend a lot of time together. It’s not that easy, though. When everyone has so many walls, so many defences… [SIGH] sometimes you can feel lonely even when you’re in the same room. … But it’s better than the alternative. And at least none of us is suffering alone.

… at the same time, that arrangement sounds… so stiff and awkward. They “spend a lot of time together”. Sure, with close friends, you don’t need to do things together to be at ease and have an amazing time in the same room. But still; it… sounds so cold and impersonal, with Jon’s words…?

- ;; The vocabulary…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Statement of Herman Gorgoli, regarding his period trapped alone in a suburban area of Cheadle. Original statement written 9th November, 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Statement begins. […] MELANIE: Jon, have you got a moment? ARCHIVIST: Uh… [DOOR CLOSES] Of course, I was just, um… having a statement. MELANIE: Uh… an, an old one? ARCHIVIST: Wh– Yes, an old one! I’m not– I’m doing my best.

That… was, I think, the first time Jon introduced a statement as “written” (instead of the usual “given”). I reaaaally hope that it’s because Jon is not perceiving the live-statements as the actual given ones, because we saw multiple times that people didn’t have a choice when it came to them (Jon would make them tell him their story, whether they consent to it or not); is it because he’s becoming suspicious of the written ones being dub/noncon’d out of people too…? In any case, that “written” was… odd.

The “having a statement” was awful and, yeah, addict getting his fix. … And at the same time, making me awfully sad: because these are people’s stories and at the moment, they’re just handled like… food. They’re consumed, and nothing else: once again, Jon wasn’t interested in any follow-up, he didn’t have a thought for Herman. We only heard about Yetunde Uthman’s disappearance because Herman searched her up and reported on it – and usually, it would have been part of the follow-up that Jon or the assistants would have provided? They would have checked for the time of her disappearance, they would have tried to find out if a missing report was filed, where and when? But here, nothing from Jon, who prefers to focus on the Fear dynamic (like he did in MAG125 when he tried to get meta on the Slaughter and the idea of control). And in the same way, we haven’t heard of Jon’s victims from season 4 at all except for Jess’s complaint in MAG142 and Jon describing what he had done in MAG146 – it feels like, for the team Archives… they’ve ceased to exist as people past the fact that Jon attacked them…?

(Once again, I!! still!! find!! it!! hard!! to be emotional over Jon right now, to feel sad or emotionally invested in him. Because: he’s not the primary victim. Depressed and in a bad place, sure; but the people he hurt don’t have a protagonist status ensuring they’re heard, and I want to hear about them the most…)

- ALRIGHT, SO.

M e l a n i e, holy Mew. Everything Melanie.

(MAG150) MELANIE: Look. [INHALE] I’m not going to do my job anymore. ARCHIVIST: … I am not sure I follow, you–you know we… we can’t… quit, we’ve all tried. MELANIE: I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. I’ll still be around, I just… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: I can’t be a part of this anymore. If, if I get sick, I get sick. And, and if I die… ARCHIVIST: Why? MELANIE: Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… ARCHIVIST: [LOUD EXHALE] MELANIE: Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. ARCHIVIST: What about The Unknowing? We, we saved the world! MELANIE: Did we? I… I mean, I–I think it was the right thing to do, but how many people were killed to do it? We, we weren’t even a neutral party; we did it as agents of The Eye, because Elias told us to. ARCHIVIST: An–and then you put him in jail! MELANIE: Martin put him there. And, and–and he’s still doing harm. [INHALE] You ever think that maybe this whole… ritual business is just an excuse, an–and that we’re all part of some… huge miserable Fear-machine? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’ve… considered the possibility. MELANIE: Right. Well. If I’m… just another cog, er… Maybe I can’t leave the machine, but from this moment? I–I–I’m not turning. I’m… jammed. [SIGH]

* I love how you could hear Melanie’s efforts when it came to communication all through the exchange. She’s struggling with words, they have trouble coming out of her, almost physically; you can hear that they don’t want to come out, but she keeps pushing through. Even at the end, when she pointed out to Jon “Look, I… didn’t come here for a fight. I… just wanted to let you know what was going on.”: she put efforts into not answering with anger, she softened a bit.

* Jon had already singled her out by mentioning that Basira, Daisy and he were spending time together (leaving out Melanie) and that they weren’t leaving the Institute much anymore. We knew that it wasn’t the case for Melanie, since she had been told to frequently leave it: she was going to therapy in MAG136, Daisy said that she was out in MAG142, Georgie came to pick her up in MAG145 and MAG149. Unlike the others, Melanie has managed to reconnect with a life outside of the Institute – she has put work in her recovery, she relied on someone who was staying out of spooky matters (Georgie), she separated herself from a place she has deemed toxic. It only feel logical that she would reach the mental state and the decision to… cut her connection to The Eye even further.

* It…………………… fits……………….. her so well… I’m not sure I’m explaining it well but, with MAG117 and her rant about Elias (which really felt like a “down with the patriarchy” one?), I had gotten the feeling that Melanie… fitted well with “activism” as a notion: denouncing and firmly refusing to close her eyes in the face of things sticking out to her as unfair or oppressive.

* “Control” and “choices” have been extremely present themes this season and… Melanie is putting her own touch in that picture. Regaining control over her life, but also highlighting that even though they’re stuck in the Archives, they’re in that “dead end” too, they still have options and that even passively serving The Eye is still serving, is still choosing to feed a Fear-machine; and that they still have the possibility to… plainly stop. She didn’t say it but the idea is also quite clear that Jon still reading statements for his own survival is, in parallel, an active choice on its own. And it’s true that Jon never questioned or wondered about the possibility of stopping even though it would make him suffer – when he realised he was experiencing withdrawal without them in MAG107, he just decided that he would roll with it because his priority was still to stop The Unknowing and he couldn’t afford to waste time pondering about it:

(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: It looks like the recording of statements has now passed over from psychological compulsion into… a more physical dependence. I don’t whether this is… some sort of classical addiction or something a bit deeper. But either way, this is not the time for experimentation. I’m on a deadline, and if I need to be reading statements to stay well enough, then I suppose that’s what I shall do.

But in season 4, it’s not something he thought about questioning, or at least, not out loud. We still hear him reading statements. He’s currently choosing to try to not attack people anymore, sure, and it indeed means not hurting any more innocents… But it’s true that even reading statements is not an “innocent” act, if it’s also feeding The Eye.

* Melanie’s choice is radical and is… probably the bravest thing ever done by a character this series, along with Sasha jumping at Tim to save him from Jane Prentiss?

And there are many ways it’s going to turn awful for her – she mentioned it would probably be bad, could go to “dying” level. We heard from Tim that trying to run away from the Institute was bad. Even if Melanie manages to stick to it, in exchange for the comfort of sticking to her ideal, it will be pain and misery. It means the others will witness it. I’m not even sure that Jon will let her carry through with it – given how he didn’t “want to lose anyone else” in MAG118 and still lost Tim. It’s going to be bad, and I’m so, so impressed that Melanie is choosing to take that road, because it makes sense, but still: it’s a personal sacrifice, without glory, and yet it sounds like the most effective thing to do to stop feeding The Eye and to not participate in the Fears business.

* (… I’m not even sure, though, that Melanie’s sufferings (and/or that Jon observing it) wouldn’t… feed The Eye, incidentally.)

* GUUUUUUUH, I love the direction the similarities she shared with Tim took… We knew that they had discussed together off-record:

(MAG106) ELIAS: You already have doubts, though. You’ve been talking with Tim, and have convinced yourself that– MELANIE: [DRY LAUGHTER] ELIAS: –even if I’m telling the truth, I’m too dangerous to live. MELANIE: Well.

There were a few random/comic bits – both Tim and Melanie had expressed some longing for the real Sasha, both are bit more crude than the other characters (holders of “fuck” and “asshole”). Both expressed wariness/disgust for the tape recorders:

(MAG098) MARTIN: […] Have you seen [Jon] since…? TIM: [GRUNT] Kind of. We tried to talk, but he, he reached for that– Ah, he, he wanted to turn on his recorder. I freaked out a bit, and I said some stuff: if he wanted to talk, no tapes, I just, I just hate that thing.

(MAG136) THERAPIST: Right, have a seat. Do you mind if I record our sessions? MELANIE: I do mind. Yes. THERAPIST: Ah? I mean, it’s just for my own notes. MELANIE: I categorically and completely do not give consent for you to make any recording of me, ever. Turn it off. Please.

But what was striking this episode is how close Melanie’s words were to Tim, when it came to the Institute and their work there:

(MAG098) TIM: Still doing those? MARTIN: … Yeah. Yeah… I did ask Elias if I could stop. TIM: And he said “no” for a mysterious reason? MARTIN: I don’t know? I mean, he kind of explained – I think? Jon’s “too inconsistent” at the moment. He needs to make up for the shortfall, which, I guess, means me. … Unless you… TIM: No. MARTIN: He did suggest I try to get you involved, and– TIM: And I suggest that he not be a scary, magic psychopath. … Whoops! Too late. MARTIN: … Yeah. TIM: [SIGH] … Sorry. MARTIN: No, I– I get it. Heh. They’re not exactly much fun. TIM: Look, it’s not that. I… [SIGH] This place is evil, Martin. And I think doing what It wants? Probably makes us evil. And It wants those things to be read. I mean, I’m not gonna stop you, but, at the same time– MARTIN: I– I get it.

And Tim was the only one of the assistants to experience the sickness of not serving The Eye anymore/trying to flee, which Melanie took into account in her decision:

(MAG090) TIM: I hopped a flight to Malaysia. Found myself a hotel. ELIAS: I see. … You were trying to leave us? TIM: Yeah…! ELIAS: But you’ve returned. TIM: I… I got sick. The longer I was gone… I felt weak, like… like I was, I was losing myself…

(MAG150) MELANIE: I’ll still be around, I just… I can’t be a part of this anymore. If, if I get sick, I get sick. And, and if I die…

And although Melanie and Tim share a reasoning, their conclusions… differ so greatly. Tim fell into depression (confirmed by Mike in the Assistants Round Table) and ultimately chose anger and self-destruction as his answer. Melanie… goes with something that is technically self-destructing, too, but which also feels like self-preserving – and more interestingly, without anger, although it had been a long-term companion over the course of her life?

* Goooods, we got Basira and Martin visiting Elias in prison – now, I want Melanie visiting him and taking none of his shit anymore. I’m worried it would go super badly for her because Elias can be shitty when he wants to be, but still want………………… Melanie uncomfortable but resisting her anger and not letting him get under her skin this time around………………….

* I’m a bit worried over what Jon will take out of the exchange, however, since:

1°) Unlike Melanie, he has continued constantly feeding The Eye by reading the statements. The comparison does him a disservice.

2°) What Melanie said about The Unknowing:

(MAG150) MELANIE: Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. ARCHIVIST: What about The Unknowing? We, we saved the world! MELANIE: Did we? I… I mean, I–I think it was the right thing to do, but how many people were killed to do it? We, we weren’t even a neutral party; we did it as agents of The Eye, because Elias told us to.

… was absolutely fair and true. Nikola had pointed out to Tim just before he exploded the place:

(MAG119) NIKOLA: You… idiot! Do you really think the world will fare any better under the Watcher? You think you’re saving anyone? TIM: I don’t care.

But it also tells Jon that there is absolutely no way serving The Eye (or even being trapped with it) can do anything good, ever; that there is no positiveness to take out of their awful situation. Jon had made out of MAG127’s statement that the Institute had been created in evil purpose, that the aim of the place had always been bad… but it’s something else to be told from one of the assistant that stopping The Unknowing wasn’t even a “victory”. That Tim died almost for nothing, unwillingly furthering the interests of something he hated although he was pursuing his own revenge.

I doubt Jon’s defensiveness was out of loyalty for The Eye, but it’s true that this is not the first time it popped up this season (in MAG129, when he tried to argue with Martin that The Eye hadn’t gone “after our own” unlike Peter); it might be that Jon was still clinging to the hope that at least, getting compromised and twisted and “becoming a monster” could at least mean getting powerful enough to protect innocents and/or the world, that they could still find meaning in that… and no. Jon has been attacking innocents; and he’s being reminded that the Institute is not neutral. (And indeed: what about The Eye’s own ritual…)

* On the matter of isolation and of Jon lacking connections… although I am delighted by Melanie’s announcement, it also sounded like a goodbye. She did point out that she would still be there, but by deciding that she would stop working for The Eye, that she wouldn’t do anything resembling Archival assistant work… it sounded, to me, like she was “leaving” the Archives, and Jon too, on an emotional level. And I’m a bit worried that Jon would take it the wrong way: given that Martin doesn’t want to interact with him, and that now, Melanie is cutting one of their only connections, he’s getting even more isolated, abandoned by them?

(When talking with Gerry, Jon had called The Lonely “isolation” before learning its usual denomination, and it… might be telling that he’s more sensible to that aspect.)

- Aaaaaaaaaaaand Jon was thinking that Melanie’s therapist could be Annabelle, too, and it’s SO SILLY presented this way:

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: … Did your… therapist suggest this? […] Melanie, could you… could you describe your therapist for me? MELANIE: [CHUCKLING] What? You think I wouldn’t notice if she had cobwebs down her face? ARCHIVIST: … No? MELANIE: [DEEP INHALE] That’s it, isn’t it? [EXHALE] You… you really think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t have noticed if my therapist was some kind of monster! ARCHIVIST: I just… It was a worry. MELANIE: Right, right… Okay: I know. That is why I ruined my first four sessions, and almost torpedoed the chance at a genuinely, really good therapist, because I was so paranoid that she was going to turn out to be some… some thing trying to manipulate me – but no. She’s not full of spiders, or made of wax, or wearing the therapist’s skin, or whatever: she’s just a well-trained professional, who I am paying to help me. ARCHIVIST: O–kay. [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

To be fair: Jon and Melanie hadn’t identified Elias as an Eye cultist when they were new to it, and Jon is apparently unable to focus on his Web-lighter – the therapist could still be… something (someone relevant and/or an avatar). I’m glad, though, that the therapy seems to be working!! (… although I’m a bit worried because, on the one hand, Melanie Got It when she points out she’s paying a professional to help her; on the other hand, the way she said her therapist was “genuinely, really good” felt… weird to me? It’s not something I’d say of mine? I would talk about methods and how it’s working for me but not… compliment like this.)

- Crying very hard that Melanie is absolutely spot-on on the fact that The Web is mostly a perfect culprit for Jon, at the moment. Once again. Because that was his idea in MAG146 – MAG147, too.

It’s interesting how Jon has been settling more and more with referring to The Web as “the Spider(s)” this season!

(MAG081) ARCHIVIST: I do not know how many of them there are, or precisely how they separate, but I do know that the Eye – Beholding – was not the first that I encountered in my life. The first was the Spider. The Web. And I have no idea what that might mean.

(MAG130) ARCHIVIST: I found this tape tucked in the corner of my desk drawer. [AGGRAVATED SIGH] Covered in cobwebs. I suppose subtlety is gone out the window a bit. And the question is now simply … how much I trust the Spider to have my… best interests at heart.

It fits him, and I still do like how The Web is actually referred to in feminine form (“she”, “Mother”, “Mother-of-Puppets”) by People In The Known, but Jon tends to go with “it” – it’s… probably more of a “he” for him, too, because of his own personal experience, given how he (almost) met “Mr. Spider”? He’s not been the only one going with “the Spider” this season, though, it sounds like an actual way to refer to it:

(MAG121) OLIVER: Honestly, I’m… still not exactly sure why I’m here. But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what She asks!

(MAG128, Breekon) “A thrumming, silk-wrapped thing of the Spider, hiding away in an old steamer trunk. […] The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure.”

(MAG136) DAISY: [SCOFF] She’s… Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. [PAUSE] Like that lighter you’re always using. Where’d you get that?

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning. […] But the Spider’s strings are subtle, so I suppose it’s not impossible. Why?

(MAG148) ELIAS: Uh! Look, look, look. I’ve… been doing this a long time now and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about The Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is… hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins…!

(Although Elias/Daisy/maybe Helen could have picked up the habit from Jon.)

- rgefdjerkfd

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: … Did your… therapist suggest this? MELANIE: N–not… not exactly. … She’s just… helped me work through some things I’ve been thinking for a while, uh, she doesn’t know the details. Just that I’m in a “bad contract situation” working somewhere pretty awful. [HUFF] … She thinks I work for the Tories. ARCHIVIST: … God…

I love that 1°) this is how the therapist translated Melanie’s situation, 2°) that for Jon and Melanie, being bound to an eldritch entity feeding of pain and fear that is trying to reshape the world as a factory farm is still… way better than the perspective of working for the Tories. BABES, I LOVE YOU.

- Especially given how we only know that not serving The Eye means getting sick because Tim experienced it, that Tim had been the first one to call the Institute “evil” and to point out that working for it meant corrupting themselves, and given how The Unknowing was mentioned… I’m still utterly baffled that Tim wasn’t even namedropped in this episode. I still kind of hope that there is something coming about it because? It was super-weird?

- Guuuuh, Melanie and Daisy are so good this season!!

(MAG150) MELANIE: If you need me, I’ll be trying to get Daisy drunk. ARCHIVIST: [STATIC] Good luck. It only ever happened once in 2006, she drank a– … Sorry. Didn’t mean to. MELANIE: Sure. See you around.

… and pffft: Martin highlighted that Daisy was “pretty observant” (MAG142), and we now have confirmation that Daisy very rarely gets drunk… which means she’s probably used to watching people get wasted around her? To hear compromising stuff while she remains sober? Daisy, you’ve been getting a lot of Beholding points lately.

- That means that, right now, three members out of four of Team Archives are under withdrawal: Daisy is resisting the call of her blood/The Hunt, Jon has stopped taking live-statements (and ;; isn’t recovering well from their trip to Svalbard: MAG150, “… Still feeling weak. Restless. I want to be proactive, but there hasn’t…! That hasn’t been going quite so well for us lately.” He probably won’t truly heal until he takes one…), Melanie has now stopped working for The Eye.

- Alright, so both with Jon commenting that Basira-Daisy-and-him are spending a lot of time together bundled up in the Institute (in the Archives / in the tunnels?), and Melanie announcing that she would stop to do any work for the Archives… What are they spending their time on? Because Melanie’s decision implies that the assistants were currently still doing research and follow-ups, although we haven’t heard a trace of it lately: in season 1 and 2, Jon was constantly crediting his assistants’ work during follow-up; in season 3, we heard them adding some data after the statements they had read, and we had a few mentions of Jon asking for their help while he was away. In season 4, Jon highlighted here and there that it wasn’t the case anymore:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. [EXHALE] Well that… certainly helped, I think. No notes or follow-up in the statement, and obviously no research done by myself or… my team.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. The Web does seem to have a preference for those who prefer not to assert themselves. The investigation is tricky, I don’t want to impose on Basira and, obviously, Melanie and… Martin… aren’t available, but I did do some light searching myself on Gregory Cox.

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: … Of course, even if I did want to do research into the statement, I wouldn’t have any help doing so. It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened. And Basira, though she is very willing to talk, still doesn’t seem to trust me enough to let me in on whatever plans she might have – if she has any plans at all, of course.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I did do a small bit of follow-up on Deborah Madaki, just for my own curiosity. She didn’t go to Sannikov Land in the end.

And Jon admitted in MAG148 that he was less interested in doing a follow-up, which he has indeed… stopped doing at all at this point. Annabelle had also portrayed Jon as unable to not read out a statement once he has it in mind nowadays (MAG147: “But think about it, Jon: when’s the last time you were able to read a statement quietly to yourself without instinctively hitting record and speaking it aloud? It is just instinct? Habit? Or is it a compulsion – a string pulled by the Ceaseless Watcher or the Mother of Puppets? Or both? I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…? But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.”), although she might have been trying to confuse him on purpose (since… he had done follow-up into statements shortly before that episode, which implied doing some work before reading the statements out loud…? Or is it that the overall glimpses of what-this-statement-is-about-before-reading-it were enough to do some research?).

But in any case: there was no mention of Basira, Daisy or Melanie providing any follow-up this season. So… what have they been doing, in the Archives, that counted as “assistant work” to not get sick? Follow-ups on past statements? On statements we haven’t heard yet? On dummy statements? Or did they just do some filing and/or organising (like Tim was moving boxes around in MAG104)?

- We’re going back to the “assistants can’t quit” deal and aaaactually:

(MAG150) MELANIE: Look. [INHALE] I’m not going to do my job anymore. ARCHIVIST: … I am not sure I follow, you–you know we… we can’t… quit, we’ve all tried.

If we trust his words (…), Elias indeed confirmed the trapping aspect (MAG092: “Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it. Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit.”), but I’m curious about Jon’s “we’ve all tried”… because as far as we know, only Tim tried to quit?

(MAG065) ARCHIVIST: Then quit! If you hate it so much, leave your post in the Archives. Permanently. TIM: You’re firing me? ARCHIVIST: … I’m offering you a chance to quit. No notice period, I’ll even make sure you get the rest of the month’s paycheck. [PAUSE] Just say the words. [STATIC RISES] TIM: I want to. ARCHIVIST: So do it. TIM: I… … can’t. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] Why not…? TIM: I… I… I–I can’t! I don’t know… Why can’t I quit?! ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either. TIM: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s this place. TIM: I don’t understand. ARCHIVIST: Neither do I. [STATIC FADES] I’m trying to figure it out, I’ve– I’ve got the shape of it but… I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot, and will not, trust you. This place isn’t right, you see that now. I don’t know how or why, but there is something very wrong with the Archives. And I don’t know who here is a victim of it… and who is an agent. TIM: So… what do we do? ARCHIVIST: For now? I suppose we just… do our jobs. TIM: I don’t want to. ARCHIVIST: No…

(MAG079) TIM: There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time. It stops me quitting. I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. MARTIN: You’re sure you don’t just want to stay? TIM: I’m. sure. MARTIN: But, like, deep down– TIM: No. MARTIN: … Oh.

… But the others don’t seem to have tested these boundaries as far as we knew? Martin is unclear (although he mentioned feeling trapped in MAG039 and MAG117); we didn’t witness Melanie trying to actually flee (although Elias mentioned to Jon that “Even more than the others she has a visceral hatred of being trapped. Regardless of how much freedom I afford her.” in MAG102); and it had been pointed out how Basira hadn’t even tried:

(MAG095) MARTIN: Kinda thought your job was to be a hostage. […] Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trying to escape? BASIRA: Sure. How’s that gone for you? MARTIN: What? BASIRA: The way Tim tells it, we’re all in the same boat here. So, how’s your escape plan coming? [NOISES OF CONFUSED EXASPERATION] MARTIN: How… Doesn’t it bother you?!

(MAG112) DAISY: You’re getting comfortable with all those books. Don’t forget why you’re here. BASIRA: I know where I am, Daisy, and I know that I’m a prisoner. DAISY: And you want to escape. BASIRA: Yeah. But not on my own. We’re working on something. I’ll ask Melanie to fill you in.

And Jon himself was a weird case – he indeed fled the Institute at the end of season 2, but it was more… circumstantial? And he didn’t come back because he was getting sick like Tim?

- Oufffffffttt, Jon…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Uh… [DOOR CLOSES] Of course, I was just, um… having a statement. MELANIE: Uh… an, an old one? ARCHIVIST: Wh– Yes, an old one! I’m not– I’m doing my best. MELANIE: … Sure.

… What is the definition of his “best”, here? Staying in the Archives and accepting to be tailed by the others…? That’s… better than (re)traumatising people, sure, but the contrast with how Melanie is doing her best (forcing herself to go through therapy and to go past her distrust, working on herself, deciding that she prefers to be dead rather than collaborating with a Fear-machine, putting efforts into going to tell Jon although we could hear that it was hard and they’ve never been best friends in the first place) is quite astounding, and it was really not surprising that she was absolutely unimpressed.

(To Jon’s credit: that also means forcing himself to Not Know, probably. But still: if he feels like he’s currently doing “his best”, what does it say about his current mental state, except that it’s… bad all over?)

- For once, I’m still not sure that I clearly understand the different meanings of the title! Herman’s was pretty forward (feeling like he was stuck in the suburb & in his life, getting stuck for real in a Lonely dimension without issue) and I’m guessing that it’s also a representation of Jon&co right now: stuck and unable to go anywhere, just condemned to… wait (is Jon waiting for the end of 2018? He said he was conscious that the year marked the Institute’s 200th anniversary, in MAG127); although, at the same time, Melanie is proving that choices and options are still possible.

Right now, we’re indeed in a strange situation where it feels like, unless another new crisis suddenly explodes at their face (Maxwell Rayner not actually dead-dead? Jon had mentioned seeing people with the pendants of the cult, shortly after he woke up from his coma) (Vast ritual? We haven’t heard anything about it) (other Beholding folks coming to prepare their ritual?) (Hunters going after the Institute?)… Martin is the only one currently able to move things forwards.

- Cheers: this episode marked the end of the penultimate quarter of the season… and of the series in general! … Now, we’ll be entering the last quarter. It. Feels. Weird (usually, at this point, you would have a clear idea of the end line in sight and, uh, I… have… no idea… what we’re heading towards… and I am absolutely confident that, whatever happens, it will make sense and will have been introduced for a long while. But right now, it’s only “something most likely awful coming” and just. Dread.)

Title for MAG151 was used by Peter, twice, so I’m expecting the episode to be about Martin meeting his “friend” and… getting some answers/leads. Whoever that friend is – but given how the title can serve as a Vast pun and/or be a reference to a camera, I would say that Simon Fairchild (the Fairchilds collaborated with the Lukases on the Daedalus project, one of Jon’s first cases as a researcher at the Institute was about him, Jon has jinxed it by spitting that he didn’t want to meet Simon ever, and Peter said his friend was currently out of the country when Jon pointed out in MAG124 that Simon apparently likes to travel…) and Mikaele Salesa (since Peter and him were at least acquaintances making bets together according to MAG066, and there is… that camera from Floyd’s statement…) are gaining a few points as likely suspects.

(Anil had mentioned that this episode could trend at number 1 on tumblr, too, and squints, if I had to guess at why an episode would be more likely to trend, it would… probably contain reveals (Martin meeting Peter’s friend would cover it indeed), but also “Jon & Martin meeting again” or “Peter and Elias actually in the same room for the first time”, so………………)

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h0sucks · 5 years

Text

Happily Ever After with Kim Taehyung (Pt 1)

“Babyyyyyyy" Taehyung whines, slightly shaking your shoulder. "Jagiyaaaa, we're going to be late for our appointment wake upppp" Taehyung shakes you a little more, wanting you awake but not trying to frighten you.

"Jagi-YAH!" You throw a pillow at him, causing him to tumble over and land on the floor. "I'm trying to sleep. It's 10:30 in the morning."

Before you knew it, your arms were pinned over your head and and Taehyung was straddling you. "Yay you're awake!" He exclaimed, showing his famous boxy smile.

"I planned a special day for us today Y/N! Now that you're up, you should get ready!" he smiles widely and rolls off of you, standing besides you and hauling you up from bed. "Aish it's too early" you complain. "Pfft, you've been hanging out with Yoongi too much, babe."

Taehyung stands you on your feet and wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. "I'm going to shower and we can go alright?" you respond, patting his cheek lazily and trying to remove his hands around your waist. "Well, baby I can help you in the shower you know...," Taehyung smirks, leaving sloppy kisses on a trail on the back of your neck. Before you could protest, you hear voices behind the door and it opens, revealing the rest of BTS

"Good morn-" Jin attempts to say, but soon realizes what you and Tae are doing and runs up to you, shooing Tae away from you. "Give the woman some space young man!”

"Hyung! We've been dating for 4 years now, I think she can handle me at this point." Tae tries to walk back over to you but Jin leads you to the bathroom and guards the door. "No.”

"Tae are you ready? Does y/n know where you're taking her on this date?" Namjoon asks, nudging him and winking with both eyes.

"First of all hyung, you're blinking. Second of all, shhhhhhh. You'll make her suspicious!" Namjoon puts his hands up for surrender and smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. "Hyung, stop and everyone just get in the car. Can't make it suspicious at all." And with that, you finished you’re shower, change and join everyone else inside the car.

"I'm sorry I look like a bum, but you woke me up early," you grumbled, sipping your extra large coffee in the car at 11:30 am. "Your buminess is excused my love," Tae reassures you, kissing your forehead and placing an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"Jeez V, I'm not going to steal Y/N, why are you pulling her so close to you? Were my biceps too much in your way y/n?" Jungkook asks, the golden maknae flexing slightly. "Jesus I'm tired," Jungkook continues yawning while lifting his arm up and placing it on the back of your seat.

"Back up coconut, stay in your lane" Tae growls, flicking his arm away and practically smothering you in his arms. Jungkook, being the extra maknae he is, gasps loudly and clamps onto his heart, groaning. "Y/N! V-hyung hurt my feelings!" He pouts, and you just giggle and lay your head on Tae's chest in response.

You wake up toTae shuffling and car doors opening, leading the members out of the car and Tae tugging at your hoodie sleeve to get up. "We’re here baby!" he says excitedly, his boxy smile showing again. You get out of the car and rub your eyes to waken yourself up when you're greeted with a large red sign looming over you, a David’s Bridal.

"Uh babe? What are we doing here?" You turn to V, who is opening the door for you.

"I told you, we're going on a date!" V says again, watching you walk into the shop, the rest of BTS already sitting in chairs around a small carpeted runway with a giant mirror displayed infront.

"And our date included the other members and dress shopping because why?" You continue, looking around while eyeing the dresses.

"No matter what we had planned today, they were going to be involved and with us either way. And I remember you told me you and your cousins would play dress up and how much fun you had. I even remember you pulling up a picture with you in a Disney princess dress!" Tae laughs, and you smile in return; remembering the exact picture you were talking about. You were maybe 4 years old and you were in a yellow Beauty and the Beast tutu, missmatched plastic high heels, your hair in a messy bun and two missing teeth. You can't believe Tae remembered that.

"Tae, I told you that story and showed you that pictures years ago! Like when we first met!" You laugh.

"Well I pay attention to detail," Tae explains himself, taking your hand and walking over to the front desk.

"Taehyung. Kim Taehyung with my beautiful girlfriend. I scheduled an appointment and rented this shop for the whole day." Your eyes widened, you two and the boys would be here the whole day? Jeez, this man had planned ahead. The woman at the front desk nodded and smiled, "This way Miss Y/N, we'll have you measured and you can decide what you would like to try on.”

"Bye baby, I'll be waiting! Take your time choosing, we have all day princess!" Tae smiled and sat in an empty chair in the middle of the rest of the BTS members.

His plan is going perfectly.

You walk back to your boyfriend and the rest of BTS with exactly four dresses held by the lady following behind you.

"You have got quite the girl Mr. Kim," the lady smiles and Tae just smiles back, "Yes, yes I do" as he walks up to you and leaves a small peck at your lips. "You ready to model these for me baby?" Tae winks at you.

"A personal model in front of 6 other guys?" you smile and looks over his shoulder, seeing them fidget in their seats and smiling widely.

"Why do they seem so exit-"

"Aha jagiya! Time to try your dresses on." Tae spins you around and opens the dressing room for you and closes the door when the woman enters with you to help you into the dress. "I'll be waiting out here for you baby."

You walk out with your first choice of dresses which was a form sitting mermaid dress with a sweetheart neckline in pure white. You walk up on the small runway and turn to face the BTS members, "Well?" you ask, looking at everyone's blank expression.

"Can you dance in it?" J-hope asks, Jimin nodding in agreement. "Uh well, I can't really breathe that well in it" you laugh, moving onto the other members.

"I mean, do you like it?" Yoongi asks with his arms folded, waiting for your response. "Yeah Y/N" Jungkook adds on, "Are you happy in it?"

"Um, I like the way it makes me looks skinner than I really am, "you laugh turning back around to face the mirror and looking at yourself. "Yeah, it makes your boobs and butt bigger too Y/N" Namjoon adds, earning a smack on the shoulder from Jin. "Taehyung?"

Tae has been silent this whole time and you know why, he doesn't like it. "I know my girlfriend, and if she has to ask others to help her form her opinion, she doesn't like it." V looks up at you and smiles. "I know you all too well Y/N, if you really want something you do it for you and fully confident in your answer and you don't ask other people, right?" He looks at you and you nod in agreement.

"That's kinda scary," the golden maknae adds, but slightly impressed.

"Alright! Next dress!" the woman says and helps you down from the runway and back into the fitting room.

The second dress is a loose silk dress, long, no design, spaghetti straps and droopy in the back to reveal most of your back.

You walk onto the runway, look at yourself in the mirror and turn around, arms at each hip and wait for the member's thoughts. " I look like I'm wearing drapes at an old rich lady's mansion" you pout, earning laughs from the members. "Tae?"

"Babe, you know that I believe you look good in anything but too much of your skin is showing in the back," and you laugh at his remark, stepping down once again and heading back into the dressing room.

Your third dress was one of your choices because it looked like the one that was in Corpse Bride and even though she was dead, the dress was beautiful. It wasn't a princess dress but it was long covered in lace, sprawled out on the floor behind you with more lace covering your chest up to your neck and lace sleeves. You walk out and look into the mirror but you aren't as excited as you thought. You turn around and look at the members and everyone's eyes were wide open.

"Y/N honey, it's beautiful! But, it looks like something my mom would have worn at her wedding," Jin said, holding back his laugh. You look at everyone else and they nod in agreement, but you can't help but laugh.

"I look like a table cloth," you burst you, and the so-called men in front of you now sprawled on the floor in front of you, hands on their bellies laughing and you turn around shaking your head at your forever friend group. You laugh walking to the dressing room and try on your last dress.

#bts v #bts #bts as boyfriends #bts boyfriend

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theburningsensationofpoetry · 6 years

Text

Understandable consequences (horror lover Jeremy)

Jeremy couldn’t guess what he did wrong.

Everyone at the school was...staring at him. All the glares from fellow students where starting to bug him.

From 7:45 to now he had been constantly stared at. Most likely to punish him from his one mistake.

His dad already took everything he had from him, so now being stared down like he killed someone was starting to break him down.

He had to go without all his Halloween aesthetic for more of a…normal style.. Instead of a black grim light jacket, that was covered in skull patterning, he was left with a pastel pink cardigan with a floral design. Instead of spiders on his shirt, he had a plain white t-shirt. Too bland. His pants where normal jeans, and his face was not covered in an inch of makeup. His earrings that were shaped as eye balls are gone.

He doesn’t mind any pastel colors, it’s just the idea he is not having his spooky style on him. It makes him insecure, like he was being crushed alive. And all the stares weren’t making it any better.

But now the worst, the worst possible thing that could happen is his best friend. His crush. The only one that can tolerate him, is so mad at him.

You can call Jeremy low-empathetic, but Jeremy did not understand how Michael felt. Honestly, Jeremy felt like he had the worst of it.

Everything that made him feel safe and secure was gone. They ripped him of his privilege. Of being himself.

Jeremy was broken from his thoughts as a bell rang so loud, but luckily indicating lunch.

Tossing his books and homework in his bag he quickly made it to the bathroom to take a leak. I mean don’t you got to pee in real life, why can’t jeremy in fanficton.

As he went inside he saw Rich washing his hands and popping them in the sink.

Rich was ignoring him. Not even a simple hello was said as Jeremy made his way to the bathroom stall to go pee.

As he unzipped his pants rich spoke, making Jeremy flinch “you know you still haven’t apologized to Michael.” Rich was leaning against the stall, letting out a forced laugh. “I was starting to think that day you were cool. You know? Wouldn’t hurt a fly. But that really stung you know? After all we all been through. After I explained what I felt like before the squip? Remember that Jeremy. And what you told Michael. How you felt during the squip..”

“Rich, what are you getting at?” Jeremy whisked out finishing his peeing biz.

“Suicide and death? That ain’t a joke bud.

I know you just don’t get it as well as others. And I don’t blame you for making a joke or prank. But it was wrong. So wrong. Do you remember what I told you?”

“I-“

Jeremy does. He choked.

“I felt so suicidal man..”

“The squip made me feel like something.”

“Then when it was going to destroy me. I didn’t even hesitate to set the fire. I almost killed myself dude….”

That set a lightbulb in Jeremy’s brain he stuttered out a response “I’m-im so sorry rich. Fuck that was so wrong of me. I didn’t think-i didn’t even guess that you would be so..”

“Affected? It’s fine, but I’m not the one you should apologize to. Like I’ll be honest, it stung a little that you would even joke like that, but I’m a bit tougher now and You get used to it. But you know who you should talk to.”

Jeremy thought for a moment, it was pretty obvious wasn’t it?

“Michael?”

“Michael.” Rich hummed back confirming Jeremy’s thoughts. rich decided escapes the bathroom allowing Jeremy to finish up.

But before he left he spoke one final time “you know… think about it for a sec. just to make sure you say the right thing. And thanks for understanding jer.”

“Thanks for making me understand rich.”

Jeremy did think about it. A lot actually. Michael was his best friend of 13 years. He told him after the squip how insecure he was. How much it hurt.

Michael was scared. The only time he was scared was in 6th grade when Jeremy found comfort in Halloween for the first time.

Michael is never scared. Michaels heart doesn’t pound like it did. Michaels face doesn’t pale up like it did. That wasn’t normal michael.

Normal Michael is happy go lucky, forgiving, kind, energetic, playful.

This was a Michael he had never truly seen before. He was scared, guilt ridden, he didn’t want to hurt Jeremy.

It made Jermey want to punch himself. All of lunch was spent looking, thinking, seeing Michael.

He was wrong to prank Michael with the nooses. He was wrong to prank rich. He shouldn’t have pranked anyone like that. He told Michael that he wanted to die, and this prank? This prank was so wrong of him to do to his best friend.

He decided at play rehearsal he would publicly apologize to everyone. For that horrific scare.

“Chris, the lights aren’t supposed to be on the stage.” Michael croaked from the tech booth.

“Yes they are sir.”

“Rich!? Your supposed to be on stage! This is tech week! Not-“

“Sh”

“What”

“Shh!”

“No!”

“SHHHHHHH” Rich put his hands on michaels mouth and head locked him. “Listen, something important is going down before theatre starts. We aren’t even supposed to be here because mr. Reyes is sick, so just watch.”

Michael reluctantly slipped away and looked at the stage.

He saw a bright pink fella entering on stage left.

“Oh god dammit rich.”

It was Jeremy. He was so angry at that boy. His goriest obsession has gone to far, to close for comfort. Michael was fuming with anger.

“Uh, hi. Everyone here.” Jeremy spoke, not with his usual diaphragm voice, just a nervous voice. That set red flags in michaels head. “I came here to formally apologize for my actions.” Jeremy got a bit louder to hear. “I-I it was wrong of me. I should prank people, I’m the only one laughing. One prank is down. But what I made a joke of was so so wrong. Suicide and death. It isn’t a joke. And I hurt all the people I trust. I really hope you all can forgive me. Not today, but a later date maybe.” Jeremy seemed to be finished, until he spoke again.

“And I’m really sorry Michael. I know it hurt you especially, it was so wrong. I’m never going to do that again.”

He gave a nod to the small audience and walked off stage with his hands clenched.

“So what did you think of that performance?” Rich asked putting his bag on his shoulder and turning off the lights.

“I need to talk to him.” Michael said not listening to Rich.

He packed his things and ran to find Jeremy.

@i-used-to-wear-the-fedora I made this for the au that I love and though I’m not the best writer, have this. :3

#horror lover jeremy #boyf riends #i cant remeber the actaul au name so have this #uhhh #rich goranski #michael mell #jeremy heere #be more chill #bmc #uhhh yeah #mr. heere is mentioned

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Camren: At First Sight (Chapter 3)

A/N: Trigger warning: sexual assault

I forced my eyes open as Demi stepped onto the stage. “Welcome to your second Bootcamp challenge!”

The spattering of applause nearly drowned out my whisper. “This is all your fault, Lauren.”

“It usually is,” she smirked. That was flirty. That was definitely flirty. I felt my cheeks redden as she continued, “You’re going to have to tell me what I did, though.”

A giant yawn escaped my lips. “Exhibit A. It was your genius idea to stay up half the night!”

“Aw, I didn’t know you thought so much of me, Camz. I’m flattered.” She poked my cheek, and try as I might, I couldn’t stay grumpy. I turned my head before she could see me smile.

“Remember, please, that you aren’t competing against your partners,” Simon stated. “Both of you could move on to the next challenge…or you could both be sent home. Or maybe just one will make it. In short, you’re only competing against yourself. So show us your best.”

With that, he and Demi took their seats.

Normani’s name was the first to be called. I squeezed her hand. “You’ve got this, girl.”

She shot me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mila.”

And boy, did she ever. My mouth dropped open when her voice rang through the auditorium.

“Damn,” Ally murmured. I nodded in agreement. Even in my exhausted state, I was starting to feel the pressure. There was a very real possibility that I could be eliminated today. I gulped.

“I’m so jittery,” I whispered to Lauren.

For the second time in 24 hours, she took my hand in hers and let her thumb trace circles into the back of my palm. Unwittingly, I sighed and leaned into her touch.

“Lauren Jauregui,” Demi called. Her eyes lingered on our entwined hands, and I felt myself blushing. I pulled back and rubbed my face, roughly, for lack of anything to do with my body. Lauren took a deep breath and strode to the microphone.

Her raspy voice brimmed with confidence, raw power. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was flawless from start to finish.

“That was amazing,” I declared when she reclaimed her seat beside my own. “Are you even human?”

Lauren smiled slowly. “Thanks, Camz.” But she didn’t look away. I felt myself drawn into those green orbs as I leaned forward—

“Alright, everyone, lunch time!” Simon called, breaking our eye contact. I jumped backward as though scalded. “We start up again at 2:00.”

Not sure what had just happened between me and Lauren, I busied myself with gathering my belongings. I tried to push the moment from my mind.

Dinah brought me back to reality when she linked her arm through my own. “A little food will do us good.” Ever the optimist.

“But I really need to get this over with,” I sighed, my stomach in knots. “I wish we went first.”

She patted my arm, indulging. “Come on. There’s a banana with your name on it.”

The five of us headed to the cafeteria.

“You okay, Camz?” Lauren drew her eyebrows together. She sounded genuinely confused as to why I was no longer able to form coherent sentences. As though her green eyes hadn’t filled my vision with thoughts of—

“Oh, yeah, uh huh, great,” I stammered. Real convincing, Camila, you idiot. “I’m just going to the bathroom.” I walked away before any of the other girls could offer to go with me.

On the cold, tile floor, I wrapped my arms around my knees. Nice, deep breaths. Everything was fine. I was fine. Well—I was stressed and exhausted. It was no wonder I couldn’t think straight.

I dabbed at my eyes with a piece of toilet paper. It wasn’t real. Just a lapse in sanity, brought on by lack of sleep. Her nonchalant attitude was proof enough.

The thought made me irrationally angry.

Screech. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when the bathroom door skidded open. Not wanting to be seen in this state, I prayed it wasn’t one of the girls. I held my breath until a stall a few down from mine banged shut.

Time to go, Camila, before they actually come looking for you.

Considering that I would be giving the most important performance of my life in under an hour, I had more pressing concerns than this imaginary shit. I pushed myself off the cold tile and flushed the toilet. We could all be eliminated, and I would never see any of them again.

That was vaguely comforting.

Ouch. I stubbed my toe on the bathroom floor and gripped the sides of the sink to stop myself from falling. This threw my red-rimmed, puffy eyes into full relief. I cringed, then avoided my own gaze. What I wouldn’t give to be a subtle crier.

Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair.

“Long day, huh?”

I froze, then turned slowly, already knowing who stood at the sink beside me. Demi washed her hands as though it was a perfectly normal activity, finding yourself in the bathroom with Demi freaking Lovato. I laughed and choked on my saliva.

“S-Something like that,” I stuttered.

“It’s Camila, right?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Good luck today!”

Before I could process what was happening, the door swung shut behind her.

It was too much. Laughter bubbled over, even as tears streamed down my face. I hugged myself and sniffed, wishing I never had to leave the relative solitude of the bathroom. But my traitorous stomach began to protest, reminding me that I had only a few minutes to cram some food down before Dinah and I would be on the stage.

I shook my hands to chase away the jitters. It was time.

I blinked under the hot lights, squinting into the rows of empty seats. Demi and Simon, thankfully, were focused on Dinah as she sang the opening lines.

It’s a little bit funny this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

I was beginning to sweat. I could feel it running down my back, pooling at my waistline, and I prayed my shirt wasn’t see-through.

Don’t have much money but boy if I did

I’d buy a big house where we both could live

I wasn’t going to be able to sing if I couldn’t control my breathing. My hands shook as my breaths came in gasps, erratic. I fought to stay on my feet.

If I was a sculptor, but then again no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I flinched when a chair screeched terribly on the floor, drawing my gaze. Lauren stared back at me. Her eyes were wide, desperate, as she mouthed words I couldn’t understand.

Oh I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song

Frustrated, she ran her hand through her hair. I stood frozen in the center of the stage, barely holding back tears.

And this one’s for you

She finally raised her fingers and pressed her thumbs together, forming a heart. GO, her lips whispered.

And I did.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it’s done

My voice was raw, powerful.

I hope you don’t mind

I shut my eyes. There was nothing else—not the judges, not the contestants, not even Lauren. Just my voice, and the tide of emotion that spilled into lilting notes.

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

A moment later—or perhaps an eternity—applause broke the spell. I opened my eyes to see Simon smiling at me proudly, clapping in front of his seat. Dinah linked her arm through my own and dragged me to the side of the stage.

“Good job, Mila,” she whispered.

I grinned. “Thanks. You too.”

When I reached Lauren, she pulled me into a hug, her eyes bright. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Camz.”

“I nearly had one,” I murmured. My hands rested on her back, but for once, I stopped thinking. I simply clung to her, exhausted, as I drank in her warmth. “I seriously owe you one.”

She laughed and quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what friends are for.”

I squeezed her hand.

“Great job, today, everyone!” Demi’s voice echoed through the auditorium. “We will have a lot of difficult decisions to make.”

My stomach flopped anxiously.

“But that’s for tomorrow. You have the night off. Thank you for all your hard work!” With that, she and Simon gathered their papers.

I slouched in my seat, dumfounded. “We don’t find out until tomorrow?” I whined.

“Guess who’s not gonna sleep tonight,” Ally groaned.

“You guys! Did you not hear her? We can do whatever we want!” Normani’s smile was contagious, and I grinned in spite of myself. “Let’s get outta here and explore.”

Lauren stretched her arms above her head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going for a nap.”

“Borrrrrinnggg.” Normani sighed. “But fair.” She giggled. “I think Mila’s already sleeping.”

I opened one eye. “Shhhhhhh.”

Dinah smirked. “She just wants to be carried.”

“Not it!” Lauren shrieked.

I chased her all the way back to the bunks.

“Sí, mamá, they’ll tell me tomorrow.” I tapped my foot impatiently, anxious to get off the phone. “Te amo. Bye.”

“Espera, Camila—”

But I hung up, not caring that I would pay for it later. “It’s like I haven’t been home in a year,” I complained, rolling my eyes.

Lauren only giggled.

“What?” I whined, turning.

“Nothing, nothing.” She smirked at her drying toenails and placed the red bottle on the edge of the nightstand. “We’ll make sure little Camila’s asleep before 9:00, won’t we, guys?”

I threw myself onto the bed, face first, as Dinah high-fived her.

“I forgot you knew Spanish,” I groaned into my pillow. “I hate you all.”

Normani snorted, barging through the cabin door. “As if.” She clutched a torn paper in her fist. “Come check this out.”

To the girls of 8B—

Wanna play? Meet us by the woods, 11:00 sharp

There was no signature.

“Damn,” Dinah breathed. “Who gave that to you?”

“Someone stuck it under a rock on our porch,” Normani practically skipped. “We’re going, right?”

“Duh,” Lauren’s green eyes were bright. “This is best thing to happen all week.”

Ally frowned. “But… we don’t know who wrote it.”

“Or what we’re ‘playing,’” I added, biting my lip.

“Who cares?” Dinah grinned. “You have to go, Mila. Unless… you think it’s past your bedtime,” she teased, prompting more giggles from Lauren.

I crossed my arms. “Well, after last night—”

“Last night? What happened last night?” Normani raised her eyebrow

I was surprised to see Lauren’s face reddening. “Oh. Neither of us could sleep, so we just stayed up way too late.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Dinah grinned. “Come on, guys, we have to go.”

“Pleaseeeee,” Lauren echoed, sticking out her lip. She dropped to her knees dramatically.

Ally wagged her finger. “You’re just hoping it’s from Keaton,” she announced. Her smile grew smug as Lauren turned from pink to red.

“Who’s Keaton?” I frowned.

“No one,” Lauren said quickly.

“Lauren’s crush, that’s who,” Normani smirked. “So are you going or not?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I’m in.”

I looked to Ally, who only shook her head, a small grin on her face. “Damn peer pressure.”

Normani banged on the bathroom door. “Lauren, get your butt out here.”

“One minute!” she called.

“You have thirty seconds. Twenty nine. Twenty eight. Twenty seven—“

“Alright, alright, I’m out.”

The first thing I saw was her hair. It cascaded down her shoulders in dark waves, sending a flush of warmth through my body. I drank in her skin-tight camisole, her ripped jeans and red lipstick too sexy to be legal, surely.

When those damn green eyes met mine, I quickly turned away and grabbed my phone.

“Woah, girl,” Dinah grinned. “Keaton’s a lucky guy.”

“Shut up.” Lauren giggled, walking toward my bunk.

I stopped breathing when she rested her head on my shoulder. “Whatcha doing, Camz?”

I was doing the equivalent of holding a book upside down. “Uhhhh.”

When she snorted, I looked down at my phone. My fingers had navigated, of their own accord, to my One Direction fan page.

“Oh my god, guys, Camila—”

“Ha ha ha NOPE!” I shouted, tackling Lauren, pushing her back onto the bed. I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Don’t you dare, Lauren Jauregui!”

Normani raised her eyebrow, smirking. “You good?”

Lauren had tears streaming down her face, she was laughing so hard. She tried to buck me off, but I wrapped my legs around the bed post. “Stop, stop, I can’t breathe,” she gasped.

“Only if you promise not to tell!” I commanded through giggles.

She licked the inside of my hand.

“Ew ew ew, Lauren, why.” I let go and smeared saliva down her arm. And then I scooted to the side, flushing.

She sat up and ran her hand through her hair. “Your secret’s safe with me, Camz.”

I bit my lip when she winked.

“Wait, I wanna know,” Dinah whined. “Come on, Mila. I need some good gossip. We’ve been stuck here for too long.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “Hell no. And I am not afraid,” I pointed to Lauren, who had opened her mouth, smirking, “to tackle you again.”

Lauren raised her hands innocently. “Fine, fine,” she grinned. “Lips are sealed.”

“Milaaaaaa—” Dinah started.

“Oy!” Ally grabbed her coat. “It’s five to eleven. Let’s go.”

When we stepped onto the porch, I bent to whisper in her ear. “Fabulous timing, Allyson.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, girl,” she smirked.

With a huff, I clicked my flashlight on and marched toward the woods, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips.

We followed the sound of their voices to the edge of the tree line. “Would you look who it is,” a guy called, breaking away from his friends. “Hi Lauren.”

“Hey, Keaton,” she giggled.

Keaton. He was cute; I’d give him that.

“So… what are we doing tonight?” Lauren raised her eyebrow suggestively.

I coughed and dug my toe into the ground, tracing a circle in the dirt. A movie would be nice. Back in our warm, cozy cabin, with just us girls. Yeah.

“Manhunt,” he announced with a grin. “And you’re on my team.”

Lauren smiled through her lashes and walked forward, pressing her body into his side. She swung her arm carelessly across his shoulders. “We’ll crush ‘em.”

“You wanna put money on that?” Normani smirked. “I call Arin’s team.” Her former singing partner grabbed her hand, and I made a mental note to tease her about him later.

Dinah bit her lip. “I’m liking Normani’s odds.” She walked to stand beside the older girl as Lauren flipped her off.

Ally paused and glanced in my direction. “Me too,” she said suddenly, eliciting a cheer from Dinah.

“Guess you’re stuck with me, Camz,” Lauren grinned.

“Guess so,” I said awkwardly.

She looked at me for a moment, her brow furrowed, before turning to the rest of the guys with a shrug. They divided themselves equally, exchanging taunts and bickering over the boundary lines. Keaton couldn’t keep his eyes off Lauren.

I wandered away from the group.

Goosebumps peppered my skin, but it felt good, like the night breeze was dancing across my arms. I clicked my flashlight off and tilted my head back. The stars were so bright. I’d never seen them like that before. It was disorienting; it began to feel as though the moon’s gravity alone could swallow me whole, pull me straight off the dirt and out into the solar system.

“Camz?”

I blinked when Lauren nudged me. “Huh?”

“We’re hiding first,” she grinned.

Only she and Keaton remained by the trees, her arm still wrapped securely around his shoulder. I squinted through the branches, able to see a few stray beams of light moving further into the darkness.

“Right.” I shook my head slowly and clicked my flashlight back on. “See ya.”

I turned my back and melted into the shadows.

Or—I tried to. “Fuck!”

The ground rushed to meet me and I hit it hard. I got a face full of dirt and lay stunned, for a moment, as a burst of pain drew stars across my vision.

“Jesus, Camila!” Lauren gasped. She bent to my side but let her hands hover above me, unsure how to help.

I finally grabbed her arm, and with some maneuvering, she guided me into a sitting position. But I cried out when I tried to stand. “Shit. My leg.”

When Keaton shined his light on my pants, I winced. It was bad. A rock had cut straight through my jeans to the skin of my lower thigh. Blood seeped from the gash, soaking the fabric an ugly brown.

“We have to get you to the nurse!” Lauren gulped.

“And explain what happened? No way.” They had forced us to sign a waiver stating that we wouldn’t do anything stupid. I was pretty sure this qualified. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.” My lack of coordination was, truthfully, legendary.

I reached for her arm again and managed to pull myself onto my good leg. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go clean it off.” But I couldn’t stop the low moan that escaped my lips when I started forward.

Lauren caught my hands. “Come on. Get on my back.” She bent over.

“Really, it’s fine—“

“Camila Cabello.”

“Yes, mom?” I giggled.

“Now,” she rolled her eyes.

I relented and wrapped my arms around her neck. “Thanks,” I murmured.

She lifted me slowly, careful not to bump my thigh, as her left arm snaked around and pulled me flush against her body. I tried to keep my breathing even.

“‘Night, Keaton,” she called.

He stood by the trees, dejected. “Do… you want me to go with you?” He asked, hopeful.

“No,” Lauren said quickly. “You have to stay. You’re the team captain. And besides, you aren’t allowed in our bunk.” It was one of the few rules they had given us. I tried to hide my smirk.

“Okay,” he sighed. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Feel better, Camila,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What?” Lauren asked.

“Nothing.”

We set off toward our cabin.

She deposited me unceremoniously on the bathroom floor. “Lauren!” I protested.

“Sorry, Camz,” she giggled. “I don’t want blood on my clothes.”

I shook my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. “And here I am, thinking you actually cared.”

“About my clothes? Always.”

Like the invalid I was, I merely jerked on the floor when I lunged to punch her.

“Kidding!” she gasped, raising her hands in surrender. “Here, let me help.”

She bent down and tugged on the hem of my jeans, trying to force them up my leg. “Um, Camz?”

“Yeah?” I was already blushing.

“You’re going to have to take them off.”

When her green eyes met mine, I raised my eyebrow suggestively. “Only if you buy me dinner first.”

“That,” she giggled, “is not funny.”

It wasn’t really, but the pain had broken my filter. “I’m fucking hilarious,” I smirked.

“Yeah, okaaaay, Camz.” She stared at me a beat too long.

“Well?” I asked

“Well what?” she bit her lip.

“Aren’t you going to turn around?”

It was her turn to blush. “Right. Sorry. Actually, let me get you a towel.”

I climbed onto the side of the tub. The blood had stopped flowing on the way to the cabin, but as I struggled out of my jeans, the fabric rubbed into my skin. I winced and quickly lifted my leg over the side of the tub. “Towel, please.”

She passed it to me with a hand over her eyes.

“You can look now,” I grinned, once I threw it across my waist.

She squinted through her fingers before dropping them completely. “Now what?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“I haven’t.”

When I raised my eyebrow, Lauren caught the double meaning. “I hate you,” she giggled, lightly smacking my shoulder.

“That’s more like it.”

“Damn it, Camila!”

“Right, right, sorry. I don’t wanna make Keaton jealous,” I smirked.

She just shook her head, a hand over her mouth, and walked into the bunk to grab the first aid kit. Cool it, before you say something you’ll regret. I scooted under the faucet and let the water wash the blood down the drain.

“That doesn’t look so bad, now,” Lauren said, relieved, as she watched me rub Neosporin into my skin.

“I told you. Pass me a bandage?” Her fingers brushed against mine, and I felt a flash of warmth radiate though my body. She turned away quickly.

Using the wall as leverage, I pushed myself off the side of the tub. Lauren grabbed my hand and helped me limp to my bunk, taking care to keep the towel around my waist. I collapsed on my bed with a grateful sigh.

She yawned loudly and glanced at the clock. “There’s no point in going back out now.” Lauren pulled her pajamas from under her pillow and slipped them on with her back to me. I stared down at my phone.

“Wanna watch a movie? I’m too nervous to sleep.” Without any distractions, I would spend half the night worrying about tomorrow’s elimination. My stomach dropped as I chewed my lip anxiously.

Lauren grinned. “None of that, Camz. Happy thoughts.” She walked toward me. “Let’s watch Frozen.”

When I reached for my laptop, Lauren jumped onto my bed and burrowed under the sheets. I found myself climbing in beside her, the computer resting on my stomach. Every nerve in my body was aware of how close she was.

“Ready?” I asked weakly.

“Uh huh,” she murmured, snuggling into my side as I pressed play.

I fell asleep in her arms.

*BONUS chapter. This one’s for Normani. <3

Normani pressed her finger to her lips. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered. “Turn it off.”

Arin clicked the flashlight and pulled her lower behind the bush. His lips brushed against her ear and she shivered, a flush of warmth radiating through her body. “We’re safe here,” he murmured.

She held her breath as footfalls thudded past them, neglecting the trees on either side of the rough trail. The light bobbed with the runner’s steps and disappeared as quickly as it came.

Normani counted to ten before giggling softly. “Amateurs. It’s like they’re not even try—”

“Gotcha!”

Normani jumped horribly and grabbed for Arin’s arm. “What the fuck,” she gasped.

She spun around to find Keaton smirking. “Guess you were too busy flirting to hide properly.”

Arin punched his arm. “Bruhhh. Where’s your girl, anyway?”

“She had to go back to the bunk,” Keaton sighed. “Camila fell.”

“What, really?” Normani frowned. “Is she alright?”

Keaton shrugged. “I think so.” He turned to Arin. “You two should get to our base. I think we’re only still missing Dinah and Ally.”

Normani raised her hand and gave Arin a high-five. “Oh, they’ve definitely got this. Watch your back, Keaton,” she teased, walking into the woods.

Arin wrapped his arm around her waist. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“Well,” Normani smiled. “It’s not over yet. Maybe we’ll play another round.”

“What do you say we… don’t go back to the base?” He stopped walking and turned to face Normani, smirking.

Her eyes widened slightly. She watched as his gaze wandered down her body, passing over her lips and coming to rest on her chest.

“N-no, they’ll be waiting for us.” Normani took a step backward and crossed her arms.

“Let them wait a little longer,” he whispered. He moved closer, backing her against a tree. She froze when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re so hot,” he murmured. And then he leaned in.

His lips crashed into hers, and he forced her mouth open, jabbing his tongue between her teeth. His hand slid down her back and came to rest on her butt. He squeezed and jerked her toward him roughly, nearly lifting her feet off the forest floor.

“Damn, get it,” a guy shouted, laughing. His voice sent a jolt through her body, and she finally found the strength to pull away from Arin.

“We were just going back to the base.” Normani called, surprised to hear the tremble in her voice. “Is the game over?”

“Yeah. Dinah and Ally broke through. You guys won.”

“Just like you said they would, baby.” Arin smiled and leaned forward.

“I’m going to bed,” Normani blurted. Before he could take her hand, she marched through the woods and back to the cabin, not waiting for his response.

She was surprised to feel wetness on her cheek. Normani wiped her tears hastily, angry with herself. The walk through the woods was a blur. When she felt the wooden planks of the porch beneath her feet, she sighed, relieved, wanting nothing more than to curl up beneath her blankets.

The night air had turned cold. Or maybe it was something else that had Normani shivering.

She tiptoed into the cabin, smiling in spite of herself at the sight that met her eyes. Lauren and Camila lay intertwined, fast asleep. As she watched, Lauren mumbled and pulled the smaller girl closer, burying her face into the crook of her neck. Camila sighed happily, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

Normani grabbed the computer balancing on the edge of the bed and placed it, gently, on the nightstand.

She pretended to be asleep when Dinah and Ally came crashing through the bunk door an hour later.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading :) As always, many more chapters posted on Wattled (@paigejv) <3

#UPDATE #series #x factor #non AU #slash #trigger warning #camren #angst drama #family #humour #romance fluff #submission #At First Sight

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